The one retrieved from The Void

"Impossible," the woman exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Only if one of us intervened could you have been stopped, and even then, you wouldn't have felt like dying."

"I'm being honest," the man insisted, his gaze flickering to the space around them. "And there's something else at play here. He is her bonded, after all."

"But she didn't tell him anything," the woman said, her tone hesitant. "Why would she stop us now?"

The man's brow furrowed. "Maybe we should ask her?"

The moment the words left his lips, a chill ran down both their spines, a creeping, unnatural cold that seemed to freeze the very air. Something was coming.

"I'll go," the woman said, a note of urgency creeping into her voice. "Let's hope she isn't too angry." And with that, she vanished without a trace.

The man remained, his body trembling slightly. He had downplayed the feeling he'd experienced when trying to prevent the conversation between Vas and The Rose, but now that the woman was gone, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of dread that had gripped him. It hadn't been a near-death experience—it had felt as though he was on the brink of being erased, as though the very fabric of his existence was being pulled apart. A sensation he hadn't felt in countless ages.

Meanwhile, far within the Void, The Archivist sat alone, her black cloak swirling in the unseen winds of energy she released. She felt it before she even heard it—someone was requesting permission to enter, someone familiar. She knew who it was before they even spoke, but still, she allowed them access.

The woman stepped into the void, her shimmering form radiating light. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "What do you want, child?"

"As you're probably aware, someone is telling your bonded something that shouldn't be known," the woman said, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Amrita isn't stopping it from happening. I think you understand what that means," The Archivist replied, her tone calm, though beneath it, there was a cold undercurrent of something far darker. "You've already tried to stop it, and failed. That should tell you something."

The woman froze, her voice faltering as she took a step back. "You didn't stop us?"

"No, Nexus, I didn't stop what you just tried to do," The Archivist said, her voice sharp as a blade. "In fact, I cannot interact with Vas right now, and I have no idea why."

Nexus stood before her, stunned and speechless. The Archivist's words sank into her like a weight too heavy to bear.

"I promised to stay neutral," The Archivist continued, her voice quiet but resolute. "I only bonded with Vas because of the breach, and even now, I'm not sure if one of you had anything to do with it. So, I'm still uncertain if the agreement we had has been violated."

Nexus, looking pale and shaken, opened her mouth to speak but found no words. She had never expected this.

The Archivist flicked her hand, and in an instant, Nexus was thrown out of the Void with a force that left her gasping. The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken implications.

Vas and The Rose sat in tense silence. The conversation had come to a sudden halt, as if both were waiting for something more—something that would confirm whether the threat had passed or whether they were still being watched. But nothing came. The air around them, once thick with the oppressive presence of some unseen force, began to feel more like a vacuum, empty and still, almost suffocating.

After a long pause, Vas exhaled and turned his gaze back to The Rose. "I think it's safe to continue now," he said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the uncertainty still lingering in the air. "Please, continue."

The Rose regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. There was a strange flicker of something in her eyes—was it disbelief? Or was it admiration? She had never met anyone like him before. "Aren't you afraid?" she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Even if nothing else happens, gaining this knowledge… it could make you a target. The government, the Church—everyone who wants to keep the truth buried will be after you."

Vas met her gaze without flinching. "So?" he replied, his tone almost casual. "This makes me curious. I'm not afraid of satisfying my curiosity. If I die because of it, I won't regret it. But not satisfying it... that would be an incredible bore. A frustration I can't bear. So please, continue."

For The Rose, Vas's answer was nothing short of madness. He wasn't afraid to make the world his enemy for the sake of knowledge, and yet, he spoke with such calm certainty. He was treating her with a level of respect she wasn't accustomed to—respect, not as a former enemy, but as someone with valuable insight. Someone worthy of being listened to. In that moment, a strange warmth spread through her chest, a feeling she hadn't expected.

"Very well," The Rose said, though her voice faltered slightly, betraying a hint of fear. "The Primordials," she began, the word hanging in the air like a forbidden secret. "We don't know much about them, but after years of research, we came to the conclusion that they were responsible for the creation of everything. The Usurpers, through the Unveiling, somehow reached a state where they could rival the Primordials."

Vas's brow furrowed. "So, they grew as powerful as the Primordials?" he asked, the question hanging with a mix of awe and disbelief.

"No," The Rose corrected, her voice growing darker. "The domains we influence through our Anima, those weren't created by the Usurpers. They were taken from the Primordials. The Primordials themselves—they created the domains, the very essence of existence as we know it. The Usurpers, they managed to overthrow the Primordials in a well-planned coup, but they didn't take everything. Not all the domains fell under their rule."

Her voice lowered to a murmur. "Have you ever wondered why there's no Usurper over death? Why there is no one to claim the domain of the afterlife? That's the domain the Usurpers could never touch."

The words hung heavy in the air, their implications terrifying. For a moment, the silence between them was thick with unspoken truths. Then, Vas's voice cut through it, sharp and clear.

"And that's why some spirits can forge bonds," he said suddenly, his eyes alight with understanding. "They are part of the domains the Primordials created. And by bonding with humans, they grow stronger within those domains, until one day, they might rise to take a domain for themselves. Become a god."

The Rose's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, exactly," she said, her voice breathless. "Oh, Vas, you're quick. You're so quick. Do you understand now? Do you see why we called them the Usurpers? Why we fought the war before, why it was all about protecting the truth?"

Vas nodded slowly, a heavy realization settling in. Everything—the Unveiling, the struggles of the gods, the fights for power—it all began to make sense. The system that had been set up wasn't just a test of power, but a carefully constructed mechanism to suppress knowledge. To keep the truth hidden. And now, more than ever, it felt like they were standing on the edge of something catastrophic.

"I understand," Vas said. "This is why the Unveiling is such a problem. They don't want people to understand the truth. They don't want us to see the possibilities of what the Unveiling could truly mean."

The Rose stared at him, the intensity of his words making her breath catch. "So, you understand why we did what we did?" she asked softly, almost pleading.

Vas met her gaze, his eyes unwavering. "I do. I see it all now."

The Rose's expression softened, a hint of warmth returning to her features. "Thank you," she whispered, but her voice trembled slightly, like a delicate thread ready to snap. "You're one of the few who truly understands."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, then she straightened, her tone becoming more serious. "So… would you be willing to join us? Together, we could leave this place behind. Escape from everything, and take the fight to the Usurpers."

Vas hesitated. His mind was racing, but he didn't have to think long. "Unfortunately, I have to decline," he said, his voice firm. "I have my own objectives. But, if I'm called to act against the Usurpers, then I will. I'll fight them if it's necessary."

The Rose looked at him, disappointment flickering across her face. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Saying something like that… they must have heard it. They'll know. They're watching us."

"I'm sure," Vas said, his voice steady but laced with an edge. "But I don't care."

The Rose raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "Why not?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vas looked her in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. "Because Amrita never once stopped you," he said. "Meaning, Amrita wants this to be known. If the Usurpers aren't completely stupid, they'll realize that something is up."

A cold, tense silence followed his words. The weight of the conversation seemed to crush the space around them, and the stakes felt higher than ever. Somewhere, far off in the shadows, the consequences of their words were already taking shape. 

"You've got guts, kid," The Rose said, her voice tinged with both admiration and incredulity. "You just called them stupid."

"So?" Vas replied, his tone calm and unbothered, as if discussing a trivial matter. "They should already know. Amrita is the one that determines whether or not something is to be known. Even if they don't want certain truths to come to light, Amrita clearly has its reasons for allowing it. If they weren't stupid, they'd have realized this was inevitable."