Daniel moved further into the safe house, the low murmur of everyone settling in filling the space, and when he spotted Charice perched on the edge of the couch — knees tucked up, chatting softly with Keith — something clicked in his mind. He reached into his pocket almost on instinct and felt the smooth shape of her smartwatch, the one he’d grabbed from Ronan’s place without thinking. “Charice,” he said quietly, and she turned toward him with that bright, soft smile that always made the room feel a little steadier. He held out the watch, and her eyes widened before warming as she hopped off the couch and crossed to him. “You found it,” she breathed, slipping it back onto her wrist. Daniel shrugged, suddenly aware of how natural it felt to hand it back. “I only remembered when I saw you,” he admitted. Charice let out a small, touched laugh, then looked up at him with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, Daniel. Really.” Charice gave Daniel a gentle hug, "Thank you so much for finding it, I really wanted to head back to Ronan's house thinking it was still there. But you had it, thank you so much again Daniel" Charice said as she hugged Daniel a second time. "Of course, I have to head back to the other room as Lyra, and I are talking about what to do next." Daniel told Charice as he turned around and walked back to where Lyra was at in the other room. Daniel closed the door behind him, shutting out the soft noise of the others in the safe house, and found Lyra standing near the far wall with her hands loosely clasped in front of her, as if she’d been waiting for him to finally step away from everyone else. The room was small, dim, and quiet in a way that made the tension in his shoulders finally ease, and when Lyra looked up at him, her expression softened into that calm, steady focus she only ever used when it was just the two of them. He asked what they were supposed to do now, with the building locked down and its defenses raised, and Lyra told him gently that they couldn’t approach it — not like this, not with him at his current level and not with the building fully aware of their presence. She explained that the city itself was shifting, that the fractures were spreading in subtle ways she could feel even if the others couldn’t, and that staying still would only make things worse. They had to understand what was happening, how far the instability reached, and what the building was reacting to. Daniel rubbed his palms together, frustration flickering across his face, but Lyra stepped closer, her voice lowering into that warm, reassuring steadiness that always cut through his doubt. She reminded him that this wasn’t retreat — it was strategy. They would learn, observe, and prepare, and when the time came, they would face the building on their terms, not its. Daniel nodded slowly, the weight of the decision settling in his chest, and Lyra held his gaze with quiet certainty, making it clear he wasn’t facing any of this alone. Lyra stood near the back wall of the safe house with her posture quiet and composed, the thin blue interface blooming above her wrist from the older, more intricate band she wore, its slow pulse casting soft light across her face as she sifted through hours of diagnostic logs. She dismissed one cluster of data and pulled another forward, her voice low and steady as she muttered that something still wasn’t right, that too many values had been altered without explanation. Then the interface stuttered—just a single frame out of sequence—and she froze, rewinding manually until she found the corrupted marker buried deep in the system’s memory. something she had seen once years ago during a sealed investigation she’d been forced to abandon when her access was suddenly revoked. The memory rose slowly, like something surfacing through deep water: a locked file, a forbidden subsystem, a warning she’d been told not to question. Her eyes narrowed as she expanded the marker and saw the impossible timestamp tied to an event, she had no conscious memory of, and her breath steadied as the realization settled that she wasn’t remembering something new—she was remembering something she had been made to forget. She closed her hand, collapsing the interface into a soft pulse against her wrist, her voice warm but edged with certainty as she murmured that someone had tampered with the system. Lyra rested her forearms on her knees as she spoke, the soft blue glow from her wrist?band interface brushing across Daniel’s face while she explained that fractures weren’t glitches or distortions at all — they were rips, literal tears in the fabric of timelines and dimensions, the kind that shouldn’t exist unless something unimaginably powerful was pushing reality past its limits. She told him the Archon Engine wasn’t confined to their world; its reach extended outward into neighboring timelines, alternate histories, parallel dimensions branching from choices no one remembered making, and when that reach strained too far, the boundaries between those worlds tore open like thin paper. Those rips didn’t behave like portals, she said — they were unstable, dangerous, unpredictable, and the system labeled them as fractures because it didn’t have a better word for a wound in reality itself. If one ever formed near him, he wouldn’t just feel something wrong in the air; he’d sense the pull of another version of existence brushing against their own, a place that wasn’t supposed to touch theirs at all. And as she spoke, her voice stayed calm and warm, but Daniel could hear the weight beneath it — the Archon Engine was strong enough to tear holes between worlds, and that meant The Archon Engine was so powerful, it basically smashed into other timelines and worlds. Dimensions, alternate timelines and worlds we only could dream of. The thought of visiting another world got Daniel excited. "Come one! Let's go find those fractures!" Daniel yelled excitedly. As Lyra warned him, they are dangerous. The group of friends headed out into the city to scavenge for supplies as they all decided this safe house would be their base of operations. They rummaged through buildings finding what they can to stock up in the safe house. Daniel fought a couple of Rogue CRUs that somehow was damaged to where it could not receive orders from the massive building. All in all, the group manage to find a lot of left over supplies, as they were out for several hours carrying all they could carry. The safe house settled into a heavy, shared quiet as everyone finally drifted inside, weighed down by the long day of hauling supplies through half?collapsed streets and tense open stretches. Boots were kicked off near the door, jackets draped over chairs, and backpacks dropped with the dull thud of people who had nothing left in their muscles. Charice collapsed onto the couch first, exhaling through her nose as she rubbed her eyes, and Naya immediately slid in beside her, curling up close with a tired slump that said she was done pretending she wasn’t exhausted. Daniel set down the last crate of water with a soft grunt before stretching his shoulders, and Lyra watched him with that warm, steady calm as she powered down her wrist?band interface, the blue glow fading into a soft pulse against her skin. No one talked much; they didn’t need to. The exhaustion hung between them like a blanket, a quiet agreement that they’d done enough for one day. As blankets were pulled out, makeshift beds arranged, and the lights dimmed to a low amber, the room softened into something rare — a moment where survival didn’t feel like a sprint, just a pause, a breath, a chance for all of them to finally rest. "Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" Keith was yelling excitedly as he was doing inventory on the supplies they managed to find in the city. "So, what's it looking like?" Daniel asked sitting at the dinner table where Keith was at. Keith explained they had enough supplies for eight months as a lot of their supplies are frozen food and canned food. Daniel and Keith were putting away the food when Keith told him how they met before. Keith told Daniel it was at the mall, and how they both were trying to buy the new model kits for Dungeons and Dragons and there was only one left. So, they went back and forth to see who wanted it more, only for some kid to come by and take it from the shelf and run off. Daniel told him he remembered that day as the two laughed. Since then, they have been friends. "You know, if I find another band, you're definitely getting it." Daniel said to his closest friend Keith. As he agreed and they both laughed. Ronan sat slouched on the living?room floor with his back against the couch, lazily flipping through a stack of scavenged manuals while the others settled in, the low murmur of Daniel and Keith talking in the kitchen drifting over the clatter of cans being stacked into cupboards. He wasn’t really listening at first, too drained to care about anything beyond the ache in his shoulders, but then Daniel’s voice carried a little clearer — soft, earnest, the way he only sounded when he meant something — saying that if they ever found another band, he was giving it to his closest friend, Keith. Ronan’s hand froze mid?page. A small, sharp heat flickered in his chest, something he immediately tried to smother, but it lingered anyway — jealousy, stupid and unexpected, curling under his ribs. He didn’t turn his head or react; he just stared at the manual without seeing a single word, jaw tightening as Keith laughed it off with a tired shove to Daniel’s arm. Daniel insisted, saying Keith deserved it, and that only made the heat twist a little deeper. Ronan leaned his head back against the couch cushion, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he forced his expression into something neutral, pretending the conversation wasn’t sitting heavier on him than it should have, pretending it didn’t matter that Daniel had said “closest friend” and meant someone else. Also, the fact Daniel is planning on giving the first band he found to Keith. Keith and Daniel kept reminiscing on how they met, and how they tried going after the model kit only to step on each other's shoes and start a wrestling match in the store. "Remember getting dragged out by staff" Keith said laughing afterwards. "Yeah, they dragged us out the store and literally tossed us out" Daniel replied laughing and having a good time with his friend Keith. Then Keith explained how mall security was called after him and Daniel teamed up in that scuffle against the workers and then proceeded to get tossed out the mall by the security. "Good times" Daniel said. Keith then said how they were walking off and were both hungry, so they ate at a fast-food place nearby and the rest was history. Charice, Naya, and Lyra laughed upon hearing Daniel and Keiths story on how they met. Charice had pulled Lyra down onto the floor between her and Naya, declaring her hair “a crime scene of knots” after the long day, and Naya immediately joined in with a grin, gently combing through the ends while Charice twisted the top layers into loose, pretty braids. Lyra sat still and patient, her posture relaxed as the two of them fussed over her, the three of them slipping into easy laughter every time Naya messed up a section or Charice pretended to scold her. It was one of the rare soft moments in the safe house — warmth, closeness, the kind of simple fun they almost never had time for — and Lyra let herself enjoy it, even leaning back slightly when Naya insisted on adding a tiny clip she’d found earlier. But as she glanced toward the living room, her eyes caught Ronan sitting against the couch, pretending to read while his jaw tightened just a little too much, his gaze flicking toward Daniel and Keith in the kitchen before returning to the page he clearly wasn’t absorbing. The jealousy was subtle, tucked behind his usual calm, but Lyra saw it anyway — the faint tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided looking at Daniel for too long — and though she didn’t say a word, a quiet understanding settled behind her warm smile as Charice tugged her hair into place and Naya laughed beside her. Soren finally walked back inside after smoking outside in the backyard of the house. He heard Daniel and Keiths story and decided to tell one of his own. Soren, sat down on a highchair leaning on the countertop in the kitchen. He explained his story on meeting Daniel wasn't really special. It was the day him, Ronan, Charice, and Naya were at the Dungeons and Dragons convention. He explained after the convention they went to go eat at a fast-food joint as all others were packed with other people from the convention. So, they chose the least occupied. It was after the convention ended on the third and final day, that they met Daniel in the fast-food restaurant, where he was trying to pay for food, but lost his wallet. Daniel wore the same black outfit he always defaulted to when he didn’t want to think too hard about clothes. A fitted black long?sleeve shirt clung to his frame just enough to show he actually worked out, though the fabric had that soft, slightly faded look from too many washes. The sleeves were pushed up to his forearms, revealing the faint crease marks where he habitually folded them. His pants were simple black joggers—no logos, no flair—just comfortable, matte fabric that moved quietly when he walked. Even his shoes were plain: black sneakers with scuffed rubber and laces that had lost their original color months ago. So, Ronan stepped up and said he'd pay for his food. "The look on Daniel's face was priceless" Soren said as he laughed. He explained Daniel looked so shocked to see Ronan's face and him paying for his food. Ronan walked into the kitchen adding "Yeah some asshole attacked me in the parking lot at the convention, and pepper sprayed my eyes, that's why they were red and irritated" Soren explained Daniel looked like he was terrified of Ronan and said most likely his eyes. But Ronan would not take no for an answer no matter how many times Daniel said no and tried to leave in a hurry. So, Ronan paid for his food and invited him to the table they sat at. Daniel looked like an introvert not knowing what to do when around people, he was very drawn back as we all ate our food and shared photos and videos of us at the convention. Soren began laughing as he continued his story of how he and the others met Daniel, he said the entire time he was staring at Ronan, he even asked Ronan if he was alright, Ronan just kept saying yeah. Soren added that Ronan was making sure if Daniel was alright as he looked uncomfortable. Charice said she was a bit worried about Daniel as he really didn't open up that night besides a bit of conversation about him at the convention. Naya laughed and said, Daniel looked like a scared rabbit, maybe because Ronan's eyes were red. Soren finally finished his story with Daniel and the others exchanging numbers through their smart bands, and how Daniel was really hesitant to do so, but Ronan insisted as he said he made a new friend. And Soren said he wouldn't leave without his contact info. So, they exchange numbers that night. And Daniel left in a hurry, and that was it. "I, have a confession to make." Daniel said as everyone turned their attention to him. Everyone now in the kitchen ready to listen to Daniel's story. "I first want to deeply apologize to Ronan and Soren, like, deeply, I am so sorry to both of you" Ronan and Soren both looked at each other confused, as Ronan asked why he was apologizing to both of them. Daniel said he'll know at eh end of his story. "So let me start by saying it was an interesting story on meeting the rest of you" Daniel added. Daniel began his story, on the day the met Soren, Charice, Ronan, and Naya. "It goes back to the Dungeons and Dragons convention, but much earlier on the final day" Daniel said. Daniel stood in the hallway adjusting the sad excuse for a Rogue costume he’d cobbled together the night before. The “leather” vest was just a thrift?store pleather jacket with the sleeves hacked off unevenly, the edges curling like burnt paper. His hood was a black hoodie he’d cut too wide, so it slouched over his eyes in a way that made him look less mysterious and more like he was hiding from the sun. The belt across his chest was an old laptop strap he’d spray?painted silver, still tacky in places, and the plastic daggers at his hips wobbled because he’d hot?glued the loops on crooked. Even his boots weren’t boots—just his regular sneakers wrapped in strips of black fabric that kept slipping down like sad leg warmers. But somehow, with his calm posture and that quiet, focused stare, he still managed to look like the most committed Rogue in the room… even if every piece of his outfit squeaked, sagged, or peeled when he moved. He was at a stand selling replica weapons and grabbed a popular sword, asking how much it was, as the seller said four thousand dollars. Daniel was ready to pay for it, but Ronan stepped out of nowhere and said he'd like to buy it. So, he kindly asked for the replica sword Daniel had in his hand. They couldn't see Daniel's face as he had his hood right over it, Daniel explained to everyone listening on his story how he shook his head and refused to hand over the replica sword, both him and Daniel wanted so bad. He explained Ronan's cosplay was amazing too, much better than his Rogue outfit. Ronan’s paladin cosplay looked like it had been crafted by someone who took the word “devotion” personally. His armor was a meticulously built set of EVA foam plates, heat?shaped and sealed until they carried a convincing metallic sheen. The chestplate had a brushed?steel finish with gold filigree curling across the surface in crisp, symmetrical lines. His pauldrons were slightly smaller than the dramatic two?hander version, shaped to allow freer movement, but still bold enough to give him that unmistakable heroic silhouette.

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  A deep royal?blue cape draped from beneath the armor, weighted at the hem so it flowed cleanly behind him instead of fluttering awkwardly. His gauntlets were detailed with etched runes filled with a soft, pearlescent glow, and his greaves matched the chest plate’s finish, strapped tight with faux?leather bindings that looked convincingly worn.

  But the real centerpiece was the weapon set. His one?handed sword was a beautifully crafted foam replica: a straight, silver blade with a gold?trimmed crossguard and a navy leather?wrapped grip. It wasn’t oversized or cartoonish—just perfectly balanced, the kind of blade a disciplined paladin would actually carry. His shield was even more impressive. A kite?style design, painted in polished silver with a bold gold emblem at the center—an angular sunburst that looked like it belonged on a holy knight’s banner. The edges were weathered just enough to suggest use, but the face of the shield gleamed like it had been blessed before battle. He’d even added subtle texture to mimic hammered metal, giving it a realism that made people tap it just to check if it was foam. Together, the sword and shield transformed him. As for Soren, his warrior cosplay had a rugged, battle?tested look that suited him almost too well, the kind of armor that looked like it had survived a dozen campaigns and still had room for more. His chestpiece was a layered mix of dark steel?painted foam and weathered leather straps, each panel shaped to follow his husky frame without restricting his movement. A fur?lined mantle rested across his shoulders, not oversized or theatrical, just enough to give him that hardened, northern?fighter silhouette. His bracers and greaves were detailed with subtle knotwork patterns, carved and shaded by hand, the kind of meticulous work he’d never admit he stayed up late perfecting. The dark, reinforced boots and fingerless gloves tied the whole look together, giving him the presence of someone who fought with grit rather than glory. But the real star was the axe—an imposing, single?bladed weapon with a broad, silver?painted head etched in runic lines and a long, faux?wood handle wrapped in worn leather. It looked heavy even though it wasn’t, and when Soren rested it across his shoulder, the entire outfit snapped into place. He didn’t look like a convention attendee; he looked like a warrior who’d stepped out of a campaign map and into the hallway. Naya’s healer cosplay had a gentle, storybook charm to it, built around soft fabrics and warm colors that made her look like she’d stepped out of a peaceful village rather than a battlefield. She wore a pale cream tunic layered under a short, mint?green cloaklet trimmed with delicate embroidery she’d stitched herself, the patterns small and neat like someone who took pride in every detail. A simple leather satchel hung at her hip, filled with faux potions and neatly labeled herbs she’d arranged with almost obsessive care. Her boots were soft brown with little ribbon ties, and her gloves were fingerless, decorated with tiny, stitched stars. But the highlight was her staff—a slender, pastel?painted piece topped with a round crystal orb encircled by wooden petals, giving it the look of a blooming flower. She’d added small charms and dangling beads near the grip, each one chiming softly when she moved. The whole ensemble radiated warmth and quiet optimism, making her look more like the healer everyone instinctively trusted to keep the party safe. Charice’s knight cosplay struck a perfect balance between rugged strength and quiet femininity, built from sleek silver?painted armor plates shaped to her frame without ever looking delicate. Her breastplate had a clean, angular design with soft rose?gold accents along the edges—just enough color to hint at her girly side without compromising the tough, tomboyish silhouette she preferred. A short, dark?red half?cape hung from one shoulder, frayed at the ends for a battle?worn look but pinned in place with a small, ornate clasp she’d chosen purely because it was “pretty.” Her gauntlets and greaves were practical and streamlined, decorated with faint floral etchings you’d only notice up close. The boots were sturdy, scuffed, and clearly broken in, letting her move with the easy confidence of someone who hated restrictive costumes. But the centerpiece was her greatsword—a long, elegant blade with a silver finish and a rose?gold spine running down the center, the hilt wrapped in deep crimson leather. It looked heavy, but she carried it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing, the whole ensemble giving her the presence of a knight who could hold her own in any fight while still letting a hint of softness shine through. Daniel explained how he was so impressed by everybody's cosplay. "So, that was you." Ronan said. "Hang on, let me finish so everybody knows, okay?" Daniel replied, knowing full well he'll probably be getting his ass kicked soon. So, Daniel continued on with his story as he paid for the replica sword, which upset Ronan as he wanted it. Daniel waved the sword triumphantly, Charice explained how she told Ronan they would get him another one, but he still wanted the limited-edition replica sword. Which only like five were made in existence, Daniel walked away quickly knowing Ronan was right on his heels saying he'll pay double for how much he got it for. But Daniel ran faster trying to escape from Ronan. Daniel did manage to escape Ronan. A Daniel was staring at a rare dice set he notice Soren reaching for them from behind him. So, Daniel quickly grabbed them for himself. Daniel, said he was surprised to see Soren again, as Soren said the same, But Soren told everybody he didn't recognize it was Daniel since they barely saw his face because of his hood. Soren said they rolled for the limited-edition dice to see who would get them. Daniel noticed they were about to light up fireworks nearby and agreed to roll a dice for them. Soren laughed at Daniel as he was telling the story, as he explained he knew something was up when Daniel agreed to the little game so quickly. Soren rolled first getting a 17, Daniel knew the fireworks would be distracting, so when it was his turn, he waited a few seconds as Soren was getting impatient. Daniel said his plan was not going as well since they delayed the fireworks. Ronan laughed at Daniel saying he is a true Rogue trying to play games like that. Soren cut in saying he was rushing Daniel, as he did, Daniel knew his little game was up as he just gave up and threw the dice. It seemed like Daniel was going to get a pretty low number when a woman went up to the stall and was asking for a price for an item cutting between the two of them and interrupting their game. Soren said that woman looked incredibly beautiful, even Daniel was staring at her. The woman apologized and left. As she did, the two got back to their game and Daniel managed to roll a 20 on his dice. The group of friends laughed as Daniel told his story, saying lady luck intervened and helped Daniel out. Soren thought Daniel was cheating, but one of the sellers said he didn't see his hand touch the dice. And Daniel won the rare, limited-edition dice. Daniel paid for the dice and left. "Talk about luck" Naya said smiling. "Right?" Daniel added as he continued his story. Hours later in the parking lot Daniel was on his way to his car and noticed an elderly woman and her two sons who seemed like they were in their thirties, packing up their stuff as they were vendors who were selling stuff at the convention. He went over and offered them some help as they seemed like they were struggling. After helping them out, Ronan immediately appeared behind Daniel asking saying he'd pay triple for the replica sword he bought. Ronan and Daniel laughed knowing full well the events that took place that night. "How did you even find me?" Daniel asked Ronan as he kept bugging Daniel about the replica sword. The elderly woman then pepper sprayed Ronan in his eyes as he nearly fell over. The elderly woman said Ronan seemed to be bothering him and how that should teach him a lesson as Daniel laughed and walked off. Only to meet each other at the restaurant and have Ronan volunteer to buy Daniel his food as the group of friends did not recognize him as he removed his cosplay. Once Daniel finished his story, Ronan jokingly asked where his replica sword was. "My, replica sword is still at my house where it will remain" Daniel joked back. The group of friends joked and laughed as they continued through the night, telling stories and just talking, having a good time, just like old times. This time with Daniel being more involved.