The plaza cracked apart.
The crimson rift widened, vomiting fire and the stink of blood. The pale gate of Murim split further, spilling streams of qi that made the air hum like a thousand vibrating blades.
Neither closed. Neither yielded. Both fought for dominance, and we stood between them.
The ground heaved beneath my boots, splitting in jagged lines. Flames burst through one fissure, flooding half the plaza in heat. A rushing stream carved through the other, qi-infused water burning like acid where it touched stone.
The survivors scattered, shrieking.
"Stay together!" Dev bellowed, grabbing Arjun by the collar before the boy could stumble into the fire.
The old man waved his staff wildly, muttering curses that sounded more like prayers. Kavya spun her silver blades, eyes darting between rift and rift, like a cornered animal deciding which predator might kill her slower.
And me?
The Inkblade pulsed in my grip, shadows stretching toward both realms like starving hounds.
"…feast… choose… devour…"
✦
They arrived at once.
From the crimson tear came beast-born warriors—towering humanoids with the heads of predators. A lion-headed brute roared, teeth dripping flame. Beside him stalked a hyena-thing with arms like clubs, and behind them, more shadows moved.
From the pale gate stepped three figures in robes. Cultivators, blades at their waists, qi coiling around them in visible streams. Their eyes scanned us like predators assessing prey.
Two worlds. Two factions.
Both watching us.
Both hungry.
✦
The lion-headed warrior bellowed, pointing a claw at us. "Weak prey! Choose the Crimson Hunt! Bow, and live as hounds of the pack!"
The hyena laughed, a sound like bones breaking.
At the same time, the lead cultivator drew his blade, its polished steel singing as it left the sheath. He spoke in measured tones, each syllable heavy with disdain.
"Foreigners trespass. Submit, and perhaps you will be spared as outer disciples. Resist… and you will be fertilizer for our gardens."
The words overlapped, impossible to answer.
The survivors froze.
The old man nearly collapsed, his voice a ragged wail. "We can't fight them! We can't fight either!"
Kavya's blades quivered in her hands, her face pale but furious. "We pick the lesser devil or we die where we stand!"
Dev's eyes locked on me. Always me.
"What's the choice, Reed?"
✦
The system's demand returned, sharper this time.
[ Choose: Crimson Beastlands. ][ Choose: Murim World. ]
Choose. Choose. Choose.
The words pounded in my skull. My pulse thundered with them.
The Inkblade writhed, shadows whipping violently, lashing toward both factions like it refused to recognize the difference.
I staggered, nearly losing grip. The whispers screamed:
"…devour… both… none… rewrite…"
✦
The lion-warrior saw the blade move. His eyes widened, then narrowed in rage. "That weapon—ours!"
The cultivator noticed too. His qi flared sharp as knives. "No. Such a blade belongs to Murim."
And just like that, both sides turned their hunger not on the survivors—not even on Dev or Kavya—
But on me.
✦
They charged.
The lion's roar shook the plaza, stone shattering under his steps. Flames billowed in his wake.
The cultivator moved opposite him, sword blurring with speed too fast for mortal sight.
I barely had time to react.
The Inkblade leapt in my hand, shadows exploding outward to meet them. Black tendrils coiled into a shield, hissing as fire struck one side and qi blades sliced the other.
The impact rattled my bones, sent me skidding back across broken tiles.
The survivors screamed. Arjun clung to his mother. Kavya cursed, darting to their side, silver blades raised. The old man tried to form a spell, his crooked staff glowing faintly, but his hands shook too violently.
Dev stood firm, sword ready—but even he knew. This was no fight we could win.
✦
And then something impossible happened.
The lion swung wide, his claw arcing toward the huddled survivors. Too fast. Too close.
Arjun screamed—but instead of collapsing, he raised his staff in both hands, eyes squeezed shut.
Light flared.
A translucent barrier burst outward, shimmering like glass. The lion's claw struck it and skidded, sparks flying. The beast-born staggered back with a snarl of surprise.
Arjun fell to his knees, gasping. The barrier flickered and cracked, then shattered like brittle glass.
The survivors stared.
The old man muttered, "Impossible… a child…"
Dev's eyes snapped to the staff in Arjun's hands. Runes glowed faintly along its length, fading as the light died.
Kavya's lip curled. "Even the brat gets miracles, but we're supposed to believe Reed isn't cursed?"
But I saw more than they did.
For a moment, in the light, I caught a flicker of something else—an outline above Arjun, vast and indistinct. Wings? Armor? A shadow of a figure I couldn't name.
Then it was gone.
And only the boy remained, trembling, clutching the staff as though it had saved him—when in truth, it had chosen him.
✦
The lion snarled, flames dripping from his teeth. "The whelp resists? Then the whelp dies!"
The cultivator cut in smoothly, his qi blade humming as he lowered it toward Arjun. "No. The boy comes with us. His weapon resonates with heaven's order. He belongs to Murim."
The lion roared in protest.
The cultivator sneered.
The survivors shrank back, caught in the clash of gods and monsters, each word a noose around their necks.
And the system screamed in my ears.
[ Choice not made. Instability rising. ][ Warning: Neutrality unsustainable. ]
I gritted my teeth, shadows writhing as I forced the Inkblade to lash outward, intercepting both threats at once.
"I told you…" My voice was raw, torn from my throat.
"I won't choose."
The plaza was no longer a plaza.
It was a battlefield, ripped between two worlds. Fire from the Crimson Beastlands licked the broken stones while pale mist from Murim seeped across the other half, choking the air with qi so thick it scraped my lungs raw.
Two factions. Two predators.
Both wanted blood.
And both wanted us.
✦
The lion-headed warrior struck again, flames trailing from his claws. His roar cracked stone, scattering the nearest survivors like dry leaves.
The lead cultivator mirrored his assault, his blade humming with qi as he lunged for Arjun. His expression was calm, detached, as though cutting down a child was no more trouble than trimming weeds.
"Arjun!" the mother screamed, throwing herself over him.
Too late.
Both attacks converged—one of fire, one of steel.
The Inkblade writhed in my grip, shadows stretching, but I wasn't fast enough to stop both.
And then—
The boy's staff flared again.
This time, the light wasn't a barrier. It was a pulse. A ripple that surged outward like a bell's toll, slamming into both invaders.
The lion staggered, smoke rising from his mane. The cultivator faltered, his blade stopping inches above Arjun's staff as if weighed down by unseen chains.
Arjun gasped, falling back into his mother's arms, the light fading as quickly as it had come.
The survivors froze in shock.
Kavya whispered, voice tight. "That… wasn't luck."
The old man's face twisted, fear warring with awe. "That's no staff. That's a divine relic."
Dev's eyes narrowed, sharp as the sword he held. "No. Not just the staff." His gaze shifted to Arjun himself. "The boy resonates with it. That's why it obeys."
The mother clutched her son tighter, but Arjun met my eyes. His were wide, terrified—yet beneath the fear flickered something else. Something that hadn't been there before.
Resolve.
✦
The lion bellowed in fury. "Thieves! That power belongs to the Hunt!"
The cultivator's qi blazed brighter, his lips curling in disdain. "Ignorant beast. Heaven favors Murim. The boy is ours."
They turned on each other, fire and qi colliding in an explosion that rocked the plaza.
The survivors screamed as rubble flew. The old man was nearly crushed before Dev yanked him out of the way. Kavya snarled, dragging the mother and Arjun back, silver blades slashing falling debris aside.
I braced myself, shadows wrapping tight around me. The Inkblade pulsed like a second heart, its whispers fevered.
"…devour both… consume all… no choice… break them…"
✦
[ Choose: Crimson Beastlands. ][ Choose: Murim World. ][ Instability critical. Neutrality impossible. ]
The system's words scorched across my vision, bright as lightning.
The survivors turned to me, desperation plain.
Kavya's voice cracked, furious. "Choose, damn you! We can't hold out!"
The old man screamed, spittle flying. "Pick anything! Beast, blade, I don't care—just pick!"
The mother clutched Arjun, her face pale. "If you don't… we'll all die."
Dev's eyes locked on mine, calm but iron. "What will it be, Reed?"
The world tore around us. Fire and mist devoured stone. The invaders clashed, but their eyes never left us—never left me.
And the system screamed, pounding against my skull.
Choose. Choose. Choose.
✦
I smiled.
It wasn't humor. Not joy. Just defiance.
"I told you," I whispered.
"I won't choose."
The Inkblade roared with me, shadows surging outward like a tidal wave. They lashed across the plaza, striking both rifts at once. Fire sputtered. Qi hissed. For a heartbeat, both worlds recoiled.
The system fractured. Words bled into one another, distorted and broken:
[ Alleg—nce… dela—yed. ][ Neu—tral Zone… estab—lished. ][ Warning: Inst—bility ris—ng. ]
The light seared my vision, then dimmed.
When it cleared, the rifts still gaped wide—but neither claimed us.
We stood in the middle.
A fragile strip of reality.
A Neutral Zone.
✦
The survivors stared at me as though I had grown a second head.
Kavya's voice trembled with fury. "You… you've doomed us all."
The old man shook, clutching his staff. "No neutrality. It won't hold. It never holds!"
The mother said nothing, but her arms around Arjun tightened.
Dev watched me longest, unreadable. Finally, he exhaled. "Then we walk your road, Reed. Until it kills us."
The Inkblade pulsed, shadows curling with satisfaction.
And beneath its whispers, I heard another.
Faint. Cold. Patient.
"…good… now survive…"
✦
[ Act II: War of Realms Initiated. ][ Status: Neutral Faction. Instability: Rising. ]
The rifts pulsed on either side, beasts roaring, cultivators chanting. Both factions glared across the divide, but neither could step into the Neutral Zone.
Not yet.
The war had begun.
And I had broken the script again.