The Breakpoint split the air like a bleeding wound.
The shimmering dome twisted and expanded, warping the sky into a spinning whirlpool of fractured light.
Sirens blared along the block perimeter.
Agency soldiers scrambled to set up additional glyph anchors, reinforcing the containment lines.
From the dome's heart, a low pulse echoed outward—
a deep, resonant thrum that made the concrete vibrate beneath Jahil's boots.
Velira clutched the relic core tighter under her jacket.
A squad of containment heroes arrived—a specialized team clad in reinforced relic armor.
Their glyph suits flickered as they synchronized their fields.
Without hesitation, they sprinted straight into the rift.
Their bodies phased slightly as they crossed the distortion barrier.
Then they were gone.
Velira exhaled slowly.
"How long will it stay open?"
"Depends," Jahil said.
"Sometimes hours. Sometimes... longer."
Velira frowned.
"Have you been inside one?"
Jahil's jaw flexed.
"Once."
(Beat.)
"Not by choice."
The two moved to a safer observation point—half-sheltered by a collapsed magrail column.
Other civilians gathered too—watching nervously.
An evacuation team worked crowd control, but tensions were rising.
Everyone knew:
If a Breakpoint expanded out of control, an entire district could vanish.
Hours seemed to stretch.
The distortion dome pulsed irregularly—sometimes brightening, sometimes shrinking.
Finally—
movement.
The containment team emerged—staggering and bruised.
Their armor was scorched and cracked.
Glyph signatures across their suits flickered weakly.
Two members carried something between them—a large crystalline fragment, pulsing sickly.
Velira whispered:
"Is that... from inside?"
"Probably a core shard," Jahil murmured.
**"Anchor it and the dome should collapse."
The field commander barked orders—directing stabilizers to move into position.
The containment squad collapsed in exhaustion against the barricades.
Civilians and news drones swarmed the scene instantly.
Among the returning heroes stood a new figure—
distinct from the battered squad.
A woman in deep crimson armor trimmed with silver.
She moved with sharp, almost predatory grace—
her helmet tucked under one arm, revealing sharp green eyes and a jagged braid of golden hair.
She smiled for the cameras—
then pivoted casually toward the observing crowd.
Velira (whispering):
"Who's that?"
Jahil (gruff):
"One of the global elites."
Velira (grimacing):
"They love the spotlight, huh?"
Zephyra reappeared nearby—looking irritated.
She checked her comms, frowned, then stiffened slightly as her earpiece buzzed.
Her golden eyes scanned the civilians—
And locked onto Velira.
For a second, the world seemed to tighten.
Zephyra approached, calm but quick.
"You two," she said.
Jahil shifted automatically, moving slightly between Velira and Zephyra.
Zephyra’s expression flickered.
Recognition.
Calculation.
She tapped her badge—encrypted comms crackling.
**"Target confirmed. Heiress secured."
Dispatch immediately notified.
Across the city, in a dim surveillance chamber—
A different signal triggered.
Inside the Ghostblock ruins, Varron Kline’s console beeped.
He leaned forward, reading the report.
"Found her," his assistant said quietly.
Varron's synth fingers clicked once against the table.
"Good," he whispered.
(Beat.)
"Phase two begins."
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