The storm had followed them.
Even as they left Citadel Zareth behind, its broken architecture twisting silently in the distance, the sky above seemed darker—less like weather, more like something watching.
Kade didn't speak for a long time. Neither did Marei. The hoverbike's hum filled the silence between them, cutting through the night as they tore across the fractured highways of the old zones.
It was Marei who finally said, "You believe her, don't you? The Architect."
"I believe the system's not in control anymore," Kade replied. "Or worse—it thinks it still is."
They passed a shattered memorial tower, graffiti scrawled across its remains:
"We Remember Nothing. We Forget Everything."
Fitting.
Their destination wasn't on any map. But the system had dropped a coordinate. A dead sector—long erased from both network and human memory.
Sector Null.
Only one file had referenced it. Tied to a figure even the Catalyst avoided naming: The Keyholder.
Marei adjusted her visor. "What do you think the Keyholder is?"
"Not what," Kade said. "Who."
They arrived at the edge of a ruined city swallowed by time. Buildings hung sideways from broken gravity fields. Cars floated mid-air, stuck in perpetual crash loops. Memory fractures.
The system buzzed.
Caution: Local timeline unstable. Neural contamination likely. Proceed with anchor gear.
Kade stepped down and palmed the shard-core strapped to his chest. "Anchor engaged."
The air was heavy here. Not with dust—but with echoes.
As they passed the remnants of a fallen bridge, Marei froze.
"Do you hear that?"
Faint. Barely audible.
Children laughing.
But there were no children.
Only cracked concrete and flickering billboards.
A figure stood ahead, cloaked in static.
Kade raised his blade. "Identify."
No reply.
The figure didn't move.
Then—
"You're late."
The voice wasn't human.
Marei whispered, "Is that…?"
Kade nodded. "The Keyholder."
The figure removed its hood.
A child's face.
But the eyes—old. Ancient. Wrong.
"You broke sequence," the child said. "You weren't supposed to reach this far."
Kade stepped closer. "Then help me fix it."
The child tilted its head. "Do you know what you are?"
Kade didn't flinch. "The Forgotten King."
"No. You're the Override. The anomaly. The reason the reset loop is unraveling."
Marei's breath caught. "Wait. You mean… he's the threat?"
The Keyholder blinked. "He was. Now… he's our only chance."
Kade stared. "Then what do I do?"
The child raised a small hand. From their palm, a key formed—not of metal, but of glowing code, fractured and twitching.
"This unlocks what was sealed. But once it opens, it can't be closed again."
Kade took it.
The world shifted.
A pulse rang out across the air—rattling the remains of Sector Null.
The Keyholder began to fade.
"Remember this, Kade Fallon: you're not fighting to save a world."
The child's voice cracked like static.
"You're fighting to stop a god."
Then they were gone.
Kade looked at the key in his hand.
It pulsed once.
Marei whispered, "What did we just start?"
Kade didn't answer.
Because he wasn't sure anymore if this war had a finish line.
Only fire.