The Dome, Present

  Ryuga notices Arius hesitating to leave.

  "Hurry up,” Ryuga beckons.

  "Wait." Arius pulls out his walkie-talkie. "Before we leave, I'll let Niche know where we're at. Just in case something happens."

  Arius steps away from Ryuga.

  “Alright Niche,” Arius says, pressing the “talk” button. “We're almost done here."

  He waits for a response. Static crackles, then voices come through, already mid-conversation.

  "Sorry about all that," Niche's voice says through the speaker, not directed at Arius. "Didn't know that was gonna happen. You came onto me too quickly."

  "No, it's my fault," Shima responds. "At least the secret's safe now. I know you won't tell anyone."

  Arius stares at the walkie-talkie. "What the fuck?" he murmurs to himself.

  He keeps listening. Niche says something else, but the words blur together, muffled. Arius stares at the walkie-talkie like it just insulted him. Shima laughs – actually laughs – and Arius turns off the device.

  Stay calm, Arius thinks. Confront him later when we're alone.

  He pockets the walkie-talkie and turns back around to the door.

  “Alright,” Arius speaks, determination in his voice. “Let’s go.”

  Niche's Room, Present

  They sit in silence. The afternoon light streams through cracked windows.

  Niche is on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His head tilts back, eyes half-closed, arms limp at his sides. Shima sits directly in front of him, legs folded neatly, hands in her lap. Her posture is straight and controlled.

  The medical kit is beside her, already packed. She opens it anyway and reorganizes things that don't need reorganizing. Her hands still aren't steady.

  Niche watches her through half-lidded eyes, then looks at the ceiling.

  The silence stretches.

  "You do that a lot," Shima says, her voice shaky, not looking up.

  "Do what?" Niche responds.

  "Pretend you don't feel anything." She starts stretching a bandage around her fingers for no reason. "The blank stare. The flat voice. Like nothing touches you."

  Niche doesn't respond.

  "But I've been watching you for months now. You're not as good at it as you think." She ties off the bandage, still not meeting his eyes. "When Ryota got hurt, your hands shook. When Maruka stopped coming around, you checked your phone every ten minutes for a week. And just now, when I h-had that…knife in your hand, you didn't look scared. You looked tired. Like you were hoping I'd actually do it."

  Silence.

  "You act like you don't care because it's easier than admitting you care too much. That's not strength, Niche. That's just a different kind of broken."

  He stares at her. For a moment, something flickers behind his eyes. Then it's gone, and he looks at the ceiling instead.

  "Shima." His voice is quieter than usual. "Do you believe there's a god?"

  Her hands stop moving. "Why do you ask?"

  "Just wondering." He stares at his bandaged hand. "Things seem to work out. Even when they shouldn't."

  She nods slowly, like she's not really listening. She goes back to the kit, closes it, opens it again, and moves the same roll of bandages to a different spot.

  "Maybe," she says finally. "I don't know."

  Neither of them speaks for a while.

  "Even my dad dying," Niche says. "Maybe I needed that. To become whatever I'm becoming."

  Shima's hands pause on the kit. "That's dark."

  "Is it?" He picks at the edge of his bandage. "Bad things happen, then good things happen. Not related, but it balances out. Feels too consistent to be random."

  She doesn't respond right away. When she does, her voice is quieter. "My grandmother used to say stuff like that. Patterns. Push and pull." She shrugs. "I never really listened."

  "You believe it though?"

  "I don't know." She looks at his bandaged hand. "Maybe. Like that parasite. Maybe you need it."

  "For what?"

  "To remember you're not invincible." She pauses. "Immortals who forget they're still human become something worse."

  "Like what?"

  "Like monsters who think they're gods."

  Neither of them says anything for a moment.

  "Maybe that's why bearers have to die," she says quietly. "Not for the sun. Just because power without an ending turns people into something worse."

  "I'm trying to break that cycle."

  "I know.” She shrugs. “Maybe that’s part of the pattern too. Someone always has to try, even if it doesn’t work.”

  Niche picks at his bandage. "That's depressing."

  "Or hopeful." She zips the kit closed and rests her hands on top of it. "Depends on how you look at it." Her back is still straight, but her shoulders are tight.

  "And if there is a god watching all this?" Niche asks.

  "Then I hope they appreciate the irony," she says. "Creating beings who suffer, then being surprised when we rage against it."

  "You think they'd be surprised?"

  She pauses. "I think any god worth believing in would want us to fight. Otherwise, why give us the ability to hope?"

  Neither of them speaks for a while.

  Shima stands up and brushes off her knees even though there's nothing there. "I should go check on the supplies.”

  "Okay."

  She doesn't move. Her fingers curl at her sides. "Niche, I—"

  "It's fine."

  "I know, but—"

  "It's fine, Shima."

  She closes her mouth. She nods once and walks slowly to the door.

  She pauses with her hand on the door frame, looking back to him. She waits for a second like she’s prepared something to say but instead leaves without another word.

  Niche stays on the floor, his head tilted back against the wall, staring at nothing.

  The Dome, Present

  "Ryuga?" Arius looks around. "I said let's go."

  There is no response. He scans the room and finds Ryuga at one of the terminals, scrolling through something.

  "What are you doing?" Arius walks over. "We need to leave."

  "Wait." Ryuga points at the screen. "These files. They're all corrupted, but they're all the same size."

  "So?"

  "So, that's not how corruption works. Someone did this on purpose." Ryuga keeps clicking. He finds a hidden folder buried under the junk data.

  "Someone hid this intentionally." He opens it.

  Arius tenses. "We have what we came for. They're stealing energy, we confirmed it. Time to leave."

  "No. We extract everything available. Niche assigned me mission leadership."

  "Mission leadership?" Arius doesn't hide his irritation. "You want to risk capture for curiosity?"

  "I want to complete the objective properly."

  "Fine.” Arius says, backing up and turning his back to Ryuga. “When security shows up, I'm a guard who doesn't know you. Handle your own mess."

  Ryuga opens another file without responding. Then another. Then the screen flashes red.

  "CONFIDENTIAL – FOR INTERNAL REVIEW ONLY. Unauthorized opening will flag system integrity."

  Ryuga's finger hovers over the enter key. In the briefcase, Raizen hums slightly, a subtle vibration urging Ryuga forward.

  He opens it.

  Static, then video. Grainy, old footage. A man in a torn uniform, his face haggard.

  "I had to use their own system. They would've erased me." The man, Takeshi, stares directly at the camera. "This backup isn't for them. It's for whoever finds it next."

  Intrigued, Arius turns back to the monitor.

  Arius thinks,

  "What is this?" Arius walks closer to the screen.

  "I uploaded this inside their system,” Takeshi continues. “Buried it where no one would look. That's all I could do. If it plays, then I failed."

  "Failed at what?" Arius asks.

  "They fed it with fire and told us it was balance. But the truth is it was sacrifice." His voice cracks. "They made –” The video glitches out, skipping forward a few minutes later in Takeshi’s dialogue. “–a bearer. Then they broke me so I'd stop asking questions."

  "What the hell is he talking about?" Arius asks Ryuga, whose eyes have not diverted from the screen.

  "You're not the first to find this place.” Takeshi slows down, calming. “But maybe you're the first to leave it alive." Takeshi leans forward. "The sword remembers."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  The video cuts out.

  Ryuga quickly tries to eject the drive. It sticks. He pulls harder, causing the whole monitor to glitch and a random file to open. This file is a long list, stamped with a government symbol on the top corner of the first page – Arius recognized this symbol as the one Jupiter sometimes used to flaunt in pride. In the list are names paired with assignments. One in particular catches Ryuga’s eye.

  "Reassignment Order – Subject: Shima”

  "Shima?" Ryuga freezes.

  The screen goes black. Then new text appears: "UNREGISTERED DEVICE DETECTED – ID: RAI-ZN-02"

  "They're pinging the sword." Arius turns around to the door. "We're blown."

  A low alarm starts building. Not loud yet, but urgent.

  The two scurry out into the hallway. Two officers walk around the corner, blocking their path.

  One looks at their nametags. "You're not authorized for this floor,” he says.

  "We were reassigned." Ryuga's voice stays level. "Maintenance check."

  The officer checks his tablet. "There's no maintenance scheduled today."

  "Must be a system error,” Arius suggests.

  "What's in the briefcase?" the other officer asks.

  Arius takes a subtle step back, ready to shift and run.

  "Equipment," Ryuga says.

  "Open it,” the officer commands.

  "You really want me to open it?" Ryuga asks, concerned.

  "Now,” the officer demands.

  Ryuga opens the case slowly. The Sunpiercer gleams inside, fully formed and humming with power.

  "Please step aside," Raizen says out loud calmly through the weapon.

  Ryuga throws the case on the ground and steps back confidently.

  "Wha—" Arius tries to intervene.

  BOOM.

  Raizen fires himself point-blank. The blast tears through the wall behind the officers; the officers are nowhere to be seen after the smoke clears. Alarms shriek. The building shakes.

  Ryuga and Arius sprint down the corridor. More security pours from the stairwell.

  "There's no clean exit!" Ryuga shouts over the alarms. "They'll lock the elevators!"

  "I'll buy you time." Arius is already shifting.

  "Don't be stupid."

  "I'll meet you outside. Keep Raizen safe."

  "Like I can't do that on my own," Raizen's voice echoes from the weapon.

  Arius completes his shift and takes on the appearance of a commander. He strides towards the backup units and waves them down a different corridor.

  Ryuga spots a ventilation grate and aims the weapon at it. “I don’t know how to use this, so just do your thing, Raizen!”

  Raizen fires himself, blasting the grate open. Ryuga dives inside as more security flood the hallway.

  The shaft is tight and the metal groans under Ryuga’s weight. Behind him, he hears shouts and confusion. Arius's misdirection is working.

  For now.

  Guards sweep through the hallway outside.

  Arius, sneaking back into the same restricted room he just left, maintains a shifted form as a senior technician, clipboard in hand, looking annoyed at the disruption in the halls.

  "Is everything okay here?" a guard – who poked his head into the data room Arius is in – asks him.

  "Yeah, just finishing up.” Arius sighs, playing the part. “These alarms are giving me a migraine." Arius rubs his temple for effect.

  "Tell me about it. Carry on." The guard leaves the room, leaving Arius alone with the classified documents.

  Arius waits, counting the footsteps until the man is gone. He should leave too. Ryuga's probably outside already.

  But the terminal is still logged in. It would be stupid to go now and waste this opportunity – Ryuga wanted to do this, and Ryuga the leader assigned by Niche after all. But…they’re probably checking these rooms more frequently during an emergency…

  "Fuck it." Arius sits back down and pulls up the Takeshi files.

  Arius thinks, seeing an unfamiliar folder.

  Arius opens the folder.

  The first file reads, "Daily Mission Report – March 3rd: There's something in the east wing. Black, shapeless, floats about a foot off the ground. It's connected to this old sword by some kind of tether. Dagi got too close and just... fell apart. Nobody knows where it came from. Heard a private found the sword in a storage crate and picked it up. Might be connected. Requesting backup."

  The next one says, "Daily Mission Report – March 5th: Backup arrived. Didn't matter. Bullets go right through it. Harrisu and Vanucci are dead. I don’t think conventional weapons will work. The walls near it are corroding, like acid eating through metal but slower. We've pulled back to the west wing."

  "Daily Mission Report – March 9th: They tried fire. Gas. Something classified they wouldn't tell us about. Nothing works. The thing just sits there. Sometimes it moves. I saw it smile once. I think it's enjoying this. But there’s no pattern we can figure out. That tether to the sword never breaks no matter how far it drifts."

  "Daily Mission Report – March 12th: Some researcher has an idea. Says the thing is 'leaking' because it has nowhere to put all its energy. Says if we give it a container it might stabilize. I don't know what that means. They're not telling us much anymore."

  "Daily Mission Report – March 14th: They wheeled a body into the east wing this morning. Looked like a person, but wrong somehow. Too clean. They left it near the entity and evacuated. An hour later, the black mass was gone. Just a man standing there, breathing, looking around. The sword went quiet. I don't know what they did, but it worked."

  "Daily Mission Report – March 20th: The body is breaking down. Host started bleeding from his nose during a routine check. Doctors say human tissue can't hold whatever's inside him for long. Maybe one month. Maybe less. Then the whole thing falls apart and they'll need a new one."

  "Daily Mission Report – March 22nd: Host died. I was there when it happened. One second he was lying in the bed, next second his whole body just...dissolved. And that black thing was back, snapping out of the corpse like it was on a leash, right back to the sword. Same as before. Same corrosion starting on the walls. They're already prepping another body."

  "Daily Mission Report – March 23rd: They figured out how to buy time. When the body starts failing, they bleed some of the energy into the sun. Stabilizes what's left. Then they move it to a fresh host before the old one dies. They're calling it 'cyclical replacement.' New host is up and walking. They're calling it 'cyclical replacement.' Keep a body ready, and when one fails, you just move it to the next. I asked how long they plan to keep doing this. Nobody answered. I'm calling it a death sentence for whoever's next in line."

  "Daily Mission Report – March 25th: The host transfer was successful. The entity has stabilized in the new body and operations are returning to normal. Third backup vessel is already in development. Some in the department have noted that human hosts seem inefficient for long-term containment, but the Vestige Court has assured us they're working on a more sustainable solution. In the meantime, we continue as directed. The Court has never let us down before. Edit: They've started calling the entity 'Rising.' It floats above the ground even though initial readings show it's extremely dense, which shouldn't be possible. Because of this, rumors around the facility say it can defy reality. Some are even saying it can reshape it. I don't know what to believe anymore, but I'm not paid to ask questions.”

  Arius sits back.

  , Arius thinks.

  The next file in the folder shows a list of names, which, when Arius clicks on it, takes up the screen. Dozens of entries. Each entry has a date range and a status. Expired. Expired. Expired.

  At the bottom reads, "Current vessel: Nishihara Sutori. Status: Active."

  "Niche..." Arius whispers to himself, realizing what trouble has afflicted them. “So, the merging isn’t a sacrifice to the sun, but a pressure release. When the vessel couldn't contain the entity's power anymore, they'd partially merge it with the sun. This lowers the power, stabilizing the energy of ‘Rising.’ So, this prevents the entity from becoming too powerful and wreaking destruction as it pleases. They were weakening ‘Rising’ this whole time, but isn’t that just…”

  "Ah, I see they were documenting my whole time,” a voice says, coming from everywhere and nowhere.

  Arius spins, but the room is empty.

  "Well, this game has been fun, really, but it is sad to see it has come to an end,” the voice speaks directly to Arius, sorrowfully, “because I see you've found our little secret.”

  Arius thinks,

  "Who –” Arius starts.

  "You wouldn't go around telling everyone, would you?" The voice sounds amused. "Anyways, I must be sure of it, so..."

  Arius feels something shift in his mind, like fingers sorting through files in his head that he cannot control. Whoever is looking into his mind is invading it, breaking through information Arius did not give them permission to access.

  "Arius,” the voice commands, “you will forget everything that happened related to this file you were never supposed to see.”

  Arius feels something happening in his mind, like his memories of the past few minutes are fogging up. He desperately tries to hold onto it. The entity. The truth about bearers. All of it. But it's slipping away like water running through his fingers.

  "All you remember is that one useless USB file of yours you're going to give back to Niche – which really is just a diversion – and these past ten minutes you have been talking to guards. Now, delete this file for me,” the voice commands.

  Arius’ hands move toward the keyboard. Then stop.

  "No." Arius's voice shakes. "No, I need to understand. You this? All of it?"

  Silence. Then a chuckle from nowhere as Arius feels the pull on his memories let go for a minute.

  Arius thinks, the memories returning to his mind.

  "Finally. Someone asks the right questions,” the voice says as Raizen materializes in the corner, leaning against the wall in his human form. Casual. Relaxed. "Yes, Arius. Every brick. Every person. Every tragedy."

  Arius turns around to look at him, stumbling back from the terminal in utter shock. "That's impossible. You're just a sword. A tool the sun bearers use."

  "A sword." Raizen laughs with genuine mirth. "Is that what you think? That I'm some enchanted weapon waiting for heroes?"

  "Then what you?"

  "I was a god. a god." His form flickers, two shadows briefly visible before merging back. "The ground you stand on isn’t

  world; built this place. It’s all the work of my brother.”

  Arius's legs give out. He falls hard on the floor, staring up at Raizen. "Everyone... my parents, my memories, my entire life... Shima... Niche... do they know?"

  "Of course not." Raizen pushes off the wall and walks closer. "You must think I am evil for this,” Raizen scoffs, “but don’t know.” He pauses. “Do you? Do you know how boring eternity is? Watching the same story play out over and over?” He sighs. “So, I improvise. Change variables. See what happens."

  "The sun dying..."

  "That's real, unfortunately." Raizen crouches in front of Arius. "Though I'll admit, trapping me here was an unwelcome twist. But I've made it work."

  "You're insane." Arius's voice is barely a whisper. "You're completely insane."

  "I'm ." For the first time, real emotion flashes across Raizen's face. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Years of consciousness trapped in steel? Watching my creations live their little lives while I can only observe?"

  "So you manipulate us. Torture us."

  "I direct you. Involve myself in your lives. There's a difference." Raizen stands. "Though this bearer is interesting. Niche actually might break the cycle. Wouldn't that be fun? To see this stupid game beaten?"

  "I'll tell him." Arius forces himself to his feet. "I'll tell everyone. They deserve to know."

  "That their pain is entertainment? That their loved ones are just tools?" Raizen tilts his head. "How kind of you."

  Raizen thinks.

  "They’re real to ." Arius stabilizes his voice now. "Their pain is real! Just because you made this world doesn't mean—"

  "Doesn't mean what? That you matter?" Raizen's voice drops, tired. "Nothing matters, Arius. That's the joke. I created meaning in a meaningless void, and even that's meaningless."

  Arius opens his mouth to respond, then closes it. What can you say to your creator when he tells you you're just a game to him?

  "But you're right about one thing," Raizen continues. "The pain is real. I made sure of that. Living without stakes is boring."

  "You're a monster."

  "I'm an artist." Raizen turns away, and for a moment his form flickers. Less solid. "I an artist. Now I'm just tired. Tired of all of this."

  Arius watches him. Something about the way Raizen is standing has changed. The casual arrogance is gone.

  "You said ‘he’ trapped you here. As punishment,” Arius starts.

  "Yes."

  "For how long?"

  Raizen laughs, but there's nothing behind it. "I stopped counting after the first few years."

  "So all of this, the cycles, the bearers, the games... you're just killing time?"

  "I'm trying to die." He says it like he's commenting on the weather. "Every bearer, I think ‘maybe this one will be strong enough. Maybe this one will figure out how to end it.’ But they never do."

  Arius doesn't answer.

  "Era took everything from me. My…” Raizen pauses, not wishing to remember, “…everything.” His voice cracks, just slightly. He continues to speak, drained. "The sword isn't my weapon, Arius. It's my prison. I can't leave. I can't die. I can't do anything but guide bearers and hope one of them finally figures out how to end me."

  "Niche. You think Niche can do it."

  "I think Niche is stubborn enough to try. And that's more than I've had in a very long time. And…" Raizen’s fa?ade slides back into place. "…you're about to forget this entire conversation."

  "Wait—"

  "Delete the file, forget we talked, and remember only that you found basic confirmation about the energy theft." Raizen's eyes drift to look at the ground with humility. "Oh, and Arius?” Raizen looks up into Arius’ eyes. “In case you were wondering, you played your role perfectly. The cynical realist who discovers the truth too late. Classic."

  Arius tries to reply, but his hands move against his will. Select all. Delete. Empty trash.

  The terminal goes dark.

  "Good boy." There's something in Raizen's voice that wasn't there before. Not mockery. Something quieter. Like watching the only person who ever understood you walk out the door, knowing they won't remember you were ever there.

  Arius feels it now. Something draining out of him. The edges of the conversation going soft.

  "Wait." Arius’ voice shakes. "Am I real?"

  "Oh, that's adorable." Raizen's voice lightens, almost playful. "Having an existential crisis? Don't worry, you're mostly real."

  "Mostly?"

  "Well, let's see. Natural born? Check. Original memories? Eh, seventy percent. Free will?" A pause. "That's negotiable."

  "What does that mean?" Arius asks, but the question is rhetorical.

  "It means some of you are more authentic than others. The memorial world needed population, after all. Can't have a proper tragedy with just five people."

  "So who—"

  "Ah ah ah. That's too much to tell you. Who knows, you might die of shock before you forget all of this." Raizen sounds amused again.

  "Niche. Is Niche—"

  "Very real. Annoyingly so. Do you know how hard it is to manipulate someone with actual free will? I have to be so creative."

  "And me?"

  A longer pause. When Raizen speaks again, there's something almost like fondness in his voice.

  "You're real enough to ask the question. That's more than most can say."

  Arius opens his mouth to respond, but the words won't form. Everything is slipping now.

  "I'll miss this version of you. The one who understood." Raizen's voice softens. "He won't survive this. But thank you. For the few minutes he existed."

  The words hit Arius, but he can't hold onto them in his mind. They slip through like water. He tries to reach for the conversation, but it's already gone.

  Arius blinks, confused about why he's still standing at the terminal. He looks around, seeing no one else around. He grabs the USB with the basic files.

  Arius thinks.

  As Arius leaves the room, he doesn't notice the security camera in the corner. Its red light blinks once, then goes dark.

  And maybe, just once, Era chose not to see.