LOCATION: A Collapsed Outpost, Near Fallen Nexus

Shukan tossed a handful of dry wood into the pit, watching the embers catch on the brittle remains of a tree that’s long dead. The flames flickered weakly against the cold, their light swallowed by the endless expanse of ruin stretching around them.

It wasn’t a good place to rest. But it was the best they had.

Aetheron sat against a broken wall, arms crossed, his usual glow dimmed. His wings were pulled in tight, exhaustion creeping into his features for the first time in a long while.

Chronos stood nearby, silent, eyes locking onto nothing. He hadn’t spoken since they escaped.

Yurei sat across from Shukan, leaning against her bag, her ice arm pulsing erratically. She was trying to ignore it, but the faint glow in her veins said otherwise.

For a while, no one spoke.

Then-

“Alright, so.” Shukan broke the silence. “What the hell just happened back there?”

Aetheron exhaled. “You want the long version, or the version where I say ‘we got our asses kicked’ and we all go to sleep?”

“Hilarious,” Shukan muttered. He turned to Chronos. “Your move didn’t work. Why?”

Chronos didn’t react at first. Then, slowly, he spoke

“Law rewrite only works when something has rules.” His voice was calm, too calm. “That…thing, didn’t follow any.”

Shukan felt a chill creep into his spine. “…So you’re saying it’s outside of reality?”

“No.” Chronos finally turned to face them. “ I’m saying it is reality, fractured. It wasn’t moving through time, it wasn’t teleporting. It was existing in every possible outcome and choosing which one to act through.”

Silence.

Yurei’s grip on her ice-arm tightened. "...So what does it want?"

"That’s what I don’t understand." Chronos' voice was quieter now. "If it truly wanted us dead, it wouldn’t have let us leave."

Shukan frowned, tossing another stick into the fire. That part had been bothering him too.

"So what?" he muttered. "It was just playing with us?"

Aetheron shook his head. "Nah. It wasn’t just fighting us. It was learning. Adapting. The longer we fought, the stronger it got."

Chronos nodded. "And now it knows what we can do."

The weight of that realization sank in.

They hadn’t escaped.

They had given it everything it needed to be stronger next time.

Shukan clicked his tongue, looking away. "Fantastic. Love that for us."

Yurei exhaled through her nose. "We need to rest. We have bigger problems ahead."

Aetheron stretched out, his glow flickering slightly. "Yeah. And the biggest problem is how we’re getting into Fallen Nexus."

Shukan smirked, leaning back. "Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m sure we’ll figure something out."

Yurei rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of."

The fire crackled softly, barely keeping the cold at bay.

The fire had burned down to embers, casting flickering shadows across the ruins. Outside, the dead city loomed, silent and waiting.

Shukan stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. "Alright, let’s be real. You two—" he gestured lazily at Chronos and Aetheron, "—are basically walking targets. You can’t just walk in there."

Aetheron huffed. "Gee, thanks. Love the confidence."

Yurei sat cross-legged, adjusting the edges of her dress. Her crimson eyes flicked toward Chronos. "He’s right, though. The people here hate Shunogai. Even if you try to mask your presence, someone will notice eventually."

Chronos remained silent, but Shukan could tell he was already calculating something.

Aetheron sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So what, we just chill out here and hope nothing eats us while you two do all the work?"

"More like you two find another way in." Yurei’s voice was steady. "Fallen Nexus isn’t just a fortress—it’s a broken city. There are underground passages, collapsed sectors, abandoned zones. You just need to find one that doesn’t get you both killed."

Shukan smirked. "Or, you know, you could just disguise yourselves as street performers."

Aetheron shot him a deadpan look. "I will actually set you on fire."

Chronos finally spoke. "There’s an alternative."

Everyone turned to him.

"We create a diversion."

Shukan raised an eyebrow. "What, set something on fire and run?"

"Not exactly." Chronos’ golden eyes flickered. "If we leak an energy surge near the outskirts, it’ll draw attention away from the main entry points. While the guards investigate, you two slip inside undetected. We use that time to locate an alternate route."

Yurei exhaled through her nose. "Risky. But it could work."

Shukan tilted his head. "Yeah, but what are you two gonna use as bait? You?"

Aetheron grinned. "Nah. We’ve got something better."

The Resonator pulsed.

And through it, a single, unstable energy signature flared in the distance.

Something was already inside Fallen Nexus.

And it wasn’t them.

The fire's embers cast long shadows against the crumbling walls. The group had just finalized their infiltration plan when a distant, rhythmic sound reached their ears—a series of heavy thuds, growing steadily louder.

Shukan's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't sound good."

Yurei stood, her ice-arm shimmering faintly. "We need to check it out."

The team moved cautiously toward the source of the noise, navigating through the maze of debris and twisted metal. As they approached, the ground trembled beneath their feet.

Emerging into a clearing, they saw it: a massive, mechanized sentinel, patrolling the perimeter of Fallen Nexus. Its searchlights scanned the area methodically, and with each step, the earth quaked.

Aetheron whispered, "That wasn't there before."

Chronos analyzed the sentinel's movements. "It's a new security measure. They've upgraded their defenses."

Shukan clenched his fists. "Great. So much for sneaking in unnoticed."

Yurei observed the sentinel's pattern. "We need to disable it, or at least divert it, before we can proceed with our plan."

Chronos nodded. "Agreed. But we must act quickly. The longer we wait, the higher the risk of detection."

The team retreated to a safer distance to strategize.

The sentinel loomed ahead, its massive frame barely visible through the mist of the ruins. Metal plating covered its entire form, but the energy pulsing from its core was unmistakably ancient. Something old, something that shouldn’t still be running.

Shukan crouched behind a crumbling wall, watching the machine patrol the perimeter with slow, heavy movements. Each step sent tremors through the dead ground.

"So," he muttered, glancing at Chronos. "Can you actually shut this thing down, or are we about to waste our time?"

Chronos didn’t answer right away. His golden eyes traced the sentinel’s structure, calculating. Then, finally:

"If it follows a set system of laws, I can rewrite them."

"And if it doesn’t?" Yurei asked, ice-arm glowing faintly.

Chronos exhaled. "Then we improvise."

Chronos stepped forward, extending a hand. Golden energy flickered at his fingertips, spreading like threads through the air. Reality bent—the very rules governing the sentinel’s movement, its function, its purpose—began to unravel.

"Rewrite: Override Operational Parameters. Cease All Hostile Functions."

The sentinel froze mid-step.

For a moment, it worked.

The machine’s core dimmed, its mechanisms slowing, almost as if it was accepting the new law.

Then, without warning, it reactivated.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Not in resistance. Not in error.

It adapted.

The energy from its core shifted, as if searching for something—and then it spoke.

"Override detected. Recalculating operational law."

The golden threads of Law Rewrite shattered.

Chronos staggered slightly, his hand still extended.

Shukan’s stomach dropped. "Oh, hell no."

Before anyone could react, the sentinel’s core flared—bright red. It had rewritten itself.

"New priority detected: Source of interference identified."

It turned its full attention to Chronos.

Then it attacked.

The moment Law Rewrite failed, Chronos stood still, eyes locked onto the machine as if trying to process what just happened. His ability wasn’t rejected—it was replaced.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

"It rewrote itself?" Chronos muttered, barely audible.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

Shukan was already moving.

The sentinel lunged toward Chronos—its arm shifting mid-motion, adapting its structure, preparing to kill the one who had tried to rewrite its function.

Before it could land a blow, a dagger flashed. Shukan intercepted. With no strategy, no hesitation, he launched himself at the machine, one dagger slicing against its metal plating while the other plunged deep into the gaps between its shifting armor.

The impact sent a shockwave through the ground.

The sentinel reeled back.

For a second, it was caught off guard.

And Shukan grinned.

"Yeah? You like that, tin can? Let’s see how well you adapt to getting your ass kicked."

Chronos barely registered what was happening. His mind was racing.

"It rewrote itself."

"Law Rewrite didn’t fail—it was absorbed. Converted."

"What if I—no, that wouldn’t work. But if I changed the foundation of its laws rather than the parameters—"

Chronos' golden eyes flickered.

There were versions of Law Rewrite that even he hadn’t attempted.

Versions that were dangerous.

Aetheron crossed his arms, watching Shukan go absolutely feral on the machine. "Uh, you wanna maybe help him before he gets crushed?"

Chronos didn’t respond. He was already rewriting his own understanding of Law Rewrite.

Now, back to Shukan throwing hands with the machine. The sentinel tried to adapt.

Its armor shifted, its movement recalibrated.

Shukan didn’t care, he just kept on swinging. His daggers clashed against shifting metal, slicing through energy nodes, shattering joints before they could restructure.

The sentinel was adapting—but Shukan wasn’t giving it the time to finish.

It hadn’t calculated this.

Raw aggression. Pure instinct. A style of combat that didn’t follow logic.

It had evolved against Chronos’ Law Rewrite.

It had no defense against pure, chaotic violence.

Shukan ducked under a massive swipe, flipping onto the sentinel’s arm, driving his blade deep into its core plating.

"Adapt to that, you oversized scrap heap."

The sentinel lurched, energy surging erratically—as if it didn’t know what to do.

Then, Chronos looked up. And he had an idea.

The sentinel twitched violently.

Its adaptive systems were overloading. It had rewritten itself multiple times, countering Law Rewrite, evolving mid-battle—but it had never calculated for someone like Shukan.

Someone who didn’t fight with structure.

Someone who didn’t fight with reason.

Someone who just kept hitting it until it stopped working.

"C’mon, you bucket of bolts! Can’t keep up?!" Shukan taunted, driving a dagger into the machine’s exposed joint. The blade pierced through layers of metal, sending another erratic energy pulse through its systems.

The sentinel staggered.

It tried to calculate again—to evolve.

But it couldn’t.

It didn’t know what to evolve into.

Because Shukan wasn’t following a pattern.

He was switching stances mid-motion, alternating attacks between perfect precision and reckless, chaotic destruction. There was no "best adaptation" because there was no logic behind what he was doing.

Chronos watched. Analyzed.

And then—he understood.

"I see now."

Aetheron raised an eyebrow. "See what?"

"Why I lost to it earlier." Chronos stood up, golden circuits flaring along his armor. "Law Rewrite failed because it focused on controlling a structure that was already evolving. But I was thinking too small."

Aetheron crossed his arms. "Okay, genius, what’s the move?"

Chronos’ golden energy surged.

"If I can’t rewrite it…"Chronos exhales with a smirk.

"I’ll overwrite its ability to adapt at all."

Law Rewrite was about to go beyond anything he had ever attempted.

The sentinel, damaged and confused, made a final, desperate move—its core glowing violently, preparing an overload that would take Shukan down with it.

But before it could activate—

Chronos moved.

He raised his hand, and golden threads of rewritten law wrapped around the machine.

"Rewrite: Evolution Stasis."

The energy surrounding the sentinel froze mid-motion.

It couldn’t evolve. It couldn’t counter. It couldn’t even comprehend what was happening to it.

For the first time in its existence—

It stopped adapting.

Shukan saw his opening. Grinned.

"Yo, Chronos—about time."

Chronos exhaled. "Finish it."

Shukan didn’t need to be told twice.

He flashed forward, daggers spinning in his hands.

One step.

Two.

Then he struck.

The daggers pierced deep into the sentinel’s core—

And he ripped the energy straight out of its system.

A massive shockwave burst outward, sending metallic debris flying as the sentinel collapsed.

Shukan landed smoothly, flicking his blades as the last remnants of the machine’s power faded.

For a moment—silence.

Then—Aetheron whistled. "Well, damn."

The sentinel was gone.

Its core had been ripped apart, its metallic husk reduced to scrap, and the faint hum of its adaptive systems had finally gone silent.

For the first time since they arrived, the night felt still.

Shukan rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms like he’d just finished a light workout instead of a battle against an evolving death machine. He smirked, flicking his daggers before holstering them.

"Damn, I love winning."

Aetheron exhaled dramatically. "I hate that this actually worked."

Yurei crossed her arms, giving Shukan a side-eye. "Did you even have a plan?"

Shukan shrugged. "Yeah, hit it until it stops moving. Worked, didn’t it?"

Yurei sighed, rubbing her temples. "I swear, one day that’s not going to work, and I’m not saving you when it happens."

Aetheron grinned. "Nah, I will, just so I can laugh at him afterward."

Shukan placed a hand on his chest in mock appreciation. "Aww, you do care."

Aetheron smirked. "I care about seeing you suffer in the most entertaining way possible."

Chronos, meanwhile, hadn’t moved.

He stood still, staring at his own hand. The golden threads of rewritten law were still faintly visible around his fingertips, slowly fading.

He was calculating.

Replaying what just happened.

"It worked," he murmured.

Shukan raised an eyebrow. "No shit it worked. You figured that out just now?"

Chronos ignored him.

"I forced it to stop evolving. Not by restricting its functions, but by rewriting its ability to evolve itself at all."

He clenched his fist. "That means Law Rewrite isn’t just for changing systems. It can change the concept of change itself."

That realization hit hard.

Aetheron’s smirk faded slightly. "...So, uh. That’s terrifying."

Yurei nodded. "Yeah, that’s new."

Shukan stretched, cracking his neck. "Yeah, yeah, you unlocked some reality-breaking power again. Congrats. Let’s focus on the fact that I just soloed a war machine."

Aetheron scoffed. "Chronos literally handed it to you on a plate."

Shukan grinned. "And I ate."

Yurei sighed. "Can we be serious for a second? We just fought a sentinel outside of Fallen Nexus. If they’re using machines like this to guard the city, what the hell are we walking into?"

Silence.

Shukan exhaled. "...That’s a good point.”

The ruins stretched before them, vast and lifeless. Massive towers loomed overhead, their structures cracked but still standing. The city should have been abandoned—but the tension in the air said otherwise.

Something was here. Watching.

Shukan exhaled through his nose, gripping his daggers.

"Alright, here’s the plan. Yurei and I go in first—walk in like we belong there. You two find another way in."

Aetheron, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "And if something goes wrong?"

Shukan smirked. "Then I’ll improvise. You know, like always."

Chronos, standing slightly apart from the group, was silent. His golden eyes scanned the massive gate, tracking the lingering energy signatures woven into its framework.

Yurei glanced at him. "...Something wrong?"

Chronos didn’t answer right away. Then, ”This city was erased before. But it’s still here."

Shukan blinked. "Yeah? We already figured that out."

Chronos' voice was quiet but heavy. "That means whatever brought it back... is still inside."

Silence.

Aetheron clicked his tongue. "Alright. Love that. Just another reason why this is a terrible idea."

Shukan rolled his shoulders. "Too late to back out now. Let’s get moving."

Shukan and Yurei approached the massive gates.

The walls stretched endlessly into the sky, their surfaces etched with ancient markings, pulsating faintly with energy. The gates were slightly ajar—just enough to let someone slip through.

Nobody was guarding them.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

"That’s weird," Yurei muttered. "There should be guards posted here."

"Maybe they got lazy." Shukan smirked, stepping forward.

The moment they crossed the threshold—

The air shifted.

A heavy pressure crashed down on them.

Yurei stiffened, her ice-arm pulsing faintly in response.

Shukan’s fingers twitched toward his daggers. Something was off.

Then—

A voice echoed through the empty street.

"—you shouldn’t be here—"

Shukan’s heart pounded once.

He turned his head slowly—but no one was there.

Just the city.

Silent. Waiting.

The city was dead silent.

Shukan and Yurei walked cautiously through the cracked streets, their footsteps echoing against the hollow remains of what was once a thriving civilization. Buildings stood half-collapsed, their insides long since emptied. Some still had lights flickering behind shattered windows.

But they hadn’t seen a single person.

That voice they heard at the entrance? It hadn’t spoken again.

But it wasn’t forgotten.

Yurei’s eyes scanned their surroundings. “Are we gonna talk about that voice or just pretend we didn’t hear it?”

Shukan kept his pace steady, gripping his daggers inside his coat. “No point wasting time on it. We’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

“…Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Every now and then, they passed by buildings with symbols carved into their walls. Some were glowing faintly.

Some looked like they had been burned into the stone.

Some had been violently scratched out.

Shukan glanced at one. “The hell do you think these mean?”

Yurei ran her fingers along one of the markings. It was cold. Too cold. Even to her.

“…I don’t know,” she muttered. “But I feel like we’re being watched.”

Shukan’s grip on his dagger tightened. “You’re not wrong.”

Because every time he looked away from a building— He swore the symbols changed.

Further outside the city, Chronos and Aetheron stood in front of a collapsed underground passage.

This was their way in.

Aetheron exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, so. We go in, find another way to regroup with them, and try not to die. Sound about right?”

Chronos wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on the stone entrance—on the markings covering it.

The same symbols that were inside the city.

Aetheron noticed his silence and frowned. “…Something wrong?”

Chronos didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly:

“I’ve seen these before.”

Aetheron raised an eyebrow. “Uh. Cool. When?”

Chronos’ golden eyes flickered.

“…Back when Fallen Nexus was supposed to be erased.”

Back to the other two, Shukan ran his hand along the strange symbols carved into the stone.

Cold. Unnaturally cold.

Yurei stood beside him, her ice-arm pulsing faintly. “…I don’t like this.”

Shukan exhaled. “You’re the one who wanted to check it out.”

The building’s interior was dark—too dark. The deeper they walked, the more the outside world seemed to fade away.

Then— The symbols on the walls ignited.

A blinding blue light flooded the room, and before they could react— Reality snapped.

They were somewhere else.