The night was wrong.
David realized it not through instinct, nor through the System, but through absence.
The forest breathed. The wind moved. The stars still burned.
Yet the sky felt… unfinished.
Above them, the moon hung suspended in a fractured firmament, its silver glow distorted by invisible fault lines spreading across the heavens like cracks in glass. Light bled unevenly through those fractures, casting warped shadows across the land—shadows that did not align with any object, any body, any logic.
Carlisle was the first to break the silence.
"This… is not abyssal corruption," the dragon woman said slowly, wings half-unfurled, scales reflecting the warped moonlight. "The Abyss destroys. This is something else."
Danielle hovered a few meters above the ground, her angelic wings tense, radiant feathers dimmed as if the light itself resisted her presence. Her voice was quiet. Too quiet.
"This is correction."
The word landed heavier than any roar or explosion.
Rose, usually irreverent, did not smile. Her demonic eyes were fixed on the sky, pupils constricted. "I don't like it when the world feels like it's… thinking."
David did not answer.
He was holding Luna.
She was calm. Too calm.
Her small body rested against his chest, silver-black light pulsing faintly beneath her skin, slower than before, as if the rhythm of her existence had been forced to synchronize with something far larger. Her eyes—those moonlit eyes that had once reflected curiosity, warmth, even innocence—were now focused on the sky with an expression that did not belong to a child.
It belonged to something ancient.
Something aware.
Something that understood what was coming.
The System did not activate immediately.
That alone terrified David more than any enemy they had faced.
Normally, anomalies triggered alerts within milliseconds. Threat assessments. Objectives. Rewards.
Now?
Nothing.
The silence stretched.
Then—
[SYSTEM ERROR]
[WORLD INDEX DESYNCHRONIZATION DETECTED]
[ENTITY STATUS CHECK: LUNA — INCONSISTENT]
The words flickered, distorted, as if struggling to remain displayed.
David's jaw tightened. "Explain."
No response.
Carlisle stepped closer, her massive presence instinctively shielding Luna from every angle. "David… her aura. It's not collapsing. It's being… isolated."
Danielle's eyes widened. "No. That's impossible. Divine isolation requires unanimous consent of the cosmic framework."
Her gaze snapped upward.
"…Unless the framework itself is acting."
The sky cracked.
Not with sound—but with meaning.
A vertical fissure opened above the moon, stretching from horizon to horizon, revealing not darkness, not light, but absence. A void so complete that even perception recoiled from it. Stars near the fissure dimmed, their light bending away as if refusing to be acknowledged by what lay beyond.
From within that absence, something moved.
Not a body.
A presence.
David felt it press against his thoughts, not invading, not attacking—but measuring.
Evaluating.
Correcting.
Luna stirred.
Her small hand tightened around David's clothing.
"…Papa," she said softly.
The word hit him harder than any blow.
"I hear them."
Every muscle in his body locked. "Hear who?"
She did not answer immediately. Her gaze never left the sky.
"They're saying I shouldn't be here."
The fissure widened.
The System screamed back to life all at once, text flooding David's vision in cascading errors.
[CRITICAL ERROR]
[ENTITY CLASSIFICATION FAILURE]
[LUNA — STATUS: PARADOX]
[WORLD LAW RESPONSE: ECLIPSE PROTOCOL INITIATED]
Danielle recoiled as if struck. "No… no, no, no. That protocol is forbidden."
Rose turned sharply. "You know what that is."
"Yes," Danielle said, voice shaking despite herself. "It's not a weapon. It's not judgment. It's not war."
She swallowed.
"It's erasure."
The air grew heavier.
From the fissure, shapes began to emerge—not descending, not arriving, but manifesting, as if reality itself was conceding space to them.
They were humanoid only in the most generous sense. Tall, slender figures formed of shifting gradients—light becoming shadow becoming nothing. Their faces were smooth, featureless, yet David felt their attention lock onto Luna with surgical precision.
No hatred.
No malice.
Only certainty.
[DESIGNATION CONFIRMED]
[ORDER OF THE ECLIPSE — ACTIVE]
The System text shook violently.
[WARNING: THESE ENTITIES ARE NOT HOSTILE]
David laughed once.
A short, humorless sound.
"They're pointing at my daughter."
One of the entities stepped forward.
Reality bent around it.
When it spoke, it did not use sound.
It used finality.
"DESIGNATION: LUNA.
CLASSIFICATION: UNREGISTERED DIVINE EVENT.
OUTCOME: IMPOSSIBLE."
Luna did not cry.
She leaned closer into David, her aura pulsing instinctively.
"I didn't mean to," she said quietly. "I was just born."
Something inside David snapped.
Not rage.
Not despair.
Something colder.
Something deeper.
He took a step forward.
Every instinct screamed that this was suicide. That these were not enemies to be fought, but laws to be obeyed.
David had never been good at obedience.
"She exists," he said. "That's the only outcome that matters."
The entity did not react.
"EXISTENCE IS NOT A DECISION.
IT IS A RESULT."
Carlisle growled, heat bleeding into the air. "Say the word, David."
Danielle hesitated—then descended, landing beside him, wings flaring defiantly. "If this is the will of the cosmos… then the cosmos is wrong."
Rose's smile returned. Sharp. Dangerous. "I've always wanted to punch reality."
The entity raised one elongated arm.
The moon dimmed.
Not eclipsed.
Forgotten.
David felt it instantly.
A pressure—not on his body, but on his memories.
He saw Luna's birth.
Then… a blur.
Details smoothed over. Names frayed at the edges.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the memory back into focus through sheer refusal.
[SYSTEM WARNING]
[MEMORY INTEGRITY UNDER ATTACK]
[RESISTANCE… UNDEFINED]
David's heartbeat thundered.
He looked down at Luna.
She was still there.
For now.
But the world had begun to let go of her.
People far away would soon wake unable to remember why the moon felt different.
Priests would forget their prayers.
Stars aligned to her cycle would drift out of place.
Not destroyed.
Rewritten.
David wrapped both arms around her.
Slowly, deliberately, he spoke—not to the entities, not to the System, but to the world itself.
"No."
The word carried weight.
Not power.
Refusal.
The entities paused.
For the first time, something approximating uncertainty rippled through the void.
"ANOMALY DETECTED."
The System flickered.
Then displayed a line David had never seen before.
[NEW STATUS ACQUIRED]
INHUMAN NARRATIVE RESISTANCE — ACTIVE
David exhaled.
If the world wanted to end this story—
He would force it to continue.
Above them, the sky continued to fracture.
The Eclipse had begun.
And this time, reality had chosen the wrong father to correct.