Forbidden Constellation's Blade-Chapter 165: Two Paths Beneath The Broken Sky

The sea was eerily still.

Yet, it wasn’t the calm kind that existed, ones where the soft breeze tended to lull you into sleep.

No, it was like a restless churn of something below, waiting to rise above the black waters and devastate everything.

From the balcony carved into Khaz Vordun’s upper citadel, Ryn could see nearly the entire expanse of the sea. The beam still burned in the distance, a narrow pillar of light piercing upward into the fractured sky.

The crack above had not closed.

It lingered there, like a wound across the world.

Ryn rested his hands against the cold stone railing. The ocean wind tugged faintly at his coat, but even that felt somewhat muted.

"Stop."

The word left his mouth quietly.

Nothing happened.

No weird magic or some kind of phenomenon occurred. Just a single word.

Ryn exhaled slowly.

That was how it should be.

And yet the memory of that moment on the airship refused to leave him.

His eyes turned quickly to the sound of a metallic clang below, toward the harbor platforms carved directly into the cliffside. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Dwarven artillery crews hauled massive manalite shells across reinforced tracks.

Cannons were transported by a crew of at least a hundred dwarves, gears grinding as they shouted measurements to each other. Engineers checked runic engravings along the ships’ plating, chiseling quick adjustments before sealing them in a glowing substance, most likely resin.

Braum stood at the center of it all, issuing short, efficient commands to the workers. Taylor was further inland, overseeing reinforcement of defensive barriers in case Leviathan broke through.

Jay moved between stations with trays of potions in his hand, healing ones, in case anyone got hurt and medical attention couldn’t be given right away.

But the people themselves...they were frightened.

And who wouldn’t be?

They were preparing to fight their very own guardian god. One that they’d believed in for centuries.

Ryn’s gaze lingered on them.

This wasn’t how it had happened before.

In his previous life, Khaz Vordun had fallen quickly. Leviathan had emerged fully corrupted, and the city had been swallowed before anyone understood what was happening.

Now things had changed.

This time, if it failed, there would be no excuse of ignorance.

Yet, a part of him was nervous nonetheless.

Too many things had diverged from the path he once knew. He thought that regression was the perfect power that would let him fix all the mistakes in his past.

It had...to some extent, but new problems always rise to fill in the gap.

Footsteps approached behind him.

Ryn didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

"Figured you’d be here," Amelia’s voice came softly.

He kept his gaze on the sea.

"You should be resting," she added.

"I am."

A pause.

The wind shifted slightly, brushing a loose strand of her hair across her cheek.

She didn’t tuck it back immediately. She was watching him instead.

"You look like you’re somewhere else."

Ryn let out a quiet breath through his nose.

"I was...for a bit."

The beam pulsed faintly in the distance.

Amelia stepped beside him, resting her forearms against the same stone railing.

"You’re not going to tell me it’s ’nothing,’ are you?"

He almost did.

It had almost become a habit at this point. But Amelia was different, and she already knew what troubled him.

"You’re thinking about Moran," she said at last.

Ryn didn’t deny it.

"No."

A small pause.

"The ruins."

That made her glance shift slightly.

"You never finished telling me about that."

He hadn’t.

When they split in Moran, when things spiraled and he took that path alone. He had returned different...and she’d noticed it.

Ryn rested his forearms against the railing.

"The place was older than I expected," he said quietly. "It was preserved somehow."

"I saw a statue."

Amelia turned slightly toward him.

"A statue of a god I’ve never seen before."

That alone was enough to hold her attention.

"It wasn’t one of the Five," he continued. "No Blessing symbols. Not even an inscription of their name...Just a figure carved from black stone."

Amelia didn’t interrupt.

"It felt wrong," he said. "Not evil. Just... displaced. Like it didn’t belong to this world."

"And then he approached."

"A priest?" Amelia asked quietly.

Ryn shook his head.

"A boy."

That word lingered.

"He looked younger than us. Messy black hair, pale skin, and piercing golden eyes. He looked like someone that time couldn’t affect."

The detail had stuck with him.

"He seemed to have more knowledge than his age implies... so I followed him out of curiosity."

"He didn’t explain anything," Ryn said. "But he didn’t hesitate either. He moved like he knew exactly where he was going."

"And you trusted him?" Amelia asked.

"No."

A faint breath left him.

"But I wanted to see where he would lead."

His gaze hardened slightly at the memory.

"And then a quake resounded through the mountain."

"I turned for half a second," Ryn said quietly. "Just to brace."

...

"And when I looked back, he was gone."

A moment of silence passed by.

"Gone?" Amelia repeated.

"Completely."

"And he left only one thing."

Ryn reached into the spatial ring at his finger. A faint shimmer passed through the air as a small object appeared in his palm.

A crystal orb, no larger than a plum. It was clear, yet the once vibrant shine it had now turned dim.

Amelia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"What is—?"

"I don’t know what it is," Ryn said calmly. "But when I held it..."

He hesitated, not sure if Amelia would believe anything he said. But he decided to anyway.

"I was transported."

Amelia didn’t interrupt.

"Not physically," he clarified. "My body remained in the ruins."

His gaze unfocused slightly at the memory.

"But my consciousness... was somewhere else."

The wind shifted faintly across the balcony.

"I was in the past," he continued. "But not my past."

Amelia’s expression changed.

"You mean—?"

"I was sharing the body of someone."

"Yet, I was mostly a spectator...witnessing the events—no, a tragedy, happening right before my eyes."

Ryn didn’t look at her when he spoke again.

"Amelia."

She turned fully toward him.

"What do you think would happen... if you lived your life in an endless dark night?"

Her brows knit slightly.

"You mean like the Evernight?"

"Yes."

She didn’t answer immediately.

"If it never ended?" she asked.

Ryn nodded.

"If the sun never rose again. If monsters never stopped coming. If light itself became something you only remembered."

The wind moved faintly between them.

Amelia’s gaze drifted toward the fractured sky.

"...I’d go mad," she said quietly.

She didn’t sugarcoat it.

"Everyone would."

A faint pause.

"Or we’d be corrupted."

Ryn gave a small nod.

"Yeah."

His voice was steady.

"That’s what happened."

Amelia’s eyes sharpened slightly.

"In the vision?"

"Yes."

He leaned forward slightly against the railing.

"It wasn’t a battlefield I saw. It was a city."

The sea below shifted faintly.

"They had lived in darkness for so long that it became normal."

"Yet, four children adapted to it somehow, gaining extraordinary powers from the night."

"They stopped resisting the Evernight."

Another pause.

"And the Evernight stopped harming them."

Amelia’s breath stilled slightly.

"...That’s impossible. Was the boy also—?"

He nodded.

"It shouldn’t be," Ryn said quietly.

"But it happened."

Amelia’s fingers tightened slightly against the railing.

"Were they... still human?"

Ryn didn’t answer immediately.

"I don’t know."

That uncertainty was the worst part.

"They weren’t corrupted in the way we understand it."

He finally turned to face her once more.

"But guess what happened when a society of nihilists finally found their hope in these four children?"

Amelia didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes didn’t leave his.

"They worshipped them," she said quietly.

Ryn gave a faint, humorless breath.

"Yes."

The wind shifted across the balcony.

"They didn’t see them as survivors."

"They saw them as salvation."

"And the four children... were proof that humanity could transcend it."

Amelia’s expression darkened slightly.

"That’s how cults begin."

Ryn nodded once.

Her eyes widened.

"You think this was how the Cult...?"

He shook his head, looking at the far coast, to the calm waters.

"I don’t know, Amelia...At first, I thought I did," he chuckled slightly. "But now?"

Before Amelia could respond, heavy footsteps echoed against the stone behind them.

Ryn didn’t turn this time.

The words faded into the wind.

Below them, Khaz Vordun stood ready.

Beyond the harbor, the sea remained unnaturally calm.

And at its center, the beam pierced the fractured sky.

Far from the balcony where the Captain stood, a smaller vessel drifted free from the main formation. Its hull cut a narrow silhouette against the water. At its bow stood another figure.

Fritz Calder did not look toward the city,

His gaze was fixed only on the light rising from the basin.

The ocean stretched wide and silent, as though the world itself waited to see which path would be taken.

Above, the crack in the heavens glimmered faintly.

Below, Leviathan turned in slow circles.

Two men stood on opposite ends of the same moment.

One at the helm of a fleet.

One at the edge of the unknown.

And neither would turn away.

Ryn Eden Arctis inclined his head.

It was a small motion, but across the harbor—

It was enough.

Flags unfurled, engines roared to life, and runes glowed brightly.

His voice carried across it all.

"Proceed."

The first cannon shot thundered across the sky as the smaller vessel surged forward with haste.

The battle for Khaz Vordun, and the world itself—

Had begun.