Liam stood on the academy balcony overlooking the capital ruins. Reconstruction teams moved below like ants—small, frantic, fragile.
"They're afraid of you," Arvane said quietly.
Liam didn't look away. "They should be afraid of what failed."
The Price of Survival
Reports flooded in from every region.
Entire noble houses sealed themselves off and never reopened their gates.
Mercenary guilds dissolved after losing their strongest veterans.
Border cities demanded independent defense forces—no longer trusting central authority.
The invasion had ended.
Order had not returned.
"The system will respond next," Arvane continued. "It always does when its illusion of control breaks."
As if summoned—
The air rippled.
Not text.
Not notifications.
Something deeper pressed against Liam's core.
The Red Core resisted instinctively.
Arvane's eyes narrowed. "It's probing you."
System Disclosure
That night, Arvane finally stopped pretending.
They stood in a sealed chamber beneath the academy, runes layered so densely that even concepts struggled to pass through.
"You asked once how I know about the system," Arvane said.
Liam nodded. "And you never answered."
"Because the answer makes disciples question the world itself."
Arvane raised a hand.
The air fractured.
Not physically—
Conceptually.
For a fraction of a second, Liam saw it.
A vast lattice of rules, probability threads, corrective loops, and suppression layers—stretching far beyond the planet.
"The system is not a gift," Arvane said calmly.
"It is a containment structure."
Liam's breath slowed.
"It was created," Arvane continued, "after the first era of Anchors destroyed three realities."
What the System Really Is
"The system exists to do three things," Arvane said.
First: Regulate growth so beings do not surpass reality's tolerance too quickly.
Second: Redirect dangerous outliers into predictable paths—heroes, villains, calamities.
Third: When regulation fails—initiate replacement.
Liam's fists clenched. "Replacement… of Anchors."
"Yes," Arvane said. "That's why it created a Stabilizer Anchor."
Arch.
"And that's why it tried to force you into conflict."
Liam exhaled slowly. "So most people… don't see it?"
"No," Arvane replied. "They experience its effects. Only Anchors and near-Anchor entities perceive its interface."
"Then why can I see it so clearly?"
Arvane looked at him carefully.
"Because you were never meant to be contained."
Elsewhere — Arch's Choice
Far from the academy, Arch stood atop a mountain overlooking a foreign city.
Human.
Alive.
Safe—for now.
Memories surfaced without warning.
A burning world.
Anchors enslaved.
A Demon Lord wearing salvation like a crown.
Arch clenched his fists.
"So this world already has one," he murmured.
A Red Core.
A predator Anchor.
Instead of fear—
Relief surfaced.
"Maybe this time," Arch said softly, "I don't have to run alone."
The Demon Realm Stirs
Deep within the Demon Realm—
Karl knelt.
Not chained.
Not broken.
Refined.
His body no longer leaked power.
It contained it.
The black-cloaked man watched approvingly.
"You lost," he said. "But you survived an Anchor."
Karl raised his head.
His eyes were no longer human.
"I want him to suffer," Karl said calmly.
The cloaked man smiled.
"Good," he replied. "Then you're ready to learn."
Behind them—
A throne stirred.
And something ancient shifted its attention fully toward Liam's world.
Back at the academy, Liam opened his eyes.
Death Sense whispered—not of death.
Of approach.
The system pulsed once.
Not as a command.
As a warning.
[Anchor-Class Variables Increasing]
[Outcome Predictability: Degrading]
Liam smiled faintly.
"Good," he said.
Because for the first time—
The future was no longer written.