Ring

The air inside the Time Vault tasted of rust, blood, and something far older than either.

The walls stretched upward into a darkness that no ordinary light could penetrate. Strange machinery surrounded the battlefield, its mechanisms turning with the slow, dreadful rhythm of a clock that had long since forgotten what time was supposed to mean. Every rotation seemed to drag the room through another second, another memory, another possible outcome.

The operation had gone wrong.

What was supposed to be a confrontation had become a desperate struggle to survive.

Across the fractured floor stood Callisto, the Ring Nursefather known as the Maestro. Her presence was unnervingly composed amid the destruction. She regarded the battlefield with the detached attention of an artist examining a canvas, as though the suffering around her were merely another necessary part of the creative process.

At her side stood Albina, her apprentice.

Albina's expression held a colder sort of confidence. Where Callisto observed, Albina watched for openings. Every movement from the opposing side was measured, every hesitation noticed. The two worked together with the terrible efficiency of people who had spent a long time learning how to turn another person's desperation into an advantage.

And their opponents were running out of room to retreat.

Hohenheim stood near the front, keeping himself between the enemy and the others whenever an opening allowed it. Alyssa remained close enough to support the group, her attention moving between Callisto's position and the increasingly unstable conditions of the Vault. Faust, composed even in the midst of the chaos, continued to assess the situation with a sharpness that bordered on inhuman.

Sinclair's grip tightened around his weapon.

He knew what it meant to be cornered by an enemy who seemed to understand the shape of your defeat before you did. He knew the particular horror of standing on the edge of something inside yourself that you had never fully understood.

And Ishmael knew better than most that a desperate situation could become even more dangerous when someone decided that desperation was a weakness to exploit.

None of them had surrendered.

But determination alone was not going to make Callisto and Albina fall.

A violent impact shook the floor. Dust and fragments of stone scattered across the chamber as the clash sent another tremor through the Vault. For one brief moment, the machinery overhead seemed to stutter.

Then Callisto moved.

Her attack forced the group to scatter, disrupting their formation and leaving the Fourteenth Sinner exposed to the pressure building around them. Albina immediately followed, closing the space that had opened and ensuring that the opposing side could not easily recover its footing.

Hohenheim turned sharply.

Hohenheim: "Watch out!"

Ishmael moved to intervene, but the distance was wrong. Sinclair attempted to close the gap, only to be forced back by the danger posed by Albina. Alyssa called out a warning, while Faust's eyes narrowed as she recognized that the next few moments could decide the entire encounter.

Callisto, meanwhile, did not appear particularly troubled.

Callisto: "How interesting. Even now, you continue to resist."

Her voice carried through the chamber without needing to rise.

Callisto: "Tell me, does it truly matter how many times you stand back up? A performance must eventually reach its conclusion."

Albina said nothing. She merely watched the Fourteenth Sinner, waiting for the smallest indication that the struggle had finally become too much.

And for a moment, the world seemed to agree with them.

The noise of battle receded into the distance.

The turning machinery became slower.

The air itself felt heavy, as if every possible movement had to fight its way through an invisible ocean. The Fourteenth Sinner stood at the center of that unnatural stillness, caught between the present moment and something that did not yet exist.

Then something stirred.

It was not a voice from an outside source. It was not an invitation from a Mirror World, nor the arrival of an unfamiliar entity from some distant reality.

It came from within.

A faint mark appeared—the first indication of a Sign that had remained dormant until this very moment.

At first, it was little more than a subtle distortion, a pattern of light and shadow that seemed impossible to focus on directly. Then it sharpened. Its lines gathered into a distinct shape, as though an invisible hand were finishing a drawing that had begun long before anyone knew it existed.

Faust noticed it first.

Faust: "That phenomenon..."

For the first time since the confrontation began, her analytical composure faltered—not into fear, but into genuine surprise.

Faust: "The Fourteenth Sinner's E.G.O. is not behaving as expected. No... this is something different."

Sinclair stared at the emerging mark.

He recognized the sensation.

Not because the Sign was identical to his own, but because he remembered the impossible moment when a future possibility had reached backward and answered him. He remembered the feeling of standing at a threshold without knowing whether the other side was a salvation, a curse, or merely another version of the same mistake.

His eyes widened.

Sinclair: "Wait... That feeling..."

Ishmael turned toward him.

Ishmael: "Sinclair? What is it?"

Sinclair: "I don't know if it's the same. But... I think I understand what's happening."

The Sign brightened.

A low vibration passed through the chamber. The machinery overhead began to turn in reverse, then forward again, its rhythm becoming erratic. For an instant, several faint silhouettes seemed to overlap the Fourteenth Sinner's position.

Not separate people.

Not fully formed bodies.

Possibilities.

Brief impressions of paths that might have been taken, decisions that might have been made, and futures that had not yet settled into certainty. They flickered like reflections on the surface of disturbed water, each one vanishing before it could be understood.

The Sign was searching.

Or perhaps it was reaching.

Somewhere beyond the boundaries of the present, a branch of possibility had continued to grow. A future had unfolded from circumstances that might or might not ever come to pass. The Fourteenth Sinner had survived that future—or at least, a version of them had.

And now the Sign had found it.

Faust: "This is not a Mirror World manifestation."

Her voice was quiet, but the others heard every word.

Faust: "The phenomenon appears to be establishing a connection with a potential future. The Sign is acting as a medium. The source is still the Fourteenth Sinner."

Alyssa: "A future...? You're saying there's someone out there who—"

She stopped as the air split with a sound like glass bending under impossible pressure.

Callisto's expression changed.

Only slightly, but enough.

The Maestro had seen strange things. She understood the value of an unexpected transformation, the beauty of an event that defied the audience's expectations. Yet the Sign unfolding before her did not behave like any ordinary manifestation of power.

It did not simply strengthen its bearer.

It was making room for someone who did not belong to the current moment.

Callisto: "Oh?"

Her attention settled upon the Fourteenth Sinner's glowing Sign.

Callisto: "Now that is a development worth witnessing."

Albina's posture tightened.

Albina: "Maestro. Something is coming."

Callisto: "Yes, I can see that."

The Sign pulsed.

Once.

Twice.

On the third pulse, the entire chamber fell silent.

The distortion expanded outward, forming a narrow fracture in the air. Beyond it lay no recognizable landscape, no ordinary corridor, and no clear view of another world. Instead, there was an impression of distance—of time that had passed, choices that had accumulated, and a future that had become real somewhere along a path the present had not yet taken.

A shadow moved beyond the fracture.

The Fourteenth Sinner's Sign flared in response.

The connection had found its destination.

And then the present began to give way.

For one impossible instant, the Fourteenth Sinner's outline blurred. Their existence seemed to occupy two moments simultaneously: the one in which the confrontation had begun, and another that had already moved beyond it.

There was no explosion of power. No grand declaration. No convenient certainty that the future had arrived to save the day.

Instead, the Sign performed its function with terrifying precision.

It reached forward.

It found the version of its bearer that belonged to the other side of the branch.

And it drew that future into the present.

The light swallowed the Fourteenth Sinner's silhouette.

Sinclair instinctively took a step forward.

Sinclair: "No—!"

He knew what could happen when a Sign reached beyond the boundaries of an ordinary moment. But even he had never witnessed this exact variation.

The light contracted.

The distortion closed in on itself.

And the Fourteenth Sinner who had occupied that place a moment ago was gone.

There was no body left standing beside the newcomer. No second version lingering behind them. No duplicate waiting to be reunited with their future counterpart.

The exchange had been absolute.

The present had yielded its place.

The future had taken it.

A final ripple spread across the floor, disturbing the dust around the point of manifestation. Then the machinery resumed its ordinary rhythm, as if the Vault itself had decided to pretend that nothing impossible had happened.

For a few seconds, nobody spoke.

The person standing in the Fourteenth Sinner's place was unmistakably the same individual.

And yet, the Sign's connection had not reached backward to retrieve the person who had stood there moments ago. It had reached forward to a possible future—one that had continued along a different branch of events, one whose experiences and circumstances could not be assumed by anyone who had never lived them.

This was not an imitation.

Not an illusion.

Not an alternate individual borrowed from a Mirror World.

This was the Fourteenth Sinner, drawn from a future possibility and established in the present.

The only one.

The Sign remained visible, its glow slowly settling into a steady, unfamiliar pattern. The air around its bearer still carried the faintest trace of temporal distortion, like the lingering echo of a bell that had already been struck.

Hohenheim lowered his stance only slightly, keeping his attention on the two opponents.

Hohenheim: "Everyone, stay alert. We don't know what that exchange has changed."

Alyssa looked from the Sign to the person who now stood where the Fourteenth Sinner had been.

Alyssa: "Is that... still them?"

Faust: "The evidence suggests so. Their temporal position has changed, but the Sign's point of origin has not."

Faust paused, watching the final traces of light recede.

Faust: "The present bearer has been replaced by a future manifestation. There is no indication that the former version remains independently present."

Sinclair swallowed.

There was something deeply familiar about what he was witnessing. The Sign, the impossible connection, the sense of a future reaching into a moment where it did not belong.

But there was one critical difference.

When Sinclair had summoned a future version of himself, the encounter had involved the coexistence of two versions. Here, the Sign had followed another rule entirely. It had not added a second person to the battlefield.

It had exchanged one moment for another.

Sinclair: "So... it's like what happened to me, but different."

He stared at the Fourteenth Sinner, unable to hide the mixture of recognition and apprehension in his expression.

Sinclair: "The Sign found a future version of them. But instead of bringing that version here alongside the original... it brought them here instead."

Ishmael tightened her grip on her weapon.

Ishmael: "Then we'd better hope this future version knows what they're doing."

Faust: "Hope is not a reliable tactical consideration, Ishmael."

Ishmael: "Neither is standing around discussing it while those two are still in front of us."

Her gaze shifted toward Callisto and Albina.

The moment of surprise was already passing. Whatever the Sign had done, the battle had not ended.

Across the chamber, Callisto slowly tilted her head. Her earlier composure had returned, though her eyes now carried a sharper interest. Albina, by contrast, seemed unwilling to grant the new arrival even a moment of unearned advantage.

Albina: "So that's your answer? Replacing yourself with someone from the future?"

Callisto: "Don't be so quick to dismiss it, Albina."

The Maestro's gaze remained fixed on the Fourteenth Sinner.

Callisto: "A future is a rather peculiar thing. It can be a promise, a warning, or simply another unfinished work. And now, it appears, it can walk into the present."

She took a measured step forward.

Callisto: "Tell me, Fourteenth Sinner. Are you the conclusion of this little performance... or merely its next act?"

Albina moved with her, weapon ready.

The five allies held their positions behind and around the newly arrived Sinner. Hohenheim remained vigilant. Alyssa watched for any sign of instability. Faust continued to study the Sign. Sinclair looked as though he were seeing an old, impossible memory replayed through someone else's eyes. Ishmael, unwilling to give the enemy time to dictate the pace, prepared to resume the fight.

No one could know exactly what the future had contained.

No one could assume what the newly arrived Sinner had endured, what they had learned, or what they had become. The Sign had brought a possible future into the present, but it had offered no explanation of the path that led there.

Perhaps the future was inevitable.

Perhaps it was only one possibility among countless others.

Perhaps the very act of summoning it had already changed the course of events.

The only certainty was that the Fourteenth Sinner's Sign had awakened—and that the person standing before Callisto and Albina was no longer the version who had faced them moments earlier.

The future had taken the present's place.

And the battle was still waiting.

Callisto: "Well, then."

Her smile sharpened.

Callisto: "Let us see what tomorrow has taught you."

Every eye turned toward the Fourteenth Sinner.

The next move was yours.

Middle

The House of Spiders had become a battlefield.

The corridors of the Limbus Company facility were no longer the orderly passages they had once been. The security systems had failed, containment areas had been breached, and the intruders had carved their way through the facility with alarming ease. Somewhere in the chaos, the House of Spiders had turned the organization's own headquarters into a maze designed to separate its defenders and pick them off.

The group assigned to confront the Middle had managed to make its way through the facility alongside three members of the Limbus Company Department of Cleanup.

Moses led the LCD contingent, cigarette in hand and expression characteristically difficult to read. Ezra remained close by, carrying herself with a casualness that did not quite conceal her awareness of the danger. Vespa, their Team Leader, was the most imposing of the three, his composure and experience making it clear that he was accustomed to situations far worse than a simple security breach.

With them were three Sinners: Yi Sang, Hong Lu, and Don Quixote.

And the Fourteenth Sinner.

Their destination had seemed straightforward enough: locate the intruders, stop them from advancing, and restore some semblance of control over the facility.

Then they encountered Matthias.

The Middle's Nursefather stood amid the wreckage left by his passage through the LCA's defenses. His imposing presence and casual confidence suggested that the fallen security personnel had been little more than an inconvenience. His apprentice, Kira, stood nearby, looking far less like a disciplined subordinate and far more like an excited spectator who had finally been allowed onto the stage herself.

Matthias looked the group over.

Then he grinned.

Matthias: "Well, look at that. They finally sent me some company."

Moses exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

Moses: "You must be Matthias. The Middle's Nursefather."

Matthias: "The one and only."

He gestured toward the destruction surrounding him.

Matthias: "Your people put up a decent effort. Shame it didn't last."

Ezra: "You know, most people who break into a place at least pretend they have a reason for being there."

Matthias: "Oh, we've got a reason."

His grin widened.

Matthias: "Family."

The word came naturally to him, as though it explained everything that needed explaining.

Kira moved closer to his side.

Kira: "Papa, are these the ones who've been getting in our way?"

Matthias: "Looks like it, kiddo."

Kira: "Sweet! I was starting to think I'd missed all the fun."

She looked over the assembled group with open curiosity, her attention lingering on Vespa before shifting toward the Sinners.

Kira: "So, which one of you is supposed to be the big shot?"

Vespa said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on Matthias, assessing the threat rather than entertaining the question.

Yi Sang, meanwhile, studied the pair with a thoughtful frown.

Yi Sang: "Their confidence is not without cause. The damage inflicted upon the facility suggests that Matthias has already overcome a considerable number of opponents."

Hong Lu: "And he doesn't seem particularly tired."

Hong Lu offered Matthias a polite smile.

Hong Lu: "Would you mind telling us what you're looking for? Perhaps there's a way to settle this without destroying any more of the building."

Matthias stared at him.

Then he laughed.

Matthias: "That's a good one."

He raised his weapon.

Matthias: "You really think this is a negotiation?"

Don Quixote stepped forward, her expression indignant.

Don Quixote: "Thou standest before the agents of Limbus Company, and yet thou speakest as though the facility were thine own playground! Cease thy destruction and submit thyself to justice!"

Kira blinked.

Then she turned toward Matthias.

Kira: "Papa, is she serious?"

Matthias: "Looks serious to me."

Kira: "That's awesome."

She immediately began adjusting her stance, apparently delighted by the prospect of a real confrontation.

Kira: "Hey, watch this! I've been practicing some of your moves."

Matthias gave her an approving look.

Matthias: "That's my girl."

Moses took the cigarette from his mouth.

Moses: "Right. I think we've heard enough."

His expression sharpened, the casual air disappearing from his posture.

Moses: "LCD. We're engaging the Middle."

Vespa moved first.

The confrontation erupted.

Matthias charged into the group with overwhelming force, forcing the defenders to react before they could establish a comfortable formation. Vespa met the Nursefather's assault head-on, his movements controlled and economical. Moses supported him with practiced precision, while Ezra maneuvered to create openings and keep the group from being surrounded.

The three Sinners joined the engagement.

Yi Sang watched for opportunities to exploit the gaps in Matthias's attacks. Hong Lu moved to support the others, adapting quickly to the changing pace of the fight. Don Quixote, unwilling to let the enemy dictate the terms of the encounter, pressed forward with her characteristic determination.

The Fourteenth Sinner fought alongside them.

For a while, the group's combined efforts kept Matthias occupied.

But Kira was not content to remain a spectator.

She darted into the confrontation, attacking whenever the others became distracted by Matthias. Her enthusiasm was almost infectious; she treated the battle like an opportunity to demonstrate everything she had learned, constantly looking for a chance to reproduce the spectacular techniques she admired.

Kira: "Did you see that, Papa?!"

She slipped away from an incoming counterattack and immediately tried to follow it with another maneuver.

Kira: "I almost got the timing right!"

Matthias: "Keep at it! You'll get there!"

Don Quixote: "Dost thou truly intend to conduct a lesson in swordsmanship whilst engaged in mortal combat?!"

Kira: "Why not? It's good practice!"

Hong Lu glanced at Yi Sang.

Hong Lu: "She really does seem to be enjoying herself."

Yi Sang: "Her enthusiasm does not appear to diminish her effectiveness. We should not mistake it for carelessness."

Moses gave a dry sigh.

Moses: "Lovely. One brute and one enthusiastic student. Just what we needed."

Despite the exchange, the group continued to press forward.

Vespa's experience proved particularly valuable. He repeatedly disrupted Matthias's attacks and created opportunities for the others to strike. Moses recognized those openings and took advantage of them, while Ezra provided support wherever the group's formation threatened to collapse.

For the first time, Matthias was being forced to respond rather than simply dictate the pace.

His grin faded into something more focused.

Matthias: "Huh. You're not half bad."

He glanced toward Vespa.

Matthias: "Especially you."

Vespa remained silent.

Matthias: "A Color Fixer, huh? That explains a few things."

Moses adjusted his grip.

Moses: "Let's not get distracted. We still need to bring this to a close."

Yet the battle had already begun to take its toll.

Every exchange demanded more effort. Every opening closed almost as soon as it appeared. Matthias was experienced, powerful, and thoroughly accustomed to fighting opponents who believed that superior numbers would guarantee victory.

And Kira was still there, constantly moving to protect her mentor's openings.

The pressure mounted.

A blow shook the floor beneath the Fourteenth Sinner. The force of the impact disrupted the rhythm of the engagement, leaving the group briefly out of step with one another.

Yi Sang turned sharply.

Yi Sang: "Careful!"

Hong Lu moved to help recover the formation, while Don Quixote attempted to keep Matthias from exploiting the disruption.

But the Great Brother was already advancing.

Matthias: "Come on! Don't tell me you're finished already!"

The next exchange threatened to overwhelm the group.

And then something changed.

Not in Matthias.

Not in Kira.

Not in the machinery surrounding them.

Something changed within the Fourteenth Sinner.

A strange pressure gathered around them, subtle at first, almost indistinguishable from the distortion caused by the ongoing battle. Then a faint mark appeared, its lines taking shape as though an invisible hand were drawing a symbol upon the boundary between the present and something far beyond it.

The Sign.

It had remained dormant through the earlier stages of the operation. It had offered no explanation of itself, no warning that this moment was approaching.

Now it stirred.

Yi Sang noticed the phenomenon before anyone else.

His gaze fixed on the emerging mark.

Yi Sang: "That is... unfamiliar."

Hong Lu looked over.

Hong Lu: "What is?"

The Sign pulsed.

The air around the Fourteenth Sinner rippled, and the machinery in the surrounding corridor seemed to falter for a fraction of a second. Dust lifted from the floor, suspended in the strange pressure that had begun to spread outward from the mark.

Moses immediately recognized that something was happening beyond the ordinary course of the fight.

Moses: "Everyone, give that phenomenon some room. Don't crowd it."

Ezra retreated a step, her eyes widening.

Ezra: "Uh... is that supposed to happen?"

Moses: "If I knew, I would have said so."

Vespa maintained his guard, keeping Matthias from advancing while the others assessed the situation.

The Middle's Nursefather stared at the Sign.

Matthias: "What the hell is this?"

Kira, however, looked fascinated.

Kira: "Whoa. That's actually pretty cool."

Matthias: "Kiddo, don't get distracted."

Kira: "I'm not! I'm looking!"

The Sign pulsed again.

Faint silhouettes began to flicker around the Fourteenth Sinner's position. Each one appeared for only an instant before vanishing, like a reflection glimpsed in a window as the world outside rushed past.

They were not independent people.

They were possibilities.

Different continuations of the same life, branching toward futures that had not necessarily become inevitable.

The Sign was searching through them.

Yi Sang's expression grew more intent as he observed the distortions.

Yi Sang: "The phenomenon appears to originate from the Fourteenth Sinner. It is not an external presence attempting to enter this space."

He watched another silhouette flicker into existence.

Yi Sang: "Rather, it resembles a connection to a continuation of the same existence... one that lies beyond the present moment."

Hong Lu's eyes widened slightly.

Hong Lu: "You mean a future version?"

Yi Sang: "That is my present hypothesis."

Don Quixote stared at the Sign, her surprise quickly becoming excitement.

Don Quixote: "A future self! Then our companion's power may reach across the very river of time!"

Moses: "Let's avoid declaring victory before we understand what it's doing."

His gaze remained on the Fourteenth Sinner.

Moses: "Still... if that's a future version of the same person, this could change the situation considerably."

Matthias gave a skeptical laugh.

Matthias: "You're all acting like some glowing mark is going to save you."

He started forward.

Vespa immediately moved to intercept him.

Vespa: "You will not interfere."

Matthias's grin returned.

Matthias: "We'll see about that."

But before either could close the distance, the Sign flared.

The silhouettes vanished.

A narrow fracture appeared in the air, its edges shimmering as though the present itself had developed a crack. Beyond it lay no recognizable location, no ordinary passage, and no separate world that the group could identify.

There was only distance.

The impression of time having passed.

The possibility of a future in which the Fourteenth Sinner had continued living beyond this very encounter.

Something moved beyond the fracture.

The Sign answered.

The connection tightened, and the air throughout the corridor grew heavy. For a single, impossible instant, the Fourteenth Sinner's outline blurred, caught between the moment that had brought them here and another moment that lay farther along the same life's branching path.

Hong Lu instinctively stepped back.

Hong Lu: "I don't think that's just a visual effect anymore."

Yi Sang: "Nor do I."

The fracture widened.

The Sign had found its destination.

And the future began to enter the present.

Light surged around the Fourteenth Sinner, obscuring their silhouette. The temporal distortion expanded for an instant, then contracted with startling precision, as though the Sign were completing an exchange that had been set in motion the moment it awakened.

There was no second body left standing beside the original.

No duplicate appeared to fight alongside the group.

The Sign did not summon a companion.

It replaced the present bearer with a future manifestation of the same individual.

The light faded.

The fracture sealed.

And the Fourteenth Sinner who had been fighting beside Yi Sang, Hong Lu, Don Quixote, and the LCD team moments ago was gone.

Only one Fourteenth Sinner remained.

The future had taken the present's place.

For a few seconds, the corridor fell silent.

Moses lowered his cigarette slightly, studying the result.

Moses: "Well. That's certainly new."

Ezra stared at the newly arrived figure.

Ezra: "So... same person, but from later?"

Yi Sang: "That appears to be the most reasonable explanation. The Sign's point of origin remains consistent, though the manifestation now occupies a different point in the individual's personal timeline."

Hong Lu tilted his head.

Hong Lu: "I wonder what happened in that future."

Yi Sang: "That remains unknown. We should not assume that the branch from which this version originates was inevitable, nor that its events will necessarily occur in our present."

Don Quixote raised her weapon again, her resolve renewed.

Don Quixote: "Whatever trials lie behind thee, our companion, thou hast arrived at a most opportune moment!"

Vespa did not take his eyes off Matthias.

Vespa: "We can discuss the phenomenon later. The enemy remains in front of us."

Matthias rolled his shoulders and stared at the Sign's new bearer.

For the first time, his expression held something beyond amusement.

Not fear.

Not quite.

But the wary interest of a fighter who had just seen an opponent change the rules of the engagement without warning.

Matthias: "So the kid's got a trick after all."

Kira leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Kira: "Hey! Does that mean you can do something awesome now? Like one of Papa's big finishing moves?"

Matthias: "Kira."

Kira: "What? I'm asking!"

He laughed and raised his weapon.

Matthias: "Doesn't matter where you're from. If you're standing against the Middle, you're standing against family."

Moses took another drag from his cigarette.

Moses: "Then let's stop wasting time."

Ezra shifted into position beside him. Vespa prepared to resume the attack, while Yi Sang, Hong Lu, and Don Quixote stood ready to continue the confrontation.

The LCD team had not retreated.

The Middle had not surrendered.

And the Fourteenth Sinner's Sign had awakened without explaining the future it had brought into the present.

Whatever this version of the Fourteenth Sinner had experienced remained theirs to reveal—or keep to themself. No one else could know which choices had shaped that future, what had been lost along the way, or what the Sign had required to bring them here.

The only certainty was that the Fourteenth Sinner now standing before Matthias and Kira was the sole version present.

Matthias: "Come on, then! Let's see what you've got!"

Kira raised her weapon, still looking far too excited for someone standing in the middle of a dangerous battle.

Kira: "Yeah! Show us!"

Yi Sang watched the Sign with quiet intensity. Hong Lu waited for the next opening. Don Quixote braced herself for the coming clash. Moses, Ezra, and Vespa prepared to continue their assault.

The battle against the Middle was far from over.

The Sign had awakened. The future had replaced the present. And Matthias and Kira were still standing in the way.

The next move belonged to the Fourteenth Sinner.

Thumb

Encounter: Valencina, the Thumb Nursefather

The corridor inside the House of Spiders is thick with the smell of gunpowder and old blood.

The remaining members of the Thumb have gathered beneath Valencina's command, their weapons raised as the Limbus Company group advances. At the far end of the hall, Lucio stands visibly wounded, struggling to remain upright beneath the weight of his own injuries.

Valencina pays him little mind.

Her attention is fixed on the approaching figures—and particularly on Vergilius.

"How bold of you to walk into our territory," she says, adjusting her grip on her weapon. "I would have expected better judgment from someone with your reputation."

Vergilius doesn't bother to answer her provocation.

He simply continues forward, his expression as unreadable as ever.

You fall into step beside him.

Vergilius glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"Stay alert. This isn't an opponent you should underestimate."

"I know," you reply.

"Then try not to become a distraction."

Before you can offer a response, Valencina raises her hand.

The Thumb move as one.

Gunfire erupts through the corridor, forcing the group to scatter. Vergilius advances directly toward Valencina, his blade flashing as he cuts through the opening between her subordinates. You move to support him, intercepting the attacks aimed at his blind spots and preventing the surrounding soldiers from closing in.

For a brief moment, the two of you hold the line.

Vergilius is terrifyingly efficient. Every movement is deliberate, every strike an answer to an opening Valencina barely allows him to create. Yet she is no ordinary opponent. Her commands are sharp, her movements disciplined, and her experience evident in the way she refuses to give him a clean opportunity.

And then she turns her attention toward you.

"So," Valencina remarks, deflecting an attack from Vergilius before shifting her stance toward you. "The little company has brought another stray to the battlefield."

She studies you with open contempt.

"How generous of them."

You move to intercept her next attack.

The clash sends a jolt through your arms.

Valencina's weapon presses against yours with overwhelming force. Before you can recover your footing, she twists, breaks through your guard, and drives you backward.

You stumble across the floor.

Vergilius immediately turns to follow, but Valencina cuts across his path, forcing him to defend himself rather than reach you.

"Pay attention to your own opponent, Red Gaze!"

She strikes again.

You barely manage to block the blow. The impact forces you back another step, then another, until your heel catches against a broken piece of masonry.

Valencina advances without hesitation.

"Is this what passes for a Sinner nowadays?" she sneers. "You can barely stand your ground."

You attempt to recover your stance.

She gives you no time.

A final, crushing strike tears through your defense and sends you crashing away from the main engagement. Your weapon slips from your grip and skids across the floor, coming to rest several feet away.

For a moment, the sounds of battle seem distant.

Valencina turns her attention back toward Vergilius, apparently satisfied that you are no longer a threat.

"Now," she says, raising her weapon toward him, "where were we?"

Vergilius's gaze flicks toward you.

His expression changes only slightly—but the pause is unmistakable.

"...Get up."

The command reaches you through the ringing in your ears.

You try to move.

Something answers before you can.

Not a voice. Not a presence standing beside you. Not another person waiting somewhere beyond the corridor.

A possibility.

A future that has already taken a different road.

Your Sign stirs.

The air around you distorts, and the light above the battlefield bends as though the world has momentarily forgotten how to remain still. The sensation is unlike an ordinary awakening. There is no clear boundary between the present and what might come after it.

There is only a branch of possibility reaching backward.

And something on the other side answering.

Vergilius notices the change immediately.

His eyes narrow.

"...What is that?"

Valencina pauses mid-step.

The distortion intensifies. The battlefield seems to stretch around you, its familiar shapes briefly obscured by the suggestion of another outcome—another point in your life, another version of the path that could have been taken.

Your Sign opens.

The future does not arrive beside you. It takes your place.

The you who had been thrown across the corridor is gone.

In that same instant, a future version of you occupies the space where you stood. There is no second body left behind, no injured present self lying nearby, and no two versions of you sharing the battlefield. To everyone watching, you have been replaced in a single, impossible transition.

The disturbance subsides.

The corridor falls quiet for the smallest fraction of a second.

Vergilius watches the figure now standing where you fell. His grip remains steady, but his attention has sharpened.

"...So that's your ability."

Valencina's expression hardens.

She looks you over, searching for an explanation in your appearance, your stance, or the strange transition she has just witnessed.

"What kind of trick is this?"

She raises her weapon again.

"I don't care what you've changed into. You'll fall all the same."

Vergilius steps back into position beside you, keeping Valencina within striking distance.

"Whatever happened," he says coolly, "I suggest you make it useful."

Valencina lunges.

Vergilius moves to meet her from the front, drawing her attention with a precise, punishing strike. At the same time, he leaves an opening on her flank—the sort of opportunity that had been impossible to exploit before your Sign awakened.

The Thumb Nursefather catches sight of the movement and twists to respond, her expression turning furious as she realizes she is now being pressed from two directions.

"You insolent—!"

Her attack crashes against Vergilius's defense.

For the first time since the encounter began, Valencina is forced to divide her attention between the Red Gaze and you.

Lucio watches from farther down the corridor, breathing unevenly. His gaze shifts from Valencina to the unfamiliar change in the battlefield, but he remains too badly wounded to intervene.

Valencina pulls back, placing herself between you and Vergilius.

Her eyes settle on you.

"Fine," she spits. "If you're so determined to stand in my way, I'll deal with you myself."

Vergilius's voice comes from beside you, calm and unmistakably dangerous.

"Don't let her dictate the pace."

Valencina lowers her stance, preparing to attack again.

The next exchange is yours to decide.

Index

Encounter: Rien, the Index Nursefather, and Sora, His Apprentice

The corridor of the House of Spiders has become a scene of utter disorder.

The remaining members of the Udjat Vanguard lie scattered throughout the passage, their formation broken after their encounter with Rien. Jamila struggles to keep the survivors together, but the Index Nursefather has already demonstrated the frightening difference between an ordinary combatant and a Proxy of his standing.

He barely seems winded.

Rien adjusts his glasses, his expression almost pleasant beneath the mask of composure he wears so naturally.

"Well, now. It seems your superiors ought to have taken better care of their equipment."

His gaze passes over the fallen Udjat before settling upon the remaining Limbus Company personnel.

"Still, I suppose there's little use complaining about the quality of one's opponents. The Prescripts don't particularly care for excuses."

Sora stands a short distance behind him.

Her chains hang loosely from her wrists, and her large glasses catch the light as she looks toward the approaching group. Despite the danger surrounding her, she seems almost hesitant to meet anyone's eyes.

"M-Mister Rien..." she begins quietly. "Are we going to be leaving soon?"

"In a moment, darling."

Rien answers without turning toward her.

"There's just one more little matter to attend to."

His attention shifts toward Ryōshū.

The expression on his face becomes something difficult to read.

"Ah. There you are, sweetheart."

Ryōshū's gaze remains fixed upon him.

"...Rien."

The name leaves her mouth with no warmth whatsoever.

Meursault quietly adjusts his stance. Outis studies the corridor for an opening, while Jamila attempts to rally whoever remains capable of standing. You take your place with the group, the designation of Fourteenth Sinner carrying little weight against the man standing before you.

Rien regards the gathering with mild curiosity.

"So many people, all brought together by such a delicate thread. How fascinating."

He raises one hand.

A metallic rattle echoes through the corridor.

"Now, then. Shall we see where that thread leads?"

The battle begins.

Rien moves first.

There is no dramatic declaration, no obvious windup to warn you of his intentions. His weapon shifts through an unexpected angle, forcing the group to scatter before the attack can catch everyone at once. Meursault moves to intercept his next approach, while Outis attempts to find an opening around his guard.

Ryōshū advances without hesitation.

Rien redirects his attention toward her, as though the rest of the battlefield has become little more than background scenery.

"Still as impatient as ever, I see."

Ryōshū answers with a sharp movement of her blade.

He slips away from the strike.

"Now, now. Is that any way to greet your father?"

"You're not my father."

"Ah. How cruel."

Despite his lighthearted tone, Rien's next movement is brutally precise. He forces Ryōshū to adjust her footing, then turns his attention toward the others before they can capitalize on the exchange.

You move to close the gap.

For a few moments, you manage to keep pace with the shifting engagement. Rien's techniques are difficult to follow, but you begin to recognize the rhythm of his movements: an attack that appears direct can become something entirely different at the last instant, while an apparent opening can lead straight into another strike.

Then Sora enters the fight.

"I-I'm sorry!"

Her voice sounds genuinely distressed.

"But the Prescript says I have to!"

She moves toward the group, her chains snapping taut as she enters the fray. Her movements are strangely fluid, combining techniques that seem incompatible at first glance. She shifts between them without hesitation, leaving little time to anticipate her next attack.

You turn to intercept her.

Sora falters for the briefest instant when your paths cross.

"I really don't want to hurt you," she says, her voice trembling. "I just... I have to do what Mister Rien tells me."

Then she attacks again.

You manage to avoid the first exchange, but her follow-up catches you off balance. You retreat, attempting to regain enough distance to keep her from controlling the engagement.

Behind you, Rien's voice carries across the corridor.

"Remember, Sora. Two things that appear to contradict each other need not be incompatible."

"I-I remember!"

"Good girl."

Sora's next attack forces you backward.

You attempt to turn aside, but the movement comes too late. Her chains catch your guard, and the resulting impact drives you across the floor. You stagger, struggling to recover as Sora advances with an apologetic expression that does nothing to lessen the danger.

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "I'm really sorry!"

Another strike forces you down onto one knee.

For an instant, the entire corridor seems to tilt.

You hear Meursault calling something from farther away. Outis is occupied trying to keep Rien from freely moving through the group, and Ryōshū remains locked in her own relentless pursuit.

No one can reach you in time.

Sora draws back for another attack.

And something inside you answers.

Not a second heartbeat.

Not another person standing somewhere beyond the veil.

A possibility.

Your Sign stirs.

The air around you shivers, and the sounds of the corridor stretch into an unnatural silence. The movement of Sora's chains seems to slow—not because time has stopped, but because something beyond the present has begun to press against it.

You feel the shape of a future.

A branch that could have grown from your life.

A version of yourself that continued onward along a different path.

The Sign opens.

Sora stops short.

"W-what...?"

Rien's head turns toward you.

For the first time, his casual expression gives way to genuine interest.

"Oh?"

The distortion spreads across the space you occupy. The present and the possible future touch for one impossible instant, and the boundary between them gives way.

The Fourteenth Sinner is replaced.

The you who had been struggling against Sora is gone.

In your place stands the future version summoned by the Sign.

There is no fallen present self beside them. No second Fourteenth Sinner remains behind. The change is immediate and absolute: one existence gives way to another, and the battlefield has only one you upon it.

The distortion fades.

Sora lowers her hands slightly, staring.

"...Mister Rien?"

Rien doesn't answer her immediately.

He studies the newly arrived version of you with the same curiosity he might show a particularly unusual Prescript.

"How extraordinary."

He takes a measured step forward.

"A technique that reaches beyond the present... and yet leaves no duplicate behind. Not a simple illusion, nor an ordinary manifestation."

His eyes narrow behind his glasses.

"Tell me, Fourteenth Sinner. Are we looking at a future that was destined to happen, or merely one that found its way here?"

Ryōshū glances toward you, then back toward Rien.

"...Interesting."

Outis maintains her stance, wary of the sudden change but unwilling to take her attention away from the enemy.

Meursault says nothing. His eyes remain fixed on Rien, ready to respond if the Nursefather exploits the brief confusion.

Sora, meanwhile, looks visibly uncertain.

"I... I don't understand. You were just there, and now..."

She trails off, then glances toward Rien as though waiting for him to explain what she has witnessed.

He offers her a faint smile.

"Don't trouble yourself, darling. We can ask questions after we've finished."

Rien turns his full attention toward you.

"After all, the Prescripts have a curious way of accounting for unexpected variables."

His weapon shifts in his grasp.

"Let us see whether your arrival changes the answer."

He moves.

The next exchange comes faster than the last. Rien approaches with a shifting sequence of attacks, forcing the group to react before they can settle into a coordinated formation. Sora follows his movement, still hesitant but bound to the purpose she has been given.

Rien's first strike tests your guard.

His second attempts to draw you into a predictable response.

His third changes direction at the final moment.

But this time, the fight is no longer unfolding as it had before the Sign awakened.

Rien notices.

His expression sharpens with interest.

"Ah. So the future has brought something useful with it."

He withdraws half a step, positioning himself between you and Ryōshū. Sora moves to his side, her uncertainty giving way to renewed determination.

The Index Nursefather raises his weapon.

"Very well, Fourteenth Sinner."

His voice remains gentle.

"Show me what kind of future could possibly make a difference here."

The corridor falls silent for one fleeting instant.

Then Rien attacks again.

The battle is still underway. The Fourteenth Sinner's summoned future has only just entered the fight, and what happens next remains unwritten.

Pinky.

Encounter: Shiomi Yoru, the Pinky Nursefather, and Ren, Her Apprentice

The House of Spiders has grown eerily quiet.

The fighting elsewhere has left its mark on the corridors, but the path ahead leads toward a different kind of danger. There is no grand formation waiting in the open, no army announcing its arrival. Instead, there is the oppressive feeling that the people ahead have already decided how this encounter will end.

Ryōshū walks at the front of the group.

Her expression gives nothing away, but the hand resting near her weapon is tense.

Meursault follows close behind, watching the surrounding passageways. Outis keeps her attention on the possible approaches and exits, while the Fourteenth Sinner moves alongside the others.

Then a voice drifts out of the shadows.

"You're late."

A woman steps into view.

Shiomi Yoru, the Pinky Nursefather, stands with the composed stillness of someone who has no need to prove her authority. Her gaze settles on Ryōshū, and for a moment, the air between them seems heavier than the silence surrounding them.

Beside Yoru stands Ren.

The Pinky apprentice watches the group with a guarded expression. Ren's posture is disciplined, their attention moving between Yoru and the approaching Limbus Company personnel. They do not speak, but their readiness makes their role clear.

Yoru's eyes remain on Ryōshū.

"So," she says, "you've finally come back."

Ryōshū's reply is immediate.

"...Yoru."

No warmth passes between them.

The Pinky Nursefather tilts her head.

"Is that all you have to say to me?"

Ryōshū says nothing.

Ren shifts slightly beside Yoru, watching the exchange with a tension that suggests there is far more to this meeting than a simple confrontation between opposing combatants.

Yoru eventually turns her attention toward the rest of the group.

"And you've brought company."

Her gaze pauses on the Fourteenth Sinner.

"How thoughtful."

Outis steps forward, her expression hardening.

"We have no intention of allowing you to continue whatever business you've been conducting here."

Yoru gives a small, humorless smile.

"What a brave declaration."

She raises one hand.

"Ren."

The apprentice immediately straightens.

"Yes, Nursefather."

"Keep the others occupied."

Ren hesitates for the briefest moment before answering.

"...Understood."

Yoru turns back toward Ryōshū.

"As for you, my dear, I think it's time we finished our conversation."

Ryōshū draws her weapon.

The battle begins.

Yoru moves with an unsettling calm, meeting Ryōshū's opening attack without any visible sign of panic. The two clash at close range, their movements sharp and economical. There is no wasted motion, no unnecessary flourish—only the precision of two people who know exactly how dangerous the other can be.

Meursault moves to assist, but Ren intercepts him.

The Pinky apprentice advances with controlled, practiced movements, forcing Meursault to redirect his attention toward the new threat. Outis attempts to find an opening around Ren's position, but the apprentice shifts to deny her a clear path toward Yoru.

The group begins to separate under the pressure.

You move to help.

Ren notices immediately.

"Please don't interfere."

Their voice is quiet, almost apologetic.

"I don't want to make this more difficult than it needs to be."

They attack before you can respond.

You manage to deflect the first strike and step out of the path of the next, but Ren's technique is difficult to read. Their movements keep changing the angle of engagement, forcing you to react rather than dictate the pace.

You attempt to press forward.

Ren turns aside your attack and counters.

The impact throws you off balance.

You recover, but Ren is already moving again, closing the distance before you can establish a reliable defense.

"I'm sorry," Ren says, their expression tightening. "But I can't let you through."

Another exchange drives you backward.

Nearby, Yoru and Ryōshū continue their duel. Neither gives ground easily, and neither seems willing to let the others interfere with what has become a deeply personal confrontation.

You glance toward them, looking for an opportunity to break away from Ren.

That moment of divided attention is enough.

Ren's next attack catches your guard and forces you back across the corridor. Your footing slips against the uneven floor, and you struggle to recover before the apprentice closes in again.

"Stay down," Ren says, sounding more distressed than triumphant.

You try to stand your ground.

Ren attacks once more.

You are forced back, unable to regain control of the exchange. The corridor seems to narrow around you, the sounds of the ongoing battle becoming distant and indistinct.

Then something stirs within you.

Your Sign.

At first, it is only a subtle disturbance—a feeling that the present moment has become less certain, as though another possibility is pressing against the edges of reality.

You recognize the sensation.

A future.

Not a stranger waiting to join the fight. Not a second self standing at your side.

A branch of your own life that continued beyond this moment.

The Sign begins to open.

Ren falters.

"...What is that?"

The air around you bends. The light across the corridor briefly fractures, and a strange pressure spreads through the space you occupy.

Yoru notices the disturbance from across the battlefield.

Her eyes narrow, though she does not immediately break away from Ryōshū.

"What an unusual ability."

Ryōshū takes advantage of Yoru's momentary distraction, forcing her to defend against another attack.

The Sign reaches its threshold.

And the future answers.

The Fourteenth Sinner is replaced.

The version of you who had been struggling against Ren vanishes from the present. In that same instant, a future version of you takes your place.

There is no second Fourteenth Sinner left behind. No injured past self remains on the floor. The change is complete: the present you has been replaced, and only the summoned future version remains in the corridor.

The distortion fades.

Ren stares at you, momentarily unable to conceal their surprise.

"...You changed."

They tighten their grip on their weapon.

"But you're still the Fourteenth Sinner, aren't you?"

Across the corridor, Yoru watches with a new and unmistakable interest.

"Reaching into a possible future to alter the present..."

She gives a faint smile.

"How troublesome."

Ryōshū's gaze flicks toward you for an instant before returning to Yoru.

"...Don't get distracted."

Yoru chuckles.

"Of course."

She resumes her stance, and the pressure between the two women returns immediately.

Ren takes a cautious step toward you.

"I don't know what you've become," the apprentice admits, "but my orders haven't changed."

Their expression firms.

"I have to protect my Nursefather."

They advance again.

This time, you have an opportunity to meet the attack rather than simply retreat from it. Ren's strike meets your defense, and the impact echoes down the corridor. They draw back, studying you with renewed caution.

For the first time, the apprentice no longer seems certain that they can control the encounter.

Yoru notices.

"Ren," she calls without taking her eyes off Ryōshū. "Don't hesitate."

"Yes, Nursefather!"

Ren resets their stance.

Ryōshū and Yoru remain locked in their own confrontation, while Meursault and Outis attempt to find a way through Ren's defense without exposing themselves to Yoru's attacks.

The battlefield is still divided.

The Pinky apprentice stands before you, ready to continue.

Yoru turns her blade toward Ryōshū once more.

"Now, then," she says softly. "Where were we?"

The next exchange is about to begin.

The fight remains unresolved. The Fourteenth Sinner's future self has only just appeared, Ren is still standing, and Yoru's confrontation with Ryōshū is far from over. What happens next is yours to decide.

Free