The white space shattered.
Not with sound—but with force.
Salemadon felt gravity seize him violently as reality snapped back into place. Light collapsed inward. Air rushed into his lungs like a punch. His feet slammed into solid ground, and he rolled hard across scorched earth.
Brughan crashed beside him, groaning. "I hate re-entries."
Althara landed on one knee, steady but tense. "We're back," she said. "But not where we were."
Salemadon pushed himself upright. The sky above was darker than before, heavy with thick clouds streaked by faint red light. The land around them was fractured—burned in places, twisted in others, like it had suffered while they were gone.
Pahtem hummed softly against his arm. Not strained. Not quiet.
Alert.
"This place remembers us," Salemadon said.
THE AFTEREFFECT
The air smelled of ash.
Salemadon scanned the horizon. Distant silhouettes moved between broken stone and ruined structures—too far to see clearly, but close enough to feel.
Brughan followed his gaze. "Please tell me those aren't more Anchors."
Althara shook her head. "No. These are… locals."
That word hit hard.
"People?" Salemadon asked.
"Yes," she said. "And they're afraid."
As if summoned by the thought, a sudden cry echoed through the ruins. Then another. Then chaos—running figures, shouted warnings, panic spreading like fire.
Salemadon's chest tightened. "Something followed us."
Before anyone could answer, the ground trembled.
THE CONSEQUENCE ARRIVES
A deep, metallic sound rolled across the land.
THOOM.
The sky darkened further as a massive shape descended—not falling, but pressing reality downward. The air bent around it. Stone cracked beneath its presence.
Brughan whispered, "That's… not natural."
Salemadon felt it clearly now.
An Enforcer.
Not hiding. Not testing.
Arriving.
The figure landed ahead of the fleeing civilians, cutting off their escape. Tall. Armored in layered black and silver plates that reflected distorted versions of the world. Its face was sharp, expressionless, eyes glowing faint white.
It raised one hand.
The people froze.
Not by force—but by probability.
Salemadon stepped forward immediately.
"No," he said aloud. "You don't touch them."
The Enforcer turned its head.
Slowly.
Its voice was flat, precise.
"Deviation confirmed. Influence spreading."
Pahtem pulsed.
Salemadon felt the familiar burn rise—but something had changed. His control was steadier. The pain slower.
"I'm not running," he said. "And I won't let you erase them."
CHOICE UNDER FIRE
Althara grabbed his arm. "Salemadon—this isn't a fight you finish quickly."
"I know," he replied. "But it's one I have to start."
Brughan stepped up beside him. "Then you won't start it alone."
The Enforcer lifted its other hand.
The world compressed.
Salemadon felt pressure slam into his chest. His knees bent. Stone beneath his feet cracked into glowing fractures.
Pahtem flared.
Threads burst outward—not wild, not violent—but deliberate. Salemadon anchored probability around the civilians first, breaking the Enforcer's hold.
They screamed and ran.
The Enforcer reacted instantly, stepping forward—
And Salemadon met it halfway.
IMPACT
Their collision sent a shockwave through the ruins.
Salemadon was thrown back—but not broken. He rolled, came up on one knee, Pahtem glowing bright white.
The Enforcer advanced.
Brughan shouted, "It's adapting already!"
"I know!" Salemadon yelled back.
He shifted tactics—no longer pushing directly. Instead, he bent the ground beneath the Enforcer, twisting chance itself to make every step unstable.
The Enforcer slowed.
Not stopped—but challenged.
Althara joined in, reinforcing the fractures, forcing space to resist correction.
Salemadon felt it then.
The world was responding differently.
Not resisting him.
Listening.
THE TURN
The Enforcer paused.
Its voice changed—just slightly.
"Deviation escalation detected."
Salemadon stood fully now, breathing hard but steady. "Good," he said. "Then report this."
He raised Pahtem—not to strike—but to declare presence.
The sky flashed.
The Enforcer stepped back.
Not defeated.
But cautious.
ENDING BEAT
With a sudden distortion, the Enforcer vanished—pulled away by unseen force.
The land fell silent.
Brughan dropped to one knee, laughing breathlessly. "We lived. Again."
Althara looked at Salemadon carefully. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
He nodded. "They didn't expect resistance this strong."
She exhaled slowly. "Then the next response will be worse."
Salemadon looked toward the fleeing civilians, then up at the dark sky.
"Let it come," he said.
Pahtem glowed steadily.
The hunt had failed again.
And now, the world knew his name.
You never return to the world the same way you left it.