The Letter of Ceasefire
The letter arrived at dawn, delivered not by a messenger—but by a construct of neutral code wrapped in golden paper and bound by both kingdom seals. It hovered before Ari's bedside in Detracta's private sanctum, then unfolded in midair.
"Effective immediately, by mutual decree, a six-month ceasefire is enacted between the Kingdom of Caelrune and the Sovereignty of Aurelion. Neither side may launch attacks nor dispatch reinforcements to contested territories. Skirmishes will halt. Prisoners will be held in stasis. The reason for war will be revisited in half a year."
Ari's eyes lingered on the final line.
"The ceasefire exists because we no longer know who we are fighting."
The code dissolved, leaving only silence behind.
The Decision to Stay
Later that day, Ari stood beneath the glimmering glass branches of Detracta's hidden archive tree. Its bark shimmered with lines of dormant glyphs—pre-Signum root code buried by time, law, and betrayal.
Aven and the other Detractors bowed their heads.
"You were never meant to be trained by our world," Aven said. "But this place still remembers who you are."
Ari nodded.
He had no intention of returning to the battlefield—not yet. What good would it do if he couldn't even wield the true codes he was born from?
"I'll stay," Ari said. "For the full six months. I need to unlock the hidden codes still buried in my system. If I don't… I won't survive what's coming."
The Letters Sent
He sent five letters—each encoded with his personal seal and hand-inscribed with care.
To Eluin, he wrote:
"You were right to guard me. But now it's my turn to understand why I'm guarded at all. I'll return stronger. Not just to defy the System—but to protect what remains outside of it."
To Lysira:
"Try not to punch anyone in my absence. Unless they insult you—that's fair. I'll come back with answers. And maybe, if you ask nicely, I'll teach you what a Root Glyph feels like."
To Primira:
"Don't let anyone silence you in the councils. You're louder than fate. I'll miss hearing you rant about everyone's idiocy."
To Cerys:
"I'll need you when I come back. Not as an Ascendant, but as my equal—because I want to stand beside you, not above or below."
To the King:
"If I survive the codes, and I return stronger, know this: I will not serve the old ways. I will protect our kingdom, yes—but I will not be bound to it."
The Last Night Before Training
That night, he stood on Detracta's sky-plateau, where stars echoed against a lake of reflected syntax. In the distance, he imagined he saw the outline of Eluin's gentle expression, Lysira's wild grin, Cerys' cool intensity, and the quiet glance of the tsundere princess—somehow always watching.
"Six months," he whispered.
The stars didn't answer.
But the glyphs beneath his feet pulsed.
The training was about to begin.
The Opening of the Root Gate
The next morning, the Detractors led him into a forgotten chamber—circular, sealed, and lined with walls of mirrored text that did not reflect light, but memory.
"Your system still contains root code sealed behind recursive bindings," Aven said. "These are shards of the One True System, compressed by time and forced into false lineage masks."
One by one, Ari touched the mirrors.
With each pulse, pain coursed through him—not physical pain, but identity pain.
He saw visions of who he should've been—hundreds of lives erased, not by death, but by data manipulation.
When the last mirror shattered, a stream of golden glyphs poured into his core. Ancient Signum, older than language, curled around his soul.
"You've awakened the First Sequence," said the Detractors in unison."Now… let us teach you what the world has forgotten."