Western Pillar – Kurogane – 1710 Hours
Combat raged around the distortion.
Not clean.
Not tactical.
Desperate.
The robed figure's forces had superior positioning—they'd been here longer, prepared better, understood the terrain.
Kurogane's academy support team was holding.
Barely.
Lightning struggled against the distortion's interference.
At seventy meters—functional but weak.
At sixty meters—severely diminished.
At fifty meters—complete failure.
The dead zone was absolute.
And the robed figure—the man who'd warned him on the roof—stood at its edge.
Protected.
Untouchable.
Kurogane needed different approach.
Not direct assault.
Understanding.
"You said Raiketsu started this!" he shouted across the battlefield.
The man raised his hand.
His forces paused.
Not ceasefire.
Tactical pause.
"I said," the man replied, "that Raiketsu understood what I'm completing."
"Then explain it!" Kurogane demanded. "If you believe you're right—if this is liberation instead of destruction—prove it!"
Lightning pulsed.
What are you doing?
Buying time.
For what?
Information.
The man studied him.
Then gestured.
A projection appeared—not technological.
Elemental.
Constructed from the distortion's energy.
Images formed.
Ancient.
Fragmentary.
But clear enough.
The Historical Record
"12,000 years ago," the man began, "the world was different. Not better. Not worse. Different."
The projection showed—
A landscape.
Unfamiliar.
Elements moving freely.
Not controlled.
Not structured.
Wild.
"Elemental law didn't exist then," the man continued. "Elements were… fluid. Adaptable. Individuals could wield multiple affinities. Lightning wasn't separate. It was bridge between others."
The image shifted.
Showing figures wielding combinations.
Fire and water simultaneously.
Earth and wind together.
Lightning connecting them all.
"Then came the Collapse," the man said.
The projection darkened.
Reality itself seemed to fracture.
"Something broke," he continued. "The fundamental structure. Elemental fluidity became chaos. People died by millions. Civilization ended."
Kurogane watched.
Lightning watched.
Both silent.
"The survivors—those who remained—made a choice," the man said. "Structure or extinction. They chose structure."
The projection showed—
Four figures.
Representing the four elements.
Coming together.
Building something.
"They created the Seal," the man continued. "Not to imprison one person. To imprison possibility itself."
The image focused.
On a fifth figure.
Standing apart.
Wielding lightning.
"The Darkness Emperor—your ancestor—he refused the structure," the man said. "Not because he wanted chaos. Because he understood what they were doing."
"Which was?" Kurogane asked.
"Limiting human potential," the man replied. "The Seal doesn't just contain him. It constrains everyone. Forces elemental affinity into rigid categories. One element per person. No fluidity. No adaptation. No evolution."
The projection showed the Seal's creation.
Four elements binding the fifth.
Lightning being forced into separation.
Classified as aberration instead of bridge.
"That's why lightning is rare," the man continued. "Why it's feared. Why users burn out faster. The Seal actively suppresses it. Because lightning represents what they tried to eliminate—elemental fluidity."
Kurogane felt cold.
Is this true? lightning asked.
I don't know.
But it explains things.
Why lightning felt different.
Why he could sense other elements.
Why the internal brace existed—not to contain power, but to force it into acceptable patterns.
"You're saying," Kurogane said slowly, "the Seal is why elemental users are dying out."
"I'm saying," the man replied, "the Seal consumes us to maintain itself. Every generation—fewer born with affinity. Weaker connections. Shorter lifespans. We're being drained to preserve a prison we didn't choose."
The projection showed statistics.
Declining birth rates.
Increasing burnout.
Elemental extinction curves.
"In 200 years," the man said, "maybe less—no more elemental users. The Seal will have consumed us completely. And for what? To prevent fluidity they decided was dangerous."
Raishin's voice came over comm.
"Kurogane—don't listen to propaganda—"
"It's not propaganda if it's documented," the man interrupted.
He gestured.
Another projection.
Council archives.
Restricted.
Sealed.
But visible.
CLASSIFICATION: ULTIMATE
SUBJECT: SEAL DEGRADATION ANALYSIS
CONCLUSION: COMPLETE FAILURE PROJECTED WITHIN 187 YEARS
MITIGATION: NONE IDENTIFIED
RECOMMENDATION: INFORMATION SUPPRESSION
Silence.
Absolute.
"The Council knows," the man said quietly. "They've known for decades. The Seal is failing. Irreparably. They can't fix it. Can't maintain it. Can only watch it die."
"So you accelerate it," Kurogane said.
"So we control the terms," the man corrected. "Managed transition versus catastrophic collapse. Liberation versus extinction."
Lightning coiled.
This changes everything.
Does it?
The Seal is dying anyway. We're dying anyway. What's the point of preserving it?
The point is what comes after.
Kurogane looked at the distortion.
At wrongness spreading.
At the man who claimed liberation.
"What happens," he asked, "when the Seal breaks? Really happens?"
The man hesitated.
Just for a moment.
"We don't know exactly," he admitted. "Records are contradictory. The Emperor's consciousness may emerge. Or just his power. Or the fluidity itself—elemental law collapsing back to pre-Seal state."
"That's not controlled transition," Kurogane said. "That's gambling with existence."
"We're gambling either way," the man replied. "Slow death versus uncertain rebirth. I choose uncertainty."
"At everyone else's expense."
"At everyone's potential benefit," the man corrected. "If fluidity returns—if elements merge again—humanity evolves. We're not limited. Not dying. Not caged."
"Or we're destroyed," Kurogane said.
"Possibly," the man agreed. "But at least we chose. At least we tried. Better than slow extinction while Council pretends everything's fine."
He raised his crystal again.
The distortion pulsed.
"You have the same choice," he said to Kurogane. "Preserve a dying prison. Or risk liberation."
Lightning stirred.
What do we choose?
Kurogane felt the weight.
Not just Strategic Reserve now.
Something deeper.
The man's argument had logic.
Terrible, seductive logic.
If the Seal was dying anyway—
If elemental users were going extinct—
If 200 years meant the end regardless—
What was he preserving?
But—
But, lightning echoed.
Uncertainty about outcome didn't justify reckless action.
"Show me," Kurogane said.
The man frowned. "Show you what?"
"The archives. The full records. Everything the Council suppressed. If you're right—if the Seal is killing us—prove it completely."
"I just did—"
"You showed me fragments," Kurogane interrupted. "Projections that could be fabricated. I need primary sources. Original documentation. Full analysis."
"There's no time—"
"Then make time," Kurogane said. "You've spent 40 years preparing this. You can spend 40 minutes proving it."
The man studied him.
"You're stalling," he said.
"I'm verifying," Kurogane corrected. "You claim to want informed choice. Give me information to choose with."
Silence stretched.
Then the man smiled.
"You're like him," he said. "Like Raiketsu. Always needing to understand before acting."
"And you're asking me to destroy the world on partial evidence," Kurogane replied.
"Fair point," the man admitted.
He gestured to his forces.
They withdrew slightly.
Not disengaging.
Creating space.
"You have one hour," the man said. "I'll provide access to archives. You verify. Then you choose—help us or die trying to stop us."
"One hour," Kurogane agreed.
The man raised his crystal.
A data stream appeared—encoded, secured, but accessible.
Council archives.
Restricted classification.
Everything they'd hidden.
Kurogane accessed it.
Started reading.
And lightning—
Lightning began to understand.
Why they'd been feared.
Why the Seal existed.
Why 12,000 years of imprisonment might have been necessary.
Or might have been tragedy.
The truth was there.
Buried in archives.
Hidden in history.
Waiting for someone to find it.
And decide.
What mattered more—
Certain slow death.
Or uncertain violent rebirth.
Neither answer was good.
Both were real.
And one hour wasn't enough.
To understand 12,000 years.
To verify 200-year projections.
To choose between extinction and apocalypse.
But it was what he had.
So Kurogane read.
And learned.
And felt certainty crumble.
Under the weight of truth.
That neither side was lying.
Both were incomplete.
And the real answer—
Might not exist at all.
Northern Pillar – Brann – 1715 Hours
Brann received the same offer.
Archives access.
Verification time.
The earth-aligned woman smiled.
"See?" she said. "We're not monsters. We're informed. And we want you informed too."
Brann accessed the data.
Started reading.
And felt his foundations shake.
Because the records were real.
Council suppression was documented.
Seal degradation was measurable.
Extinction was projected.
Everything they'd said—
Had evidence.
But evidence didn't mean righteousness.
Didn't mean their solution was correct.
Just that the problem was real.
"One hour," the woman said. "Then you choose. Evolution or extinction."
Brann kept reading.
Hoping to find answer.
That probably didn't exist.
Eastern Pillar – Seris – 1716 Hours
The wind-aligned figure gave Seris the same access.
Same archives.
Same hour.
"Verify everything," they said. "We want believers. Not slaves."
Seris read faster than the others.
Wind affinity gave her speed.
Mental and physical.
She processed data rapidly.
Cross-referenced.
Verified.
And reached horrible conclusion—
They weren't wrong about the problem.
Just possibly wrong about the solution.
"Wind is dying fastest," the figure said. "You feel it. Every day. Weaker connection. Harder to maintain. Burnout approaching."
Seris did feel it.
Had felt it for years.
"One hour," they said. "Then choose. Fade slowly or risk rebirth."
Seris kept reading.
Faster.
Desperately.
Looking for alternative.
That archives didn't contain.
Central Pillar – Irian – 1717 Hours
Irian approached the data analytically.
Water affinity gave him clarity.
Emotional distance.
Objective assessment.
He read methodically.
Verified systematically.
And reached same conclusion as the others—
The data was accurate.
The Seal was failing.
Extinction was projected.
200 years maximum.
Possibly less.
"You're practical," the water-aligned figure said. "You understand numbers. The math is clear. We act now or die slowly."
"The math shows the problem," Irian replied. "Not necessarily the solution."
"Then find better solution," they challenged. "One hour. If you can."
Irian kept reading.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Hoping for answer.
That data didn't provide.
Four Pillars. Four Verifications. One Truth.
They were all reading the same archives.
Reaching the same conclusions.
The Seal was real.
The extinction was real.
The choice was real.
And one hour—
Wasn't enough.
To solve 12,000 years of problems.
But it was what they had.
So they read.
And learned.
And prepared.
For choice.
That had no good answer.
Only costs.
In every direction.