[Blackstone Territory Border · Pilgrimage Road Junction]
The mist thickened as it approached the boundary line.
The instant Rosa raised her hand to halt the unit, the fog ahead parted—deliberately.
Twelve soldiers stood in the center of the Pilgrimage Road.
They wore dark-gray military-police coats, sharply tailored. Their gear was a composite of reinforced leather and metal plating, devoid of any religious symbols. On their left shoulders was the stone insignia of Blackstone Territory; on their right hips hung batons and restraint devices. Folded shields were mounted on their backs.
—Not ceremonial armor.
—Equipment designed specifically for suppression, containment, and cleanup.
Jessie recognized it immediately.
This wasn't an assault unit.
It was a stabilization force.
And the man at the front was equipped differently.
He wore no helmet. His long, dark military-police coat swayed slightly in the wind. On his chest was a subdued but unmistakable metal badge—the Blackstone fracture-mark, bisected by a horizontal line.
The insignia of the Blackstone Lawkeeper.
"You continue to surprise me."
Atos' voice was calm, unnervingly steady. His gaze passed over Rosa and lingered instead on the line of Black Iron Type-I beastkin behind her—longer than it did on her herself.
"To assemble a force of this scale at Blackstone's border,"
"and still keep the magitech network and ley-flow within safe thresholds…"
He lifted his eyes to Rosa.
"This isn't a mistake."
Jessie murmured quietly, "Military-police jurisdiction… Immediate lockdown authority."
Rosa smiled.
Her posture never relaxed, but her tone sounded almost amused.
"So—are you here to arrest us,"
"or to see us off?"
Atos didn't bristle.
He raised one hand. Behind him, the twelve officers made a synchronized micro-adjustment—not a formation change, not a combat stance, but a standard interdiction layout.
"If I were here to arrest you," he said evenly, "you wouldn't be standing."
He stepped aside, revealing the white-stone road leading toward the Theocratic State.
"As Blackstone's lawkeeper, my duty is not to guard the Theocracy's gate."
"It is to ensure—"
He paused.
"That anything crossing this boundary doesn't immediately become a corpse statistic."
The statement weighed heavier than any threat.
"So you're here to stop us?" Jessie asked.
"No," Atos answered without hesitation.
"I'm here to decide."
He met Rosa's eyes.
"To decide whether you're worth pretending I didn't see."
The fog churned along the boundary.
The military-police shields remained folded.
The Black Iron beastkin did not advance.
This wasn't a prelude to battle—
it was a local enforcer weighing the cost between passage and containment.
The twelve officers held their interdiction stance—shields down, weapons idle.
A posture that said: concessions possible, control maintained.
Atos stood at the front, his gaze never leaving Rosa.
But Jessie's attention drifted elsewhere.
She focused on one officer's left arm guard.
The metal plate had been repaired many times—its outer surface heavily worn. But along the edge, a sliver of the inner layer was exposed.
Too smooth.
Not forged.
Not cast.
—Layered composite material.
Jessie's breathing didn't change. Her hand lowered slowly, fingers tapping twice against the inside of her cloak.
A silent signal.
Rosa didn't turn. She already knew.
"Your equipment," Jessie said casually, as if making small talk, "wasn't all produced in Blackstone's workshops, was it?"
The twelve officers remained still.
But Atos' eyes flickered—just barely.
"A lawkeeper's job is to make sure his people come home alive," he replied evenly.
"Origins are irrelevant."
Jessie smiled.
"If it were just reinforcement plating, I wouldn't ask."
She raised her gaze to meet his.
"But that inner layer dampens electromagnetic interference."
The moment the words left her mouth—
A low-frequency vibration rippled through the ground beneath the fog.
Not from them.
From inside the boundary.
Atos' wrist-guard lit up with a dull red warning glyph.
Not projected outward.
Visible only to the wearer.
He glanced down.
Jessie saw it too.
It wasn't text—
but a simplified risk-symbol array.
She knew it instantly.
A system alert interface.
[Boundary Stability: Decreasing]
[Anomaly Recognition Rate: Rising]
[Recommended Action: Mark / Delay / Report]
Rosa exhaled softly.
"Looks like you weren't the first one to get hold of old things," she said lightly.
"You're just more honest than most."
Atos' jaw tightened.
For a brief moment, he didn't look like a lawkeeper—
but like a man who knew the cost too well and was still being asked to choose.
"It didn't come from the Theocracy," he finally said.
His voice was low. No denial.
"Blackstone needs equipment that can withstand… incidents."
"Some incidents aren't recorded."
Jessie's stomach sank.
—Not gods.
—Not the Church.
Something older.
The red warning pulsed again.
The symbols changed.
[Reporting Window: Open]
[Countdown: 30]
The system was waiting.
Not commanding.
Reminding.
Atos lifted his head and looked at Rosa.
The fog roiled between them. The twelve officers remained motionless, as if nothing had changed.
But time had begun to count down.
"If I report this now," Atos said, his voice frighteningly calm,
"you'll be flagged as high-risk variables."
"Not arrested."
"Observed."
Rosa smiled.
There was no warmth in it.
"That's worse than arrest."
Jessie added quietly, like stating a law of nature,
"Everything that gets observed… eventually gets corrected."
The countdown hit 15.
Atos didn't look at his wrist again.
He raised his hand and made a minimal gesture.
The twelve officers adjusted their positions simultaneously—
Not to block.
But to open a narrow passage.
One second before the countdown reached zero—
The red glow vanished.
"This stretch," Atos said quietly,
"I'll file as routine patrol—no anomalies."
He looked at Rosa, his gaze heavy.
"But if you let this spiral out of control—"
"I'll take responsibility," Rosa replied instantly.
Atos didn't smile.
"No," he corrected.
"I'll be the one forced to clean it up."
The fog dispersed.
The white stone road reappeared before them.
As Jessie passed Atos, she murmured,
"The system's already marked you."
Atos didn't turn.
"I know."
They moved on.
And behind the boundary line, a Blackstone lawkeeper—for the first time—did not pray to either side.
He only calculated
how much truth
this world could still endure.