Brooklyn had changed.

The skyline shimmered with floating glyph beacons. Drones buzzed like paranoid wasps. Snow hissed beneath Jahil Roze’s boots.

He moved like he didn’t want to be seen—but dared someone to notice him anyway. That was always the paradox of walking around with a dead man’s name.

"That guy? The one who let his team die?"

Didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the cold pulse flickering just under his collarbone.

Residual core detected. Phase-lock unstable. Prepare for anomaly breach.

Jahil stopped at the edge of the canal ruins. Once, this had been a hero outpost. Now? Just a graveyard of failed ideals.

He’d once been the face of the city’s strongest Creed.

Jahil Roze — The Frozen Fortress. Apex-Ranked Tank.

He remembered shouting orders.

"I'll take the glyph anomaly head-on. You two flank. I’ll hold it."

But his arrogance hadn’t held.

The glyphstorm swallowed them whole. Rheza. Raihzo. The rest. Gone.

No bodies. No goodbyes. Just frost and silence.

And Jahil?

He survived.

Now, two years later, his relic stirred again. A cryo-core warning. Something nearby was triggering unauthorized glyph sequences.

Class C threat. Relic unauthorized.

He followed it.

A cloaked figure stood over collapsed agents, glyph sparks flickering from their bodies.

"Who the hell—?" the thief started.

Jahil raised his hand.

Circle-3 Relic Cast: Flashfreeze Radius.

The thief didn’t finish the sentence.

Ice sealed around their legs in a blink. Jahil stepped forward, voice low.

"You're using tech you don't understand."

"Y-you—who are you?!"

"I used to be a shield."

He half-drew the cryo blade sealed to his back. It hummed with frostlight.

"Now I'm the sentence."