PROLOGUE: Scars of Tomorrow.
The silence of Zuarion City isn’t peace; it’s a stifled death rattle. From the peaks of the mountain range, where the air still clings to the purity of pine, the metropolis resembles a splintered jewel. The neons, which once assaulted the eyes, now flicker with the arrhythmia of a heart giving up.
We won the war—or so we swore as fire devoured the Crystal Tower. But freedom is a slab heavier than any shackle. Toppling a throne is simple; the truly titanic task is preventing a new tyrant from claiming it while you’re still sweeping away the remains of the last.
Now, upon the avenues we baptized in blood, the boots of foreign armies echo. They speak of “order,” but their eyes betray a hunger for Urumita. And in the shadows of the alleyways, a new poison spreads. Helix is no longer a tool; it is an unchecked pyre seeking to redeem the world through absolute chaos.
I look beside me and find the light in LyriX’s eyes, a spark of curiosity that justifies every breath I take. Yet, as I lower my gaze to my hands, the icy touch of the Shingetsu’s cyber-steel warns me that my truce is a mirage. Zuarion bleeds out between blackouts and the corporate promises of NewBolt. The void we left behind is an abyss, and the abyss is hungry.