Maris was back in her hideous chamber. She stood alone in the dim light, one hand resting casually against the console beside her. The room was silent except for the low hum of encrypted systems running beneath the floor.
A narrow column of red light formed in front of her.
A tall figure appeared within the projection.
Sevran Axiom.
His form was not fully visible—only the outline of him standing behind layers of distortion.
Maris didn't bow or salute.
She simply crossed her arms.
"The anchor has been placed," she said.
"Status?" Sevran asked.
His voice carried something quiet yet something heavy.
"Stable," Maris replied. "No rejection response. His circulation is currently suppressed due to his injury, which made the installation... easy."
The projection flickered slightly.
"Is he aware of it?"
"No," she said. "The subject is completely unaware.
A pause followed.
"Good," Sevran said.
Maris tilted her head slightly.
"You expected him to resist?" she asked.
"He is not an ordinary subject."
Her expression didn't change.
"Neither is the device."
Sevran said nothing for a moment.
"Observation will continue. Do not interfere unless necessary."
Maris leaned slightly against the console.
"You're still not telling me why he's important."
The distorted projection shifted slightly.
"Because," he said quietly, "his existence creates a variable in the system."
Maris raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds inconvenient."
"It is," Sevran replied. Which is why he must be understood."
The red projection flickered once, stabilizing again.
"You think someone else is already influencing Royoshi?"
"I know someone is," Sevran said.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"The anomaly?"
Sevran didn't answer immediately.
"That was only the first observation.
Maris exhaled slowly.
"You're always unclear."
"Unclearness is what keeps them alive."
She smirked faintly.
"Fair point."
Slowly, the signal started to disappear.
The room felt silent again.
Inside the Citadel's data archive wing, Ishara Veyl stood in front of a suspended display panel.
Blue light reflected across her eyes as she scrolled through system records.
Access logs.
Door activity.
Sensor reports.
Everything was normal.
She narrowed her gaze.
Royushi's dorm entry log showed only two events.
Entry: Royoshi Kairo
Entry: Ishara Veyl.
No one else.
Nothing.
But she knew something was off.
Someone had left his dorm room.
Her fingers moved across the display again, opening deeper layers of system history.
Most of the files were sealed for higher authorities. The levels she didn't possess.
That didn't stop her.
Another log opened one after another.
Still nothing.
The Citadel had no record of anyone entering Royoshi's room.
That meant one of two things.
Either she was wrong—
Or someone was clever enough to erase the evidence.
She clenched her jaw.
"Show me deletion archives," she said quietly.
The display shifted.
A long list appeared in front of her.
Most of them were routine, maintenance, security, or training records.
Then she saw something unusual.
A fragment.
A log that was partially deleted.
It had already been sent to the system bin.
Ishara opened it.
The record was almost empty.
But one detail remained.
CLEARANCE ID: UNKNOWN.
Her eyes narrowed.
The Citadel had hundreds of registered clearance signatures.
Every officer.
Every commander.
This one matched none of them.
This could only lead to two possibilities,
Someone higher in the Citadel hierarchy had hidden their identity. Perhaps Master Devrik.
Or—Someone from outside the Citadel had somehow managed to get access to the system.
Neither option was a relief.
"...Who are you?" she murmured.
The question hung unanswered in the silent archive chamber.
Ishara folded her arms slowly.
Ishara looked at the fragment and examined it again.
The log showed only three pieces of information:
ACCES POINT: RESIDENTIAL WING
LOCATION: ROYOSHI KAIRO- DORM
CLEARANCE ID: UNKNOWN.
Everything else had vanished.
Cleanly.
Perhaps too cleanly.
Which meant whoever had done it knew exactly how the Citadel stored its data.
Her mind began assembling possibilities.
Someone inside the Citadel with clearance above hers could erase logs.
But even then, the system usually left a trace of deletion itself.
Here, there was barely anything.
Her fingers hovered over the interface for a moment before she opened another system layer.
Security oversight.
Restricted.
She stared at the lock icon for several seconds.
Then she closed the panel.
If someone powerful was involved, digging deeper would only alert them.
Her gaze drifted toward the dormitory wing through the distant windows of the archive chamber.
Royoshi.
He had been asleep when she arrived.
Completely unaware.
Which meant whatever that person had done in his room had been done intentionally, without waking him.
Her stomach tightened.
"...Who are you?" she murmured again.
Far away, on the Citadel's upper rooftop, Royoshi stood in the center of a holographic practice ring.
Morning light spread across the metal floor.
Across from him, Rikishu's translucent form hovered peacefully.
"Again," Rikishu said.
Royoshi exhaled slowly and began circulating his Shuryoku.
Normally, his energy moved like a smooth current—balanced and controlled.
Today it didn't.
The energy flickered unevenly through his circulation channels, surging briefly before thinning out again.
"I just...can't," Royoshi exhaled heavily. "I feel off today for some reason."
Rikishu didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he watched the circulation carefully.
Royoshi's Shuryoku flowed unevenly through his channels, gathering pressure for a moment before dispersing again like a circuit malfunctioned.
"Again," Rikishu said calmly.
Royoshi groaned.
"Oh, c'mon," he replied. "You said that already."
"And you halted."
Royoshi rubbed the back of his neck vaguely.
"Something's weird," he muttered. "It's like my Shuryoku isn't listening to me but someone else."
"Then you are forcing it," Rikishu replied.
Royoshi inhaled slowly and tried again.
The circulation restarted.
For a moment, the flow stabilized—steady, balanced.
Then the current broke again.
The Shuryoku pulled slightly toward the back of his neck before spreading through his shoulders.
Royoshi stopped again.
"Okay, something is definitely off."
Rikishu's gaze lingered on that exact spot for a brief moment.
Then he spoke.
"When did this begin?"
Royoshi shrugged.
"Not sure."
He thought for a moment.
"Maybe last night?"
Rikishu folded his arms.
"Have you noticed anything else unusual?"
Royoshi hesitated.
"Actually...yeah."
"What?"
Royoshi scratched his head.
"I had a strange dream last night."
Rikishu's expression sharpened.
"What kind of dreams?"
Royoshi frowned.
"I don't remember them clearly."
He looked towards the sky.
"But it felt like something or someone was chasing to kill me."
The wind soared across the rooftop platform.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Rikishu studied Royoshi carefully.
"You should describe the dreams better," he said.
Royushi shrugged again.
"Hey! I can't remember them properly, they're blurry."
"Try."
Royoshi closed his eyes briefly, trying to recall the dream
"...It's like I'm somewhere dark," he said slowly.
"Like I have failed everyone I knew and just ran away to save myself."
"Not dangerous...just empty."
Rikishu waited.
"And there's something or someone there," Royoshi continued. "I can't see it clearly, but I feel it's trying to hunt me down."
His eyes opened again.
"Okay, so that sounds really creepy when I say it out loud."
Rikishu's expression remained calm, but his thoughts were already moving.
Observation.
Interference.
Something had attached itself to Royoshi's circulation.
Subtle enough that Royoshi himself couldn't detect it.
"Continue the training," Rikishu said.
Royoshi sighed.
"Seriously...?"
"Yes."
Royoshi blinked.
"Fine."
He restarted his circulation.
This time, Rikishu watched more carefully than before.
The Shuryoku moved through Royoshi's body—then bent slightly toward the same point at the back of his neck.
Rikishu's gaze hardened.
There it is.
Not natural.
Not internal.
External influence.
But he said nothing.
Not yet.
He wanted to see how it played out.
Because whatever was affecting Royoshi...
Was trying very hard not to be noticed.
And that meant someone else was watching from afar.