Chapter 98: Before the Storm Stirs Again
Umbra Prime didn’t sleep.
It rusted.
And in its rust, it whispered.
Kiro sat on the cold remains of a half-buried Kruger drone, arms draped loosely over his knees, cloak folded beside him like a discarded skin. Above him, the artificial moons flickered like dying memories, caught in a rotation cycle that had long since forgotten its rhythm.
For the first time in weeks, his heartbeat wasn’t a war drum.
It was just... a heartbeat.
He closed his eyes.
The dreamworld hadn’t followed him out, not completely, but echoes of it still lingered at the edges of thought — like bruises that hadn’t quite faded from the inside.
He remembered the faceless colossus, how it had shattered the concept of time with a single blow.
He remembered the veiled swordswoman, whose every strike forced him to remember what he had tried to forget.
And he remembered the last one—himself, but hollow. Cold. Without mercy.