CHAPTER 116 — WHEN REALMS BLEED
The fracture did not sleep.
Kael understood that now.
As dawn tried—and failed—to break through the ash-choked sky, Ironroot stirred beneath the earth with quiet urgency. The roots did not scream or lash out; they listened. And what they heard made Kael's chest tighten.
The land was no longer the only thing responding.
Something else was answering the fracture's call.
Kael rose slowly from where he had been kneeling, hollow symbol pulsing in a steady, warning rhythm. Shadowblades noticed immediately. She never missed changes like that.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice low.
Kael didn't answer at once. His awareness stretched farther than before, pushed outward by something unseen. The sensation was wrong—like pressing against glass that wasn't there yesterday.
"We're not alone in this anymore," he said finally.
Titanbound cracked his neck, molten veins flickering faintly beneath his skin. "We haven't been alone since the first node woke up."
Kael shook his head. "No. I mean worlds."
That made Shadowblades still.
Ironroot's roots pressed against the boundary again, and this time the resistance yielded—just slightly. A thin seam opened in Kael's perception, like a wound tearing through reality itself.
Beyond it, he felt something vast and unfamiliar.
A different sky.
Different laws.
Different power.
The fracture had done what it always did best.
It had found a weakness—and widened it.
The ground trembled, not violently, but insistently. The fractured valley exhaled a low, resonant hum, and the air shimmered ahead of them like heat over stone.
Then the seam tore open.
Not wide.
Not dramatic.
Just enough.
A vertical裂—thin as a blade's edge—split the air, leaking unfamiliar light. The land around it warped subtly, roots curling inward, shadows bending toward it like iron filings toward a magnet.
Kael staggered back.
"That's a breach," he said, breath tight. "Not a node. Not an echo."
Shadowblades' hand tightened on her blade. "A gateway?"
"An overlap," Kael corrected. "Two realities brushing against each other."
Titanbound stepped forward, heat intensifying. "And what comes through?"
Kael didn't answer.
Because something already had.
A shape moved beyond the breach—indistinct, massive, armored in unfamiliar energy. Its presence alone distorted the air, not with chaos, but with weight. Authority. Gravity.
It did not step through.
It observed.
Kael's hollow symbol flared painfully.
"This thing isn't aligned with the fracture," he whispered. "But it can feel it. Just like we can."
The presence shifted, and Kael felt it notice him.
Then the breach sealed itself with a soft, terrible finality.
Silence followed.
Not relief.
Dread.
Shadowblades exhaled slowly. "That wasn't an attack."
"No," Kael said. "That was curiosity."
Titanbound growled. "Then it better stay curious."
Ironroot recoiled slightly, roots tightening defensively. Kael pressed his palm into the earth, steadying himself. The hollow symbol's glow dimmed—but its pulse did not slow.
The fracture had crossed a threshold.
It wasn't just corrupting land anymore.
It was advertising.
They moved quickly after that, retreating from the breach site and regrouping deeper within stable terrain. Kael worked silently, threading Ironroot into the ground, reinforcing reality itself—strengthening the seams where worlds touched.
Shadowblades watched the horizon. "How many breaches like that can it make?"
Kael swallowed. "As many as the structure of reality allows."
Titanbound snorted. "Then we break the structure."
Kael looked at him sharply. "No. We protect it. If reality collapses, the fracture doesn't lose—it wins."
A tremor rolled through Ironroot again.
Different.
Sharper.
Kael stiffened. "Another response. Not from the same place."
Shadowblades turned. "How many?"
"At least three," Kael said. "Different directions. Different signatures."
Titanbound's fists ignited fully now. "So it begins."
Kael stood, eyes dark and focused. "This is escalation. The fracture has learned it doesn't need to defeat us directly."
Shadowblades nodded slowly. "It just needs others to notice the noise."
The land around them began to change—not violently, but subtly. The sky dimmed another shade. The air grew heavier. Ironroot felt pressure from outside, as if reality itself were being leaned on.
Kael felt something else then.
A presence.
Familiar.
Not hostile.
But watching.
Different from the echo.
Different from the breach.
This one felt… disciplined.
Ordered.
A soldier.
Kael turned toward the distant ridge.
A figure stood there—cloaked, unmoving, outlined against the dim sky. Not born of shadow. Not made of fracture.
Just… here.
Shadowblades tensed. "He wasn't there a moment ago."
Titanbound growled softly. "He's not corrupted."
Kael nodded slowly. "No. He crossed over intentionally."
The figure raised a hand—not in threat, but acknowledgment. A voice carried across the fractured land, calm and controlled.
"This world is bleeding," the figure said. "And that makes it everyone's problem."
Kael stepped forward. "You felt the fracture."
"Yes," the figure replied. "And something far worse will feel it soon."
Shadowblades glanced at Kael. "This is one of them, isn't it?"
Kael didn't deny it.
"Other worlds," he said quietly. "Other defenders."
The figure descended the ridge slowly, stopping at a respectful distance. His presence was restrained—but powerful.
"I am not your enemy," the stranger said. "But I cannot ignore what's happening here."
Titanbound crossed his arms. "Good. Because ignoring it isn't an option."
The stranger's gaze shifted to Kael. "You are Ironroot."
Kael's hollow symbol pulsed once.
"And you are the anchor," the man continued. "If you fall, this fracture won't just spread."
"It will connect."
Kael met his gaze. "Then help us sever it."
The stranger was silent for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"This is only the beginning," he said. "Others will come. Some to help. Some to stop what they don't understand."
Shadowblades exhaled. "And some to exploit it."
"Yes," the stranger said grimly. "Especially them."
Ironroot pulsed beneath Kael's feet, steady and alive.
The fracture had reached beyond its cradle.
The multiverse had noticed.
And war—real war—was no longer a distant future.
It had begun with a whisper.