Trust is a Fragile Concept

Mei passed a canteen to Yume, who accepted it with a quiet nod. Beside her, Ren drank in shallow gulps.

The Archivist pair had lit a few lanterns, pushing back the oppressive gloom of the cavern. Jiro sat upright; his wounds dressed but his expression tight.

"Do you know about the 'fracture'?" Haruto suddenly asked.

Jiro's gaze fixed on Haruto. "Where did you hear that term?"

Haruto didn't flinch. “One of the scientists at the Sanctuary. I overheard them during transport – they said the safe zone around the facility was artificially created.”

Mei exchanged a tense glance with Jiro.

“The Fracture…” Jiro said slowly, “isn’t just a crack in the Veil. It’s a zone – a bubble – where reality itself if written. Sanctuary Seven was built right at its centre. The Order used high-energy field dampeners and anchors to keep the Veil’s energy influence in check.”

Asahi looked away. Haruto stepped forward.

“That reminds me… what device did Naomi use to tear the Veil in the first place?”

Mei’s face turned grim. “According to what we heard, it was an artifact passed down through generations – before it was stolen by the Order.”

“They called it a ‘key’,” Jiro added. “Though we don’t know what it actually is. Only that it wasn’t meant to be used. Not yet.”

Asahi’s brow furrowed. “Why would you want to keep something that dangerous around at all?”

“They believed it was part of a prophecy,” Mei said. “The same one we’ve been trying to decipher.”

Ren looked up.

The Painter will be the last one who remembers.

That line, again and again. Carved in stone, scribbled in forbidden texts. A prophecy that didn’t predict the future – but remembered it.

“There are always two outcomes,” Jiro continued. “Preservation or erasure. Each timeline branches towards one. In some, the Veil is sealed. In others… it consumes everything. But the Painter is a constant. He’s present in every major convergence point.”

Yume crossed her arms. “Then what does he actually do?”

“No one knows,” Mei said quietly. “His abilities haven’t been majorly used in any of the timelines. But the Traveller… he claimed that they might remember what the world forgets.”

“What about the Traveller?” Yume asked.

“Disappeared. We’ve completely lost contact. No one knows where he may be right now.”

Silence settled like dust.

Then Asahi broke it. “What about the rogues?”

Jiro exhaled. “They were from the Order. The tattoo they bear resembles the Order’s logo.”

“Come,” Mei said suddenly. “There’s more to show you.”

She left them down a narrow corridor carved into the stone, deeper underground. Eventually, the tunnel opened into a doomed chamber lined with strange carvings that shimmered faintly in the lantern light.

At the centre was a stone table with aged scrolls, old maps and a cracked obsidian tablet.

“This is where we recorded Veil activity,” Jiro said. “See this?”

He pointed to a spot on the map marked by concentric rings.

“Multiple timeline convergences. All meeting at the site of the fracture. It’s a nexus. And the closer we get to full convergence, the more fragile reality becomes.”

Yume stared at the map, then at the black tablet.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Records left by the first Archivists. It warned us that when the Veil tears wide enough, there’s no sealing it again.”

Haruto stared at the map. “Then what do we do?”

“Stop the ritual,” Jiro said. “Prevent the last convergence. If the Veil is allowed to fully emerge, then… everything will end.”

Silence followed. No one moved. The weight of the words pressed down like ash, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

“Why… are they doing this? For some fake ‘eternity’ they don’t even know about?” Yume asked.

Jiro looked at the obsidian tablet, fingers grazing the faded symbols.

“Sometimes… knowledge becomes a curse,” he said with a low voice. “We tell ourselves we are preserving the truth. But some truths demand a price.”

He lowered his gaze.

“We spent our lives guarding. Sacrificing ourselves. Just to protect a door we were forbidden to open… That’s why they are so bent on opening the Veil.”

He hesitates before shifting his eyes full of regret towards Haruto.

“…Forgive us… for we were one of them…”

He moved.

Too fast.

A glint of metal.

A hiss.

Haruto gasped as a needle drove into his neck. His limbs locked. His knees buckled.

Yume cried out, lunging forward, but Emi caught her by the wrist, driving another needle home. She collapsed beside Haruto.

“Asahi!” Yume choked out.

But he, too, stumbled as Jiro turned, another dart buried in his side.

“Wh… what are you doing?” Asahi wheezed.

“Forgive us,” Jiro said.

Ren bolted. Small. Fast. Slipping past Mei’s grasp.

But not fast enough.

Before he could use his abilities, a man stepped from the shadows. Pale coat. Silver-rimmed glasses.

Dr. Yukawa.

He crouched beside Haruto, calmly checking his pulse.

“You’ve done well,” he told the Archivists.

Jiro’s voice was hollow. “We didn’t want this.”

Yukawa smiled faintly. “None of us do. But the world is already lost. Our job is to guide the collapse.”

He turned towards the exit. “Prepare them for transport. We begin the final phase tonight.”

Ren’s scream echoed through the chamber before it was silenced by a gloved hand.