Noah ran.
The ruins stretched behind him, swallowed by the darkness of the subterranean chamber. He sprinted down the crumbling corridors, his breaths sharp, his mind racing.
Every instinct screamed danger.
The Keepers were coming. He didn't know how, or from where—but the Guardian's warning had been clear.
They would not let him exist.
His boots hit loose stone as he navigated the uneven path. The air grew colder the further he ran, the weight of unseen forces pressing against him. The deeper parts of the ruins were ancient—untouched for centuries, perhaps even millennia.
There has to be a way out.
Noah forced himself to focus. He still didn't know the full extent of what the sigil had done to him, but he could feel it—a faint hum of something more beneath his skin.
Adapt. Survive. Learn.
The words weren't just thoughts. They felt like instincts.
And right now, they were the only thing keeping him alive.
Noah turned a sharp corner, heart pounding—and stopped.
A wall of symbols stretched across the corridor ahead, glowing faintly. Unlike the sigils he had encountered before, these were different.
Not fluid, not shifting.
They were rigid. Constructed.
A seal.
He took a step closer, exhaling sharply. The carvings pulsed beneath his touch, but they did not move. They were made to keep something out.
Or… keep something in.
His chest tightened. He didn't have time for this.
He turned, searching for another path—
Then, the air shifted.
A whisper. A flicker of movement.
Noah's pulse spiked.
He was no longer alone.
The first figure emerged from the darkness.
Clad in black robes, their form blurred at the edges, as if they did not fully exist in this plane. Their face was hidden behind a smooth, featureless mask—pure white, devoid of expression.
Then another.
And another.
They moved without sound, their footsteps silent against the stone. Five of them. Spaced evenly, surrounding him.
Noah's hands clenched into fists. He had no weapon, no way of knowing what they were capable of. But he knew one thing:
They weren't human.
The air around them was wrong.
It pulsed, bending reality itself—just like the sigil.
The center figure tilted its head slightly, as if observing him.
Then, for the first time, one of them spoke.
Their voice was neither male nor female—flat, mechanical.
"Designation: Unseen."
Noah's stomach clenched.
Another one stepped forward.
"Marked for removal."
Noah inhaled slowly, muscles tensed.
They weren't here to talk.
They were here to erase him.
The moment the words faded, they attacked.
Noah barely saw the movement.
The center figure vanished—then reappeared in front of him.
A strike—too fast. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. He twisted, dodging just enough to avoid a direct hit.
A pulse of force exploded from the figure's palm as it barely missed him—hitting the stone wall instead.
The entire corridor shook.
The impact didn't just crack the wall.
It unmade it.
Noah's breath hitched. They weren't using weapons.
They were using pure destruction.
Another Keeper moved, striking from his blind spot.
Noah had no time to think.
His body acted on instinct.
The sigil inside him reacted.
He turned—and his palm met the attack.
For a fraction of a second, his hand touched the Keeper's own.
And in that instant—Noah saw.
It wasn't a vision. It wasn't a memory.
It was information.
Their purpose. Their origin.
The Keepers were not people.
They were fragments of something greater.
A will given form.
A force meant to maintain the balance between the seen and the unseen.
They were not here to kill him.
They were here to erase his existence from reality itself.
And if they succeeded—it would be as if he had never been born.
Noah's breath hitched.
No.
He wouldn't let that happen.
He had fought to survive from the moment he woke up.
And he wasn't stopping now.
The Keeper's palm crackled against his own, the force of their power clashing.
Noah felt the sigil inside him pulse.
And for the first time—he pushed back.
A shockwave erupted.
The Keeper staggered, their form distorting as if disrupted.
Noah's body moved without hesitation.
The sigil's knowledge guided him.
He shifted his stance, twisting his weight, and struck.
Not with fists.
Not with strength.
But with force.
His palm met the Keeper's chest.
The moment he made contact, he focused—not on destruction, but disruption.
Break.
A ripple pulsed outward from his touch.
The Keeper's form fractured.
For the first time, one of them faltered.
And Noah did not stop.
Another moved to strike him—but he was already turning.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the runes on the wall beside him.
The sigil reacted.
A pulse of energy surged through the chamber—an activation, a trigger.
The symbols came to life.
And then—
The entire corridor collapsed.
Noah's vision blurred as the force of the collapsing ruins propelled him backward.
Dust and stone filled the air, the echoes of destruction rumbling through the underground tunnels.
The Keepers did not scream.
They did not resist.
They simply vanished—swallowed by the collapsing structure as if they had never been there at all.
Noah hit the ground hard, coughing as debris rained around him. His vision swam, his body aching from the exertion.
Silence.
Then—
Light.
Faint, distant—but real.
The ruins had collapsed, but the path ahead was open.
Noah forced himself to his feet, breath ragged. His hands still tingled from the power he had used—power he didn't fully understand.
But one thing was clear.
The Keepers weren't invincible.
And now—
They knew he could fight back.