Location: Temple Complex – Lira's Room → Outer Courtyard (Near Ruined Bell Site)
Time: [Cycle 6 : 00:07 – 02:30 Local Drift]
Ren didn't sleep.
His mind had too many tabs open. Ancient maps. Monster descriptions. Galactic politics. Secret tunnels between planets.
And that line from the vision orb repeating in his skull:
"The path begins at the Vein Below the Ruined Bell."
So, naturally, he did what any half-insane protagonist would do:
He packed his bag with scrolls, a knife, and a stolen banana, and went to see Lira.
She was still resting — not unconscious anymore, just... tired. Her stabilizer orb hummed gently beside her, casting blue light across her small frame.
When she saw him enter, she squinted groggily.
"Did you lose a fight to a book again?"
"Actually, I won a fight. Against ignorance."
"So... yes."
Ren sat beside her, laying the heavy tome gently on her lap. The page still open to Ka'rath'Mar's true name.
"This world isn't just some busted drift-junk slum. It's ancient. Strategic. Buried in secrets. The name Caldrith Verge is just a wrapper."
"Mmhmm," she said, nodding slowly. "You're doing great, sweetie."
"I'm serious, Lira."
"You always are," she yawned. "Like a really enthusiastic prophet no one invited."
Ren's shoulders dropped. That sting again — that subtle "you're not wrong, but you're not right enough for me to care yet" tone.
"I get it," he muttered. "I'm the weird new guy. Still glowing, still figuring out how to hold a sword without stabbing myself. But I'm telling you — this matters."
Lira rolled over, pulling her blanket tighter.
"Ren," she said softly, "you're not crazy. You're just early."
That sentence landed… weird.
But it was all she gave.
Ren left her room and crept through the temple halls. Past flickering lanterns and sleeping monks. Past the training courtyard and the waterfall meditation point where Arix probably did yoga while thinking about efficient murder.
Finally, he reached the Ruined Bell.
It sat cracked and crooked near the forest edge, held up by rusted beams. Moss coated its sides. It hadn't rung in generations. The bell looked... forgotten. Like it had once mattered — and then didn't.
He stepped around the base carefully.
There.
A worn inscription on a stone platform beneath the bell's frame. Covered in dirt. He cleared it with his sleeve.
"The one who hears without sound may follow the vein."
Ren knelt, tracing his fingers along the pattern — a spiral carved into the platform.
It wasn't just decoration. It was a sigil — a dimensional resonance lock. His left eye pulsed.
BLAZE (quietly):
"That's a Vein Seal. Pre-Drift era. Raw conduit binding."
FROST:
"How the hell does a banana-wielding meat sponge like you find these?"
CORE (serious):
"This isn't just a way out. This is a path left behind by something older than the empires."
Ren closed his eyes.
Reached out.
The seal responded. His Core fragments pulsed.
The ground vibrated faintly — not violently, but with a heartbeat.
A small glyph ignited below him.
Then a whisper — not from outside, but inside:
"One path opens. But only one may walk."
"Looks like this Vein's a one-ticket ride," Ren muttered.
He stood, eyes narrowed.
"I'm not telling Lira. Not yet. If she doesn't believe me now, she won't believe in this. Not until I show her."
He glanced back toward the temple, lips tightening.
"Fine. Then I'll prove it the hard way."
The glyph on the stone platform pulsed again, brighter this time.
Light spiraled outward, drawing a circle of shimmering energy beneath Ren's feet.
And then, with a low groaning hum, the stone cracked open, revealing a staircase curling downward into mist.
Ren hesitated. "This is either a hidden interplanetary route… or the world's fanciest sewer."
He stepped in anyway.
The moment he reached the base, a giant gate stood before him — ancient, arched, inscribed with symbols that felt familiar even though he couldn't read them.
It opened on its own, creaking dramatically like it wanted him to feel impressed.
"Oh great," Ren muttered. "Sentient architecture with a flair for suspense."
Inside, the corridor expanded into a massive circular chamber, lit by floating shards of crystalline light.
And in the center?
A large, beautifully ruined bell.
Cracked open along one side, but still standing. It was made of a metal Ren had never seen — like silver mixed with obsidian and kissed by stardust.
It glowed faintly. Hummed softly. It… called to him.
He walked toward it, slower now.
"If this thing sings or asks me riddles, I swear I'm turning around."
He placed a single hand on it.
And instantly — boom.
Light swallowed him whole.
No falling sensation. No pain.
Just — suddenly — silence.
And then warmth.
Ren stood barefoot in a field of soft blue grass, swaying like waves in a gentle breeze.
Above him: a sky of swirling golden clouds, with floating islands suspended in the air like lazy moons. Giant glowing lotus flowers drifted through the air like jellyfish.
And the wind?
It carried faint music — soft strings, like someone plucked them right from the threads of a dream.
"Okay," Ren breathed. "I'm either dead… or on the cover of an overly romantic fantasy novel."
BLAZE:
"I'm gonna cry. It's so pretty I forgot to insult you."
FROST:
"I feel underdressed. Even the grass here has a better aesthetic than your hair."
There, in the middle of it all, stood a sword.
Buried halfway in the ground.
Its blade shimmered with pale blue runes, glowing faintly in sync with the sky. The hilt was wrapped in midnight leather, topped with a crystal that pulsed like a heartbeat.
And it was just... waiting.
Like it had been for centuries. For him.
Ren approached slowly.
"Okay. So it's a sword. Cool. Totally normal. Just chilling here. Out in the open. Surrounded by fantasy clouds and ancient butterflies."
He squatted in front of it.
"What's the protocol? Do I ask it for consent first? Shake the blade? Whisper sweet nothings?"
"Maybe it electrocutes me. Maybe it screams. Maybe it summons my final form and I grow six wings and scream about destiny."
He wiped his palms on his coat.
"Okay, no pressure. Just a suspiciously sexy sword. I've had worse Mondays."
Then he grabbed the hilt.
Nothing happened.
He tugged.
Still nothing.
He braced a foot on the edge and yanked like he was opening a jar of pickles in front of someone he wanted to impress.
SHHHHLINK.
The sword slid free.
And the world lit up.
Name (unknown... for now)
Blade: Pale silver mixed with opalescent blue, shifting subtly with movement.
Looks like it was forged from distilled starlight and sarcasm.Hilt:
Wrapped in gravity-threaded leather. Never cold. Never hot. Always perfect.
Crossguard: Wings curled inward, shaped like a protective shield.
Runes: Constantly flowing — not glowing, but breathing.
As soon as it left the ground, Ren felt something.
A pulse. Not a voice — a connection. The blade accepted him. Not because he was worthy.
But because it was tired of waiting.
Ren stared at the sword.
"Holy shit. I just adopted a cosmic weapon."
CORE (very far away, but amused):
"And it just imprinted on you like a baby duck with god-tier murder instincts."