Chapter 4: When Light Remembered Its Name
Morning came late.
The clouds had thinned, but the sky still carried a pale tint of violet, the kind that whispered something isn't done yet.
Rimuru yawned as she stretched in her chair, hair a silver mess and an untouched mug of coffee cooling on the counter. Her usual grin was there — lazy, charming — but her eyes were elsewhere.
The Chorus's warning lingered in her mind like an echo that refused to fade.
"She is the key."
The sound of soft footsteps drew her out of thought. Aira appeared by the stairway, dressed in one of Rimuru's oversized shirts, her hair messy but her eyes clearer than before.
"Morning," Rimuru said, raising a hand. "How's our local reality hazard feeling today?"
Aira blinked. "Um… less explodey?"
Rimuru chuckled. "That's progress."
She slid a plate across the counter — eggs and toast that somehow looked both edible and dangerous. "Breakfast. Don't ask what happened to the first batch."
Aira hesitated before sitting, still trying to process everything that had happened.
"I… saw them again," she said quietly.
Rimuru paused. "Them?"
"The shadows," Aira whispered. "In my dream. But they weren't attacking. They were singing. Like a lullaby, but… sad."
Rimuru's smile faded just a little. "Dreams can be tricky, kid. Especially when you've touched The Veil. They remember you even when you don't remember them."
Aira frowned, tracing a circle on the table with her finger. "It didn't feel like a dream."
Before Rimuru could respond, the light above them flickered — once, twice — and then stabilized. But the color wasn't normal. The sunlight filtering through the windows shimmered faintly blue, dancing like ripples of water.
The mug on the counter began to float.
Aira gasped, reaching out instinctively — and the mug froze midair, spinning gently. The coffee inside glowed faintly, reflecting her heartbeat in every ripple.
Rimuru stood slowly, her smile returning — calm, but sharp at the edges.
"Well… that's new."
"I didn't mean to!" Aira panicked, her hands trembling. "I just—thought it shouldn't fall, and it didn't—"
Rimuru placed a hand on her shoulder. "Relax. You didn't break reality. Just… nudged it a little."
She watched the mug hover, fascinated. The glow pulsed in rhythm with Aira's breathing.
"Emotion-based projection," Rimuru murmured. "You think, you feel, and the world listens. Classic Resonant energy — but stronger. Way stronger."
Aira looked at her, eyes wide with confusion and fear. "What does that mean?"
Rimuru's smile softened. "It means The Veil didn't just touch you… it chose you."
The mug suddenly cracked — a thin line running down its side — and then shattered in a burst of light. Coffee splashed harmlessly to the floor, evaporating into mist before it could hit.
Silence.
Rimuru sighed and muttered under her breath, "And there goes my only decent mug."
Aira looked guilty. "Sorry…"
Rimuru grinned again, patting her shoulder. "Don't be. It's official — you're interesting."
But deep inside, something cold twisted in her chest.
Because only one kind of person could bend The Veil like that —
someone connected to the original power Rimuru once sealed away.
And if The Chorus knew that…
Aira wasn't just in danger. She was the danger.
---
That same morning, miles away in an abandoned cathedral draped in vines, The Chorus gathered in silence. Their leader raised his head toward the stained glass ceiling.
> "The key remembers," he said.
"And the world begins to hum again."