Jaemin was home before Nari, thankfully. His hair was still damp from the shower, a lazy steam rising off his skin in the cool air of his dim room. The sky outside was already bleeding into dusk, soft blue washed with pale streaks of gray. He lay flat on his back, arms out, legs sprawled, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling.
He had promised himself he'd rest today. For once, he kept it.
Just stillness. It felt foreign, like wearing clothes that didn't fit. But after last night's run through the T4 rift, his muscles appreciated the stillness.
****
A soft metallic hum echoed from the kitchen — the rice cooker. He blinked once. Twice. Time passed like fog.
Then a voice from the hallway broke the quiet.
"Jaemin-oppa! Is the heater broken or something? It's freezing out here!"
He sat up slightly, glancing toward the door. Nari's voice was muffled, but clear. The usual teasing lilt was gone, replaced by something closer to confusion — discomfort.
"I don't feel anything."
He muttered, rubbing his arm. The air inside his room was cold, but not unusual. Not for late spring. Still, he grabbed the remote and turned off the fan humming above.
From the hallway, Nari called out again.
"I'm putting on two layers and I'm still cold. What's going on with the weather?"
Jaemin furrowed his brows. That's weird.
He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV.
The news channel blared louder than he expected. He lowered the volume. A calm-faced anchor sat in front of a glowing screen that showed an ominous satellite image of dark clouds curling above the peninsula.
["—a very powerful storm has begun to develop just off the coast and appears to be hurling its way inland. Oddly enough, there is no reported rainfall accompanying this system. Instead, residents are experiencing extreme cold winds and intermittent thunder. Experts have noted this storm's behavior is not consistent with any known patterns—"]
Jaemin's eyes narrowed.
["The system has now begun to loom directly over Seoul. According to meteorological experts from the Korea Meteorological Administration, the structure of this storm is... abnormal. Their current hypothesis? This storm may not be entirely natural."]
A chill slid down his spine.
The reporter continued,
"This is not a Coreborn-grade emergency alert, but we advise all citizens to stay indoors and avoid high places."
He stood up without thinking. Slowly, methodically.
He didn't even change his clothes — just slipped on the house slippers and walked out to the balcony.
The sliding door opened with a low shhk, and he stepped outside.
The wind greeted him instantly — cold, but not biting. Instead, it felt dry. Thin. The kind of air you breathe high up a mountain or before a lightning strike. It brushed against his cheeks, tousled his hair, and whispered between the cracks in the balcony railing.
And there it was.
The sky.
Dark.
High above the usual cloud ceiling, there swirled a violent, turbulent storm — pitch black clouds spinning in a slow spiral, streaked with pale veins of light. Lightning flashed in silence, dancing from cloud to cloud, but never striking the ground. There was no thunder. Just light.
Jaemin stared, unmoving.
This wasn't weather.
This was the same storm he'd been seeing for days.
In the rift.
Every single one he opened — even the tier 4 ones, even the fake cracks he used just for warmups — the sky inside had started shifting. Subtly at first. But lately, it was unmistakable. That storm had been appearing more and more, as though it wasn't part of the rift's generated environment... but something real. Something that was following him.
"No rain. Just thunder. And wind."
He muttered to himself, eyes glued to the sky. The spiral was slow, hypnotic. The center of the storm — directly above the Han River area — pulsed slightly with each lightning flicker.
"It's the same."
He stepped further onto the balcony, placing his hands on the metal railing. The wind tugged at his sleeves like fingers.
This isn't just coincidence.
Rifts didn't affect the real world. Not unless they breached containment. Not unless an Abyssal broke out. Not unless…
"No. It's not a breach. The city would be on lockdown if it was."
But the unease didn't fade.
He watched the sky for a few more minutes. The clouds didn't move — not in any direction. They hovered. Circulated. Almost like they were... watching.
"Oppa?"
He turned. Nari stood behind the sliding door, her face pale.
"What is that?"
She asked, voice small.
He didn't answer. Not really because he didn't want to — but because he couldn't.
Because the truth was... he had no idea.
And yet, something in him knew this wasn't random.
The wind shifted again.
And for just the briefest second... Jaemin thought he heard something.
A whisper.
Faint.
Like a breath against his ear, or a sigh in the trees.
He turned sharply. But no one was there.
The clouds pulsed again.
His jaw clenched.
"...This isn't going away, is it?"
There was a flash.
The kind of lightning that burned white across the entire sky.
But still — no sound. Not even a distant echo.
"That's not how it works."
Lightning this close should've cracked the sky open. But all Jaemin heard was the soft rustle of wind through apartment balconies, the light jingle of a hanging wind chime two floors down, and Nari's worried breathing behind him.
His instincts screamed. That same deep sense — the one that always whispered to him in rifts before something bad happened — it wasn't whispering now.
It was urging.
A steady pressure building in his chest. Go. Move. Check it out.
He could feel it like an itch under his skin. Like something out there in the storm was calling to him.
"It's a Core,"
He thought.
"It has to be a Core fragment or rift crystal or something like that ."
But then he turned his head.
Nari.
She was hugging herself in her oversized sweater, standing barefoot just inside the sliding door. Her eyes were wide. Not in fear of monsters. Just... that ordinary fear. The kind you get when the world stops making sense.
And in that moment, every sharp instinct dulled to ash.
His expression softened.
He exhaled slowly, stepped away from the balcony, and walked back inside.
The door shut behind him with a soft click. The world outside faded a little.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at Nari. She was trying not to fidget, but her toes curled against the cold floor.
Without a word, he reached out and ruffled her hair.
"Don't worry."
He said gently.
"It's just a small storm. It'll pass."
His voice was calm. Collected. The same tone he used when paying overdue bills or reassuring hospital staff that his mother's condition was manageable.
Even when he knew it wasn't.
Nari tilted her head, unconvinced.
"What if it's a cyclone?"
She asked, voice tinged with nerves.
Jaemin rolled his eyes with a crooked grin.
"Bullshit. There's no rain anywhere. Just wind. Chill."
Nari still glanced toward the window, lips pressed together. Her eyes traced the flickering shadows against the blinds.
"Still... looks pretty bad."
He didn't argue. Instead, he gently nudged her shoulder, guiding her toward his room.
"Don't think too much. Sleep in my room tonight."
"Huh? Where are you gonna sleep?"
He opened the door and gestured her inside.
"Couch. I've got some stuff to do anyway."
She hesitated, then walked in slowly.
He followed, pulling the covers up around her shoulders as she curled under the blanket. Her face was still uneasy.
"And again."
He said softly, brushing her hair once more.
"Don't worry. It'll go in a few days."
She nodded quietly.
He stood up, looked around his room once, then walked out and gently shut the door behind him.
The apartment was quiet again.
But not silent.
The wind had picked up.
It hissed softly at the windows. There was a pressure in the air — a static buzz just under the threshold of hearing. A wrongness that made the hairs on his arm rise.
He walked back to the living room, plopped down onto the worn-out couch, and grabbed the remote again.
The news was still on.
Satellite images covered the entire screen now. What should've looked like wispy cloud masses instead resembled a perfect black spiral stretching dozens of kilometers across.
The eye of the storm… wasn't hollow. Not like normal cyclones.
It was dense. Solid. Like something was sitting at the center of it.
The news anchor's voice droned on:
["...KMA has issued a Level 2 anomaly alert due to the size and formation pattern. While this is not Rift-related at this time, ongoing monitoring continues. However, meteorological experts continue to remain baffled—"]
Jaemin muted the TV.
"Not Rift-related my ass."
He leaned back, one hand resting against his chin, the other draped loosely over the couch armrest. His eyes stayed locked on the storm's satellite swirl on screen. Lightning again. Still no thunder.
That's the fourth strike in the last minute.
He narrowed his eyes. Something about the rhythm of the lightning pulses… it was almost intentional.
Not random.
"Is it calling something... or calling someone?"
He leaned forward again, elbows on knees.
"The rifts… They've all had this same storm lately.
"But why now?"
"And why here?"
He didn't have the answers yet.
But the weight in his chest hadn't gone away.
The something is out there.
And for whatever reason — it was choosing now to reach out.
The next morning was as dark as night.
Not a poetic metaphor. Just fact.
Thick clouds blanketed the sky in uneven, seething layers. Like something heavy and alive had spread itself across the city. Streetlights, still lit despite the hour, cast pale yellow glows over deserted sidewalks. Shadows were longer than they should've been.
And the storm — it hadn't moved an inch.
Just floated there. Lurking.
It loomed over Seoul like a god staring down at its prey.
Despite no lockdown being announced, most people had stayed inside. The air itself felt wrong — dry, yet freezing. Tense, yet silent.
Jaemin stood near the front door, lacing his boots.
A simple black T-shirt. Black pants. A black windbreaker with the hood halfway up. A duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
He was halfway out the door when he heard a small voice behind him.
"Hey… Oppa?"
He turned. Nari was standing there in her oversized pajama shirt, a blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were tired, but clear.
She blinked at his outfit, then frowned.
"You're going out somewhere?"
He nodded, adjusting the strap on his shoulder.
"Yeah. For a few days, actually. Won't take too long."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak at first.
Her gaze shifted to the window — where the sky outside looked like it was stuck in permanent dusk.
"But… the storm is still above us."
He followed her eyes. Lightning danced across the clouds in the distance, just above the skyline. No thunder. Just the flash.
He smiled faintly and walked over to her, ruffling her hair again.
"Don't worry."
He said softly.
"I'll be back before you know it. And the storm'll wear itself out."
He paused at the door.
"Until I come back… sleep in my room. It's warmer."
Nari's shoulders shifted beneath the blanket. She looked at him like she wanted to argue — but didn't.
Instead, she nodded slowly.
"…Please be careful, Oppa."
Jaemin paused. Something in her voice made him glance back.
She wasn't whining like before. This time, her words were quiet. Honest.
He smiled again, but it was smaller this time.
And with that, the door closed behind him.
The wind outside hit like a knife.
Even through his jacket, the cold felt unnatural. Not sharp like winter air — more like something was draining the heat out of his skin, cell by cell.
Jaemin tugged the zipper higher and started walking.
He was headed toward the eye of the storm — as best as he could estimate from last night's news and what he could see now.
Han River.
It was always the river. Every time a Rift changed, shifted, or collapsed unnaturally — it was somewhere near the river. A leyline, the old Riftwalkers used to call it. Something buried beneath that water… humming with Core energy since long before the world fractured open
.
"Whatever this is, it's not going away. And if it's the Core… I'll know once I get closer."
He would've taken a taxi, but—
Yeah.
Who the hell would drive toward the center of a storm like this?
So he walked.
The city around him was still alive. But only barely.
Stores had their shutters halfway down. Cafés were open but empty. The only people on the street were delivery workers or police, and even they looked around nervously when the wind howled too hard.
Jaemin kept walking.
Block after block. His pace was steady. Focused.
But the further he walked, the more unnatural the storm became.
No wind followed patterns like this. It didn't move in gusts. It pulsed. Like it was breathing.
And the temperature…
It dropped lower with every kilometer.
Not enough to freeze water. Not enough to be impossible. But wrong.
Cold in places where it shouldn't be. His hands were red despite his pockets. His breath misted even though the temperature gauge on the pharmacy wall still said 11°C.
Then came the lightning.
It struck across the sky, again and again — but never touched the ground.
Cloud to cloud. Flash to flash. Like something in the sky was searching. Mapping. Watching.
"It's watching me."
He realized with a chill.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
It was subtle. But every time he looked up at the sky for too long, a flash would go off directly overhead — as if answering him.
Eventually, the buildings began to thin out.
He was close to the outer edge of the riverside district now.
The wind here had changed again. It wasn't howling anymore.
It was whispering.
Like thin breath curling through cracks in an old wooden cabin. High-pitched and quiet. Not quite human. But not quite natural, either.
Jaemin stopped near the edge of a pedestrian overpass.
Below him, the Han River flowed slowly. The surface of the water was darker than usual. Too dark. As if the sky had reached down and coated it in ink.
He stared for a moment.
Then pulled out his phone.
"No signal. Of course."
He shoved it back in his pocket and looked up again — this time, at the clouds directly above the river.
The sky churned in a perfect spiral.
And at its center…
A single bolt of lightning arced through the clouds in slow motion, stretching out like a hand reaching toward something unseen.
"There."
He narrowed his eyes.
That was the eye of the storm.
And whatever was causing it — was right there.
The wind nearly knocked him back.
Jaemin stood as close to the edge of the Han River as he could manage without toppling over, eyes fixed on the unnatural spiral above. The center of the storm hovered in the sky like a divine threat, roiling with quiet fury.
But he couldn't get under it.
Not without plunging into the river — and that wasn't an option.
"Too deep… too cold… and I can't swim for shit."
So he chose the next best thing.
He extended his right hand — palm forward, fingers curled slightly — and exhaled.
The air shimmered.
A thin black crack spread through space itself in front of him, like spiderweb glass folding in reverse. He didn't flinch. This Rift wasn't one from the Association. It was his — a fragment of his instinct, his will.
The crack widened, forming an arch.
Without hesitation, Jaemin stepped through.
The world bent around him.
Colors dulled. Sounds flattened. The air turned hollow.
He emerged into silence.
The Rift was a reflection of the real world — a mimicry. But this one felt wrong, even by Rift standards. The moment Jaemin's foot touched the ground, he felt a cold ripple climb up his spine.
He looked around slowly.
He was standing on the Han River.
Or rather, a ghost of it. The water beneath him wasn't liquid — it was glasslike, flat and pitch black, yet somehow solid beneath his boots. The wind here carried the same cold breath, and above him…
The storm.
Still swirling.
Still watching.
It looked identical to the one in reality. But this time, he was underneath it.
And it was empty.
There was no rain. No monsters. Not even movement. Just a hollow, raging silence.
Until he looked up again.
His eyes widened.
There, high above — directly in the storm's eye — was a floating landmass.
A jagged disc of stone and ruin, hovering midair like a throne cast down from heaven. It pulsed with faint flickers of Core energy. Almost invisible… but Jaemin's eyes, honed by repeated brushes with death, could see it.
"Whatever's causing the storm… it's up there."
A Core fragment. A Rift Crystal. A being far too powerful. Something.
Anything inside the Rift that could affect the real world had to be near god-tier in scale. But even as his heart pounded at the implication, Jaemin's first concern was far more grounded.
"...How the hell do I get up there?"
He stared for a moment longer, trying to judge the distance. Maybe if he—
Then it hit him.
A kick in the stomach — not literal, but worse.
Instinct.
The raw, screaming gut-level fear that something was approaching.
Fast.
He spun on his heel, dropping low.
Something was forming from the mist.
A silhouette — tall, emaciated, and unnatural. Its limbs dragged long behind it like they'd been dislocated. It walked sideways, head twitching, movements lurching in staccato jolts.
The air around it shimmered. Warped.
Then it stepped forward, fully visible now — dragging a jagged chain behind it, links scraped from bone and rusted metal.
"A GUTBOUND WRAITH..."
Its body was gaunt — skin stretched like parchment over bone, with patches of tar-black muscle rotted open. It had no eyes. Instead, a vertical split ran down the center of its face like a gash that never healed. From within that slit, a constant wind howled.
Its presence warped the air.
Not heavy — but sick.
Jaemin flinched as the wraith twitched violently, and the chain behind it snapped up like a whip, coiling in its hand.
"Shit… I didn't even feel it approach until it was close."
This thing wasn't just strong — it was silent.
Fast.
A stalker.
But it wasn't overwhelming. Its energy felt… containable. Somewhere between a Tier 4 and 3 Rift guardian — but intelligent. Which meant it wouldn't rush in dumbly.
Sure enough, the Gutbound Wraith circled him, dragging its chain. Testing.
Jaemin lowered his stance.
His hands flared with a faint shimmer of corelight — weak, but visible. A flicker of aura danced between his fingers like heat waves.
"No opening Core Mode yet. Not until I take a hit."
The chain lashed forward.
Jaemin dodged left — just barely.
The edge of the chain grazed his jacket, and it sliced clean through the fabric.
"It's sharp. Too sharp."
The wraith lunged — this time with both arms. The chain moved like a serpent, trying to wrap around him.
Jaemin ducked, rolled forward, and slammed his palm into the ground, launching a coreburst of kinetic force beneath him to push himself backward like a recoil.
The wraith staggered slightly at the light — hissed.
It hated light.
Jaemin narrowed his eyes.
"Light core techniques…"
"No. That's not my affinity. I need more."
He inhaled sharply, letting the faint wound on his side sting just enough—
A crack of energy spiraled around his frame. The air above him hissed with thin lightning.
His aura surged.
Still not full Core Mode — but close.
Enough to survive this.
The Gutbound Wraith lunged again — and this time, Jaemin didn't retreat.
He moved in.
CLINK!
The scream of steel rang through the Rift.
Jaemin's twin daggers — Binary Stars — met the Wraith's chain mid-air, locking it down with a grinding clash of metal. Sparks burst from the impact like firecrackers.
"It's stronger than it looks!"
Jaemin grimaced, boots skidding backward across the hard-glass surface of the Han River's mimic.
He dug his heel in and pushed, breaking the deadlock, then twisted — his right dagger flicking up with a rapid SWISH! aimed at the creature's throat.
The Gutbound Wraith twitched — not dodging, but bending unnaturally to the side with a crack of joints, like its spine was made of rope.
KRK-K-KRAK!
Jaemin's blade missed by inches.
SHING!
The chain wrapped around his left ankle before he could retreat.
"Shit—!"
The Wraith yanked.
Jaemin's body flipped upward, caught mid-air like a rabbit in a snare. His head whirled down, vision spinning, heart pounding. But he didn't panic. Instead—
FWOOSH!
He twisted mid-air, core energy bursting from his palm as a precision propulsion blast.
THUMP!
He slammed both daggers down on the chain anchoring him, severing the loop with a shower of sparks.
CLANG–CLANG!
He landed in a crouch, one knee down, breathing hard.
"...You're fast..."
He muttered under his breath, watching the Wraith retract its chain like a serpent tongue.
"But so am I."
The creature tilted its head sideways. That long vertical slit on its face pulsed — the wind howled through it like a flute of bone.
HOOOOOOOOOH…
Then it dashed forward.
WHOOSH—!!
It was faster now.
CLANG! CLINK-CLINK! SHING!
Steel danced. The chain blurred in wide arcs, each strike screaming through the air like a banshee's wail. Jaemin's blades moved just as fast — not fluid, but precise. Calculated blocks. Redirects. Narrow dodges.
Every second was survival.
CLINK!
He caught a looping chain.
FWWAAH—!!
He spun with it, using the momentum to whip his body into a rising slash — SSHK! — that carved across the creature's exposed ribcage.
Black mist hissed from the wound.
The Wraith didn't scream. It didn't even flinch.
It lashed back harder.
CLANG! CLANG! WHIP!
One blow hit Jaemin clean — a grazing snap across his shoulder that shredded through his jacket and left a sharp, hot pain behind.
"Tch—damn it…"
He gritted his teeth.
But the wound was enough.
He bled.
CRACK—!!
A flash of lightning streaked across the storm above — echoed inside the Rift. His aura ignited — a flare of Sunrise Orange light surged from his core, trailing off his arms like mist caught in wind.
His pupils dilated in orange.
[Core Mode: Partial Activation.]
The Wraith hesitated. For the first time, it slowed — circling again, twitching slightly.
It sensed something had changed.
Jaemin's blades glowed faintly now, charged with that flickering light. The wind responded to him — not violently, but subtly, like it recognized him.
SSSSSHHHHHH…
He launched forward.
DASH—!!
The first slash grazed the Wraith's thigh.
— SWISH!
The second buried into its side.
— THUNK!
The third came with a reverse grip, slicing upward with momentum.
— SCHHRRRK!!
The Gutbound Wraith stumbled back, black mist pouring like gas from its wounds. Its chain moved wildly, not with control but desperation. It swung wide — too wide.
"Too slow now."
Jaemin sidestepped. He ducked. His knee hit the ground. His dagger climbed up, angled like a spear.
And he stabbed straight through its abdomen.
SKKRRRNNNKK!!
The Wraith stopped moving.
Then…
It screeched.
Not a roar. Not a howl. But a violent gust of wind erupting from that vertical slit — sharp and high-pitched.
FWWWWEEEEEEEEHHHHHH!!
Jaemin's ears rang. He winced, staggered, stepped back — but didn't drop his stance.
Then he saw it.
The Wraith raised its arms. The chain unraveled fully — not just from its hand, but from inside its body.
More links emerged.
Bone.
Metal.
Glyphs.
Glowing red sigils pulsed along the length of the chain — and at its center, a mark Jaemin had never seen before. A circular symbol resembling an ascent glyph — a common teleportation rune used in mid-tier Rifts to leap from one floating platform to another.
"Wait… is that…?"
He stared.
The glyph was active.
The Wraith lurched forward.
Jaemin moved instinctively.
He kicked off the ground, deflecting the chain's edge with both daggers as he closed the gap, ducked under its swing, and sliced clean across the mark with one dagger — while slamming the other into the Wraith's neck.
SLASH—CRACK—FWWOOOOM!!
The moment the glyph broke—
The world twisted.
A pillar of light surged upward beneath his feet.
Jaemin's body launched up like he'd been fired from a railgun, straight through the storm, eyes wide as wind howled around him.
The Wraith screeched one final time before its body burst into black mist below.
BOOOOMMMM—!!
Jaemin punched through the storm barrier — straight into the center of the floating island.
His boots hit solid stone with a crunch. Knees bent, blades drawn.
And for the first time, he stood inside the true eye of the storm.
The air was… calm.
No wind.
No noise.
Just… silence.
He looked around slowly — and saw ruins.
And something at the center.
Not moving.
Not yet.
Jaemin exhaled.
"The fuck…"
He muttered, letting his shredded jacket slide off his shoulders. The torn fabric fluttered behind him before vanishing into the Rift wind.
He stood tall now — his black T-shirt clung tightly to his chest, the short sleeves straining against the muscle of his shoulders and arms. His physique had changed over the last few weeks of grinding, training, and pushing past human limits — but this was the first time the light of his core showed it.
The fabric looked like it was about to give way.
Veins ran down his forearms like traced lightning.
He tucked the T-shirt into his pants with a smooth motion, the tight belt pulling against his narrow waist and trim core, highlighting his V-line and long legs — no armor, no cloak, just raw energy and definition. Looking like he belonged on a damn magazine cover.
He squinted upward.
Hundreds of floating platforms loomed above — spiral layers climbing into the dark clouds. Some looked like broken temples, others like remnants of a shattered arena. And above all of them, suspended in a cyclone of blue-silver energy, was the final platform.
It glowed like a moon behind storm glass.
"…Bingo."
He muttered with a half-smile, eyes narrowing.
"So that's where you are…"
THOOM.
Something growled — but not like an animal.
No breath. No voice. Just the groan of metal grinding against metal.
Jaemin's gaze snapped ahead.
A shape emerged from the mist on the opposite end of the platform — massive, towering over even the previous Abyssal.
Its body was forged from blackened iron, its joints glowing faintly red like it had molten blood beneath its shell. Thick iron limbs, massive hands the size of cars, and a head like a furnace mask, slit down the middle with burning light inside.
" FORGE-GUARD TITAN..."
It stepped forward, the ground quaking beneath its foot.
THOOM.
Jaemin didn't flinch.
He casually slid his fingers along the edge of Binary Stars — now glowing with a soft ripple of core energy.
"Another gatekeeper, huh? Let me guess… you don't talk either."
The Forge-Guard Titan raised both arms.
Chains dropped from its wrists — six in total — clattering onto the stone floor with deafening CLANGS, each link glowing molten orange.
Then it charged.
DOOM—DOOM—DOOM—!!
Each step cracked the platform.
Jaemin ran toward it.
FWISH!
He slid low as the Titan's right fist came down —
BOOM! —
The impact cratered the floor behind him. Jaemin sprung upward in the same motion, twisted mid-air, and drove his daggers toward the golem's shoulder joint—
CHING–!!
Sparks erupted. No damage.
"Tch…"
The Titan's backhand came like a meteor.
— WHOOOM!!
Jaemin crossed his arms and blocked it with both blades.
— CLANG!!
— the force flung him across the platform.
THUD!
He rolled mid-air and landed on one knee, panting.
"Hey...that actually… hurt."
He looked up, eyes glinting.
"But I'm still faster."
FWWOOSH—!!
He sprinted forward again, zigzagging between the golem's attacks. One chain flew at him —
WHIP!
He ducked.
Another —
CRACK!
He flipped sideways mid-stride, narrowly dodging as it tore through stone like paper.
Then he was in.
CLANK! SLASH! TING!!
He attacked its joints. Knees. Neck. Elbow. Every weak point he could spot. It wasn't enough to pierce yet — but the Titan slowed.
"These things aren't immortal…"
"It's just a matter of finding the key."