The silence after battle was often louder than war itself.
New Intramuros stood cracked but unbroken, its walls smeared with streaks of blood and spirit residue. Chain Monk bodies had vanished into ash, but the echoes of their chants still haunted the air like old curses refusing to die. The sun was beginning to rise, casting long shadows over the battered HQ, painting the aftermath in gold and grief.
Sam sat alone on the rooftop, legs dangling over the ledge, staring at the smog-drenched skyline of Metro Manila beyond. His arms trembled—part fatigue, part something deeper he didn't want to name. The residual energy of the Echoform still hummed in his chest, unstable and wild. His skin bore faint marks—fractals of blue and gold veins that hadn't faded.
Below him, medics worked to stabilize the wounded. Rael had suffered a broken clavicle, and Valencia hadn't spoken a word since the battle ended.
And Sam… Sam had split.
He remembered the moment too vividly. The scream that wasn't just his—it belonged to another version of himself, born from the collision of mind and memory. That version had fought beside him during the final minutes against the Chain Monks. A second Sam, flickering like a cracked mirror, fighting in tandem as if they'd been one soul torn into two threads.
Echoform: Mind Split. Rizal had called it forbidden. Not because it was evil—but because it peeled apart everything you believed you were.
Sam hadn't told the others what he saw in that form. He wasn't ready to speak about the other "him"—the one that didn't hesitate, that smiled while killing. The one whose eyes gleamed with fanatic purpose.
"You're hiding again," said a voice behind him.
Valencia.
He didn't turn around. "I'm tired."
"You're scared."
Her words were soft, but not unkind. She stepped closer, carrying a folded cloth in her hands. His jacket—scorched, but still intact. She sat beside him, close but not touching. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she asked, "Do you remember what you said to me, after we found the Resonance chamber beneath Cavite?"
He blinked. "I said a lot of things."
"You told me that fire is beautiful because it burns. But you forgot to say that fire also leaves ashes."
Sam finally looked at her.
Her face was calm, but her eyes weren't. They were glass on the verge of breaking.
"You lost control," she said. "We all did. But what I saw back there—it wasn't just power. It was pain. Yours. Mine. Rael's. Even Rizal's. We're fighting with wounds that haven't healed."
Sam looked back out across the horizon. "He showed me what's coming, Val. The Court of Logos—they're not just rewriting the world. They're editing who we were. Lapu-Lapu was almost erased. Bonifacio twisted into something unrecognizable. I saw myself leading them. Not as a hero. As a tyrant."
Valencia lowered her head. "And what did Rizal say?"
"That we have to write ourselves into the story. Before they do."
A heavy pause fell between them, filled only by the distant hum of the city waking up to another day of survival.
Then Valencia whispered, "I need to show you something."
[Vein Archives – Sub-Level Three]
The room was sealed, locked behind biometric gates even Rael couldn't access without her.
Valencia typed in the clearance code. The steel doors hissed open. Inside, the air was sterile, cold—lined with containment columns glowing faintly in dim blue light.
Sam stepped in slowly. "What is this?"
"My past," she answered.
She led him to the far wall. A single cryo-vault stood there, sealed in reinforced glyphsteel. Inside was a younger girl—frozen in a fetal position, eyes closed, hair white as snow.
"That's me," she said. "Before I was rescued."
Sam stared, trying to process what he was seeing. "Wait… I don't understand."
Valencia placed a hand on the glass. "The Court didn't just attack villages. They experimented. Spliced Veins. Fused timelines. They created anomalies… like me."
Sam turned to her slowly. "You're a Riftborn?"
"No. I'm a split. One timeline had a girl who died in a fire. The other had a girl who became the Court's puppet. I'm what happens when the universe doesn't choose." She smiled bitterly. "And when I use my powers, I feel both of them. Screaming."
Sam took a step closer, not out of pity—but recognition.
"We're not broken," he said softly. "We're just… unfinished."
She looked at him, startled. Then laughed—a shaky, broken sound.
"For someone who just fought his own shadow, you're good with words."
Sam shrugged. "I've had practice."
A silence settled again, but this one was softer. Less heavy.
Then the room shuddered. Lights flickered.
Both of them turned as alarms began to blare overhead.
CODE BLACK: VEIN BREACH DETECTED.
"That's the surface," Valencia said sharply.
[Topside – New Intramuros Gate]
Rael limped toward the console, armor half-worn, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
He didn't need to read the full data scroll. He already knew the pattern.
Chain Monks were tactical. Controlled. But this wasn't them.
This was something worse.
The camera feed displayed a single figure, walking calmly down the cracked concrete of Manila's dead roads. Hooded, faceless. Veins glowing obsidian. The air warped around them like reality couldn't hold shape.
Rael narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell is that?"
The operator's face went pale. "Sir… the glyphs aren't registering a Vein."
"No Vein signature?"
"None. But the Rift index… it's redlining."
Sam and Valencia arrived just as the monitors shorted out.
Then a voice echoed through every comm, every speaker, every psychic link.
A voice older than time. Louder than thought.
"You have touched the heart of the Abyss. Now face its will."
The skies over New Intramuros split.
Something descended.
It was not Rift Beast. It was not Chain Monk.
It was something the Abyss itself had carved—piece by piece—out of stolen memories.
It wore Sam's face.
But it was not Sam.
Its eyes were mirrors.
And inside those mirrors were thousands of dead timelines—screaming.