The sun hung low over Elysium, caught behind the glass dome like an insect in amber.

Beyond the city’s opal towers, the marble roads cracked and thinned into pale stone

The music of the Reach faded with every step — no choirs, no bells, only the hollow whisper of wind moving through the barrier’s hum.

Even the air changed here.

It was colder. Thinner. Metallic, clinging to the back of the throat.

The closer they drew to the edge, the less alive the world felt.

Each step sent faint ripples through the ground, as though they were walking atop a pulse.

Then somewhere in the clouds — a faint silhouette turned its head.

A Guardian.

A streak of burning light carved a crimson arc toward a distant group of players. The echo of its descent rolled through the air like thunder.

Mirai smirked, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword.

“Well,” he said. “Guess that was our warning.”

Saiya’s eyes narrowed, faint red static crawling up her arms. “Good. Means we’re going the right way.”

At the horizon, the barrier shimmered — a wall of liquid gold curving into the heavens.

Beyond it, the outer world looked painted and unreal: misted valleys, silver rivers, and endless clouds drifting over green unknowns.

Mirai stared through it. “Looks fine out there,” he murmured. “Weird. Why’d they abandon all this?”

Issan crouched, tracing a rune half-buried in stone. “Hmm. There could’ve been a battle.”

“Maybe,” Mirai said, “But it doesn’t look destroyed — just… forgotten.”

Saiya cut in flatly. “Whatever. We’re not here to investigate. We’re here to grind.”

They nodded.

From one of Elysium’s spires, natives watched through crystal telescopes — hands trembling, prayers whispered.

No one had ever gone near the threshold. No one had dared.

Before them rose the city's outer barrier,  a wall of molten glass, its light refracting in slow rainbows.

Mirai took one step forward. “This is it. Spread formation, just in case.”

Saiya’s gaze drifted to the clouds above. Her grip tightened. “If that ceremony was real… something’s about to come after us.”

Takara’s crystals dimly pulsed. “You really think it’ll—”

Click.

Sound vanished.

The wind froze.

A single red line appeared in the sky — thin, sharp, almost beautiful.

Then it fell.

Sound returned in a violent rush; a sonic boom that split the horizon.

Pressure slammed into their chests as the Guardian tore through the clouds, landing with earth-cracking force.

Its body was humanoid, segmented plates of radiant metal shifting like breath, faceless, haloed in living code.

Zenobia gasped. “It’s looking at us.”

Mirai smirked. “Cool.”

Its halo pulsed in arrhythmic flashes, lines of red code rippling across its frame.

“Identities confirmed,” it intoned, voice mechanical yet divine. “Threat level: Recalibrated.”

It’s halo flared brighter.

“Unauthorized threshold approach detected. Commencing neutralization.”

Saiya’s markings flared, red lightning crawling up her arms like veins of molten anger.

“Move,” she hissed, already stepping forward.

“Wait—!” Issan started, but she was gone.

The Guardian moved first. Its spear carved through the air in a blinding arc—

Her breath caught. Something wasn’t right.

She met it head-on, her crimson gauntlets catching the edge with a shriek of metal just in time. Sparks burst like comets — lighting her face in red flashes. 

“I don’t think this is fodder. Careful!” Issan warned.

Mirai was next.

He twirled forward, blade trailing a ribbon of silver light, cleaving across its chest. The impact rang out like shattering glass.

Takara quickly followed to support. Her glaive bloomed from her crystal arm in a flash.

“Mirai, pivot!” She called.

He smirked and spun out of the way just in time. She moved in with fluid precision, her strikes elegant arcs of motion, but each was parried in perfect rhythm, forcing her back.

It extended its hand.

Mirai froze mid-motion — body trembling, every nerve rebelling against invisible pressure. He couldn’t move.

Issan’s voice cut through the chaos. “Hold on!”

INNATE ABILITY UNLOCKED

[ Subsystem activation: Hades ]

His eyes darted. His gaze traced the terrain.

“There.”

His lance burst from the earth in a precise pattern, detonating upward to throw the Guardian off balance. It leapt — exactly as planned.

He re-formed the weapon mid-air and hurled it again—

But the Guardian twisted, caught the lance barehanded, and hurled it back in a flash.

Issan barely sidestepped, breath sharp. “Holy— it’s adapting! It’s learning!” his lance landed piercing the marble below, spreading spiderweb cracks through the ground.

It turned toward Takara, its motion faster than the eye could follow. She swung her glaive, but the Guardian parried effortlessly then reeled back and drove its fist forward.

She flinched, crossed her arms just in time.

The punch met her crystal guard with a thunderclap, sparks screaming across the field. The force sent her skidding backward across the marble, she dug her heels into the ground slowing just before the edge.

Before she could recover, the Guardian turned. Then in one fluid motion the butt of its spear struck Mirai square in the chest. He flew backward, crashing into a glass construct that shattered around him.

The pain had hit like nothing he’d known before.

Pain — raw, real, suffocating.

Not haptic. Not simulated.

His mind blanked. His body trembled. His instincts screamed that this wasn’t a game.

“Mirai!! It’s coming!” Takara screamed, panic cracking her voice.

He could see the Guardian move again — too fast, impossibly fast yet his body refused to react.

His sword slipped from his grip, falling in slow motion.

The spear came down—

and in that instant, his pupils flared a crystalline blue.

INNATE ABILITY UNLOCKED

[ Subsystem Activation: Gravitas ]

The sword rose on its own.

It intercepted the blow inches from his face, showering sparks.

The world snapped back.

Saiya’s voice cut through the ringing air. “Wake up!”

He blinked — then smiled through the shock.

“…Cool.”

He seized the floating blade mid-clash, pivoted, and drove it upward in a seamless counter.

For a second, the Guardian staggered, sparks cracking across its chest.

Zenobia leapt beside him, claws blazing pink. Her strikes carved across the damage, forming a glowing cross but the construct barely flinched.

She landed beside Mirai, panting. “It’s not even hurt?!”

Takara turned to Mirai, awe and fear tangled with her voice. “How did you do that?”

He didn’t answer — he didn’t know.

The Guardian raised its spear to the heavens.

The dome itself resonated in response — a haunting, metallic hum. Its wounds slowly began to close.

Saiya’s heart pounded, her mind torn between rage and disbelief. Why did she care? Why did she feel fear? This was supposed to be a game.

Her markings blazed brighter, red lightning erupting through her veins like a living storm.

INNATE ABILITY UNLOCKED

[ Subsystem Activation: Maelstrom ]

“Fine,” she whispered, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “I’ll make you understand why humans pray.”

Lightning answered.

The sky split open in red, her blast colliding with the Guardian’s halo mid-charge.

The energy folded inward, pressure crushing the air—

Then detonated.

The explosion rocked the plains, flinging everyone backward in a wave of sand and static.

The Guardian staggered, its radiance flickering.

For the first time — it looked mortal.

Mirai saw it. “Now!”

All of Sephoric struck together: lance, lightning, crystal, claw — and for one perfect heartbeat, the sound of divinity broke.

The Guardian collapsed, its glow dimming into embers. Its final words echoed like scripture:

“Threshold access… granted.”

The group caught their breath in disbelief.

Saiya hid her shaking hands inside her sleeves.

Mirai kept absently touching his ribs, like he was making sure they still existed.

Takara checked the cracks spidering across her crystal arms.

The silence stretched until Mirai broke it.

“Ah, come on~ no loot? No fanfare? No exp gain, no system message?” He forced a grin. “I paid seven ribs for that.”

Saiya exhaled, still catching her breath. “No kidding. If that’s their idea of a tutorial, they’re sadists.”

Takara turned toward Mirai, voice soft. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated, hand pressing to his side again. “It hurt. Not like vibration-pack hurt. Like… bones-hurt.”

His fingers still trembled slightly. 

Her hand found his. White light shimmered between their palms, steady and soft.

“There,” she said gently. “That should do it.”

His breathing steadied. The tremor stopped.

He looked down at their hands, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. In a sing-song tone, he started, “My guardian ang—”

Saiya’s fist hit his arm before he could finish.

“Ow! What the hell?!” he yelped, clutching his arm.

“Don’t pass out like that again,” she said, voice cracking despite the glare.

He grinned. “Sorry. Reflex test.”

She glared, sparks of red static flickering faintly around her, but she looked away before he could catch the small flicker of relief in her expression.

Issan crouched near the crater where the Guardian fell, his hand hovering over the still-glowing sand.

“No data. Residue?” he muttered. “No game I’ve ever played left damage behind like this.”

“Maybe it’s a bug,” Takara offered, though her voice lacked conviction.

Zenobia turned toward the dome, ears twitching. “It’s quiet again,” she whispered. “Like it’s waiting.”

In the distance, the barrier shimmered like a mirage — the last wall between civilization and the unknown.

Takara stepped closer, her crystalline fingers brushing the edge of the light. It resisted at first, then rippled, as if the world itself exhaled.

“I think we can pass.”