[Oliver’s PoV]

  “Let’s move. We’re done here,” Oliver said.

  But the confidence in his words didn’t match the uncertainty in the room.

  Katherine looked around, her eyes scanning the vast chamber.

  “Right, but… which way?” she asked, her tone filled with confusion.

  The enormous door at the far end of the hall loomed over them. It was seamless, cold, and utterly unmoving.

  Alan and Mordred approached it cautiously. Alan ran his hands along the surface, tracing the intricate designs.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s a way to open it,” he murmured, his brow furrowing.

  “Maybe we don’t need a way,” Mordred said, his voice low and impatient. Without waiting for an answer, he punched it with his remaining hand.

  The impact reverberated through the chamber with a dull thud. The door didn’t move. Not even a tremor.

  Mordred grimaced, pulling back. “Guess not.”

  Oliver exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. His body ached, the fatigue from the fight still gnawing at him. The others weren’t in any better shape.

  'If brute force is what it takes,' he thought grimly, 'we’re screwed.'

  Katherine had started pacing, her eyes darting along the walls for any sign of a mechanism or control panel. Alan knelt near the base of the door, his fingers brushing against the dust and debris that had gathered there. Mordred stood nearby, his shadows flickering faintly.

  Yet, while watching them, Oliver felt it.

  A flicker.

  A shift in the room, subtle but undeniable.

  It was faint at first—an almost imperceptible Energy fluctuation.

  He straightened, his eyes scanning the room. “Wait. Do you feel that?”

  Katherine froze mid-step. Alan looked up. Mordred tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing.

  The sensation grew stronger.

  None of them had to search for long.

  Oliver narrowed his eyes, trying to focus. The air above the shattered throne shimmered, rippling like heat distortion.

  What had once been the black throne was a small group of golden light.

  Tiny particles of Energy floated upward, swirling through the air like fireflies in slow motion. They gathered, coalescing, as though following an unseen rhythm.

  Piece by piece, the throne reassembled. Not in darkness this time, but in radiance.

  When the light finally settled, someone was sitting there.

  He wasn’t draped in armor or wrapped in Energy.

  He was simple, almost human in appearance, except for two white wings attached to his back. His skin was pale, his features serene.

  Oliver’s breath caught in his chest.

  'The Just.'

  He knew it instantly. That steady gaze, that unshakable calm. It was the same Sovereign he had seen in the visions.

  The Just raised one hand and pointed at Oliver.

  For a moment, Oliver froze. His heart thundered in his ears as he glanced toward the others, to check if he was hallucinating.

  Yet their expressions betrayed that they saw it, too.

  Oliver swallowed hard and took a step forward. Then another.

  The closer he got, the stronger the warmth became.

  The Just’s gaze never wavered.

  He raised his hand again, this time pointing toward Oliver’s hand.

  Oliver hesitated, unsure of what the Sovereign wanted. He stared down at his palm, then back at the golden figure.

  “...You want me to—?” he began, but stopped.

  The Just tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, and gestured again.

  Oliver exhaled slowly and extended his hand.

  The moment he did, the air shifted.

  Something dense and powerful struck his palm. It was as if the world itself had placed something in his grasp.

  When he looked down, Oliver saw it.

  A crystal, small enough to fit in his hand but radiating with an intensity that made his skin prickle. It glowed with a golden light, brighter than any light he had ever seen, yet it didn’t blind him.

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  The Energy inside it pulsed like a heartbeat.

  The Just lowered his hand, his expression softening.

  Oliver stared at the crystal, his reflection bending and warping in its surface.

  It wasn’t large, nothing like the massive Bronze Crystals he’d gotten before. Yet, the power radiating from it was staggering.

  Alan leaned closer, his voice low with awe. “What is that?”

  Before Oliver could answer, Katherine gasped. Her eyes widened, reflecting the golden glow.

  “It’s a Unique Crystal,” she said, breathless. “Just like John’s.”

  Alan straightened, the color draining from his face as realization hit him. “That would make it… the most powerful even between the Unique Crystals, wouldn’t it?”

  Oliver shook his head slowly, his voice steady but distant. “One of them.”

  He turned the crystal slightly, watching the light shift through its facets.

  Unique Crystals were rare, beyond rare.

  But even now, holding one in his hand, Oliver knew better than to call it the most powerful. There were still Sovereigns out there, whose strength defied comprehension. The scale of their power was beyond any human measure.

  Katherine and Alan couldn’t hide their excitement.

  But Mordred… Mordred looked unimpressed.

  He stood a few paces away, his expression unreadable, his golden eyes flicking briefly toward the crystal before shifting elsewhere.

  'Of course,' Oliver thought. 'For someone who can manufacture Unique Crystals, this probably isn’t worth losing sleep over.'

  While the others marveled, Mordred moved toward the entrance of the chamber, toward the pile of ashes that had once been the False Sovereign.

  He crouched beside it, his single hand brushing carefully through the soot.

  Oliver frowned, curiosity prickling at the edge of his thoughts.

  He saw a faint light, buried beneath the layer of ash.

  Mordred’s hand paused, then reached deeper, his fingers closing around something solid. When he pulled it free, the light grew brighter—another crystal, however, this one with an orange glow.

  Oliver’s pulse quickened.

  Mordred rose to his feet, brushing the ash from the crystal. He turned toward Oliver, his expression calm but his eyes burning.

  “You can keep that one,” he said, nodding toward the golden shard in Oliver’s hand. Then he raised his own prize, the faint orange light dancing across his face. “This one… this one’s far more interesting.”

  Oliver’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of it.

  From a distance, the crystal’s glow was unmistakable. Yet its glow was different. It had a shadow, remnants of corruption, that swam around the pure Energy.

  It spread through the crystal in thin, branching veins. Black lines that crawled outward from the core, eating away at the light from within.

  [Planetary Defense System – Reactivated]

  The metallic voice boomed through the chamber, reverberating off the walls of the Tower like thunder.

  Oliver’s head snapped upward as the floor beneath them began to hum. The air vibrated with static, a deep resonance that crawled up his spine.

  “What the hell was that?” Alan muttered.

  Before anyone could respond, another message echoed through the room, accompanied by a rising crescendo of mechanical whirring.

  [Corruption removed]

  [99% efficiency achieved]

  [Unauthorized entities will be returned to the entry point]

  “Wait. What does that mean?” Katherine asked, but the answer came too quickly.

  The world shifted.

  A sudden wave of force rippled through the air, and before Oliver could move, his stomach lurched. The sensation was instantaneous. His feet left the ground, his body suspended in weightless disarray.

  Then, just as suddenly, gravity returned.

  His boots hit solid ground with a heavy thud. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and for a heartbeat, he could only stand there, disoriented, his senses struggling to catch up.

  When his vision cleared, the world around him had changed.

  They were outside again, back at the base of the Tower.

  But it wasn’t the same as before.

  The towering structure still loomed above them. Yet the surrounding landscape had shifted.

  The city that had once been a graveyard of ruin now flickered with faint signs of life. The air, once heavy with the stench of decay, felt cleaner.

  Above, the sky remained dark, choked with clouds, but the lanterns scattered throughout the abandoned streets flickered to life one by one.

  There were no signs of the black sludge that had infested the streets. No trace of the arachnid monstrosity they had fought only hours earlier. The ground was scorched, yes, but clean as if the corruption had been burned away entirely.

  Alan staggered beside him, checking his gauntlet. “We were teleported. The Tower… it kicked us out.”

  Katherine was already scanning the horizon, her eyes darting across the empty streets. “It’s different. The air, the ground, everything feels off.”

  Oliver nodded slowly. “Cleaner.”

  The air carried less ash, and the ruins seemed less skeletal. The corruption that had once poisoned everything was gone, leaving behind a silence that felt almost sacred.

  As he stood there, staring at the Tower’s gleaming surface.

  One by one, people began to appear.

  The teleportation effect was subtle. A ripple of light, a faint distortion, and then a figure would materialize out of thin air. First a handful, then dozens. Survivors, soldiers, mercenaries. The Tower was emptying itself, purging everything that had been trapped inside.

  Oliver’s breath caught when he saw familiar shapes flicker into existence nearby.

  His Hoplites.

  The three armored soldiers appeared in formation. They stumbled slightly before regaining their composure.

  “Sir! Your mask!” one of them shouted, his voice tight with alarm.

  Oliver blinked, reaching instinctively toward his face before remembering.

  The mask was gone. The Warrior’s Way had stripped it from him. His face was exposed now.

  He raised a hand, gesturing for calm. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “But your identity, sir—” another started, his tone anxious.

  Oliver cut him off. “It’s already out. We knew this could happen eventually. There’s no point hiding anymore.”

  The three Hoplites exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing more.

  Behind them, Mordred was pacing, his expression dark, frustration simmering just below the surface. “Does anyone have a functional ship?” he barked, his voice echoing across the plaza.

  Oliver turned toward him. Mordred stood near the base of the Tower, his single arm flexing as the black shadows that served as his weapon still held Khan suspended in the air. The Cephalid hung limply.

  “No,” Katherine called out, her voice strained. “Ours was destroyed during the descent.”

  “We were shot down, too,” Oliver added grimly.

  Katherine nodded, her attention divided. She was kneeling beside the wounded. Around her, the remnants of her squad worked quickly to stabilize the injured. Isabela and Astrid were among them, both conscious now, but pale.

  “Damn it,” Mordred hissed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Then how the hell are we supposed to get out of here?”

  The question hung in the air unanswered for a moment.

  A sharp crackle broke through the silence.

  Oliver’s communicator flared to life, static hissing through the channel.

  “—Alert. Governor, do you read? We’ve locked onto your signal. Maximum alert. We need immediate support!”

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