The escape capsule slammed through the final atmospheric boundary of Realm 4, sacrificing most of its remaining kinetic energy to avoid triggering the local Temporal Wards. The landing, while controlled, was still brutal—a cascade of grinding metal against steel-reinforced cherry blossom wood on the outskirts of Kenshi, the City of Ten Thousand Blades.
Elara was the first one out, her senses immediately assaulted by the temporal clarity of Realm 4. Here, the axiom of Relativity was law: every action and reaction was measured, predictable, and clean. There was no quantum fuzziness, no Newtonian ambiguity. The air itself felt like frozen glass.
She could see the Causal Paths of everything: a falling leaf's trajectory was a perfect hyperbolic arc; a distant guard's footstep was a sequence of flawless, discrete kinetic pulses. Even the smoke from a far-off chimney spiraled in mathematically perfect logarithmic spirals. This was a nightmare for chaos, and a surgical theatre for logic.
Lira stumbled out behind her, adjusting her vision. "My light-shadows feel… sticky. It's like every photon is on a schedule. This place gives me the jitters, Reckoner."
"That's the Causal Anchor," Elara explained, her voice low. "The Helix used this realm's cultivation to enforce total time-fidelity. Deviation is impossible. Any variable that moves faster or slower than its cultivated speed is immediately flagged as a temporal anomaly."
Thorne and Sira emerged, their Nomad frost-etches dimming. "The air is too thin for our sagas, Voss," Thorne grumbled. "Our proofs rely on the flux of Realm 1. Here, every variable is set in stone."
"That's our advantage," Elara said, already calculating. She glanced at her Living Anchor arm. The chaotic essence within was suppressed by the Realm's overwhelming order, but the internal pressure was immense, like trying to hold a compressed spring. "My chaos is stable because this Realm is stable. We will exploit their belief in absolute order."
The Nomads quickly repurposed the capsule's remaining magnetic shielding, covering it with Relic-Realm foil. Lira added a superficial temporal veneer to the capsule—a proof designed to make the wreckage appear as if it had been there for exactly 3.2 cycles, a highly predictable, decaying relic.
"The objective is the Blade of Temporal Integrity," Elara confirmed, looking toward the city center, a towering structure that resembled a colossal, vertically-sheathed katana. "We need to blend in. Lira, procure us clothing that suggests purposeful intent—a merchant, a scholar, anyone who is not an unquantified variable."
"Got it," Lira said, the Syndicate instincts sharpening her eyes. She melted into the precise shadow of a nearby cherry tree, her movements blurring the line between causal certainty and probability shift—a subtle defiance that only her Abyss/Relic hybrid power could manage.
Within minutes, Lira returned, holding three dark, functional cloaks and three plain Time-Weaver ID bands. "Acquired from a freight depot. Highly predictable variables, those logistics runners. The bands will get us past the initial gates."
Elara strapped the band onto her wrist. The device immediately calculated her physical variables: mass, momentum, and rate of movement. Predicted Path: Zero Deviation. The Dragon-God's Essence hated it, but Elara's logic welcomed the mask.
They approached the massive city gate, guarded by two Samurai Sentinels. These cultivators wore armored plating forged from Relativistic Steel, their long katanas humming with tightly controlled temporal energy. They were not just fast; they could locally slow the passage of time for anything they deemed a threat.
"State your lineage and purpose," the lead Sentinel commanded, his voice perfectly measured. His eyes, the color of polished steel, scanned them.
Elara stepped forward, ensuring her movement was perfectly measured—no wasted kinetic energy, every step matching the Causal Path of her surroundings.
"We are Polymath Scholars," Elara stated, presenting her ID band. "Designation: Temporal Auditors. We seek the Nexus of Causal Splicing to verify the data integrity of a relic designated Blade of Temporal Integrity."
The Sentinel's eyes narrowed, but his temporal energy remained contained. Elara had just used his Realm's exact terminology, hitting a sweet spot of technical honesty and intentional obfuscation.
"Analysis: The terms are consistent with our Causal Register," the Sentinel's armor AI stated. "However, the Nomad's energy signatures are highly chaotic."
"The Nomad is my Field Stabilizer," Elara countered, maintaining perfect eye contact, allowing no temporal stutter in her delivery. "The Relativistic Layer creates immense strain on the data integrity of our proofs. His Foundation-Realm stability is necessary to prevent Temporal Drift in our calculations."
The Sentinel considered this. In Realm 4, where the stability of data was sacred, a Field Stabilizer made perfect, predictable sense. He was dealing with a predictable group of hyper-focused academics.
"Your path is clear, Temporal Auditors," the Sentinel said, his energy dissipating. "Seek the Dojo of the Immutable Past. They hold the Register for the Blade."
As they passed through the gate, the order of Kenshi washed over them. Every building, every street vendor, and every citizen moved with an almost unbelievable precision. It was beautiful, terrifying, and profoundly predictable. Elara realized she had successfully deployed her first large-scale strategic maneuver on the Aetherforge.
"That was too easy," Lira whispered, adjusting her cloak.
"No," Elara corrected, walking with precise, measured steps toward the central spire. "It was the only path. The moment we try to move unpredictably, the entire city will collapse us into a temporal singularity. Now, we find the Dojo. We have to be the most predictable thing in the most predictable place."