The blade never touched him.
It stopped just short of Sykaion's throat—hovering like judgment given shape.
Not by hesitation.
But by interference.
Arlyss's sword blocked the strike with a hiss of friction, edge biting edge. Sparks danced between them as Killmark's eyes narrowed. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. His message was the pressure he applied through metal, the inches he tried to reclaim with silence.
Sykaion didn't flinch.
He had already accepted this moment.
But he hadn't expected someone else to defy it.
Arlyss grunted, twisted, and forced Killmark's blade sideways. Her voice was pure flame:
"He dies over my corpse. Not before."
Killmark didn't retreat. He didn't press forward. He adjusted.
That was his strength.
He adapted to belief like it was a puzzle.
Zeraphine arrived seconds later, sliding through shadow like a storm condensed. She didn't speak. Just hurled a disruption pulse that split the cobblestone beneath Killmark's feet. He backflipped away, soundless.
Sykaion stood between them now.
Arlyss on one side.
Zeraphine on the other.
The feather in the stone bled again.
This time not red.
But gold.
The System whispered:
> CONTINGENT VALUE TRIGGERED
LETHAL TRADE CONVERTED TO VOW
Killmark paused.
He tilted his head. Studied Sykaion. Then finally spoke.
"Your death is no longer profitable."
Zeraphine didn't lower her weapon.
"Then walk away."
But Killmark smiled. A ghost-smile. Almost curious.
"No. Now I'll wait. Because something worse than your death is coming. And I want to see how your belief survives that."
He vanished.
No smoke. No flash.
Just absence.
Sykaion exhaled.
Arlyss sheathed her blade.
Zeraphine stepped forward. "He called off the kill. Why?"
Sykaion looked down at the bleeding feather.
"Because we proved something."
Arlyss frowned. "Proved what?"
"That belief isn't always solitary. It defends itself."
He turned.
Walked into the shop.
The Articles on the wall now pulsed stronger than before.
The System sent a new message:
> NEW ENTRY: ARTICLE 5
No soul shall stand alone when the truth is carried in others.
The world outside didn't change.
But inside the shop, the air felt warmer.
Safer.
And the feather—once again—glowed.