Raizō positioned himself in a fighting stance. “Go.”

  At the far end of the corridor, the Paladin-Legate began walking toward them. He advanced with no hesitation. Raizō stepped forward to meet him, and his Kaijin activated fully. Lightning tightened along his forearms and shoulders, drawn close instead of flaring outward. His breathing slowed as he entered that sharpened state where every movement mattered. The Legate closed the distance quickly. Raizō met the first strike with both hands. Steel slammed against the reinforced gloves with a heavy sound that echoed through the corridor. The impact drove him back half a step, but he planted firmly and twisted his wrists, redirecting the blade past his shoulder. He countered with a short punch toward the side. The Legate shifted his weight and let the strike glance off armor. His blade came around in a tight arc toward Raizō’s neck. Raizō ducked under it and stepped in, driving a middle kick toward the Legate’s thigh. The kick connected against armor with a solid impact. The Legate absorbed it and answered with a forward shoulder check that sent Raizō into the stone wall.

  The wall cracked behind him. Raizō pushed off immediately and reengaged. He threw a quick combination—low kick, then high hook toward the helmet. The Legate blocked the hook and answered with a downward strike that scraped sparks from Raizō’s gloves. They moved again without pause. The Legate thrust forward. Raizō pivoted sideways instead of retreating and brought his elbow down to knock the blade off line. He stepped inside and drove a punch toward the jaw. The Legate turned just enough to avoid it and caught Raizō’s wrist, twisting to pull him off balance. Raizō rolled with the motion and brought his knee up sharply into the Legate’s torso. The Legate released him and stepped back, then came forward again with controlled aggression.

  Their exchanges grew tighter. Boots slid across the stone. Steel scraped against glove. Raizō shifted angles constantly, adjusting instead of forcing speed. When he tried to accelerate too sharply, his body resisted under the Legate’s pressure. He shortened his steps and relied on timing instead. The stone beneath Raizō’s boots fractured further as another heavy clash drove them into the center of the corridor. Thin cracks spread outward from where they stepped. Dust fell from the ceiling with each impact. Raizō pressed forward now, driving a series of tight strikes that forced the Legate to defend high. He stepped inside and delivered a sharp elbow toward the side of the helmet. The Legate absorbed it and answered with a knee to Raizō’s midsection.

  Raizō braced and countered with a low sweep toward the legs. The Legate jumped cleanly over it and brought his blade down hard into the floor. The corridor shuddered. Raizō stepped back to reset his footing, but the cracks had already spread too far. The stone beneath them groaned under the sustained force of their clash. The Legate shifted his stance and stepped forward again. Instead of striking Raizō, he drove his heel down into the fractured ground with controlled force. The floor gave way. Stone collapsed beneath them in a rush of dust and falling debris. Raizō’s lightning flashed once as he dropped. The Legate fell with him, composed even in descent.

  “Raizō!” Seris moved toward the edge, but the pressure had already vanished downward with them.

  Her voice cut off as the collapse finished, the hole sealing itself in dust and falling stone. There was no answer. For a heartbeat, Seris didn’t move. Then the sound of approaching boots reached her ears. Rylan stepped to the edge of the broken floor and looked down into the darkness below.

  “He’ll manage,” he said calmly.

  Seris turned on him. “You don’t know that.”

  Rylan glanced back at her, expression unreadable. “I do.”

  There was something in his voice that stopped her from arguing further. The sound of armored movement grew louder.

  Seris swallowed hard and nodded once. “Archives. Now.”

  They started to move, but boots thundered from both sides of the corridor. Order Knights rushed in, shields raised, spears angled forward. There were too many to fight. Seris exhaled sharply, frustration cutting through her voice.

  “We don’t have time to deal with them.”

  The Knights charged. Rylan stepped forward casually.

  “Then let’s not.”

  He lifted one hand. His Kaijin activated for only a moment. The shift was subtle but immediate. Seris felt it, and it unsettled her. The first Knight faltered mid-stride, blinking rapidly as if something in his vision slipped sideways. His spear scraped across the stone as his grip weakened. Another stumbled, misjudging his footing. His shield tilted at the wrong angle. He tried to correct it, but his balance failed him. A third reached striking distance before his knees buckled. One by one, they all collapsed. Their bodies simply stopped cooperating. Within seconds, the corridor was filled with armored forms sprawled across the floor. Seris stared at them.

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  “What did you do?”

  Rylan lowered his hand and gave her a faint grin.

  “This’ll be our little secret.”

  “Are they alive?”

  “For now.”

  Seris didn’t argue. “Then we move.”

  They ran. The deeper they went, the quieter it became. No patrols. No servants. No sound beyond their own boots against stone. Seris slowed slightly as they passed through a narrow junction where the ceiling arched higher. The architecture shifted from lower chambers into the upper wing.

  Rylan noticed the change in her pace.

  “What is it?”

  She didn’t look at him.

  “Get ready.”

  “For what?”

  “There’ll be someone waiting.”

  They turned another corner. The corridor ahead stretched long and straight, torches spaced evenly along the walls. Rylan studied her expression.

  “You’re certain.”

  “I am.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “He was there the first time I went to the archives.”

  Rylan’s brows lifted slightly. “What if he’s not?”

  “He’ll be there.”

  They continued walking.

  Rylan’s voice was casual, but there was interest beneath it. “Is he strong?”

  Seris didn’t hesitate.

  “Strong enough.”

  A small smile touched Rylan’s face.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  They walked in silence after that. Seris adjusted her grip on the sword she had taken earlier. Her breathing steadied as they approached the final turn. If he had found anything inside the archives, this wasn’t just a confrontation. It was a decision point. They stepped around the corner. The archive doors stood closed at the far end of the hall. Arden stood beside the archives, partially in shadow, a ledger open in his hand. He did not look up immediately. He turned a page and began to scan them intently. He was reading. Rylan stopped half a step behind her.

  “Well,” he said quietly, “you weren’t wrong.”

  Arden turned a page without urgency. Seris saw the book and felt the shift in her chest. If she lost here, it would vanish. Arden closed it slowly and looked at her.

  “It took time,” he said calmly. “Your father hid this carefully, but not well enough. I’m sure there’s more inside somewhere.”

  His eyes lifted slowly to meet Seris’.

  Seris’ voice tightened. “My father tried to stop this.”

  “He tried to delay it,” Arden corrected. “He lacked the resolve to see what was necessary. He was an incompetent man. He documented what was happening. He objected in meetings. He asked for revisions.” Arden gave a faint shake of his head. “And then he signed off anyway.”

  Arden opened the ledger again.

  “You want to hear what he actually wrote?”

  He didn’t wait for permission.

  “‘The villagers were taken before sunrise. Doors were broken. Anyone who resisted was restrained.’”

  Seris’ fingers tightened around the hilt. Arden kept reading in the same even tone.

  “‘Three men attempted to interfere. They were beaten in front of their families to prevent further resistance. I was present.’”

  The corridor felt still.

  “‘Subjects were brought to the lower chamber in chains. No explanation was given beyond “Church authority.” I did not challenge that wording.’”

  Seris took a small step forward. Arden turned the page.

  “‘The first procedure ended in immediate failure. The subject did not survive the initial stage. I signed the continuation order.’”

  He didn’t rush.

  “‘Seven died within the first hour. I recorded each name. I did not stop the trial.’”

  Seris’ jaw tightened. Arden read again.

  “‘Children were taken when adult compatibility failed. They were separated from their mothers by force. I was told younger bodies adapt more easily. I allowed the process to continue.’”

  Seris’ voice was tight. “You took people from their homes.”

  “They were selected for a great purpose. They were necessary.”

  The lack of hesitation made her stomach turn.

  “You experimented on them,” she said. “You forced something onto them they didn’t ask for.”

  “We forced evolution,” Arden replied calmly.

  Seris stared at him.

  “You call that evolution?”

  “You think power appears clean?” he asked. “You think advancement waits for volunteers? We needed variables to test this on before allowing our men to take the risks.”

  Her disgust showed openly now.

  “That’s what you see when you look at them?” she said. “Variables?”

  Arden didn’t flinch.

  “I see the future.”

  “You see excuses,” she shot back. “You and this Church are sick.”

  Rylan’s eyes shifted between them but he didn’t interfere. Arden’s tone remained even.

  “Those villages would have remained insignificant,” he said. “Now their loss contributes to something larger.”

  Seris’ hand tightened on her sword.

  “You justify slaughter by calling it contribution.”

  “I justify survival,” Arden replied.

  “Survival of what?” she demanded. “A Church that kidnaps men, women, and children?”

  He didn’t look offended.

  “Don’t worry,” he said plainly. “They didn’t suffer too much.”

  Seris’ expression hardened.

  “You’re delusional.”

  “No,” Arden said. “You’re stuck in the past.”

  He stepped slightly to the side of the doors, still between her and the archives.

  “You think strength comes from restraint. It doesn’t. It comes from willingness.”

  “Willingness to butcher villages?”

  “Willingness to do what you won’t.”

  Her disgust didn’t fade.

  “You’re not building a future,” she said. “You’re hollowing it out.”

  Arden gave a faint shake of his head.

  “Your father said the same thing. He thought documenting it would absolve him,” Arden continued. “As if recording names was the same as preventing deaths.”

  “He tried,” Seris said quietly.

  “He hesitated,” Arden corrected. “He opposed in private and complied in public. That’s not courage.”

  Rylan watched in silence. Arden held her gaze.

  “He lacked the resolve to either fully support the program or openly defy it. That makes him worse than those who chose a side.”

  Seris’ breathing remained steady, but the tension in her shoulders was visible now.

  “He hid these pages instead of burning the project to the ground,” Arden said. “He believed exposure would fix what strength couldn’t.”

  He gave a small shake of his head. Seris raised her sword slowly. He set the ledger carefully on the stone ledge beside the doors.

  “We’re moving into a new era of power,” he said evenly. “Unfortunately, you won’t be alive long enough to witness it.”

  Seris raised her sword without another word.

  “You don’t get to decide that.”

  Arden adjusted his stance, calm and ready.

  “Yes,” he said. “I do.”