Cain grit his teeth. "It's not mimicking Nebula's style at all. It's neutral. Efficiency only. It's meant to pressure every weakness at the same time."

Leth called, "Then stop giving it weaknesses!"

Cain didn't answer.

He surged forward.

He ducked under a blade. He stomped down on an incoming spike. He twisted past a sweep of metal that carved a trench behind him.

He punched the hollow Nebula square in the chest.

This time, something gave.

A crack spread across the construct's torso.

Cain didn't stop.

He hammered another strike. And another. The cracks expanded, branching like lightning.

The Watcher murmured:

"Finally."

The construct exploded—metal shards scattering across the arena like fractured stars.

Cain stood alone at the center, chest rising and falling, knuckles bleeding.

He glared at the sky.

"Stop playing games."

The realm dimmed.

"Then come to me."

The monolith split down the center.

Inside the widening crack—

A single figure knelt in chains of white light.

Asha.

Her head lifted slightly as if sensing him.

"Cain…"

Cain stepped toward the opening—

And the ground shattered beneath him.

A hand—massive, skeletal, bound in divine light—reached up from the abyss and seized his leg.

Leth screamed his name—

The world flipped—

And Cain was dragged downward into the yawning dark.

Cain hit the ground hard enough to feel his bones rattle, but the impact was the least of his problems. The world around him hadn't settled yet. The tear in the air—what little remained of the Watcher's collapsing gateway—still pulsed like a wounded organ behind him, bleeding threads of pale light across the ruined hall. Every pulse twisted his vision for a second, like the rules of reality were slipping and waiting to decide whether to snap back or break entirely.

He forced a breath. Then a second. It took a third for his hearing to catch up, and when it did, the first thing he registered was silence. Not the peaceful kind. The heavy kind. The kind that meant everything living was either gone or waiting to see who moved first.

Cain pushed up to his elbows, teeth clenched. His arm burned from shoulder to wrist—the Watcher's tether had wrapped around him when it tried dragging him through—and now a thin lattice of black lines clung under his skin, crawling like bruises with intent rather than impact.

He ignored the crawl and looked around. Rubble. Dust. Shattered stone tablets that once held the Watcher's inscriptions lay scattered across the floor like broken scripture. The air stank of ozone and scorched feathers.

"Steve," he called, voice hoarse. He didn't hear an answer. "Susan."

Still nothing.

Cain staggered upright and nearly slipped on the uneven ground. He caught himself on a broken pillar and listened again. Nothing but the faint hum of the dying rift.

He tried to steady his pulse. This wasn't the first time everything had gone sideways, but it was the first time the others hadn't immediately yelled back at him. They were always loud, always arguing, always present. The absence hit harder than the fall.

He moved—slow, cautious—toward the closest pile of debris. A splash of red caught his eye, and his stomach dropped before he processed what it actually was: Steve's jacket, shredded but empty. No blood beneath it. A good sign. If the Watcher had taken him, the rift would still be dragging open instead of dying.

"Steve!" he tried again, louder.

A faint sound answered. Not a word. More like a strained exhale.

Cain followed it. He yanked a slab of wall aside, grunting against the weight. Dust cascaded over him. When the stone finally rolled free, he spotted her.

Susan, pinned under a beam thicker than her torso, grimacing but conscious.

She glared at him the moment her eyes focused. "Took you long enough."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Thought you enjoyed dramatic entrances."

"Get this thing off me, smartass."

Cain braced, pushed, and lifted. The beam resisted, then shifted, then toppled to the side with a heavy thud that shook the floor. Susan dragged herself free, hissing through her teeth as she tested her leg.

"Not broken," she muttered. "Feels like it wants to be."

He offered his arm. She took it without argument.

"Where's Steve?" she asked.

"Jacket's here. Haven't found him."

She scanned the ruins. "He panicked when the Watcher grabbed you. Ran toward you, actually. For once."

Cain didn't comment on that. He didn't have room in his head to deal with whatever strange loyalty Steve had developed lately. Especially not with the Watcher collapsing a gate on top of them.

They picked their way across the hall. Cain kept stealing glances at the mark creeping up his arm. He didn't want Susan to notice. Not yet. Not until he knew if it was just residue from the tether or something worse.

The rift throbbed behind them. The hum had lowered to a dull vibration, like the dying heartbeat of something that should never have lived.

Cain's skin prickled at every pulse.

"Over there," Susan said, pointing at a heap of shattered pillars near the far wall.

Cain saw it—a single hand sticking out from the rubble, fingers twitching.

He sprinted first, instincts overriding pain and caution. He dropped to his knees and dug, throwing aside chunks of stone. Susan limped over, joined him, and together they uncovered Steve's face—dusty, scraped up, but alive.

Steve gasped when free air hit his lungs. "Holy crap… thought… I was… paste."

"You're fine," Cain said. "Get up."

"I can't feel my legs."

"Try harder."

Steve did. His legs worked. His pride didn't.

Susan slapped his shoulder. "We don't have time for dramatics. Cain saved your sorry—"

The rift cracked.

All three froze.

The sound wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It was sharp, too clean, like ice breaking on the thinnest possible sheet. Cain turned slowly.

Light bled out in a sudden ribbon, brighter than before, but not steady. It flickered like it couldn't decide what shape to hold.

Cain stepped in front of the other two.

Susan grabbed his wrist. "Don't."

"I just need to see if—"

The rift spasmed. A jagged silhouette pushed against the thin membrane of light, warping it. Not humanoid. Not the Watcher they'd fought. Something else. Something smaller, but faster, and definitely not trapped by the collapse.