Die. Respawn. Repeat.

So much has happened since the last time I allowed myself to properly look over the Interface. So much has happened since I've gained the Interface, for that matter. It doesn't feel like it's been all that long, but it's hard to put the timeline together in my head—I'm aware, in an abstract sort of way, of all the events that have passed. The timeline of everything that's happened, in order? That's a bit more of a jumble.

The notifications are a reminder, in a way. They don't list out everything that's happened, but there's a history recorded in every ping of the Interface. It helps that there's a list that sorts them all out chronologically, all the way back to the very first one I received.

The one welcoming me to Hestia. The one telling me about the Trials.

I skim through those. Reading through these chronologically is... well, if I'm being honest with myself, then it's partly a way for me to put off looking at the raid report even more. But there is a purpose to it beyond that.

It helps me collect my thoughts. Reminds me of all the steps I've taken, everything I've encountered, and all the ways I've grown.

The next few notifications cover my harrowing first few minutes on Hestia, and I grimace as I glance over them. They're basically just me being killed by Ahkelios's Remnant repeatedly, not that I knew that was what it was at the time. The Interface called it a Broken Horror; I have the context now to understand why. To know what it represented.

In retrospect, it's... not a kind name.

I speed up my scrolling. There's me finding the Fracture, then the Cliffside Crows, then the raid on their little village that first put me in touch with Tarin and Mari. There's a bit of a pang in my heart as I remember them—I'm not going to see either of them frequently anymore. Not for a while, at least. I've yet to figure out how to extract the piece of the Interface lodged within Tarin that allows him to remember the loops, but he seems quite determined to stay with Mari from now on.

He doesn't want to move on without her. I can understand that, at least. It's the second reason my next goal is the Empty City.

The first, of course, is reviving Gheraa.

Whatever it is about Integrator deaths that cause them to mark themselves so fully into the world around them is reflected in the Empty City. I get the same feeling from the Empty City that I do from the Intermediary; the only difference is that the Empty City is much, much older. It's like... the imprint of a soul, burnt into the world around it.

Whatever secrets I need to uncover to bring Gheraa back, I'll find in there. And I bet those same secrets will be exactly what I need to extract that fragment of Interface Firmament within Tarin. It might even allow me to implant a fragment into others, if I need them to loop with me.

There's a lot of opportunity here. A chance to change the nature of the game I'm forced to play. If I play my cards right...

I keep reading.

Hestia still ends approximately 180 days after the start of the loop. I haven't been able to investigate that in any more depth, but I have made some progress. He-Who-Guards is my ally now, and although they're fragmented, he has some memories of what he encountered deep within the Fracture.

"It is... bright." He-Who-Guards seems to search for the words for a moment, and I wonder if the Interface is correctly translating the word he chooses to use. "But not in light."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"I do not know." He-Who-Guards shrugs. "That is the best explanation I can offer. It is bright in a way that blinds the soul."

If I'm being honest, it feels like a bunch of cryptic nonsense. The most important thing is that we both agree that I'm not ready yet. Whatever's down there, it's not something even a third-layer practitioner of Firmament can handle.

Which brings up the question of what layer can handle it. We don't know the answer to that. Premonition gives me a bit of a hint, but right now, all it's telling me is that I'm not ready yet.

Yet.

I let out an aggrieved sigh, drawing a look of concern from Ahkelios. "Just thinking about how much we still don't know," I tell him.

"Should've asked Gheraa when you had the chance," Ahkelios says, giving me a lighthearted smirk. I roll my eyes.

"I had a lot on my mind," I grumble. He isn't wrong, although if Gheraa had known something about it, I suspect he would've told me. The fact that he didn't says a lot in and of itself. It's pretty clear that the Integrators don't have complete access to everything that happens. I wouldn't be surprised if they're not entirely sure of what happens at the end of each loop, too.

At least I haven't had to go through the whole end-of-the-world thing a second time, though I can't say the loops after that have been any less exciting. I scroll through the rest of the notifications quickly—there aren't actually that many from my time in Isthanok, despite all the time I spent in there. Not a lot of fights, as it were. I spent most of my time trying to correct what happened to Rotar and Ikaara, and ended up embroiled in Isthanok's conflicts in the process.

I can't say I regret it. Whisper's obsession with a perfect city did a number on its citizens. Even with her temporarily indisposed, it's clear that no one feels safe enough to speak openly with one another. The fact that He-Who-Guards has regained his faculties helps, but the city has a lot of healing to do, in more ways than one.

My eyes drop to the final set of notifications. Everything that's pending. Everything that I haven't looked at yet.

Two of them stand out more than any other. My eyes drift to the first one.

[NOTICE: Integrator access to the Intermediary Network has been disrupted. Certain Integrated planets will revert to baseline Interface programming until access has been fully restored.]

"Disrupted?" I stare at it, my brow furrowing slightly. I remember Whisper saying something about this before she vanished—something about how the Integrators were no longer responding to her attempts at clarification—but she didn't say anything about it being disrupted. That indicates intent.

...Now that I think about it, though, she sort of did.

Whatever you've done, it seems Hestia is on its own for now.

Is this because of something I did? I scan the notifications, trying to find anything that might indicate I caused something.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Ethan!" Ahkelios calls my attention to a window that's almost hiding in the corner. I look over at it.

[NOTICE: An asteroid strike has disrupted the Intermediary Network. Be aware that the Interface may not operate correctly while the damage is repaired.]

Ahkelios is snickering, and looking at it... I can't help but start laughing as well. I did not intend to send the asteroid back toward the Integrators. If I'd thought about it, I absolutely would have! But it simply didn't occur to me. All I was trying to do was push it back where it came from.

Now that I think about it, of course, it's from the Integrators. "Guess they got what's coming to them," I say with a grin. Ahkelios just laughs delightedly and gives me a high five.

"You didn't just punch an asteroid across dimensions," he says. "I take it back. You punched it across dimensions back at the Integrators. The entire Network's going to be talking about this."

"Sounds like a good thing." I smirk. "Means people will realize they can fight back."

Ahkelios gives an admiring shake of his head. "If the Disconnected weren't looking for you already, I bet they are now," he says. "I can't believe you punched it back at them. Can you imagine their faces?"

"I wish." I grin. "Maybe that should be my priority? Some kind of time skill that lets me see the past?"

"You better share if you get one!" Ahkelios points a finger at me half-threateningly. I laugh.

"Of course I will," I say, giving him a little nudge. "I wish Gheraa could have seen it. I bet he'd love it."

"You better make sure I'm summoned when you tell him," Ahkelios says. "I want to see his reaction!"

"You're very sure I'll bring him back, aren't you?" I raise an eyebrow at the mantis.

"At this point?" Ahkelios laughs. "I'm not going to bet against you."

It's nice to have the vote of confidence. I chuckle and look back at the Interface. There's a second notification that was a lot like the first one, at least in effect. The wording, on the other hand...

[NOTICE: Integrator access to the Hestian Intermediary has been temporarily restricted as outlined by protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE. Interface access on Hestia has been restricted. Interface programming on Hestia has been altered according to protocol ANCHORED HERITAGE.]

"The hell's an 'anchored heritage'?" I mutter, staring at the screen. Ahkelios stares at it, too, blinking rapidly.

"Come to think of it, am I supposed to be able to see everything in your interface like this?" he asks. "I could only see your status before."

"Huh." I consider that for a moment. "That's either the Interface reprogramming or the fact that you've absorbed more Remnants. Hard to say which. Doesn't matter, though. I trust you with the thing."

"Now I'll be able to be even more helpful." Ahkelios grins at me, and I roll my eyes.

Glancing back at the Interface, I swipe through it, trying to see if anything's noticeably different. I'm hard-pressed to state exactly how and where, but it is different. The status window itself is reorganized, and a bunch of features and categories are now laid out in tabs instead of in a single, massive window. "Honestly, this seems like an upgrade," I mutter. "It's a lot simpler."

"Makes you wonder why it's not just the default," Ahkelios agrees. He pokes at the Interface window and grumbles in annoyance when it doesn't respond to his touch. "I was hoping it'd work for me, too."

"I think you'll need your own Interface for that," I say dryly. "Don't worry. I'll help you get your own once we find the Integrators."

Ahkelios somehow manages to give me the impression that he's wrinkling his nose, even though nothing changes about his face. "I'm not sure I want that."

"You don't want impossible, easily obtained power?"

"I think I like getting the impossible, easily obtained power through you just fine," he tells me. "It means you get all the downsides."

I laugh. "Right, right. Of course. Fair enough."

There's a still a lot of notifications to get through. I'll review my status last of all, I think. Right now, there's a slew of kill notifications for the meteors, a few repeat ones for Anhar, an after action report for the raid, and several more about... that. About whatever power it is I've been using.

The kill notifications are just a list of credits, so I dismiss them with a wave. The raid report I take a deep breath before I look at.

[You have defeated the raid Fury of the Integrators (Rank A)! Your performance review is as follows.

Citizens remaining: 211,642/211,873

Furious Geodes destroyed: 9,488/12,000

City preserved: 78%

For preserving the lives of all your allies, you have been granted a skill: Spectral Guardian (Rank A)!

For preserving more than 75% of the raided city, you have been granted 444 Durability credits.

For destroying more than 75% of the raiding monsters, you have been granted 444 Strength credits.

For preventing the deaths of more than 99.5% of civilians, you have been granted a skill: Field of Immortality (Rank S)!

For defeating a raid against all odds, you have been granted 1,000 Firmament credits.]

I stare numbly for a few moments. Ahkelios has to reach out to poke me to get me to move again, and I reach out for him, bringing him back up against my chest.

"That's two hundred and thirty-one dead," I say, tasting the number.

"Two hundred and thirty-one is nothing," Ahkelios says, trying to reassure me. "It's less than one percent!"

"Percentages are all relative," I say quietly. "If someone's parents died, it's going to feel like their whole life is over. If someone's little brother died..."

I let myself trail off and shake my head. Now isn't the time to get mired in the past.

"You still did good," Ahkelios says awkwardly. It's clear he doesn't really know what to say, so I reach out and pat him on the head.

"I know," I say.

It's not like I haven't attended any of the funerals being held in Isthanok. I was there. Not for all of them, but I thought it was important that I was there for at least some of them—that I acknowledge that the fighting here had an impact on the city. 231 deaths isn't a lot in practical terms. It's practically miraculous, given the scale of the attack.

I just don't want to think that way. It seems cold. So I give myself a moment to grieve, to remind myself that those lives matter, and...

"Interface," I say out loud. "Do you have the names of those who died?"

It's a long shot. I haven't tried communicating with the Interface for a long time—the questions stopped working entirely after a while. But now that it's been reprogrammed, there's a chance it might respond to queries again.

Sure enough, a message pops up a moment later. The list of names is long, starting with Anhar's and continuing alphabetically, and both Ahkelios and I are silent as we stare at it.

"That list looks a lot bigger when you spell out all the names," Ahkelios admits quietly.

"Can you record all the names and send it to Guard?" I try, and although nothing appears to happen, I feel a sense of... acknowledgement. There's a flow of Firmament. The command worked.

Ahkelios blinks. "The Interface can do that now?" he asks.

I shrug. "Guess there's a lot the Integrators kept hidden."

I've done what I can. As for the rest of the message...

Two new skills. Spectral Guardian is exactly what it says on the tin—it creates a guardian out of Firmament to protect someone, no matter how far away I am from them. I'm not surprised; it's basically a skill that replicates what I did using Temporal Link.

Field of Immortality, on the other hand, is powerful and terrifying in equal measure. For as long as the skill is active, people I designate as allies that remain within its range cannot die.

The thing is, it isn't a healing skill. All it'll do is keep them alive until they can be healed, or failing that, they'll die when they leave my field.

Powerful. But potentially very, very dangerous. I can think of a half-dozen uses, and not all of them are kind.

"Ethan?" Ahkelios asks. I can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'll be careful," I tell him. My eyes drop to the next-most significant notification. The one that's likely the whole reason for the 'anchored heritage' thing.

[NOTICE: You have retrieved a Talent!]