The line didn't disappear. That was the problem. System windows came and went. Errors corrected themselves. Glitches stabilized or collapsed. But this line—this thin, almost transparent fracture hanging in the air—stayed exactly where it was, like the world had forgotten how to remove it. Riven stood in front of it without moving, eyes fixed, reading not the shape itself but the way everything around it behaved. The wind bent slightly before reaching it. Sound felt quieter near it. Even distance didn't sit right around it. Lanks folded his arms beside him, expression tighter than usual. "…I really don't like this," he muttered. Riven didn't look away. "…good," he replied calmly. "…means your instincts still work."
The faint system message remained suspended for another second.
[Unresolved Error Detected]
Then—
It changed.
Not visually.
Conceptually.
The message flickered once.
[Attempting Forced Correction…]
The air tightened instantly.
Riven's eyes sharpened.
"…move," he said.
Lanks didn't question it.
Both of them shifted back just as the line reacted.
Not outward.
Inward.
Like space folding along a cut nobody was supposed to see.
The ground beneath it warped slightly.
The others behind them immediately stepped back.
"…what the hell is it doing now?" someone asked.
Riven already knew.
"…clean-up."
The system wasn't fixing the error.
It was trying to erase the evidence.
The line brightened faintly.
The pressure around it increased.
Cleaner than before.
Artificial.
Controlled.
Too familiar.
Riven stepped forward again anyway.
Lanks shot him a look. "…seriously?"
"…if it's forcing a correction this fast," Riven answered quietly, "…then this matters."
The space reacted immediately.
Resistance built around him.
Not enough to stop him.
Enough to warn him.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…same behavior," he muttered.
Not the same presence.
But the same logic.
That alone made his expression harden.
He reached toward the line.
Three inches away.
Two.
One—
The world cracked.
A sharp sound tore through the air like glass snapping across reality itself.
The line opened.
Not wider.
Deeper.
Darkness flashed inside it for less than a second.
And then—
Something stepped through.
Red.
Long coat.
Silver hair.
A sword resting casually over one shoulder like dimensional tears were a mild inconvenience.
Silence hit the field.
The newcomer looked around once.
Broken ground.
Confused people.
Riven standing closest to an unstable system fracture.
"…huh," he said casually. "…Tuesday already?"
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Lanks blinked once.
"…who—"
The stranger pointed toward the fracture without even looking at him.
"Okay, first question," he said. "Which genius poked the cosmic software bug?"
Riven's expression didn't change.
"…I touched the error."
The man finally looked at him properly.
A grin appeared instantly.
"Of course you did."
The line behind him twitched violently.
The system message glitched again.
[Foreign Entity Detected]
[Authorization… Failed]
The silver-haired man looked upward slightly.
"…wow," he muttered. "…it actually said failed."
He sounded impressed.
Riven studied him carefully.
Not because of the sword.
Not because of the presence.
Because the world's response around him didn't make sense.
The system wasn't reading him properly.
That alone narrowed Riven's focus.
"…you're not from here."
The man smirked.
"Took you, like… ten seconds. Pretty good."
The fracture pulsed sharply.
The correction process accelerated.
Pressure surged outward.
The newcomer sighed dramatically.
"Oh, come on. Five minutes. I'm here five minutes and reality's already throwing a tantrum."
Then he casually drew his sword.
The movement was effortless.
Lazy, almost.
The pressure hit.
He cut through it.
Just—
Cut through it.
No aura clash.
No elaborate buildup.
One clean slash.
The incoming distortion split apart like someone had sliced open bad code.
The field went dead silent.
Lanks stared.
"…what."
The stranger rested the sword against his shoulder again.
"What?" he asked casually. "Looked important."
Riven didn't react outwardly.
But internally—
He adjusted.
Fast.
That wasn't system manipulation.
That wasn't pattern reading.
That was something else entirely.
The fracture reacted violently now.
The line expanded slightly.
The correction force intensified.
The system messages began stacking over themselves.
[Containment Failure]
[Cross-Reality Contamination Risk]
[Emergency Correction Protocol Activated]
The stranger whistled softly.
"…yep," he said. "…that's usually the part where things get annoying."
Riven stepped beside him.
"…you know what this is?"
"Know?" The man laughed lightly. "Buddy, I practically attract this stuff."
The pressure surged again.
Harder.
Sharper.
The entire field tightened as the correction protocol finally committed.
The world wasn't trying to erase the line anymore.
It was trying to erase everything connected to it.
Riven felt it instantly.
Target lock.
Wide-scale deletion behavior.
His eyes sharpened.
"…it's overcorrecting."
"Bingo," the stranger replied.
The pressure descended.
Massive.
Immediate.
No warning gap.
Riven moved.
The stranger moved too.
For half a second—
Their timing aligned perfectly.
Riven shifted through the weakest angle of the collapsing field.
The silver-haired man spun forward with effortless momentum and drove his blade straight through the densest point of the distortion.
Impact.
Reality screamed.
The correction wave broke apart violently.
Not cancelled.
Interrupted.
The stranger grinned.
"There we go."
Riven glanced sideways at him briefly.
"…you did that on instinct?"
"Nah," he replied casually. "…style."
The line behind them destabilized harder.
The system messages flickered uncontrollably.
The field was losing coherence.
Riven saw it immediately.
The correction process had become unstable.
Not failing.
Panicking.
That was worse.
He looked toward the fracture.
"…it's going to rupture."
The stranger followed his gaze.
"…yeah."
"…can you stop it?"
The silver-haired man tilted his head slightly.
"Can? Sure."
A pause.
"Should?"
Another pulse ripped through the field.
Harder than before.
The fracture widened.
Darkness leaked through its center.
Something moved inside.
Not stepping through.
Watching.
Riven felt it instantly.
Different from Volume 1.
But connected.
His expression sharpened.
The stranger noticed.
"…ah," he muttered quietly.
"…there's the real problem."
Riven looked at him.
"…you know it?"
The grin faded slightly.
Not completely.
Just enough.
"Not exactly."
His sword lowered.
His eyes fixed on the darkness inside the fracture.
"But trust me…"
The pressure around the field shifted again.
Deeper this time.
Older.
Wrong.
The stranger's smile returned.
Smaller now.
Sharper.
"…that thing?"
He spun the sword once in his hand.
"…that thing definitely knows me."
The chapter ends. 🔥