Valerius arrived to silence that didn't belong.
The battlefield was wrong—folded streets, fractured stone, marks of combat that bent geometry instead of breaking it. Something powerful had passed through here recently.
Then he saw Lys.
On one knee. Blood soaking into the ground. Seals cracked, unstable, barely holding.
And someone was standing near him.
Human. Armed. Alert.
Warden.
Valerius's hand closed around his sword.
The woman turned at the sound of steel clearing its sheath.
Astra.
She recognized the posture instantly—too late to stop what came next.
Valerius crossed the distance in a blink.
Astra threw up a barrier on instinct, but the impact shattered it like glass, hurling her backward. She rolled, came up breathing hard, weapon raised.
"Step away from him," Valerius said. His voice was calm. That was worse.
Nyra shouted from behind, "Valerius, wait—!"
Too late.
Valerius struck again.
Precise. Controlled. Deadly.
Astra blocked, redirected, retreated. No Synchronization glow. No system overlay. Just raw skill and drilled reflexes.
That registered.
Valerius adjusted immediately.
"You're not synced," he said mid-strike.
"Because I'm not here as a Warden," Astra snapped, barely deflecting a cut aimed for her neck.
Steel rang again and again. Sparks carved lines through the air. Astra fought defensively—efficient, disciplined, human. She didn't overpower him.
She survived him.
Valerius pressed harder, testing her limits.
"You're standing beside a being GAPA classifies as a threat," he said. "That makes you an enemy."
Astra slid low, elbow driving into his ribs. He grunted, stepped back—
—and Lys stood.
Not dramatically.
Not forcefully.
He simply stood.
The fight stopped anyway.
Not because of pressure.
Not because of power.
Because everyone present understood something at the same time.
Nyra felt it in her bones.
Elda felt it in the way the battlefield suddenly felt… small.
Astra felt it in the cold certainty that no training manual had prepared her for this.
Lys did nothing.
And yet—
If he moved, this situation would end.
If he spoke, decisions would become final.
That was what Tier Zero meant.
Not strength.
Authority of existence.
"Enough," Lys said quietly.
Valerius froze. Then slowly lowered his blade.
Astra swallowed, blood running from her shoulder. "If I wanted him contained," she said carefully, "this place would be surrounded already."
Nyra scoffed. "She's telling the truth."
Elda nodded once. "No Synchronization residue. No command link."
Valerius studied Astra again—really looked this time.
Human. Injured. Still standing.
"You should have identified yourself," he said.
"I tried," Astra replied. "You didn't listen."
A pause.
Then Valerius sheathed his sword.
"State your purpose," he said.
Astra exhaled. "GAPA doesn't know what Lys is becoming," she said. "And that scares them."
Lys looked away toward the broken skyline.
"Good," he said.
Because far beyond the battlefield—
Time folded in on itself.
And the Time Dragon watched.
Not because of Lys's power.
But because humans were beginning to stand too close to Tier Zero beings.
And that was a mistake history had made before.