Arlyss
The spire above her wept firelight.
The Syndicate agents poured in from every bridge, every skytram, every breachpoint. Red-robed and ledger-masked, each moved with the terrifying quiet of entities whose belief had already been erased.
And yet they feared her.
Because she still remembered.
Arlyss stood alone in the plaza of the final trust nexus—a shrine woven into the base of Veltrin's oldest market temple. The ground beneath her feet pulsed with failing light. Faith reserves dropping.
One last anchor.
One last promise.
> [Warning: Collapse Imminent]
Trust Index: 0.8%
Nexus Detonation Protocol: 6 minutes
Allied Presence: None
Featherlink Status: Flaring // Shared Burden Limit Reached
Her breath came hard.
Blood slicked her arm.
And still she stood.
Blade in hand. Body broken.
Eyes burning.
---
A Syndicate lead unit approached. Rank: Auditor-Wraith. Voice hollow.
"You are alone."
Arlyss didn't answer.
"We do not wish to erase you," the Wraith said.
Liar.
"You are already unmade."
Liar.
"You are standing on hope that does not exist."
Liar.
She stepped forward.
"I am the hope," she said.
Then she charged.
---
The plaza erupted into war.
She moved like vengeance, like grief carved into motion. Every slash rewrote her pain. Every strike bought another second.
Seconds were the currency of survival.
She was almost out.
But then—light.
A message.
A voice through the feather:
"We're going to sever the Sprawl. Hold the nexus. No matter what it costs."
Sykaion.
---
Sykaion
Below the dying city, the Old Trust Archives wept.
Oaths cracked.
Promises bled.
System glyphs pulsed and guttered.
Zeraphine knelt over the central altar: a table made of debt-wood, inked with forbidden lines.
She read the text aloud:
"To sever trust is to sacrifice certainty. To cut faith is to kill alignment. One must become the anchor of the city's soul."
Sykaion stared.
"If we do this—"
"You'll lose your System link," she said. "Permanently. Maybe worse."
"Will it save Veltrin?"
She nodded.
He didn't hesitate.
"Then carve the ritual."
---
She worked fast, tracing glyphs in blood and ink.
The altar pulsed.
> [Trust Severance Ritual – Initiated]
Outcome: City Stabilization via Anchor Cutoff
Cost: One Host
Risk: Total Memory Erosion
Final Chance to Decline: [Y/N]
He didn't decline.
He looked up.
"Zeraphine."
She looked at him.
"Tell Arlyss… she saved me first."
Then he placed his palm on the altar—
And the ritual began.
---
Arlyss
The nexus cracked.
The Syndicate surged forward.
She screamed—wounded, exhausted—and raised her blade one last time.
Then—
Shockwave.
Light.
Sound.
All reality blurred.
The shrine flared golden.
And every Syndicate agent froze mid-strike.
Then vanished.
Erased like debt forgiven.
Arlyss dropped to her knees.
The feather on her chest flared hot.
And then went cold.
"Sykaion…?"
No reply.
---
To be continued in Chapter 18…