The air by the lake suddenly felt wrong.
The wind hadn't changed, but the entire layer of air had been rearranged—density, humidity, temperature, all misaligned.
The moment I inhaled, I could feel an external force adjusting this area.
The lake flashed once.
Short. Brutal.Like a system checking whether a process had successfully launched.
The next second—
All shadows slid seven centimeters to the left.
Mine. Alden's. Emilia's.All dragged out of alignment.
Only Patch's shadow didn't move.
He crouched low, claws digging into the ground, tail flared,as if gripping the only coordinate that hadn't been distorted.
"…It's rewriting this zone's coordinates," Emilia said quietly.
Alden frowned. "So how far is it now?"
Emilia didn't take her eyes off the lake's center."There are no levels here. Only how much it's already done."
The lake flashed again.
A countdown appeared:
00:00:07
Alden's breathing froze.
The lake's center sank,and a hand was forced into shape from misaligned light.
It pointed straight at the rune on my chest—
To it, that spot wasn't skin.It was a write interface.
As the hand drew closer, something in my chest was pulled out of place.
Not a skipped beat—but the position of the next beat was removed from the timeline.
One moment later, and my consciousness would have fallen through that gap.
For the first time, Emilia lost control.
"Jeff—back!"
Alden drew his gun, fully aware it was the wrong layer.
The lake flashed a third time.
The countdown shattered.
The black hand lunged—
Patch slammed into me from the side.
He bit into my clothes and dragged me backward,with such force that his claws carved into the ground.
A faint light leaked from between his teeth,as if some instinctive source point inside him had been pushed past its limit.
The light struck the black hand.
It shattered completely, breaking into fine fragments of light that fell back into the lake.
The moment the fragments touched the water,the lake's surface bulged slightly—
Like a system reclaiming residual command data.
A freezing current stabbed through my chest,as if a second heartbeat were trying to occupy the same position.
Patch didn't let go.
The light between his teeth intensified,as he dragged me back from something that was pulling me downward.
A deep, low hum rose from beneath the lake,dissatisfied at being forcibly interrupted,already preparing a counteraction.
When the last fragments disappeared,a phantom pain remained in my chest—like something torn open, then stitched back together.
The countdown went dark.
But in the instant before it vanished, I saw it clearly:
Name: Marked.
The black hand was destroyed.The action was interrupted.
But the format was not.
The lake had identified me.
The passage was officially open.