Velcrin's laugh echoed through the grotesque domain.
"This world… this domain," he said, arms wide as shadows curled behind him, "is not merely constructed—it is composed. Thread by thread, pain by pain."
Around them, the atmosphere warped with Velcrin's cruel memory-threads. Creatures slithered through the air—limbs that didn't belong to any natural being, eyes embedded in wings, skin made of torn prayers.
"I fed my world with the emotions your kind hides from. Every Threadborn you've seen, every creature that clawed its way from the Fold's dungeons—I built them. My will. My Thread."
Koshiro's grip tightened on the glass rod. "So you are the one who created those beasts," he growled. "You're filth made flesh."
Velcrin smirked. "Such boldness… for a child who sings lullabies to ghosts."
That was it.
Koshiro moved.
His rod screamed as it collided with Velcrin's shoulder, fracturing the blackened plating that clung to his form. Light burst outward like a scar torn in shadow.
Velcrin stumbled.
But Koshiro didn't stop.
He struck again—rod blazing with raw Threadlight—his fury etched into every swing. For Lina. For the children in the Oratorium. For every echo that cried out in Velcrin's twisted domain.
Velcrin howled as pieces of his world crumbled around him.
Then, suddenly, he collapsed to one knee.
"You think you've won?" Velcrin hissed. "You've only fed me."
He drove a clawed hand into the broken ground—and the domain screamed.
Far below, in the basement of the Fold's ruined core—
Brann slammed his axe into the cracked floor. A shockwave of blazing orange Threadlight rippled out, forming a protective barrier.
Dozens of Threadborn slammed into it and bounced back, clawing and screeching.
"Don't get too close to the edge," he warned. "This shield isn't permanent."
Nyra stood behind him, breath ragged, her Threads fraying from overuse. "I can't connect to them anymore. It's like they've… shifted."
Brann grit his teeth. "Then we hold the line. That's all we can do."
Suddenly, every creature froze.
Nyra whispered, "What…?"
In one fluid moment, the creatures collapsed into dust—sand, draining as though pulled by an unseen current.
The swirling mass rose upward, pulled toward the ruined ceiling.
Brann exhaled slowly. "That had to be someone from the core."
Back in Velcrin's realm, the sand coiled around Velcrin's body—threading into his veins, sinking into his skin.
"I don't lose," he said, his voice deeper now, echoing through every twisted surface. "I consume."
His form expanded, horns curling like shattered spires, limbs splitting and reforging into massive armor made from the Threadborn's remains. A crown of writhing Threads flickered to life above him.
"You will witness Cruelty Ascended."
Koshiro braced himself.
Above, in the Fold's fractured sanctum, Zen and Solas stood against Thorne's new form. Monstrous and vast, he wielded threads that sang discordantly, ripping the chamber apart with every motion.
Zen lunged forward, his sword glowing with compressed Threadlight. Thorne met him with a sweep of his warped blade—sending Zen flying into the wall, cracking the stone.
Solas flicked threads toward Thorne's chest, but the attack unraveled before contact.
Zen coughed, staggering up. "He's changing the harmony of the field. I can't get close."
Solas scowled, uncharacteristically serious. "If I had time, I could break the field with a harmonic disruptor. But I need at least a minute."
Zen wiped blood from his mouth. "Then I'll buy it."
"You can't hold him that long."
Zen glanced at him and smirked. "Bet I can."
He charged again.
Thorne roared. "You think bravery makes you worthy of my final form?!"
Zen struck—and this time, the blade pierced through a layer of harmonic armor.
"Just hurry up, Thread-babe," Zen muttered.
Solas smiled faintly, weaving complex symbols in the air.
In the basement, the quiet was eerie.
Nyra sat against the wall, exhausted, while Brann stood by the broken edge of the barrier.
"You think it's over?" she asked.
Brann shook his head. "I think the real fight's still happening above us."
Nyra smiled weakly. "Let's hope they win."
Brann nodded. "They will. Or we're all dead."
Above them, the chamber shook.
Koshiro screamed.
Velcrin, now a creature of cruelty incarnate, loomed over him.
The Thread was shattering.