The Current's main hub never truly slept.
Even at 4 a.m., people moved between workstations: essence refiners bent over glowing vials, coders hunched over triple monitors, a few vessels sparring quietly in the far corner with restrained power signatures. The air carried the low buzz of conversation, the sharp scent of soldering flux, and the ever-present metallic whisper of contained rifts somewhere deep below.
Rin found them in the crash pod corridor just after dawn.
She didn't knock—just leaned against the open curtain frame, cybernetic arm folded across her chest.
"Word travels fast," she said. "Kinshicho overpass. Hybrid chains—black and gold. Two of Mei's lieutenants trussed up like festival gifts. The buyer sang like a canary when he cashed out his bonus. Said you two moved like you'd been fighting side-by-side for years."
Aoi sat up first, blanket pooling around her waist. Ren followed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"We didn't have a choice," he said flatly.
Rin's mouth curved—not quite a smile.
"You had choices. You picked the loudest one. That's why I'm here offering you permanent seats instead of a quiet eviction."
She stepped inside, letting the curtain fall behind her.
"Full membership. Access to every safe house from Yokohama to Sendai. Priority on high-pay runs. Medical stash for vessel strain. Even a couple of off-grid apartments we keep for people who need to vanish longer than thirty days."
Ren felt Aoi stiffen beside him.
"And the price?" she asked.
Rin's gaze flicked between them—assessing, not unkind.
"One job. Clean retrieval. No witnesses, no bodies if you can help it."
She pulled a small holo-projector from her sleeve. A flickering map bloomed between them: northern Chiba Prefecture, a dense forest zone marked red.
"Old military testing ground from the 2030s. Abandoned after the first big rift wave. The Order sealed it eight years ago—class-5 instability, unpredictable spawns. But something survived inside. A relic we call the Eclipse Shard. Palm-sized obsidian disc, etched with dual sigils—celestial and infernal. It can temporarily equalize essence polarity between vessels. Miracle and Pagan could draw from the same pool without rejection. For a few hours, anyway."
Aoi's breath caught.
"That's—"
"Forbidden," Rin finished. "Even talking about it gets you a kill order from both sides. The Order wants it destroyed. Mei wants it weaponized. We want it in a vault where neither can reach it. Insurance. Leverage. Call it what you want."
Ren stared at the map.
"How long has the Current known it was there?"
"Three years. We've lost four teams trying to pull it. Last one made it to the inner chamber—sent back a single grainy photo before the link died." Rin tapped the projector; a blurry still appeared: cracked concrete altar, the black disc floating half a meter above it, light bending around its edges like a miniature black hole. "The rift guardians got them. High-grade. Adaptive. They learn from every fight."
Aoi's voice was very quiet.
"If we bring it back… you'll keep it locked away? Not sell it? Not use it?"
Rin met her eyes without blinking.
"I give you my word as current intake coordinator. No auction. No back-alley deal. It goes straight into the deepest vault we have. Only three people know the access code—me, the founder, and one other who never leaves this building. You'll be the fourth if you succeed."
Silence stretched.
Ren felt the Anchor rune warm against his chest—like it was listening.
He looked at Aoi.
She was staring at the holo-image, expression unreadable.
"This isn't just a retrieval," she said finally. "It's a statement. If word gets out that we pulled something like that from a sealed zone… the Order will brand us traitors for life. Mei will mark us priority prey. Every neutral runner will either want to recruit us or sell us out for the bounty."
Rin nodded once.
"Correct."
Ren exhaled through his nose.
"Then why us?"
"Because you already did the impossible once tonight. You fought as one unit—shadow and light—and neither overpowered the other. Most teams that go in fracture the second polarity rejection kicks in. You two might actually walk out with the Shard instead of becoming fertilizer for the rift."
He turned to Aoi.
She hadn't moved.
"Angel girl?"
She closed her eyes for three heartbeats.
When she opened them again, sunrise gold had hardened into something sharper.
"I want guarantees," she told Rin. "Written. Notarized with a blood sigil if necessary. The Shard never leaves your vault except to be destroyed if we both agree it's too dangerous to exist. And if we say no after we see it up close… you accept our decision. No retaliation."
Rin considered her for a long moment.
Then she extended her cybernetic hand.
"Done."
Aoi clasped it—golden light flickering briefly around their grip.
Ren added his own hand on top.
Blue Anchor light answered—steady, calm.
The pact sealed in three colors: gold, black, blue.
Rin withdrew her arm.
"Prep time: forty-eight hours. We'll kit you with rift-grade suppressors, polarity dampeners, and a one-use extraction beacon. After that, you're on your own until you signal for pickup."
She turned to leave.
At the curtain she paused.
"One last thing. The founder wants to meet you both before you go in. Tomorrow night. Here. Don't be late."
The curtain fell.
Ren and Aoi sat in the sudden quiet.
The holo-map still floated between them—red forest, black shard, unknown death waiting inside.
Aoi spoke first, voice barely above a whisper.
"We're about to walk into a place even the Purification Order won't touch… for a relic that could rewrite everything we know about vessels."
Ren reached out and took her hand.
"Yeah."
She turned her palm up, lacing fingers with his.
"And if we pull it off… we might finally have something worth bargaining with. Not just survival. Real change."
Ren squeezed once.
"Then we pull it off."
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
Neither of them spoke again for a long time.
Outside the curtain, the underground kept moving—quiet footsteps, low voices, the endless hum of people surviving in the cracks between heaven and hell.
Somewhere in that hum, a decision had just been made.
Not to hide.
Not to run.
But to reach into the dark and pull something back that might one day force both sides to look at each other differently.
Whether that something would save them… or doom them…
Only the forest knew.
And it wasn't telling.
End of Chapter 15