The campfire crackled, casting long, jittering shadows across the campsite. The night wind carried a strange tang, like ozone after a storm, and the air seemed thicker than usual—as if reality itself was holding its breath. Raiha stared into the flames, replaying the merchant's chart in her mind, tracing the lines that connected names she barely recognized.
"Pillars," she whispered, almost to herself. The word felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on her chest. "Jerry's hierarchy… it's more… organized than we thought."
Beside her, Rose shifted uneasily. The glow of the fire painted her sharp features in gold and red, accentuating the tension in her posture. "Organized," she echoed, "but that doesn't make it any less dangerous. Those Pillars… if even half of them are active, Jerry's not just powerful—he's untouchable."
Harper leaned back, arms behind his head, pretending to be casual, but his fingers tapped rhythmically on the ground. "Untouchable… until we find a way to touch him." He gave a wry grin. "I mean, come on, we've faced glitch beasts, system errors, and near-death experiences. What's a few more 'impossible' enemies?"
Yuna didn't look amused. She closed her eyes briefly, whispering under her breath, "Impossible… that's exactly what they want us to think."
The merchant, still cloaked in shadow, stepped closer. His movements were almost too fluid, gliding over the uneven terrain like he had no gravity to obey. "You underestimate the balance of things," he said. His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that made even Harper stop tapping. "Jerry didn't rise to power in isolation. Each Pillar is a cornerstone, a thread in the web of fate. If one falters, the structure begins to unravel… but if one aligns perfectly, the outcome… can be catastrophic."
Lucas frowned, leaning forward. "Catastrophic? Are you talking about annihilation, or… something worse?"
The merchant smiled, though his face remained hidden beneath his hood. "Worse is a matter of perspective." He paused, then extended a hand, revealing a small orb that pulsed with deep indigo light. "This is a fragment of the Fracture. You've seen the damage Jerry can cause, yes? This… this is what remains of the worlds that fell before his ascension. Every variable erased, every harmony broken. And yet, even in its devastation, it holds a message. A lesson."
Rose's eyes narrowed. "A lesson for us… or for him?"
The merchant tilted his head, considering her question as though weighing its significance. "For both. The threads of fate are not merely broken or whole—they are observed. Each choice, each hesitation, each spark of courage… they ripple across all realities. Jerry may think he controls it, but the threads have memory. And sometimes…" He let the sentence trail, letting the silence press in. "…sometimes even the smallest spark can ignite a collapse—or a salvation."
Raiha shivered despite the warmth of the fire. "So… the Pillars. Jerry controls them all?"
The merchant shook his head slowly. "No. Jerry manipulates some, tempts others, but the full alignment… is unknown. That is why you are here. Your choices will decide which threads remain… and which break irreversibly."
A sudden shiver ran down Rose's spine. She glanced at her friends—at Yuna, Harper, Lucas, and Ivy. Each of them looked tense, aware that the weight of the world had just shifted from abstract danger to something palpably close. Even Harper's bravado had dimmed.
"Then we need a plan," Rose said firmly, rising from the log she had been sitting on. Her voice carried over the murmuring fire, the urgency in it leaving no room for dissent. "We can't just react anymore. We need to anticipate. We need… to understand these Pillars."
The merchant's hooded gaze followed her every move. "Be careful what you wish for. Knowledge is… double-edged. Knowing too much can blind you to what is truly necessary."
Ivy muttered, half to herself, half to the group, "Blind us? We've been blind this entire time. Maybe a little insight isn't going to kill us."
The merchant's orb pulsed again, as if in response to her words. "Then prepare yourselves. The Fracture senses movement. Jerry's next step is already unfolding, threads tugging invisibly across realities. Soon, the first Pillar will test you. And when it does…" He lowered his voice, barely above a whisper, "you will understand the meaning of threads."
From the edge of the forest, a faint shimmer appeared—like a ripple in the air. Harper tensed. "Is… that a glitch?"
The merchant's head tilted slightly, acknowledging the disturbance. "Yes. But not his doing… at least, not yet. Consider it a warning. The world watches, even when you do not."
Rose clenched her fists. Her mind raced. The Fracture. Jerry. The Pillars. Every step they had taken, every fight, had led to this moment—a convergence where choices could no longer be delayed. "We'll face it," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "We have to."
Raiha glanced at her, eyes glinting with a mixture of fear and resolve. "And when the first Pillar comes… we fight, together."
The merchant's orb pulsed a final time, then dimmed, sinking into the earth as if it had never existed. A silence fell over the camp, deeper than before, pregnant with the weight of inevitability. Outside the circle of firelight, shadows moved with purpose, unseen eyes watching, calculating.
Harper broke the silence with a shaky laugh. "Well… at least it's not boring."
Rose didn't smile. She stared into the distance where the shimmer had appeared, feeling the threads of fate tugging at her very soul. Somewhere, beyond sight, Jerry's hand was moving pieces on a cosmic board. And somewhere, she knew, the first Pillar was already awakening. (Ten minutes later) The shop shouldn't have existed.
One second we were trudging through fractured plains that bent and cracked like glass under our boots, and the next… there it was. A crooked storefront stitched from a dozen different realities—half neon bar sign humming, half oak-and-iron medieval door, with a glass window that flickered like an old CRT screen.
The sign above the entrance pulsed words into shape:
"The Merchant Knows. Enter If You Dare."
"Yeah, that doesn't scream 'totally not a trap' at all," Harper muttered, camera raised like it could shield him. "Guys, I vote we keep walking."
But Rose stepped forward first. Her hand trembled only slightly as she pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was thick with incense and static, like somebody had mixed church smoke with a dying hard drive. Shelves bent under impossible items: an hourglass filled with flickering code instead of sand, a blade of glass humming a broken tune, jars of liquid that rearranged themselves into words when you stared too long.
And at the counter sat the merchant.
They wore a patchwork cloak stitched from every style imaginable—samurai silk, knight's chainmail, cyberpunk leather. Their face was hidden behind a porcelain mask, its painted smile frozen too wide. When they spoke, it was a voice like many played at once: old, young, kind, cruel.
"You seek answers," the merchant said, their words buzzing like a system notification. "You seek the path Jerry has already found."
At the mention of his name, the air in the shop cracked faintly, like reality hated even hearing it.
Rose straightened her shoulders. "Tell us. What is he after?"
The merchant's fingers drummed the counter. "The Prime Thread. The first stitch of creation. If he severs it, the Fracture will not merely swallow worlds—it will erase the pattern that allows worlds to exist. Nothing. Ever."
A silence fell heavy enough to crush.
Yuna finally broke it, her voice sharp. "You know where it is."
"I know where the Pillars are. Guardians of the weave. Without them, your hope is a shadow." The merchant tilted their mask. "But knowledge has its price. Always."
There it was—the catch.
"What kind of price?" Ivy asked, arms crossed tight.
The merchant's painted smile seemed to stretch. "A memory. An ability. A bond. Something precious. Give, and I will show you the path."
The group erupted instantly.
"This is insane!" Ivy snapped. "We can't bargain with a glitch in cosplay!"
"We don't have a choice," Harper shot back, lowering his camera. "Jerry's three steps ahead. If this freak knows where the Pillars are, we need it."
Yuna's eyes narrowed. "Maybe… a memory. Something small. We can choose carefully."
Rose's chest felt like it was caving in. Every instinct screamed trap, but she could see it—the desperation in their faces. The fear of Jerry, the memory of Daniel being erased like he'd never existed. If they didn't do something now, more of them would be next.
Her hand hovered over her thread, the crimson shimmer of her power twitching in response. "If it means saving everyone," she whispered, "I'll give something up."
Before anyone could argue, the walls of the shop shuddered. Cracks split across the shelves. Bottles rattled. Through the fissures, a voice spilled in—low, distorted, and horribly familiar.
"You think knowledge will save you?"
Jerry.
The shelves bled into static. The merchant froze mid-motion, then hissed, "Too soon. He follows the scent."
The painted mask tilted toward Rose. "Then take this. Consider it… credit."
Something sharp and cold dropped into her hands: a rolled parchment of threads glowing faintly with shifting symbols.
"The map," the merchant said, voice unraveling. "Follow before he cuts the Pillars."
And then the shop imploded—vanished like it had never been, leaving Rose and the others standing in cracked plains again. Only the map remained, warm and humming in her grip.
Jerry's laughter slithered through the air around them.
"All you bought was a clearer view of your end."
Rose clenched the map so tight her knuckles burned. For the first time since this nightmare began, she didn't feel like the lost kid Jerry had left behind at the Obsidian Gate. She felt like someone ready to fight back.
"Then I'll use it," she said, voice steady. "And I'll stop you."
The horizon ahead split with new fractures, jagged and waiting.
And the chase for the next Pillar began.n