Rael moved like a whisper through the ruins of a shattered nexus outpost, her steps soundless, her presence cloaked beneath a curtain of flickering static and light. Around her, the faint shimmer of aetherstrings glinted—almost invisible, like strands of starlight drifting through smoke.
This was her third infiltration mission in two weeks.
Her team—Coalition Black Ops Unit "Phantom Weave"—watched from the shadows. Silent. Efficient. Elite. Each member was trained to operate without a trace, but Rael? She was something else.
They called her "The Seamstress" now
Even if only a year has passed her abilities must not be underestimated.
She crouched beside a fallen sentry, weaving her strings into the corpse. The face, voice, atherprint—all absorbed. She stepped forward, her appearance now identical to the guard she'd impersonated.
Within seconds, she was walking openly through the compound, mimicking the gait and speech patterns flawlessly. Behind her, Mirage Loom cast a shadow-duplicate of her form to scout the corridor ahead. She felt every vibration, every shift in the air.
Mission Objective: Secure intel on the splinter guild suspected of developing rogue anomaly-based tech in violation of Coalition law.
As she navigated the hostile zone, her guilt lingered beneath the surface like a storm cloud—Noct... if only I had fought harder to stop them...
FLASHBACK: Noct's last day. His back turned. The others walking away. Her lips sealed in fear, in shame. She had stood still as they voted to leave him. When they returned to the surface, she didn't say a word.
She joined the Coalition two days later.
Not for justice.
Not for redemption.
But because she couldn't bear to be with the people who had left him behind.
As the disguised Rael entered the nexus heart, alarms blared. Her cover compromised.
Three armed guards. One tablet-user.
"She's a fake!" one of them yelled.
She didn't hesitate.
Stitched Convergence activated.
Strings lashed out, invisible and fast, binding all four targets in a tangled web. As they struggled, their movements only deepened the bindings—muscles cramping, minds clouding from feedback pulses.
She danced forward. Mirage Loom distracted the tablet-user while she flickered between personas she'd previously imprinted—switching from soldier to rogue technician to captured Venator.
Facesteal Resonance. Persona Requiem.
All the faces she'd worn burst into life—phantom echoes battling alongside her. Then, with a graceful leap backward, she released the Final Thread.
Lightning and illusions detonated in a sphere of shredded silk and blinding light.
The base was silenced.
>Post-Mission:
As the dust settled, her squad regrouped. "Target neutralized. Rogue research confiscated," said the team lead.
Rael didn't answer. She stood by the fallen tablet-user, looking down at his cracked visor. Her strings retracted slowly, whispering back into her palms like threads seeking home.
If only I could rewind that day…
And far below the surface of the unknown Labyrinth, Noct stirred—his own transformation underway, unaware that a year had already passed, and that the one person who still bore the weight of his loss was fighting in silence.