The world was sharp again. For months, I had been moving through a gray, muted landscape, the color bleached out by a constant, low-grade grief. Now, knowing Anna was alive, breathing the same filtered air, standing under the same strange sun — it was like my vision had been restored. The spiraling towers of Akkadia weren't just oppressive monuments anymore; they were a breathtaking spectacle of Kyorian ambition. The roar of the crowds wasn't a grating annoyance; it was a symphony of life. The gilded cage was still a cage, but now it held the single most precious thing in the universe. And that made it infinitely more terrifying.

The next two days of the Aptitude Gauntlet were an exercise in excruciating self-control. Every instinct screamed at me to find her, to run through the city, to shout her name. But the cold, calculating part of me, the part that had survived this long, held the reins. A connection between us, discovered now, would be a weapon in the Empire's hands. They would use her to get to me, or me to get to her. My rash, simulated attack in the library was a fresh and searing memory. One wrong move, and the nine mirrored masks would not be a phantom.

I forced myself through the motions. We faced a logistical challenge, a complex simulation of managing a new settlement's resources during a plague outbreak. It was a test of cold, hard math and harder choices. Eliza was in her element, her enhanced mind a supercomputer of allocation and efficiency, creating viral spread models and quarantine protocols on her datapad. "If we divert thirty percent of the power from the water purifiers to synthesize the antidote," she'd mutter, her eyes glowing with intensity, "we can halt the spread in seventy-two hours, with an acceptable loss rate of eight percent. Jack, where would you set up the hospice care?"

"Away from the main food distribution and the healthy quarters," I'd answer, my voice steady while my mind was replaying the moment Anna's arrow had warped reality. "Keeps morale up for the healthy workers, prevents panic." I was an actor playing a part I'd almost forgotten, the stoic advisor, offering bland but logical suggestions while my soul was screaming with impatience.

I became an obsessive spectator. Whenever public feeds of the Melee were broadcast, I was there, scanning for a glimpse of Team Verdant. I watched them dismantle a team of psions with brutal, close-quarters efficiency, Anna's arrows providing perfect suppressing fire that forced the mind-mages to focus on defending themselves. I felt a surge of pride so fierce it was almost painful. But I also saw her take a ridiculously risky shot, leaving herself exposed for a full second just to disarm an opponent in a showy way. I winced, a familiar exasperation bubbling up. That reckless streak was going to get her killed one day.

The perfect opportunity finally presented itself on the third night. An official announcement chimed through the competitor residences: a "Victor's Soiree," a grand banquet held in the opulent Solarium atop the Tower of Ascendancy, to honor the top ten teams of each section before the final duels began. There would be Kyorian nobles, corporate sponsors, military recruiters. A thousand watching eyes. But a crowd was also a forest, and a forest was the perfect place to hide.

The Solarium was an obscene display of Imperial soft power. The ceiling was a dome of transparent crystal showing the star-dusted void of real space, the Citadel a menacing silhouette against the distant nebulae. Gravity-defying fountains poured shimmering, glowing wine. An orchestra of four-armed, crystalline beings played a hypnotic, alien melody. The air was filled with polite conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the silent, ever-present weight of ambition.

I played my part as Jack, looking appropriately overwhelmed, sticking to the edges of the room. Lucas, however, was in his element, engaging a portly Dweorg forge-master in a conversation about Dweorg-smelted steel. While he drew the attention, I nursed a glass of water, my Gaze open, sweeping the room. I wasn't looking for Anna. I was mapping the surveillance.

It was everywhere, a work of art in paranoia. Microscopic scrying constructs, shaped like motes of dust and powered by the ambient light, drifted among the guests. My Gaze could feel their tiny, directed intent, a thousand little psychic pinpricks. The serving drones had optical sensors that fed directly back to a security hub. But the system had a weakness. I found it in minutes — a narrow service balcony, mostly obscured by a towering, iridescent plant that looked like a petrified coral reef. Its surveillance coverage was intermittent, a one-second sweep every fifteen seconds. Not perfect, but a window.

Now, how to get her there? I needed a deniable, neutral messenger. My eyes landed on a serving drone. I found a quiet alcove and, feigning a moment of dizziness, I leaned against a console. Under the cover of my body, my fingers danced over the panel. I used a device invented by Leoric to key in a new command string and uploaded a single, plain-text instruction. Deliver one glass of Silversilt Gin to the archer from Team Verdant. Message priority override. It was an obscure, simple joke we had often shared when we were younger. With it, I sent the location of where I had planned to meet. I then sent the drone to wait near my chosen balcony.

Ten agonizing minutes later, I saw her. The little drone zipped up to her. I watched as she took the glass, read the drone's display, and froze. Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. A flicker of confusion, then suspicion, then a dawning, impossible recognition. She murmured something to her team and, looking nonchalant, began to drift toward the edge of the room.

I was already on the balcony, my back to the door, staring out at the breathtaking view. My heart was a trapped bird beating against my ribs.

The door hissed open. I didn't turn.

"Alright," her voice was a low, dangerous whisper I hadn't heard in years. "You have ten seconds to explain why you know that joke before I put an arrow through your spine."

I slowly turned, letting the dim light of the city catch my features. I dropped the weary slump of Jack, straightened to my full height, and let a small, tired smile touch my lips. "Is that any way to greet your big brother, Anna?"

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She stared. Her face was a storm of conflicting emotions. Her eyes darted over my face, searching. She didn't recognize the disguised, worn-out healer in cheap robes. And then, I saw the exact moment she recognized me. Her eyes locked with mine.

And then she kicked me. Hard. A brutal, solid punt to my right shin.

The pain was sharp, immediate, and utterly shocking. I staggered back a step with a grunt of pure agony. "What the hell was that for?!"

She was already closing the distance, not to attack again, but with tears now openly streaming down her face. "If you'd dodged it," she choked out, her voice breaking, "or attacked back... you wouldn't be him."

And then she was in my arms. I crushed her into me, the sharp angles of her leather armor digging into my chest, but I didn't care. The scent of pine and metal filled my senses, and the almost two years of cold, empty loneliness dissolved in a wave of warmth. She was real. Alive. I buried my face in her hair, my own control shattering, a single, ragged sob escaping my lips.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered into my shoulder.

"I thought you were," I whispered back.

We just held each other, two lost pieces of a broken family, clinging to each other on a balcony in the heart of an enemy's city.

Finally, we pulled apart, laughing through our tears. I leaned against the railing, rubbing my throbbing shin, a surprising power behind her considering my Body stat. "Still have a mean kick, I see."

"Still have a glass jaw, I bet," she shot back, wiping her eyes with the back of her glove, the familiar spark of sibling banter instantly reigniting. "Seriously, Eren, what are you doing here? And what's with the hobo costume? My healer has better gear than you, and I don't even have a healer."

"It's called 'staying under the radar,' something you could learn a thing or two about," I countered. "That arrow you shot? A little flashy, don't you think?"

"Hey, it worked," she said, puffing out her chest. "Besides, who has time to be subtle? You get strong enough, and you don't have to hide. You make the rules."

"And until then?"

"You don't get caught," she finished with a wolfish grin that was pure Anna.

The easy banter faded. "Grandfather?" I asked, my voice soft.

Her smile vanished. She shook her head. "Nothing. Not a trace since the Confluence. It's like he just ceased to exist. You?"

"The same," I admitted, the shared grief a heavy, familiar blanket. "But we're both here now. We'll find him." I said it with a conviction I didn't truly feel, but I said it for her.

"We have to win this thing first," she said, her focus snapping back to the present. "The grand prize I am going for is the [Heartwood of the Elder Grove]."

"A crafting material?" I asked.

"A Nexus Core Stabilizer," she corrected, her eyes gleaming. "I need it for my Sanctum. It's brand new, just Tier 1, and the Core's been unstable ever since I beat the Guardian to claim it."

My mind stalled. "...Your Sanctum?"

She gave me a puzzled look. "Yeah? The Grove of Silver Silence. It's the only reason my settlement has survived. You… you have one, right?"

The pride that swelled in my chest was immense. A Sanctum owner. A peer. A Power in her own right. "Yeah," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I have one."

We talked for what felt like an eternity in fifteen-second bursts. She told me of her own desperate struggle, of forging her team, of her soul ability, [Rewind], an impressive ability to rewind time limited by a long cooldown, similar to my own. I told her an edited version of my story, of Bastion, of my own hidden strength. Every fifteen seconds, a drone would sweep by, and we'd fall into a convincing, hushed argument.

"We can't talk here," I said finally. "Not really." I pulled a small, smooth, black disk from my sleeve. "This is a comm unit. My artificer, Leoric, built it. It's quantum-entangled, short-range, but completely invisible to Kyorian detection tech. Take it."

She pocketed it. "Good. We need a real meeting."

"My thoughts exactly," I said. "The Prime System lets registered settlements share transit keys for their translocation pads. Non-Imperial oversight. We can meet in my Sanctum, or yours." A real plan. A way forward.

"My settlement is Silverwood Reach," she said. "I'll send you the transit key through the new comm once I'm back in my quarters."

"Bastion," I replied. "I'll do the same."

We shared one last, hard hug. A silent promise that this was real. She slipped back into the soiree, a ghost returning to the party. I waited a few minutes before following, the joy in my chest a brilliant, burning sun. For the first time, I felt a genuine, uncomplicated happiness. We had a plan. I had my sister back. We would find our grandfather.

As I stepped back into the cacophony of the banquet hall, a resonant chime, the kind used for official announcements, silenced the orchestra and the chatter. The baritone voice of the Imperial announcer filled the grand chamber.

"Your attention please, honored guests and esteemed champions," the voice boomed, full of practiced warmth. "A schedule modification from the Governor's office. To foster inter-regional cooperation and to provide a greater spectacle for our noble patrons, tomorrow's event has been… enhanced."

A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd.

"Before the final single-elimination duels, a special trial will be held. The ten victorious teams of each section will be randomly paired for a cooperative objective-based scenario which would contribute greatly towards your point totals. Our first pairing for tomorrow's inaugural Co-Op Trial will be…" A dramatic pause hung in the air, thick with anticipation and dread.

My stomach plummeted. I locked eyes with Anna from across the crowded room. Her face was a perfect mirror of the dawning horror on my own. No. Not us. Anyone but us.

"Team Verdant from Section Epsilon… and Team Bastion, the wildcards from Section Delta!"

The announcer's voice was drowned out by polite, intrigued applause from the Kyorian nobles. My carefully laid plans for a secret, controlled reunion had just been thrown into a bonfire. Tomorrow, on the biggest stage in this world, we would be forced to fight side-by-side, under the most intense scrutiny imaginable, while pretending to be complete and utter strangers, and we had to win.

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