Rylan shifted his weight.

  “Well,” he said lightly, “if you’re going to finish it, I’d recommend doing it soon.”

  “You really think killing me changes anything?” he asked quietly.

  Seris didn’t answer. Her grip didn’t waver. Arden’s fingers twitched. He kept speaking.

  “Eryndor isn’t defending itself anymore. It’s expanding. The Dominion is already integrated. The Isles followed months ago. There won’t be Kaijin there within the year.”

  Seris’ expression hardened. He shifted slightly. Pain shot through his leg, but he masked it.

  “King Arathen will bring us into a new era.”

  His hand moved. His fingers curled slightly against the stone. Seris pressed the blade closer.

  “Stop,” she said.

  “You’re already too late,” he replied calmly. “The regions under Eryndor’s protection are occupied. The knights you fought tonight? They’re the weak ones. The ones that survived integration.”

  Seris’ focus flickered for just a moment. It was enough for Arden to move. Her blade cut shallow across his throat as he stepped back. He caught himself against the wall. His joints trembled, but they moved. Footsteps echoed faintly in the corridor.

  Rylan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not good.”

  Arden steadied himself. His movements were still slowed, but returning.

  “This isn’t over, Thynes.”

  He simply backed away, testing each step. By the time Seris stepped forward again, he was already out of reach. Seris stood where she was, blade lowered, tears still warm on her face. Her breathing slowed. The sharpness around her receded. Rylan’s gaze drifted down. Arden had set the ledger on the ground during the fight. It lay near the edge of the broken stone, half in dust. Seris noticed it too. She walked over slowly, crouched, and picked it up carefully, brushing the dust from the cover with her sleeve. Rylan leaned slightly to see the title.

  “Bold of him to bring evidence into a fight,” he said.

  Seris ignored him and opened the ledger. The handwriting inside wasn’t printed or clean. It was uneven in places. Pressed harder in others. Like someone writing while trying to keep their hands steady. Her father’s style. Her throat tightened for a moment. Rylan’s tone softened slightly.

  “You want me to make a joke, or should I not?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Alright, I’ll behave.”

  She closed the ledger gently and tucked it under her arm.

  Then she turned toward the archive doors.

  They were tall and heavy, carved stone reinforced with metal bands. Faint markings lined the edges. Wards layered over time, old and subtle. Seris placed her hand against the surface. For a moment, she hesitated. Rylan tilted his head.

  “If you’re expecting it to open dramatically on its own, I can fake a gasp.”

  She pushed. The doors opened with a slow grind that echoed down the corridor. Cold air rolled out. Dry. Stale. It carried the scent of old parchment and something metallic beneath it. Rylan stepped inside first this time, glancing around.

  “This place gives me a headache,” he said. “Too many secrets in one room.”

  Seris moved deeper into the room. The archives were dense. Shelves pressed close together, stacked with ledgers and bound volumes that seemed older than the stone itself. The air was dry and cool. Dust clung to the corners where light barely reached. It was the kind of place meant to overwhelm the eye before the mind could focus. She stood still at first, letting her gaze travel across the room. Rows were marked by category, not by importance. Financial records were near the outer walls. Operational documentation was deeper inside. Everything was layered to look ordinary. Rylan folded his arms loosely and watched her.

  “You look like you already know where to start,” he said.

  “When I was younger,” she said quietly, “I wanted to become a knight. My father didn’t want me reading certain texts yet, so he hid certain books.”

  “And you went looking anyway.”

  “Just like any other curious child.”

  “Where did he hide them?”

  “On the lowest shelf,” she said. “Behind the estate financial ledgers.”

  Rylan blinked once.

  “Specific.”

  “He always chose the same section. No one ever checks financial records. He never made them too hard for me to find. I think he wanted me to find them.”

  She turned and walked toward the outer wall where the financial ledgers were stacked in long, dull rows. The bindings were plain. The titles were dry. Most of them hadn’t been moved in years. Seris crouched and ran her fingers along the lowest shelf. There were many books on estate expenditures, agricultural yield reports, and merchant tariffs. She shifted a few volumes aside, then she stopped. Behind the financial ledgers, pushed slightly back into the shadow of the shelf, were three thinner books that did not match the others. The leather was different. The wear along the edges was uneven, as if they had been handled more often than the surrounding records. Rylan leaned forward slightly.

  “Well I’ll be damned.”

  Seris pulled them out carefully. The first ledger was bound simply, without the Church seal. She opened it. Her father’s handwriting filled the page. The first few lines described intake numbers. Villagers relocated under directive authority. Temporary holding beneath the church. Her throat tightened, but she turned the page anyway. The next pages described the lower foundation levels. Hallways were cut into stone long before the church expanded. Rooms reinforced from the inside. Doors sealed from the outside. He described the testing chambers plainly, cold rooms, reinforced walls, and restraint points built into the floor. Guards were rotated frequently to avoid familiarity. Seris reached for the second ledger. This one bore official stamps, her father’s seal. Her fingers froze there. Another page, another approval made by him. These were just like the ones Kaelin showed her.

  “Talk to me,” Rylan said, voice quieter.

  Seris swallowed.

  “They’re not all dead.” she said quietly. “They’re underneath the church.”

  Silence settled between them. She kept reading to make sure she wasn’t wrong. Rylan exhaled slowly.

  “Well,” he said, trying to keep his tone light but failing slightly, “that complicates things.”

  Before Rylan could respond further, footsteps echoed from the corridor. Both of them turned toward the doorway. Raizō stepped in. Dust clung to his clothes. There was dried blood at his collar and along his sleeve. His breathing was steady, but his face looked pale in the cold light. He looked at them, then at the shelves.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “You’re alive,” Seris said quietly with a breath of relief.

  “Barely,” he answered.

  Rylan gave him a once-over.

  “You look like you had fun.”

  Raizō ignored the comment.

  “What did you find?”

  Seris handed him a ledger.

  “There are villagers still alive,” she said. “They’re beneath us. And whatever this new power is, it’s already finished. They’ve trained it and spread it.”

  He skimmed through the documents Seris had gathered, scanning names and dates, tracking repetition in approvals. Then he noticed something. One ledger in the stack was older than the rest. The binding was worn smooth at the edges. The spine slightly curved from use. It didn’t match the Church’s filing style.

  He pulled it out and opened it. The first entries were unmistakably personal, maybe one of the researchers. The handwriting was firm but uneven in pressure. Certain words pressed darker into the page, as if written with hesitation. He turned the pages slowly. Midway down, a line caught his attention.

  “The promise of return is spoken only to calm them. It has never been entered into doctrine, nor has any serious allocation been made toward its fulfillment.”

  Raizō’s eyes remained steady. He read further.

  “His Majesty has concluded that their continued presence strengthens the mission. Their departure would compromise stability.”

  A faint crackle stirred around his fingers. He continued reading. The tone shifted several pages later, more restrained, more careful.

  “Generations of research shows the anomaly persists in each summoning cycle. One among them remains bound fully to this world’s Kaijin. This individual does not adapt to the new power the way the others do.”

  Raizō slowed. The air around his hand tightened faintly. He read the next line twice.

  “Across previous summonings, the Seventh has consistently deviated in alignment and intent.”

  His jaw tightened slightly. He kept reading.

  “Each Seventh has demonstrated opposition to the remaining six and has proven to be a unique and an extremely dangerous Kaijin user.”

  A thin arc of lightning flickered along his knuckles and disappeared. Rylan noticed but said nothing. Raizō turned the page. The handwriting here was darker. Pressed harder.

  “The Church has responded by isolating and eliminating the Seventh in prior cycles.”

  He did not blink. He continued.

  “Post-mortem examination has yielded no structural distinction beyond their unwavering resistance to integration and their refusal to align with the others.”

  Another flicker of lightning traced faintly along his forearm before fading. The final paragraph was written slower than the rest.

  “It has therefore been determined that in all future summonings, the Seventh must be monitored and, if necessary, removed discreetly to preserve the balance required for the new era.”

  Silence filled the archive. The lightning around Raizō’s hand faded, but the air still felt charged. He closed the ledger carefully. Something inside him had settled into something cold. Rylan watched him carefully.

  “You find something good?” he asked lightly, though there was almost no humor left in it.

  Raizō slid the ledger back into the stack.

  “Something like that.”

  Rylan studied him.

  “You look like someone who just learned something he didn’t want to.”

  Raizō didn’t respond. He was trying to process what he just read without showing it.

  “The villagers,” she said again. “They’re beneath the church.”

  Raizō nodded once.

  “Then we’re not finished here.”

  The footsteps outside grew closer. Rylan tilted his head slightly.

  “We should move,” he said calmly. “Unless you want to host.”

  Seris gathered the papers carefully. She could only grab what mattered. She kept her father’s ledgers close. This was what they needed. Raizō slipped the one he had read into the stack without another word. Something behind his eyes had shifted. And as they turned toward the exit, the archive no longer felt like a room full of records. It felt like the surface of something deeper. And beneath them, people were waiting.

  The footsteps outside the archive were closer now. Raizō adjusted the stack of ledgers under his arm. Seris secured the rest against her chest. Rylan pushed himself off the shelf he had been leaning against and moved toward the door first, peering into the corridor without stepping fully into view.

  “A dozen," he murmured. “Maybe more behind them.”

  Raizō didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

  They moved together. The corridor outside the archives was narrower than before, the light dimmer. Shadows stretched long along the stone. They kept their pace steady. Running would draw attention. Walking too calmly would look suspicious. Rylan took the rear this time.

  “You know,” he said quietly as they turned a corner, “most people steal gold when they break into a church.”

  Seris didn’t look at him. “Most people aren’t trying to dismantle one.”

  “I like you,” he replied. “You’re ambitious.”

  They moved through two more intersections before the sounds of pursuit shifted. The disciplined footsteps had split. One group continued past the archive entrance. Another turned down a different corridor. Raizō slowed slightly and listened. He closed his eyes for a brief second.

  “They’re not after us yet,” he said.

  “Yet,” Rylan echoed.

  They continued until the corridor opened into a fractured chamber where stone from the collapsed floor above had fallen through. Dust lingered in the air. The light from higher levels filtered faintly down through cracks. Raizō stepped forward first. Two figures stood near the far wall. Taren and Shizume. Taren turned at the sound of their approach. Relief crossed his face quickly before he hid it. Then he saw Rylan. His hand shifted instinctively toward his spear.

  “What’s he doing here?” Taren asked, eyes never leaving Rylan.

  Rylan placed a hand lightly against his chest as if wounded.

  “I was bored,” he said. “Needed fresh scenery.”

  Taren didn’t smile.

  Raizō spoke calmly. “He’s with us.”

  “For now,” Rylan added.

  Taren’s eyes narrowed slightly, assessing him. He didn’t lower his guard immediately, but he didn’t press further either. His focus shifted back to the others.

  “You’re alive,” he said.

  “So are you,” Seris replied.

  Then she saw Shizume clearly. Shizume was standing, but only barely. One arm was wrapped tightly around her ribs. Blood had dried dark across her side and along her sleeve. Her breathing was shallow. One of her blades was gone. The other hung loosely in her hand. Seris moved toward her immediately.

  “What happened?”

  Shizume glanced briefly at Rylan, then away again. There was no curiosity in her eyes, just exhaustion. She was too tired to care about his random behavior. Her eyes flicked briefly to Raizō, then away.

  “I found her half collapsed in one of the corridors,” Taren said instead. “Whatever it was, it must have been intense for her.”

  Rylan’s brow lifted slightly. He was impressed with this group. Raizō stepped closer. He looked at the wound and the way she was holding herself.

  “You’re losing blood,” he said.

  “I know.”

  Her tone was flat, but the edge beneath it was thin. She had pushed past something to still be standing.

  Taren glanced at the ledgers under Raizō’s arm. “Did you find anything?”

  Seris nodded. “We have what we need. They’re still alive, some of the villagers. They’re being held below the church.”

  Taren’s jaw tightened. He secretly glanced at Raizō.

  “And the other thing?” he whispered.

  Raizō met his eyes for a fraction longer than usual. Something passed between them, silent and heavy.

  “It’s worse than we thought,” Raizō said quietly.

  Taren understood that he found some answers, but not exactly what he wanted. Rylan noticed the silent exchange.

  Rylan looked between the four of them and sighed lightly. “I hate to interrupt this reunion, but your organized friends are still walking around up there.”

  Shizume pushed herself straighter. “We need to keep moving.”

  Her knees almost gave out. Raizō stepped forward instinctively this time and steadied her by the shoulder. His grip was firm but not forceful.

  “You’re not fighting again,” he said.

  She looked at his hand, then at him. There was something different in her expression. Not defiance. Not dismissal. Something quieter.

  “I can still move,” she said.

  “Moving is enough.”

  Taren shifted closer to her other side without making a show of it. He didn’t offer help openly. He just positioned himself so she could lean if she needed to. Rylan studied them all with open curiosity.

  “Look at that,” he said lightly. “Teamwork. I almost feel left out.”

  Seris adjusted the ledgers again. “There’s a sub-level beneath us,” she said. “We need to get there fast.”

  Rylan’s humor faded slightly. “You’re serious about going down there.”

  “We need to help anyone who’s still alive.”

  Raizō looked at the fractured floor and the darkness below. The air rising from it was colder than the archive had been.

  “We don’t rush it,” he said. “We leave. Regroup. Then we come back.”

  Taren nodded immediately. Shizume hesitated.

  “If we wait,” she said quietly, “more of them die.”

  Raizō didn’t answer right away. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the weight she was carrying that had nothing to do with her injuries.

  “We need to move fast,” he said at last. “We don’t have much time.”

  The footsteps above shifted again. Closer now, searching.

  Rylan tilted his head toward a narrow passage leading away from the chamber. “If we’re going to have a serious conversation about underground heroics, I suggest we do it somewhere with fewer swords pointed at us.”

  Taren helped Shizume move without making it obvious. Seris stayed close, one hand hovering near her back just in case. Raizō took the front. They moved as one group now. And as they disappeared into the darker passage, the church behind them felt less like a sanctuary and more like a living structure waiting to respond. Below them, villagers remained trapped. Somewhere outside, a new power had already spread across continents. Between those two realities, five figures moved quietly through the stone.