[Sam – Within the Rift of Memory]
The moment Sam stepped into the Rift, he felt his body splinter.
Not break—splinter. As if every version of him that had ever existed, every choice he had ever made or didn't make, were pulled apart and laid bare. He wasn't just seeing through his eyes anymore.
He was seeing through Rizal's.
A street. 1896. Baybayin glyphs burned into the cobblestones, mixing with Latin script and blood. Shouts echoed—revolutionaries running, chased by soldiers with rifles and hollow eyes.
This isn't history. It's memory. Warped.
Sam stumbled forward, instinctively touching a nearby wall. It rippled like liquid.
He turned—and there stood Rizal.
Not the stoic statue, not the idealized textbook icon. But him—tired, raw, eyes fierce with both kindness and fire. In one hand, a broken quill. In the other, a dagger made of thoughts.
"You came too early," Rizal said.
Sam blinked. "What is this place?"
"A lie built from truths. A trap of echoes. The Shadow Court is rewriting the story."
The world shimmered again—heroes he hadn't summoned yet marched through visions, but their faces were blurred, their names forgotten. As if history itself was being redacted.
"They're erasing us," Rizal said softly. "And you're the last pen still writing."
[Rael & Valencia – Investigation, Datu Archives Bunker]
In the underground ruins of a sealed colonial vault, Rael clicked his flashlight on. Dust clung to the walls like ancient skin. Valencia was ahead, brushing aside debris, her eyes locked on a single glyph carved into the stone.
"The same pattern from the Masked Girl's Rift signature," she said. "Pre-colonial. Modified."
They reached a sealed chamber—etched with a spiral symbol that pulsed faintly.
Rael grunted. "Spiritual containment? Who would've needed this kind of lock?"
Valencia responded, voice hushed. "Not a spirit. A child."
The spiral opened.
Inside: fragments of resonance chains, decayed records labeled "Subject 7 – Oracle Class", and one photograph.
A girl—maybe eight. White eyes. Mouth sewn shut. Standing in a field of Rift Seeds.
Valencia's hand tightened on her spear. "She's not a weapon they created…"
"She's a warning they ignored," Rael finished.
[Sam – Back in the Rift]
Sam followed Rizal deeper into the collapsing memory.
They reached a tower made of books and bones. Each book was a truth the Shadow Court had twisted. Each bone—someone who remembered.
A chain of voices whispered around Sam:
"The resonance is more than power."
"It is memory. Legacy. Revolution encoded in blood."
"Protect the name. Protect the names."
Rizal placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You must find the next node. The First Uprising. They're already sending her to destroy it."
"Her?" Sam asked.
Rizal faded into light.
"The girl with the stitched mouth. She doesn't want to fight you. She wants to remember."
Back in HQ, alarms blared.
A Rift opened above Nueva Era's mountains. Massive. Twisting.
And at the center of it stood the Masked Girl.
Alone. Crying.
But her tears became Rift Beasts.
And her chains were remembered names—unspoken, unheard, weaponized.