Chapter 8 - Spire Reclamation

Riven ascended the abyss stairs on wings of commandeered threads, crown pulsing directives: Claim. Corrupt. Command. Nocturne Spire greeted him with rebellion—heartspire towers firing void-lances, warden legions massing in defiance. He landed amid the fray, form radiating Eighth Fracture glory: elongated limbs, maw-arms gaping, eyes manifold and merciless.[Spire Sync: 28%]. A lance grazed him; he absorbed it, transmuting to a counter-wave that puppeted the gunners against their ranks. Gore symphony ensued—blades turning inward, screams fueling his coherence rebound to 52%. "Bow or become string," he broadcast psychically, voice a cacophony of absorbed souls.Deep in the plaza, a conclave of High Weavers—Sovereign's lieutenants—chanted barriers. Riven infiltrated via hijacked threads, emerging behind their circle. One spun, rune-staff blazing: "Abyss spawn! The weave rejects—" Riven's whip severed tongue and spine. The rest shattered under void-pull, staves exploding into harvest essence. [Conclave Neutralized: Authority Nodes +4].The spire heart pulsed resistance—a central nexus mirroring the abyss core. Riven breached it, crown interfacing directly. Visions assaulted: Nocturne's history, built to quarantine fractures like him. He overwrote it, redesigning as his forge—towers twisting into lab-spires, streets into experiment grids. Puppets realigned, kneeling legions swelling.But anomaly flickered: a rogue thread from the Ninth, burrowing into the weave. A scout? Saboteur? It manifested as a humanoid shade, eyes like Riven's but inverted—pure void. "Brother," it whispered. "The Mandate is shared... or seized." Shade dissolved, leaving a rift to deeper voids.Crown hummed approval: expansion beckoned. Riven grinned, legions marching. The Ninth called.