[Two weeks before the Epic Rap Battle of Requiem—

  The night North, Ozzy, and Tabia went to find Destiny.]

  Tinsurnae exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. They were really doing this. The air was thick with tension, half from the mission and half from the bickering ahead of her. She was painfully aware that most of the group’s trust—and their safety—rested on her shoulders. If Jack went rogue, or if a powerful foe showed up, it would fall to her to stop them. But judging by how he and Bebele were currently arguing over something so trivial she couldn’t even remember what it was, the risk seemed low enough for now.

  She took a steadying breath. “You two done yet?”

  Jack muttered something under his breath. Bebele hummed as if rolling his eyes and crossed his arms.

  Caroline, standing beside Tinsurnae, smiled like watching siblings argue. “Well,” she said, brushing a strand of her sandpaper hair from her face, “I guess that means we get to start my quest.”

  Tinsurnae turned her head toward her. “You think we can get there by tonight?”

  Caroline tilted her head, thinking. “No clue.” She grinned. “But the faster we finish, the faster we can meet up with North.”

  Tinsurnae couldn’t help but smile faintly at that.

  Caroline flicked her wrist, and her UI flared to life—and the interface spread into a holographic map before her. Threadlike trails of light snaked across a shifting landscape, one glowing path pulsing brighter than the rest. It traced their route toward the far edge of the region, cutting through three ruined districts and one restricted zone before ending at a blinking marker labeled “The Root of Fortune.”

  She studied it for a moment, muttering to herself. “So we’ll pass through some fun looking ruins, avoid the gold, then cut across a ravine. Easy.”

  When she looked up, both Tinsurnae and S?urtinaui were staring at her with matching deadpan expressions.

  “…What?”

  Tinsurnae raised an eyebrow. “You do know we can’t see your UI, right?”

  Caroline blinked, then smacked her forehead. “Right. My bad.” She swiped through a quick menu and made the display public. The map shimmered outward, large enough for everyone to see.

  “Better?”

  S?urtinaui gave a short nod. “Much.”

  They leaned in, discussing options and routes—whether to take the tunnels beneath the ravine or brave the open causeway, how close was too close for the gold wave, and how long they could move before the next nightfall. The conversation grew more technical, Caroline tracing coordinates in the air while Tinsurnae questioned every weak point in the path.

  Then a low hum broke through their talk.

  The women turned to see Bebele approaching, his ring of ears humming around his head, faintly resonating with Ryun energy. He folded his arms behind his back. “If we’re going to discuss something of this importance,” he said in a calm, measured tone, “I would implore you to share your thoughts in the meeting room—with me and the others who were assigned command authority.”

  Caroline winced. “Sorry. Habit.”

  Tinsurnae nodded. “Won’t happen again.”

  “Good,” Bebele replied, gesturing for them to follow.

  “Oh! Shut up!” Caroline snickered.

  As the group began to move toward the meeting hall. S?urtinaui looked around.

  “Where’s Jack?” She asked quietly.

  Bebele sighed, the hum around his ears lowering in pitch. “Wandered off again. Likely looking for trouble.”

  Tinsurnae muttered, “That’s his only talent.”

  And with that, they entered the corridor, the glow of the holographic map fading behind them.

  Inside the room—another that looked more like a converted youth center than a proper command hall—the atmosphere was relaxed but deceptively sharp. Soft light pulsed from Ryun lamps along the walls, illuminating mismatched chairs, a long obsidian table, and a faded mural of some long-forgotten sports team on the back wall. It was the least formal “meeting room”.

  Two women sat waiting.

  The first was unmistakable—a synthetic being with pale, almost glassy skin that gave way to exposed biomechanical plating. Beneath the translucent layers, circuits and vines of bioluminescent green pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. Her hair, a jet-black bob fading to mint at the ends, framed glowing red eyes that scanned each new arrival with quiet precision.

  The other leaned back against the table with a self-assured grin, cracking her knuckles as she looked the group over. She was power built into flesh—broad shoulders, thick arms, and a body shaped for combat. Her red hair was messy in a deliberate way, her sleeveless shirt and loose tie giving her the look of someone who could break walls and then go grab lunch.

  “About time,” the muscular one said. “Was starting to think you all got lost.”

  Caroline offered an awkward wave. “Sorry. Map talk.”

  The synthetic woman tilted her head slightly. “You should learn to communicate your plans through the appropriate channels.” Her voice was melodic yet oddly mechanical, layered with faint harmonics.

  Bebele cleared his ears, deciding to get things back on track. “Formal greetings, then. As you know already this is Tinsurnae, Magjesti, S?urtinaui, and Jack’s… somewhere.”

  “Of course he is,” the redhead muttered, smirking. “Name’s Kiera. Co-Captain for now.” She jerked her thumb toward the other woman. “And that’s Lythra. She handles coordination, strategy, and whatever else I don’t have the patience for.”

  Lythra inclined her head politely. “Pleasure.”

  They all exchanged nods, brief but respectful. S?urtinaui offered a faint smile—something about their energy reassured her.

  Bebele gestured to the table. “Shall we begin?”

  Kiera leaned forward, her grin fading into focus. “Yeah. Let’s talk about what the hell we’re walking into.”

  Caroline stepped forward and expanded her map again, it unfurled across the black table visible to all. “Alright,” she began, her tone steady but cautious, “the quest is simple in theory. I need to take the ingredients we got from you guys—thanks again for that, by the way—to a tree called the Whispering Tree.”

  Kiera raised an eyebrow. “That old myth?”

  Caroline gave a faint smirk. “Myth or legend doesn’t matter. The Tree’s real. And it’s supposed to resonate with rare materials—enhancing them, unlocking new properties, and revealing bigger parts of the event.” She paused, then continued smoothly, careful not to reveal everything. “For now, I just need to deliver the ingredients. It should help me level up and maybe give us some insight into what’s coming next.”

  She didn’t mention the other part—the alchemical knowledge the Tree would grant her, her first true access to magic. That was her ace, and she wasn’t about to play it yet. She trusted these people, but they weren’t her people.

  Lythra’s glowing red eyes flickered faintly as she processed the plan and looked at the map. “The Whispering Tree lies in an unstable zone. This puts it near the fault line of Curtenail. Near the gold…”

  “Yeah,” Caroline said, zooming in on the map until the screen shimmered with topographic lines. “The area’s distorted—energy readings fluctuate like crazy, so we'll need to move in formation and stay under detection as long as possible.”

  Kiera crossed her arms, her muscular frame blocking part of the map’s light. “And who’s your strike group?”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Caroline hesitated, glancing at Tinsurnae, and S?urtinaui. “My team will handle the rest ourselves. I’ll even have Jack tag along.”

  Bebele shook his head, adjusting his robe. “We’re still a strong unit even without Captain Ozzy and Vice Captain Tabia. Four hundred members on board now, not counting the Blood Prince team. Their absence leaves a gap, but Tinsurnae can fill it.”

  Tinsurnae’s posture stiffened. “I— I can try,” she said quickly, her voice quieter than usual. Her hands flexed, the faint hum of energy running up her forearms.

  Caroline noticed the discomfort and stepped in before the silence got too heavy. “We’ll all share the weight,” she said firmly. “Once we reach the Tree, I’ll head in with my core squad. The rest of you can stand by or regroup.”

  Kiera’s head shook slowly. “No can do.”

  Caroline blinked. “Excuse me?”

  The red-haired Co-Captain leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Orders were clear. We help you. At any cost.” Her voice carried the weight of conviction, the kind that didn’t invite argument. “Those were the Captain’s final instructions before he left with the Blood Prince. And it’s the directive of our goddess herself.”

  The room fell silent for a few seconds. Even the hum of Lythra’s inner machinery seemed to fade.

  Caroline met her eyes.

  Kiera’s smirk returned, smaller this time but no less fierce. “Orders from the Captain, plus I don’t wanna piss off Tabia.” She chuckled. “You don’t ignore Ozzy and especially not our goddess.”

  Bebele folded his hands behind his back. “Then it’s settled. We all go.”

  Caroline exhaled, tension easing just slightly. “Alright then,” she said, nodding. “Let’s hope the Tree’s in a good mood.”

  Lythra’s mechanical voice echoed softly. “If it isn’t, we’ll make it be.”

  S?urtinaui exhaled softly, rubbing the back of her neck as the conversation in the room kept spiraling from tactics to speculation. She didn’t have much to add—truthfully, she didn’t want to. Every mention of the Whispering Tree, the gold wave, or gods schemes only reminded her how fragile their situation was. Getting anywhere near that golden corruption made her skin crawl, but there was no avoiding it. If they were going to face Civen, they had to be at full strength. Especially now that North was set on joining Vari’s Jujisn. That meant one thing: a battle of a lifetime was coming.

  And before that, she was going to do something she might not get to do again. Sleep. Real sleep. Not unconsciousness, not a healing stasis, not a coma. Just… a nap.

  She rose, her limbs heavy but graceful. “I’m calling it for the night,” she said, glancing toward Caroline. “Wake me if we actually find the Tree or die trying.”

  Bebele nodded and offered his arm. “I’ll escort you.”

  She smiled faintly—half exhaustion, half gratitude—and followed him as he waddled out. The door slid shut behind them, the hum of his ears fading with their footsteps.

  That left Caroline and Tinsurnae with the Co-Captains.

  At first, the talk stayed tactical—routes, formations, supply counts—but it didn’t take long to derail into something more personal. Caroline was the one to notice first. “You two don’t wear uniforms?” she asked, smirking at Kiera’s sleeveless shirt and suspenders.

  Kiera leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. “Ozzy’s rule. When he puts us in charge, we get to dress how we want. Keeps morale up.”

  “That sounds like him,” Tinsurnae muttered, smiling despite herself.

  Caroline laughed lightly. “Are you both Outlanders? Sorry to just ask like that but you don’t give me native vibes.”

  Kiera grinned. “Yeah. Pulled in from a fighting game. It was a real rough start… but now Requiem has been a blast.”

  “I see… what game?”

  “Corner Fighter 5. Obviously I was playing as Muscle Woman Linda before being warped here.”

  Caroline nodded.

  Kiera smiled wide. “And I bet! You’re from Arc Sigil Unite 4! I loved that game… if I could get teleported again, I would definitely use my avatar from there.”

  “Teleported again is crazy. But yeah it has its perks.” Caroline went to continue but remembered the see-through synthetic woman. “I’m sorry! Was about to go on a whole ramble. Where are you from?”

  Lythra nodded slightly. “I’m from a book.”

  Tinsurnae blinked. “A book?”

  “Yes,” Lythra replied calmly. “Robotic Love and Fire. A serialized romance-drama about synthetic emotion, forbidden warfare, and… moral combustion.”

  Caroline blinked twice. “That’s… a title.”

  Kiera snorted. “I read it before… it’s like fanfiction with a budget.”

  Lythra ignored the jab, her crimson eyes glowing softly.

  Tinsurnae leaned forward, fascination lighting her expression. “How does that feel? Knowing you were once a story character?”

  Lythra tilted her head, thinking. “I remember my lore clearly. It took a while to reconcile what I am—a being imagined into existence, given shape by belief rather than birth.” She tilted to the other side. Internal organs and wires shifting with her tilt. “But to answer your question, it feels like déjà vu stretched across eternity. I am familiar with every emotion I express, yet still discovering what it means to feel them.”

  The room quieted and Tinsurnae went to ask another question but —

  Kiera looked between them and sighed. “Okay, I’m calling it—can we not spiral into existential philosophy tonight? My brain’s clocked out for the night.”

  Tinsurnae flushed slightly. “Sorry. I just—”

  Lythra smiled, a faint flicker of green light running through the seams in her neck. “No need to apologize. I enjoyed your question.”

  Caroline crossed her arms and stared at Tinsurnae for a moment, grinning. “You know, for someone who claims she’s shy, you’re really poking and prodding.”

  Tinsurnae rolled her eyes. “I’m just curious.”

  “Yeah,” Caroline said, smirking. “A bit too curious.”

  Tinsurnae didn’t deny it. She just smiled faintly.

  They eventually drifted apart. The Co-Captains headed off to handle their duties, giving orders and checking the defensive routes. Tinsurnae slipped away to her quarters, determined to make progress on breaking the curse that Caelus’s sword had left in her system. She muttered something about “using peace before peace runs out,” and the others didn’t argue.

  Caroline lingered.

  The halls were quieter than usual—soft hums of Ryun engines beneath the floor, distant chatter from guards switching shifts. Her steps echoed as she walked aimlessly through the ship, letting her thoughts unravel one by one. So much had happened, so fast, and yet somehow it all fit together. Like chaos itself was finally following a rhythm.

  She smirked to herself. Having a plan felt almost like a joke now. None of their plans had ever worked out. Since the cave guardian Zavrien, everything had been one explosion after another—bam bam, boom, boom, dodge, pray, survive.

  “What happened to just grabbing gems?” she muttered. “That could’ve actually been fun.”

  Her voice bounced off the metallic corridor before fading away. For a moment, she was content to drift through her own thoughts.

  “Magjesti.”

  The voice snapped her out of her daze.

  She turned and froze.

  Mekiea stood at the end of the corridor, framed in the pale light of a flickering wall crystal. He was still in his Occulted Moon attire, though less formal this time. His blue scarf—the one he always wore—was missing. His red hair, loose and falling to his shoulders, caught the light like a dying ember. His eyes were still closed, as usual.

  Caroline blinked.

  “Oh no,” she whispered, hand flying to her forehead. “Holy shit—I totally forgot about tonight.”

  Mekiea tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I assumed as much.”

  She groaned. “You didn’t—like—wait the whole time, did you?”

  “I’m an impatient being but I can be patient for you,” he said simply. “Besides, the moons haven’t set yet. Technically, I’m early.”

  Caroline sighed, straightening her cloak and brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves. “Right. Early. Great. So, what’s the occasion again? Enlighten me before I embarrass myself further.”

  His smile widened just slightly, the faintest trace of amusement breaking through his usual calm. “Just a conversation.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly. Then, sheepishly, “Right. That.”

  ———

  Jack sat on top of the ship, the wind tugging at his coat and hair, as the metal beneath him thrummed with quiet energy. His Black Hawks attire snapped and fluttered like a banner of rebellion. From here, he could see the fractured skyline of the Curtenail region stretching out beneath a bruised, black sky.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed it in—the calm before whatever insanity came next. He could feel it deep in his bones, in that sixth sense that always told him when something big was about to happen. His time was coming.

  He grinned, sharp and unfiltered. He had everything a proper main character needed: a team of three cute girls, an annoyingly talented rival, and a teacher who just so happened to be a strict—and distractingly gorgeous—elf. The archetypes were aligning perfectly. He could almost hear the theme music building in the distance.

  “Yeah,” he muttered to himself, stretching his arms above his head. “This is it.”

  The Black Hawks emblem gleamed faintly on his chest as he looked toward the horizon. The next event was the culmination of everything—the moment where his growth, his will, his story finally converged.

  One way or another, he was going to get his anime moment.

  He smirked, leaning back on his hands as the ship hummed beneath him. “My greatest arc yet,” he whispered. “And when it’s over…”

  He tilted his head up toward the streak of gold cutting across the far-off clouds. His grin softened, just a little.

  “When it’s over, I’ll be strong enough to stand by her side.”

  The wind howled, carrying his words into the night as if the world itself were daring him to prove it.

  ———

  Givena stood atop a fractured spire, high above the treeline, her silhouette a ghost against the moons. She was tall and composed, every movement deliberate—grace shaped into menace. The wind pulled at the hem of her robe, a strange white garment laced with crimson thorns that seemed to grow and retract like living veins. Ink ran across the fabric in constant motion, phrases and glyphs rewriting themselves. Her skin glowed faintly beneath the night stars, and her aura—dark, liquid, and sinuous—coiled around her like a serpent poised to strike.

  From her vantage point, she watched the ship slice through the sky, its white hull glinting with faint Ryun trails.

  She had been tailing them for days, careful to stay out of range of their scans and spiritual senses. The Blood Prince’s entourage was clever—especially that Outlander girl—but not clever enough to hide from someone like her. Patience was her art, and she’d mastered it years before any of them had drawn breath.

  In her wake, shadows followed. Not her own—no, she had gathered a few strays along the way. Those who carried grudges with vile intent. Each one wanted a piece of a particular Blood Prince ally. Each one thought vengeance would make them whole again.

  She smiled faintly.

  Cale would hold his own for a while, but that wasn’t her concern. She had a promise to keep.

  The Blood Prince and the Jujisns in general thought they could rewrite the will of the land, and bend consequence to their own narrative. Such arrogance was almost divine.

  Almost.

  Givena lifted her hand, and the ink along her sleeves slithered down her arm, forming a quill that dripped black fire. She traced a symbol in the air—a sigil of curse and binding. It pulsed once, then vanished into the wind, streaking toward the distant ship like a whisper of judgment.

  “Let them face the consequences themselves,” she murmured, her voice calm but edged with venom. “No more shields. No more saviors.”

  Her aura flared briefly, serpentining around her into trails of red and shadow before vanishing completely.

  By the time the next gust of wind passed, Givena was gone—only the faint scent of ink and blood lingering where she once stood.