The wind shifted.
Not in the tower, but far from it—atop a serrated ridge that overlooked the Duskwind Valley. Hooded figures stood in a half circle, each one differently masked: one a mask of bone, one of fossilized wood, one of gleaming obsidian.
They were the Watchers. And one of them had just felt the resonance.
"The boy has touched the Echo," the Bone Mask said, its voice rustling like dry leaves.
It's too early," the Obsidian whispered. "He wasn't meant to awaken it yet."
The wooden mask's wearer nodded his head in the direction of the distance. "That's what makes him dangerous."
The valley trembled beneath them—a secret heartbeat that radiated outward like a ripple in water, spreading through root, stone, and leyline.
The Bone Mask's voice cracked through the stillness. "Dispatch the Hand. If he survives that, we'll begin the next phase."
Meanwhile, back in the ruined tower
Kyle paced near the outer ledge, the wind tugging at his coat. His mind hadn't fully settled since the trial. The Mirror still haunted his thoughts—not as a threat, but as a reminder.
"You're different now," Aster said softly. She sat on the broken edge of a pillar, legs swinging lazily, her voice softer than usual.
Kyle didn't answer right away. He stared at his reflection in the blade of his dagger. "The system's changing faster than I expected. Like it's… reacting to me."
"It is," she said, unimpressed. "That's what a living system does."
Kyle turned to her. "You knew?"
Aster shrugged. "I theorized. There are myths—scant records of Adaptive Constructs. Most people think they're legends."
"But it's not just adapting," Kyle said. "It's watching."
System Update: Passive Detection – High-Level Surveillance Detected. Origin: Unknown.
He cursed under his breath. "They know."
Aster straightened up. "We need to move."
But it was already too late.
A sharp report rang out in the air, a noise like breaking glass underwater. The air before them rippled—and from the fold in reality stepped a figure, clothed in billowing black, his face hidden behind a crimson mask carved into the likeness of a snarling beast.
The Hand of the Watchers had arrived.
The Encounter
Kyle had fought mercenaries, ravenous beasts, even corrupted spirits. But this was different.
The Hand did not walk like a man. He flowed—too quiet, too smooth, like a blade already in motion before it's drawn.
Aster's hands rose, fire igniting in her palms, but Kyle stepped forward.
"No," he said quietly. "He's here for me."
The Hand tilted his head.
Then vanished.
Kyle spun around in time to parry a blow aimed at his throat. His dagger met the curved dagger of the masked assassin, and for a moment their faces were inches apart.
"You carry the Echo," the Hand whispered, voice distorted. "That in itself is your crime."
The fight dissolved into motion. Kyle dodged, sidestepped, parried. Every blow appeared to be coming from three directions at once. The system issued no new command—no new power—only the faint glow of Echo Sense, allowing him to feel danger seconds before impact.
But the Hand did not stop.
Then, a tremor—a gap.
Kyle plunged his dagger out, hitting the assassin's arm. Not deeply, but sufficiently. The Hand hissed, retreating with inhuman swiftness.
He did not vanish this time. Rather, he stood on the far side of the tower, watching.
"You are not ready," he stated. "But you will be. And when you are, you'll wish you hadn't been."
The Hand stepped back into the fold—and vanished.
Aftermath
Kyle dropped to his knees, breathing heavily. The system finally responded.
System Alert: First Contact with the Watchers Complete. Unique Trait Evolved – Echo Resilience (Rank I).
Aster came running to his side. "That wasn't a normal assassin."
"No," Kyle replied, darkly. "It was a message."
Both of them looked toward where the Hand had vanished. The air still distorted there, as if the world itself had been cut and pasted back together wrongly.
Kyle stood up slowly.
"They know I exist. That I'm growing. We need to be a step ahead of them."
Aster's eyes narrowed. "Then we leave tonight."
Far away, in a hidden hall lit by frosty crystal torches, the Obsidian Mask watched Kyle's movements through a projection formed from woven light.
"He lived," he whispered. "Just as the prophecy said."
The Bone Mask stood beside him. "Then the next Gate will open soon."
And behind them, something vast moved in the dark—something ancient, waiting.