The skimmer shuddered to life beneath his feet with the smooth, spine-prickling grace of something not made but remembered. Moonlight glyphs spiraled outward across its hull in quiet pulses, soft red and silver blooming like breath under paper. A thin film of veil magic washed over the deck, muting his scent, his heat signature, even the sound of his heartbeat. Lunar-make indeed — likely a Tier IV guild asset smuggled in and hidden years ago for just such an exfiltration.
>Vessel Status: Active — “Starhush”<
>Cloaking Matrix: Engaged. Hull Integrity: 87%<
>Destination Set: Western Lunar Coast (Egress Point 17-B)<
No oars. No sail. No captain.
Just intention.
The vessel skimmed from the ruined dock with only the barest whisper, gliding over black water smooth as glass. Above, the cliff throat of the Hollow Egress yawned wider, then fell behind as the cavern broke into open sea.
And then—freedom.
Salt air bit at Prolix’s fur as the night wind swept across the deck, crisp and vast and laced with kelp and distant lightning. Overhead, clouds rolled in slow, bruised spirals across a sky choked with stars. The twin moons of Varethis — one pale as bone, the other copper-red — hung low on the horizon like watching eyes.
He let himself breathe.
Not relax — not yet. But breathe.
His HUD flickered subtly with the regional tag:
>Zone Transition: The Outer Veil – International Waters (Disputed)<
PvP Enabled | Faction Influence: Contested | Scry Visibility: Suppressed (Veil Tech)
For the first hour, there was only water and silence.
Then came the glitch.
A stutter of light off the port bow. Too far to be a reflection, too rhythmic to be natural. Prolix narrowed his eyes, ears angling as the wind shifted.
>Unknown Signal Detected – Maritime Interference Field<
Type: Arcane
Pattern: Interrupted Runesong (Obsolete Protocol)<
He blinked. Runesong? That was pre-patch code — deprecated after the Lunar harmonics system was overhauled. No modern vessel should be broadcasting that signature.
Unless...
He turned slowly toward the source.
And saw it rise.
Out of the water. Out of logic. Out of time.
A spire of metal and bone, slick with barnacles and drowned memory, breached the ocean surface with an aching groan. Chains looped its crown like a halo. Rusted pylons jutted from its sides, each etched in dead glyphs, long since redacted from the crafting menus. At its center, an eye opened — not literal, not biological. Just... awareness. Something that saw him.
>Event Triggered: Sunken Echo – Leviathan Relic Node (Dormant?)<
>Classification: ??? | Level: ??? | Intent: Unknown<
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
>Legacy Protocol Access Detected – You are carrying a Soulbound Blueprint Fragment<
>Reaction Probability: High<
The sea beneath the skimmer surged.
The Starhush rocked violently, veil-field flickering in protest as the air turned colder. Not wind. Not weather.
Presence.
From beneath the spire, something vast stirred — a coil of plated metal, the edge of a jaw, the suggestion of titanic limbs. The water churned with the pressure of something waking.
Prolix’s HUD pulsed with crimson error flags.
>Emergency Evasion Available: Starhush Veil Break (One Use)<
Activation will destroy the vessel but forcibly phase-shift player to nearest coast.<
> Activate? >Yes< / >No<
The construct under the sea began to rise.
Not swimming. Walking.
A towering, centauric shape of drowned armor and half-sunken scaffolding, its arms ending in hull-crushing claws, its chest split with an ancient obsidian forge that flickered like a dying sun.
It screamed — a noise that bent the interface, cracked the horizon.
>System Threat Name Identified: “Sovereign-of-the-Silence”<
>Threat Level: Ω – Origin Unresolved<
>Historical Note: This encounter was removed from the official spawn tables in Patch 1.03.<
>You should not be seeing this.<
Prolix didn’t hesitate.
“Break the veil,” he growled.
>Starhush – Veil Break Activated<
Light exploded from the deck.
The skimmer’s hull shattered into glass and memory, wrapping around ProlixalParagon in a cocoon of mana-silk and fallback code. The last thing he saw was the Sovereign’s face — cracked mask, bleeding steam, smiling.
Then nothing but sea and sound and white light.
He landed hard, coughing, curled in damp reeds and coarse lunar sand. Above him, the twin moons had shifted — both now hanging lower in the sky, softened by the whisper of coastal fog.
His HUD blinked.
>Forced Relocation: Success<
>Location: Eastern Edge of the Lunar Empire (Unmarked Shoreline)<
>Equipment: Intact. Blueprint: Secure.<
>Troupe Status: 3.2 km Northeast – Movement Detected.<
He grinned despite the ache in his ribs.
He was through.
Battered, maybe. Scarred, certainly.
But alive.
And the Vermillion Troupe was close.
The sea hissed quietly against the blackened shoreline, each retreating wave foaming through coarse lunar reeds like a whispered lullaby. Pale salt-flecked sand clung to ProlixalParagon’s fur as he sat hunched near a driftwood log, knees drawn up, cloak pulled tight around his shoulders.
The ache in his body wasn’t just flavor text — it lived in the micro-expressions of his avatar, the twitch of overexerted muscles, the subtle flutter of post-combat exhaustion. Ludere didn’t simulate fatigue halfway. It buried it in the bones.
He breathed in deeply.
The air here smelled different than Draggor. Less iron. Less ash. There was life in it — sharp sage, saltbrush, something warm-blooming and wild. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the tide wind ruffle his fur. Letting silence settle.
His HUD had gone quiet for the first time in hours. No alerts. No NPC chatter. Just a glowing marker on the horizon that indicated the Troupe was nearby. Safe. Together.
And waiting.
He exhaled slowly, ears folding back. The Sovereign-of-the-Silence still clung to the corners of his memory — not just its shape, but its recognition. That thing had seen him. Not a player. Not a class. Him.
“This encounter was removed from the official spawn tables…”
Yet it hadn’t been gone. It had been waiting. Underwater. In the dark. Beneath everything Draggor tried to control.
Like me.
Prolix flexed one hand, watching the black-marble whorls in his fur pulse faintly with residual mana glow. He reached into his inventory and pulled out the fifth blueprint — the one he’d nearly died to deliver. The parchment shimmered in ghostlight, the sigils faint but still legible.
Five of seven.
Closer than anyone else had come.
But still not finished.
He knew what it meant now. What it could become. The Legacy Core wasn’t just a piece of armor. It was a story that remembered him. A record in steel and rune and sinew. And when it was finished, it would change the way the world of Ludere saw him — not just ProlixalParagon the player.
But the soul he had shaped through play.
He stared out across the dark sea, blinking against the wind.
PillowHorror would be there, likely watching the party logs, maybe even pacing if they were in-character. Lyra, too — she’d pretend not to worry, but she’d already rearranged the camp three times by now, muttering about wind angles and axle tension.
Ralyria would’ve stood watch the whole time.
Kaelthari might have snapped at someone just to keep his voice steady.
They were waiting.
But they could wait a little longer.
Prolix tapped his chest once and opened the menu. The familiar glow bathed him in faint silver. He stared at the >Log Out< option for a long moment, thumb hovering.
The thought of the real world loomed, blurry and cold at the edges. His body was probably cramping from hours in his rig. He should eat something. Hydrate. Maybe check messages.
Just for a while.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he whispered:
“Save point’s safe enough.”
He selected Log Out.
The wind blurred. The sea fell away. And Ludere Online — for the first time in days — let him go.
>Disengaging Connection…<
>World State Saved…<
>Welcome Back Soon, ProlixalParagon.<
