The Keystone pulsed in Kael's hands like a heartbeat that wasn't his. Every step through the Dead Orchard felt heavier, the forest groaning under some unseen strain.
By the time they reached open ground, the sky had changed—no longer blue-gray, but streaked with crimson fissures, as if reality itself had been torn open above them.
Mira: "This isn't from us. Something else is pushing through."
Thorne: "You mean someone."
A low hum rolled over the horizon, shaking the air. The crimson fissures widened, and out of them came shadows—not shapeless, not random, but moving with purpose.
They were unlike the Null Rangers—no echoes of themselves, no twisted mirrors. This force was… older. Armored warriors whose bodies seemed half-machine, half-bone, their helmets etched with runes Kael had never seen.
Ayla: "Yeah, that's new."
Mira: "Not new. Buried."
The ground between them erupted as one of the warriors drove a spear into the soil, sending shockwaves that nearly knocked the team off their feet.
First Clash
Kael flung the Keystone to Mira.
Kael: "Protect it!"
He charged, clashing blades with the nearest warrior, sparks bursting from every strike. Thorne moved to flank, but the warrior's bone-armored arm snapped out and caught his weapon mid-swing, twisting it away.
Ayla ducked under a swinging halberd, sliding between two warriors, striking with her twin daggers. She could feel her pulse racing—not from fear, but from the thought of Rin, trapped in the Grid, and what would happen if these things reached him before they could save him.
Mira fired off a precision shot from her morph blaster, striking a rune on one warrior's chest. The thing reeled back with an inhuman screech, its armor cracking.
Mira: "The runes—they're power nodes! Aim for them!"
The fight shifted. Kael drove his blade straight through the glowing mark on his opponent's chest, shattering it in a burst of blue-white light. Ayla landed a clean strike on another's rune, her blade ringing like glass.
The Warden Arrives
Just when the tide seemed to turn, the air folded in on itself, and he appeared—tall, clad in obsidian armor traced with red light. No face, only a mask with a slit of endless dark where eyes should be.
The warriors froze in his presence.
Warden: "You carry what was never yours to take."
Kael stepped forward, blade raised.
Kael: "You're going to have to take it from us."
The Warden tilted his head.
Warden: "I won't. The Grid will. When your will breaks."
He raised his hand—and the fissures in the sky bled deeper, the air warping. Somewhere far away, Rin's presence in the Grid screamed across their minds. Ayla staggered, clutching her head.
Ayla: "He's… hurting. He knows we have the Keystone."
The Warden lowered his hand, and just like that, the warriors retreated, stepping back into the cracks in the air until the sky stitched itself shut again.
Aftermath
They camped that night in silence. The Keystone rested in the middle of their circle, its glow steady but faint.
Mira kept watch, running diagnostics on the relic. Thorne sharpened his blade, pretending not to glance at the sky every few minutes. Kael sat with his back to a log, staring into the fire.
Ayla sat apart, her knees pulled to her chest, thinking of Rin—how his voice had sounded in her mind. Not just pain. Not just fear. But something else.
Ayla (softly to herself): "Hold on, Rin… just hold on."
Kael glanced over at her, his brow furrowed, but said nothing.
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