The silence in the Bastion was still charged with the static electricity of the crystal. Nyx, Ren, Silarias, Aurelius, Jane, Lila, Lyn, Apollo, and Nicola stood in a semicircle, while Beat sat at the table on the side, staring quizzically at the assistant with a mouth full of food.
"So, I hope you guys are ready for an upgrade, haha… ehemm," the assistant repeated, unfolding his glasses and pulling the crumpled scroll taut. He cleared his throat and looked at the group with an awkward air of professionalism. "I am Assistant Dopo Ironclad of the Ironclad family tree. A lineage consisting purely of assistants for the highest beings."
He peered at the scribbles on his paper and let out a deep sigh. "I hereby must officially announce that the Timekeepers welcome you. This is the latest gadget for overwarping. It is a brand new product. We do not claim the product, nor are we liable in the event of any damage. Possible side effects include severe nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, dizziness… oh, and potentially an exploding head."
He rolled the scroll back up with a dramatic flourish, but when he looked up, he realized that not a single person had processed a word of his warning. The group was already deeply immersed in a chaotic discussion.
"Mmm, Dopo or Doppo?" Nicola muttered, knitting his brows. "And how big is that family tree, anyway?"
"Absolute nonsense," Lyn sneered, crossing her arms tightly and looking at the assistant with deep suspicion.
The rest nodded in agreement, until the assistant’s words finally hit them like a bolt of lightning. Beat abruptly stopped chewing, his eyes widened, and with a loud snort, he sprayed his food all over the table. "EXPLODING HEAD!?"
Dopo burst into hearty laughter. "Precisely that, yes." Without hesitation, he pressed the button on the crystal. The world around them began to bend, colors melting together into a vortex of pure energy. The only thing left to hear was the soft, rhythmic clinking of Beat’s bowl, wobbling across the table until coming to a halt on the cold floor with a dull clonk.
The Nobodies suddenly stood in a place where the air smelled of ozone and ancient wealth. They kept their eyes tightly shut, nervously awaiting the fatal explosion Dopo had promised.
Silarias was the first to cautiously open his eyes. His breath hitched. Beneath his feet he felt no soil, but the ruthless pressure of billions of coins, compressed into a geological layer of centuries-old greed that seemed to groan softly under his boots. Above them rose a city of brass and silver, a forest of spires piercing the sky, interconnected by shimmering bridges of platinum. Floating fragments of treasures drifted through the air like mini-islands, circled by fireflies that left behind trails of liquid light.
"What kind of madness is this?" Silarias whispered. He scraped his foot across the ground, watching as a trail of golden glitter revealed what lay beneath the thin layer of dust.
Suddenly, the ground began to quake. Ren dived between Nicola’s legs with a shriek. "An earthquake! Nicola, we’re being swallowed alive!" he yelled, clamping his hands tightly over his ears. A cheerful Toki charged toward them, followed by a thundering roar that made the bedrock resonate. A silhouette shot right past them, a whirlwind of speed and chaos. Miki, who had already gone ahead through the portal with Solomon earlier and was already running wild here, sat with a lollipop in her mouth like a rider on the back of a beast that was now larger, more muscular, and far more terrifying than ever before, its tusks gleaming in the golden light.
Beat burst forward and caught Miki mid-air right before she could slam into a wall of coins. "That’s going to end badly with that candy in your mouth, haha!" he laughed as he set her down and patted her head. Miki giggled: "Gulli was just a little overly excited, Beat!"
King Solomon strolled calmly between them. He nodded toward the city that seemed to pulsate like a living organism of wealth. "The stash here has grown so vast that it has overtaken reality itself." He pointed toward the path winding upward before them. It was paved with interlocking coins that produced a symphony of clinking metal with every step the group took.
They reached the foot of the mountain, where a massive cavernous opening gaped in the stone wall. The edges were jagged and sharp, studded with gleaming obsidian shards that resembled the maw of an ancient creature that had claimed the mountain as its lair. A curtain of thick, golden chains hung across the entrance, clattering softly in a warm, musky draft that smelled of molten gold and primal heat. A deep red glow pulsated from the depths of the mountain, rhythmic and heavy, like a heartbeat that made the entire peak vibrate.
"Before we can do anything," Solomon said, pointing toward the pulsating darkness, "we must visit the landlord. He is the keeper of everything ever stored here, but he isn’t exactly hospitable to uninvited guests."
Silarias laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Is he a threat?"
Solomon laughed deeply. "He is the Dragon Lord, Silarias. The question isn’t whether he is a threat, but whether he decides to incinerate you or accept you."
Silarias lowered his hand, his fingers curling rhythmically around the metal gauntlets that hummed with a faint light in the cavern's gloom. The heat pouring out from the mouth of the mountain was so intense that the air above the path of coins began to shimmer.
"A landlord," Nicola muttered, inspecting his wristband as it furiously flashed blue signals. "That implies we can't just walk in here without a contract or a favor."
King Solomon nodded solemnly. "You understand. We are entering the domain of Valtharion the Archivist. A cousin of Apep, yes, but make no mistake: where Apep is chaos itself, Valtharion is the guardian of the price that chaos demands. He does not hoard gold for its shine, but for the stories locked within every piece of metal."
Ren, who had managed to wriggle out from behind Nicola’s legs, looked up at the giant, obsidian-like teeth guarding the entrance. "Is that rustling inside? Or am I hearing things?"
Miki stepped forward fearlessly. She pulled the lollipop from her mouth and stared into the deep red glow pulsating through the cave like a sluggish heartbeat. "I hear it too, Ren. It sounds like… pages."
Before anyone could answer, the heavy chain of pure gold hanging as a curtain before the entrance began moving on its own accord. With a sound reminiscent of thousands of books being opened simultaneously, the barrier slid aside.
They stepped into the darkness. The space was no ordinary cave, but a cathedral of greed. Mountains of golden chalices, armor from forgotten realms, and coins from kingdoms that had never appeared on any map piled up to the ceiling, which was shrouded in shadow. Yet it was not chaotic. Everything was cataloged. In massive alcoves stood artifacts trembling with stored energy, illuminated by tens of thousands of floating, violet inkpots that turned the space into a starry sky of magic.
Then, the shadow in the center shifted.
It was not merely massive; it was gargantuan. The creature’s scales had the texture of weathered, leather-bound parchment. Along its spine stood plates resembling the backs of ancient tomes, and between the grooves, paper-thin metallic pages rustled with every breath it took.
Two colossal, vertical pupils opened in an iris of liquid amber-gold. The Dragon Lord raised his head, his beard tendrils—silver scrolls dancing in the air—forming an aura of elegance and mortal danger.
The air in the cave instantly turned bone-dry, smelling of old paper and fresh ink. When he spoke, it did not sound like the roar of a wild beast, but like the resonant voice of a narrator carrying thousands of stories within him.
"TIMEKEEPERS," the voice echoed against the cathedral walls. "You step into my archive with the scent of your own, unwritten pages still fresh upon your skin. What compels you to disturb the peace of Valtharion?"
Silarias took a heavy step forward, the clinking of his metal gauntlets the only response in the silence. He held his chin high. The confrontation had begun.
The cathedral of Valtharion seemed to breathe. The walls of leather-bound history rustled restlessly, as if they themselves wished to escape the weight of the stories locked inside them. Valtharion shifted his immense head. With every breath, a cloud of fine, golden dust streamed from his nostrils: the ashes of forgotten dreams. His amber-gold eyes, each as massive as a gateway to another world, never left the group. They stood there, a band of loud-mouthed teens with trembling knees, completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the archive.
"Stories," the Dragon Lord grunted. It was a sound that made the floor beneath their feet vibrate. "Stories are the only currency in this archive. You come here with the vanity of children, believing your suffering to be unique. Show me the raw truth before I bind you like the rest of my collection."
Aurelius was the first to step forward. He was still just a boy, but his shoulders were pulled tight by a responsibility he had never asked for. He gripped his upper arms, his fingers digging deep grooves into the fabric of his jacket. "My mother…" he began, his voice breaking into a raw sound that cut through the cathedral. "She never looked at me. Not as a son. She looked at a defective weapon she had to endlessly sharpen. 'Sit still, Aurelius. Bleed without making a sound, Aurelius.' She drilled that discipline into me with iron rods until I forgot the difference between a human being and a blade." He pulled his shirt wide open. The jagged white scars across his back glinted like frozen lightning in the violet light. He did not look at the dragon, but stared at the ground, his eyes filled with the icy void of someone forced to grow up far too soon.
Jane followed. She moved clumsily, her gaze searching for an exit that did not exist. She searched for words in the empty air, her fingers digging into her own palms until dark droplets fell onto the golden coins. "I am an echo in a room where no one has ever spoken," she said. Her voice was a fragile whisper, delicate as ancient glass. "I’ve chased my bloodline to the ends of the earth. No parents. No names. No anchor. Everyone has a past, no matter how painful, but I… I am the shadow that only exists when the sun shines. My tragedy isn't loss, but the absolute absence of a beginning." A single tear rolled down her cheek, a silver trail of pure, unadulterated solitude.
Lila stepped forward. She looked so young in her oversized clothing, but her eyes were old. She carried the ashes of her entire world with her, an invisible weight that bowed her back. "My kingdom burned in a single night," she said, staring at her empty hands. "I heard the king, my father, screaming while the walls melted around him. I am the last witness. Every second I breathe feels like a betrayal to those who are no longer here. I am the living library of a people that now exists only in my memory." She held up a battered piece of metal, a crown that barely retained its shape. "If I die, the world permanently ceases to exist for my entire people."
Miki, who normally burst with almost painful energy, sat motionless on the cold floor, her knees pulled tight to her chin. "The spirits…" her voice trembled, her violet magic flickering weakly around her wrists. "They saw me as a mistake. A stain on their perfect, static harmony. They shoved me out of the city; the gates slammed shut behind me with a thundering crash. I was too much life for a people that only valued death." She looked up at the gargantuan dragon, her eyes wide and wet. "I just wanted to play, but to them, my very existence was an insult."
Ren began to pace, his movements awkward and nervous. "My family was sacrificed!" he spat out, his voice laced with bitter teenage sarcasm. "That’s what they told me when I was still a kid. A sacrifice for the greater good. But nobody ever told me which good! I’m what’s left over! A remnant of a sacrifice that wasn't even complete! I’m a puzzle piece that never fits in the box, and I don't even know if the rest of the box even exists!" He clutched his head, his breathing a panicked storm.
Beat stepped forward, the rajin volt earring in his ear hissing with impatience. "I am a Nobody," he said, his voice suddenly sounding heavy, worn out by a burden that didn't belong to his teenage years. "I carry the power of a god in a body that always feels like a foreign place to me. I want to fight, I want to win, but every night I ask myself if I’m even Beat anymore, or if I’m just an echo of whatever came before me. I am Target #1, and I am nowhere truly at home."
Nyx and Silarias stood by, their silence heavier than the words of the others. Nyx stepped forward, her posture fragile, her teenage fear clearly visible in the way she gripped the folds of her skirt. "I am the time that does not wait," she whispered, as a tear of pure, silvery light slid down her cheek. "For years, I was the prisoner of the clocks. I was a gear in a machine that devoured everything. I don't want to watch anymore. I just want to… breathe."
Silarias’ eyes flashed blue; the light was raw and untamed, like a fire too vast for his young body. "I am the curse," he said, his voice deep and echoing with the resonance of the Bansaday Flying Lion. "I carry the pain of corruption in my veins, the eternal hunger of a god eating me from the inside out. I am the one who must break so others can survive. My life is a prison of fire."
Valtharion began to laugh. The sound tore through the cave, an inhuman cracking of ancient mountains. The walls of ink and parchment ripped open. Flash! Suddenly, the space was flooded with images that could not be captured in words. They saw the Timekeepers as the architects of the end. They saw Silarias dying in hundreds of other lives, every single time right before he could capture a shred of happiness. They saw a cosmos consumed in flames by the ambitions of entities they were now fighting against. The images were so vast, so horrific in their total indifference, that the group was forced to their knees as if struck by an invisible fist.
"This is the truth," Valtharion roared, craning his neck so that his shadow completely swallowed them whole. "Your tears are mere drops in an ocean of blood that has flowed for centuries. You are no heroes. You are merely ink spilled while the writer wasn't paying attention. Your pain is a mosquito bite on the corpse of reality!"
Silarias stood up, his gauntlets trembling with pure, uncontrolled power. His eyes were blazing blue flames. "Then I will break the pen!" he screamed back at the dragon. "If we are merely ink, I will turn the parchment to ash!"
Valtharion stared at him, his golden eyes narrowing into slits. "Finally," the dragon grunted. "Finally, a trace of true life in this archive."