Chapter 191: Book 3: Elsewhere, Elsewhen
In the streets of First Sky, a change sparked. It was a change that was set into motion years ago from the perspective of its citizens—a small, barely noticeable alteration to the materials the scirix used to build their homes.
A certain parasite thought that a larger change might have been too noticeable. That it might have sparked a response from the Interface. It was one thing to make changes to the challenge that a Trialgoer had to face and another thing entirely to alter the fundamental direction of a dungeon Ritual created by its soulrot.
For the most part, that change did nothing. The majority of their building materials were untouched, and life—as well as the intended course of events—went on as normal. Novi was the first to notice the color-drain phenomenon, though almost no one else believed her; her only allies in that respect were her sons.
Despite that, Novi was chosen to create the Record. Her sensitivity to changes in Firmament was unparalleled. It wasn't long before she was promoted to Seer herself, until others began to notice the change she warned of; then First Sky began to take her warnings more seriously. They began trying to understand what was happening to their home and why.
In the midst of all this, a scirix named Varus took a walk along the streets. He passed by a home that was still mid-construction, whistling to himself; he'd recently met a peer that went by the name of Juri, and he was excited to see him again.
Excited enough that he didn't quite pay attention when the scaffolding on the home next to him began to tremble. It was only when a threatening crack sounded that he looked up—and by then, it was too late.
Or it would have been.
There was a man in what looked like armor made of bone standing over him. Looming over him, really. He wore what Varus hoped was a helmet that resembled a draconian skull, and the large chunk of stone that would have crushed Varus had simply crumpled ineffectually against it, leaving chunks of dust and shattered rock scattered around them both.
Varus opened his mouth to thank the stranger—a Protector that someone else had summoned, he assumed—but the words froze in his throat. Something about this Protector's power was terrifying. He projected a casual sense of destruction, like he lived in a world of glass and it was only by his will that anything was allowed to live.