— But Can a Fractured Matrix Be Mended?
"Go to the Central Temple. Retrieve the container of the Thunder Core."
Kyng offered no explanation—just an order, cool and absolute.
Before the final syllable left his lips, Quinn, who had just arrived in the starlit hall of Monolithic Palace, turned on his heel and vanished without a word. The hem of his robe sliced the air like a blade.
The air seemed to vanish from the room, leaving behind a silence so dense Shawn could almost hear time slipping past.
Moments later, Quinn holding a long, deep-brown box in both hands. Its surface was embedded with metal fasteners and etched with strange symbols—part star chart, part cryptic code.
Kyng opened it himself. A faint electric current seemed to leap into the air, crackling as fine filaments of light sizzled and vanished.
Inside lay a single pendant: a greenish jade gleaming with metallic sheen. At its center, a "V"-shaped sigil pulsed, identical to the one marked on Shawn's ancient parchment.
"This is the Thunder Core's vessel," Kyng said softly, reverent as a priest before a relic.
He tilted his chin slightly, signaling for Shawn to produce the parchment.
Shawn's fingers trembled slightly as he unfolded the brittle page.
At once, a flash of lightning burst from the parchment, striking out with a thunderous snap. The blurred runes on the page surged to life—quivering, shifting, flowing—like some dormant force stirring awake.
An observer from the control deck cried out, "That's the trigram of Zhen (☳), from the I Ching!"
Without hesitation, Kyng stepped forward and placed the pendant against Shawn's chest.
Instantly, a surge of energy shot through him, flooding his limbs, racing along his spine, and exploding into his mind.
He staggered.
The Thunder Core pulsed in sync with his heartbeat.
"Resonance confirmed," Quinn whispered.
Kyng gave a slow nod.
Quinn stepped closer, offering the rarest of smiles.
"Congratulations, Shawn. From this moment on, you are officially one of us—part of the Meta-Origin Sect of Kepra."
"Meta-Origin... Sect?" Shawn echoed, brow furrowed.
A flash of memory: O.S.S. soldiers shouting as they hunted him—"Eliminate all remnants of the Meta-Origin Sect!"
Quinn's smile remained.
"It was born from the ancient Kunlun Sect, first conceived by the legendary Fuxi. For millennia, we've guarded the Nine-element Matrix. Though hunted across dynasties, we've endured—never extinguished."
Shawn hesitated, then asked:
"The Nine-element Matrix... also part of Fuxi's legacy?"
Quinn nodded.
"Ancient texts say Fuxi did more than chart nature's forces—he imprisoned them in these living batteries. Each Core hums with its own primordial song."
"Then what's the center one?" Shawn pressed.
"The conductor of this cosmic orchestra." Quinn flicked his wrist. Eight spheres materialized in the air—seven dark and dormant, their surfaces etched with faded symbols. Only Shawn's Thunder Core pulsed with faint blue energy in its designated position.
"Fire. Water. Wind. Mountain..." With each name Quinn spoke, a corresponding orb shuddered awake.
First came crimson embers in the Fire Core's chamber, then liquid sapphire light in Water's, until six more joined the awakening chorus.
Yet at the grid's heart floated the ninth—a multifaceted diamond darker than the void between stars, its perfect edges drinking the surrounding glow like a black hole.
"Behold the Nine-element Matrix." Quinn's voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "Alchemists call it the Magic Square. Eastern mystics know it as Lo Shu. But strip away the poetry..."
The Center Core suddenly reflected all eight symbols simultaneously. "...and it's the universe's failsafe switch."
Then Kyng spoke again.
"When an era falls into imbalance, The Center Core awaken. It must reunite the Eight and restore the order. But now... the rift between the primal and the modern world—"
"What's happening to the rift?" Shawn interrupted, tension sharp in his voice.
"It's widening—deeper and more unstable than ever," Kyng said grimly. "The Matrix's original configuration has collapsed. Now it's attempting to forge a rift bridge—to channel Nine-Core energy across dimensions. But the eight outer cores remain sealed… and all Resonants have fallen into slumber."
Shawn took half a step back, his mind racing to catch up. "So I'm... the first to awaken?"
Kyng nodded. "Yes. But it wasn't by chance."
His gaze darkened, his voice heavier.
"For eighty years, we've monitored the resonance patterns across all dimensions. At one point, the frequency of the Thunder Core reappeared—along with rune signatures—traced back to Earth's eastern zone. It originated from a small group... calling themselves the Meta Origin Society."
Shawn blinked. "They... know about this?"
Kyng didn't answer directly. His tone was ice.
"We don't know if they acted intentionally or stumbled into destiny. But the parchment you carry is one of their fragments."
He pointed at it, eyes narrowing.
"That phenomenon... it should never have appeared."
Shawn felt the weight of those words settle in his chest like a stone.
Kyng's gaze darkened, his tone flat.
"In the early 20th century, the Meta-Origin Sect saw a brief resurgence on Earth. But after 1949, it was banned. In its place, the Meta-Origin Society emerged—posing as a harmless academic group. Their task was supposedly just to preserve historical records."
He paused, just for a beat.
"But someone has tried to reawaken the Core. And that act... triggered the Rift ahead of time."
"The sky anomalies?" Shawn asked.
Kyng nodded slowly. "Warning signals from the rift."
And suddenly, it all shifted in Shawn's mind. Being "chosen" wasn't a blessing of fate—it was the aftermath of a thousand entangled decisions across fractured timelines. His awakening was not destiny... but consequence.
Kyng met Shawn's eyes, unflinching.
"We must find the remaining seven. Reassemble the Nine-element Matrix. Activate the Rift's Bridge. And recover the Meta Soul."
He paused again, voice hoarse:
"Until then, AGI-ST continues to dominate the trajectory. The Rift will widen. And Earth... won't survive another systemic reboot."
Shawn stared at the suspended diagram. The pendant on his chest burned faintly warm. He had only just awakened—and yet he stood at the edge of something far greater than he'd ever imagined.
Just then, the main screen rippled. A series of unknown coordinates streamed in from the sky.
Quinn frowned, for the first time unsure.
"These coordinates... don't belong to Kepra."
He drew a line across the interface, and slowly, the shape of a familiar blue planet emerged.
Kyng stared at the sphere, his eyes shadowed like midnight.
He spoke only two words:
"Earth."
Shawn's pupils contracted.
One thought surged through his mind—
How did they find me?