I should have stayed in the Unknown Zone.
Seriously.
Sure, I nearly died like… six times. My armor got shredded, my body healed itself like it was sponsored by some ancient goddess of glow-ups, and my strings still flickered like an old streetlight in a horror movie. But at least there were no people there.
Here?
"Permonelle survived the Zero Zone!"
"Is it true she soloed twelve Flux Elites?"
"Do you think she's a clone?"
"Can I touch your string?"
Kill me. Actually, don't. That would be too easy.
I groaned, arms flailing as I rolled off the bed, hitting the floor with a thump that sounded way more dramatic than it needed to be. My entire spine protested. My ankles cracked like dry twigs. I probably looked like a possessed ragdoll as I army-crawled toward the closet.
"I hate you, Phaser," I muttered at literally no one. "I hate you so much."
He didn't hear that. But he would.
I dragged myself up like a war veteran and waddled to the living room in the oversized T-shirt I stole from one of Dryad's closets in that yacht. It still smelled like marshfire and rebellion. And regret.
And then I stopped.
Because apparently, my living room was now a hotel.
There she was, splayed across my couch like a sprawled-out cat. One leg was hanging off the side, and her long braid was stuck between two cushions. She had my blanket half-eaten by her body and was softly snoring, twitching every so often like she was still mid-fight in her dreams.
And on the far side was Phaser, sitting at my breakfast table like he bought the damn apartment. Wearing a simple black turtleneck, sleeves rolled up just enough to flex that forearm vein, and gray pants that made his entire silhouette look... alarmingly competent. He glanced up and smirked.
"Good morning, sunshine."
I blinked at the scene like I had walked into the wrong universe.
"Why the hell is my couch occupied?"
Dryad cracked an eye open and groaned.
"Sunrise. Your side gets it. Mine doesn't. Let me have this."
"You came to my place at dawn just to sleep in front of the sun?"
She mumbled into the pillow. "Yes. It's therapy. Now shut up."
Phaser had the audacity to sip coffee like he wasn't the problem. He had a tray of pastries on the table—my table, mind you—like this was brunch.
"You're eating my breakfast," I said, pointing.
He raised a croissant and inspected it like it was made of gold.
"Correction. I ordered your breakfast. With your name. With credits. You're welcome."
I opened my mouth then closed it. Dryad snorted on the couch.
"She's buffering."
"You're invading my space," I tried again, walking over and grabbing the plate of toast like I wasn't hungry as hell.
"Technically, you're invading history," Phaser said smoothly, setting his coffee down. "You're the first Flux Elite to survive the Unknown Zone. That breakfast exists because of you."
I paused mid-bite.
"I hate that you're right," I grumbled, chewing.
Phaser just smiled like the smug genius he is and passed me a mug.
"Cinnamon vanilla. I remember it's your favorite. At least you mumbled that when you were unconscious back in the Second Thauma."
Ugh. Thoughtful.
He sat back like a man who knew he just won the argument without lifting a finger. Meanwhile, I looked like a half-dead fugitive with hair I could strangle someone with and the fashion sense of a laundry basket.
"I didn't ask to be famous," I whined, slouching into the chair next to him. "Why did you do this to me?"
"You walked into the Zone and didn't die. If that had been anyone else, the world would have hailed them a hero."
Dryad grunted. "She's lucky I didn't sell the footage to the other Eresnae. They were offering a lot."
I gave her a pillow-glare. "Traitor."
"You're hot now. They would've loved a before-and-after spread. You looked hot with broken armor."
I blushed. Actual, physical heat crawled up my cheeks.
"I swear to god, if you show anyone my broken-armor ass—"
"Relax," Phaser interrupted, tapping another window that flickered open above his wrist. Holographic screens spun around him like lazy butterflies. "You're untouchable for now. We pushed the narrative just enough. And also, the gods are dead so..."
I blinked. "You mean... all of this was... intentional?"
He looked at me like I was slow. "Yes. Dryad and I needed a reason to justify your favoritism. Surviving the Zone did better than we hoped."
Dryad stretched and finally sat up, yawning.
"Now no one can say you're just Phaser's spoiled pick. You're literally the reason the theory of temporal interference has been upgraded to law."
"And," Phaser added with another sip, "they can't silence data."
I stared at them.
They looked so… casual about it.
Like this was just another day of manipulating the media, rallying public support and casually torching centuries-old prejudices. And me? I was still recovering from the trauma of fighting spiders the size of cars and discovering I had abs now.
"...So you made me a figurehead?"
"We gave you proof. The world gave you the pedestal."
I slumped again. "I liked being invisible."
Dryad patted my shoulder. "Too bad. You're a symbol now."
_______
I was halfway through my second piece of toast—yes, the one I threw at Phaser that he caught like a smug little freak that he is—when he decided to drop the next bomb on me.
"You're coming with me today," he said, calm as ever, sipping coffee like this wasn't about to ruin my morning all over again.
"Huh?"
"You heard me. Now that your Flux has fully awakened, and I do mean fully, you're scheduled to meet with Suprema Gamma."
I paused, toast frozen mid-bite.
"…Your sister?"
Dryad snorted from the couch, now fully awake and already picking apart a pastry.
"Yep. The Gamma. As in the one who can read Fluxes like music scores and reclassify someone with a single look."
"I just got back from a death zone. Can I not have one morning of peace before you throw me into a lab rat evaluation?"
Phaser raised an eyebrow. "Lab rats don't awaken god-tier abilities in forbidden territories."
"Okay, fair. Still, couldn't this wait until I've brushed my teeth or something?"
Dryad gave me the look. "You think the Ennéa get brushing breaks? Girl, you're number seventy-seven now. The first wild card. You're in it."
"Seventy-seven," I mumbled, setting down the toast. "Great. Just what I needed. My own damn number."
Phaser chuckled and pushed away from the table, rising to his full six-foot-something height of tailored nonchalance.
"You've got a lot more than a number, Permonelle. Your Flux isn't just 'active'. It's reacting to the world. It's moving ahead of you. That's rare. Suprema Gamma will be able to see what it really is."
"I thought it was just strings."
"Nothing's 'just' anything at the Ennéa level. Gamma will determine its class, field, rank, and potential. Once she knows that, she'll assign you to appropriate missions. No more holding back."
Dryad raised a hand. "Also, you'll want to look decent. Gamma's brutal about appearances, especially at this time."
I sighed loudly. This was happening. I was now the human equivalent of a mystery weapon. My strings weren't just weapons anymore. They pulsed like organs. They breathed. And yeah… I felt it too. Something inside me had changed.
And then Phaser dropped the actual bomb.
"Oh, and while we're there, we'll be preparing for the Concord."
"The what now?" I asked, already regretting it.
Phaser turned back toward the holographic windows that still floated lazily around him. His fingers flicked and the screens rearranged themselves to show footage of Earth's cities and ruins.
"There's an event happening in Lyers Mand," he said. "In three days."
"And what does that have to do with Earth?"
"That's the part you don't know yet. You've assumed this was just our world. That we were isolated. But we're not."
I felt my stomach sink.
"Wait—"
"This world and Earth are connected," he continued. "The humans here? They're descendants, refugees and survivors. You're not the only one who crossed over from that broken planet, Permonelle. You're just one of the few who still remembers it clearly. And Flux had been... haah... you don't know how this world came to be huh..."
I sat down again. This time, for real. Dryad watched me carefully. She didn't interrupt. She let him talk.
"There's been an alliance, fragile, but real, between Earth's Flux factions and the factions of this world. Lyers Mand is hosting the next Concord for cooperation. And this time, for the first time in fifteen years…"
He looked directly at me.
"You'll be attending as the 77th Ennéa."
My pulse went flat. My ears rang.
"You're serious?"
"I never joke about politics."
"Or fashion," Dryad added.
"Or fashion," Phaser agreed.
I leaned forward, trying to collect the pieces of my already-fractured brain.
"So let me get this straight. I'm about to meet the woman who's going to rip apart my Flux like it's a novel she needs to annotate, then I have to suit up and smile for a bunch of politicians and Fluxers who probably already think I don't deserve to be ranked at Ennéa."
Dryad nodded. "Yep."
Phaser shrugged. "Not just smile. Just look dangerous. You're good at that."
"You're throwing me to the wolves."
"You are the wolf."
I leaned back, groaning again.
"I swear, I liked it better when people hated me."
Dryad clapped her hands. "Too late, sweetheart. You're trending. People started making gifs of you."
"Oh my god."
"And there's a string-themed plushie line being discussed. And the gods are dead."
"No."
Phaser smiled. "You did this to yourself, you know."
I covered my face with my hands.
"No more breakfast. I want a nap."
"No naps. Take a damn shower and wear something good."
Phaser was already at the door, coffee in hand, coat slung over his arm.
"You've got about an hour before we're in the castle."