Silence fell over the ruined guild hall.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Even the dust in the air felt suspended, as if afraid to settle.
The intruder's eyes glowed like twin blood-moons as he looked at Friezzar and Lyra.
The smile he once wore was gone.
In its place—
a cold, razor-sharp stillness.
A predator analyzing prey that dared bare its teeth.
Friezzar trembled, but he stepped forward.
Just one step.
Just enough to place himself half in front of Lyra.
"…not… go."
The intruder tilted his head, his voice dripping with a gentle, poisonous calm.
"Not going?
Little Vessel… you were made to follow."
Arden stepped between the intruder and Friezzar, sword raised.
"Back away."
Oren raised his spear.
"Mages—hold the containment circle!"
The mana lines across the floor brightened—
But the intruder didn't spare the defenses even a glance.
He lifted a hand toward Friezzar.
"Come."
The command was soft.
Too soft.
Like a whisper sliding under the skin.
Friezzar's knees buckled.
His core shook violently.
His fingers clawed at his chest as a painful pull dragged at him—
a command embedded in him from creation.
Lyra gasped.
"Friezzar—NO—!"
She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him still.
Friezzar's glow sputtered.
He whispered in agony:
"…not… want…"
Lyra pressed her forehead to his.
"Then don't go. Stay with me.
I've got you."
The intruder's red eyes narrowed.
His voice sharpened.
"Defying me again?"
Oren shouted:
"SHIELDS—NOW!"
A line of shield-bearers slammed their tower shields together in front of the adventurers.
Arden held his sword in both hands.
Lyra held Friezzar tightly as he trembled violently.
And the intruder—
He lowered his hand.
And smiled again.
"Then let us test your conviction."
THE FIRST STRIKE
Without warning—
He flicked his wrist.
Just a flick.
And the air detonated.
BOOOOM.
The shockwave blasted through the guild hall—
shattering tables, tearing banners, blowing dozens of adventurers off their feet.
Shields were ripped from hands.
Arden slammed into a wall, coughing blood.
Lyra clutched Friezzar with both arms, shielding his core with her body as debris flew.
"LYRA—!" Friezzar cried, reaching for her.
But she held him tighter.
"I'm fine—! Just hold on—!"
Dust clouded the air.
Cracks webbed across the floor.
More than ten adventurers lay groaning, disoriented.
The intruder stood untouched, cloak unmoving in the disrupted air.
"So fragile," he murmured.
Arden staggered up, sword shaking.
"Is that all you've got?!"
The intruder turned his head slightly.
"Ah. The loud one."
Arden glared.
"Come say that to my face."
The intruder raised one finger.
Arden dove to the left.
Good instinct—
But not good enough.
SHHHCRACK—
A red bolt of mana cut through the air, grazing Arden's ribs and slamming him into a pillar.
Lyra screamed:
"ARDEN—!"
He groaned, blood dripping from his side.
"I'm… I'm fine… just pissed…"
Oren pulled him back.
"Stay behind formation! He's testing us!"
The intruder's voice slithered through the chaos.
"Your resistance is amusing…
but unnecessary."
He pointed again—
not at Arden
not at Oren
not at the mages
—but at Lyra.
Lyra froze.
Friezzar's core pulsed erratically.
"…no… NO—!"
"ANCHOR," the intruder whispered.
"You are the reason my Vessel is broken."
Lyra stepped back, heart pounding.
Arden forced himself up again.
"DON'T YOU TOUCH HER—!"
But it was too late.
The intruder snapped his fingers—
and the air around Lyra collapsed inward.
Like invisible shackles tightening around her throat, chest, and limbs.
She gasped—
fell to her knees—
clawed at her chest—
unable to breathe.
Friezzar's scream tore out of him.
"LYRA—!!"
He tried to run to her—
but collapsed halfway, clutching his chest, shuddering violently as the command to obey strained against his resistance.
The intruder watched calmly.
"This is balance," he said softly.
"When the anchor weakens… so does the vessel."
Lyra struggled for air.
She forced out a single, shaking whisper:
"Fr… Friezzar…"
He crawled toward her.
Cracks split across his arms, his legs, even his face.
But he kept crawling.
"…Lyra…"
Her vision blurred.
Her breath barely came.
"D…don't… come…"
Friezzar lifted her into his arms, shaking violently.
"…safe… make Lyra safe…"
The intruder sighed.
"So persistent."
He lifted his hand.
This time—
the mana that swirled around his fingers was thick, heavy, lethal.
A killing stroke.
Oren shouted desperately:
"MAGES—COUNTER—!!"
A dozen spells fired.
The intruder flicked his wrist.
Every spell shattered like glass.
Arden threw himself forward.
"STOP—!"
The intruder didn't even look at him.
He pointed directly at Lyra.
"One anchor.
One flaw.
Removed."
Lyra coughed, forcing air into her lungs.
Tears streamed down her face.
"Friezzar… run…"
He shook his head, voice cracking.
"…no…"
"Run—"
He clutched her tighter.
"…together."
The intruder's killing spell ignited—
Red light blooming like a dying star.
He whispered:
"Goodbye, little anchor."
THE SURGE
Friezzar's core erupted.
Not blue.
Not gold.
White.
Blinding white light exploded from his chest, engulfing them both.
The intruder's eyes widened.
"…Impossible—"
The white light expanded—
Pushing back the red spell—
breaking the mana in his hand—
shattering the air around him—
forcing him to take a single step back.
Just one.
But it was the first step he had taken since entering Arnvale.
His voice lowered, almost delighted.
"Oh…
You changed."
The white light faded as quickly as it came, leaving Friezzar collapsed on the floor, unconscious, Lyra sprawled in his arms, gasping for breath.
Arden rushed to them.
"LYRA—!"
She coughed, breathing again.
"I—I'm okay—"
Friezzar didn't move.
His eyes were closed.
His glow dim.
Oren stepped between the intruder and the fallen pair, spear shaking.
"You will not touch him."
The intruder smiled.
"I will."
His red eyes narrowed on Friezzar.
"But not yet.
The next evolution… must complete."
He floated backward toward the broken entrance.
"And then…"
His eyes gleamed.
"…he will beg to return."
He vanished into a swirl of distortions—
leaving silence in his wake.
Lyra crawled to Friezzar's face, hands trembling.
"Friezzar…
open your eyes…"
Arden knelt beside her, jaw clenched.
"Damn it… puppet, wake up…"
Oren lowered his spear, breath shaking.
"He… protected her again."
Lyra pressed her forehead to Friezzar's.
"Please… stay with me…"
His core flickered once.
But he did not wake.