The journey to the god Core was very different this time. Before, they had been a renegade fleet, sneaking and fighting their way through hostile territory.

Now, they were honored guests. As the "Odyssey" approached the heart of the galaxy, a fleet of Core vessels, sleek ships made of light and crystal, came out to meet them, not with weapons raised, but as a formal escort.

It was the universe's fanciest, most heavily armed welcoming party.

The "Odyssey" docked at the central station, a structure so vast it made planets look like small toys. Regent Vorlag did not greet them in person—it didn't have a "person" to greet them with—but its presence was everywhere, a calm, curious intelligence that hummed in the very walls of the station.

Emma, Scarlett, Zara, Ilsa, and Seraphina were led to the Core's central observation chamber. It was a huge, dark sphere. When they entered, the sphere lit up, and they found themselves floating in the middle of a perfect, 3D map of the Silent King's prison.

It was one thing to see the crack on a viewscreen. It was another thing to be floating right next to a holographic image of it that was the size of a mountain.

The crack was a jagged, ugly scar of cold light running across the smooth, black surface of the prison wall. Vorlag's voice echoed around them, explaining the situation in calm, terrifying detail.

"The structure is not made of physical matter," Vorlag explained. "It is a concept. A very powerful, very stubborn idea that says, 'This is a box, and nothing inside it can get out.' The crack is a fracture in that idea."

Vorlag's holographic model zoomed in. They could now see that the prison wasn't just leaking energy; it was leaking a kind of anti-reality. Little puffs of what Vorlag called "Static" were seeping out.

The Static was a gray, fuzzy nothingness. Wherever it touched a star or a planet on the map, that object would simply… fade, becoming less real.

"The Static is entropy," Zara murmured, her eyes wide with a horrified, scientific fascination. "It's the concept of 'the end' leaking into a universe that is supposed to keep going."

"So, how do we fix it?" Ilsa asked, her voice gruff. She was a soldier. She saw a problem, she wanted a solution. "Do we weld a patch on it?"

"A patch would be insufficient," Vorlag replied. "To repair a conceptual fracture, we need an infusion of its opposite. The prison is a structure of ordered, static reality. To mend it, we need a massive, controlled burst of 'ordered, creative energy.'"

A new image appeared in the chamber. It was a place they all recognized. A beautiful, impossible land of shifting, geometric shapes, all humming with life.

"The Forge of Genesis," Seraphina whispered.

"Correct," Vorlag said. "The Forge is the only known source of that specific type of energy in the required quantity. It is the universe's engine of creation. We must use that engine to repair the prison."

On the surface, the plan seemed simple enough. Use the good place's energy to fix the bad place. But then, Vorlag showed them the problem.

The image of the Forge changed. Now, at its very heart, they could see the World-Tree. It was magnificent, a single, continent-sized tree whose branches seemed to hold up the sky of the Forge.

Its roots ran deep, like golden rivers, into the very fabric of the creative realm. The tree wasn't just on the Forge; it was the Forge. It had become its heart, its soul, its central operating system.

And they all knew what the World-Tree really was. It was Ryan.

"The Genesis Lord's soul is now fundamentally intertwined with the Forge," Vorlag explained, its voice carefully neutral. "They are one and the same. To draw power from the Forge is to draw power from him. And he is… in a low-power state."

The devastating choice was laid bare before them.

To save the universe, they needed to use the Forge's power. But using that power would be like hooking a giant cosmic generator up to Ryan's sleeping soul. It would drain him. It could harm the World-Tree.

And since no one, not even Vorlag, really understood how a Genesis Lord worked, the effects could be catastrophic. It could weaken him, change him, or, in the worst-case scenario, erase him completely, leaving them with a fixed prison but without the man they had sacrificed everything to bring back.

They were being asked to choose: risk the man they loved, or risk the universe he had fought to save.

The Matriarchs left the observation chamber and gathered in a private meeting room. The silence was heavy. The weight of the decision was crushing.

Scarlett was the first to speak, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "No," she said, the single word sharp and absolute. "Absolutely not. We just got him back. We are not gambling with his soul. We'll find another way."

"Is there another way?" Emma countered, her voice quiet but firm. She hated this, but her mind was already calculating the odds, weighing the terrible options.

"Vorlag said the Forge is the only source. If we do nothing, the prison fails. The Silent King gets out. The universe ends. That seems… worse."

"So we sacrifice him to save everyone else?" Scarlett shot back, her eyes flashing. "That's what he did, and we spent all this time and effort bringing him back! What was the point of it all if we're just going to throw him away now?"

"It is what he would do," Ilsa said, her voice a deep rumble. She stood like a stone statue by the wall. "He is a leader. A king. A king's life belongs to his people. He would make the sacrifice."

"But he's not here to make that choice!" Seraphina cried, her face pale. "We have to make it for him. To choose to risk the person we love most… it feels wrong. It feels like a betrayal."

The argument went on, a painful circle of love versus duty. Each of them had a point. Scarlett, the fierce protector, would not risk her anchor.

Emma, the grand strategist, saw the bigger picture. Ilsa, the loyal soldier, believed in the duty of a leader. Seraphina, the heart of the group, could not bear the thought of harming a life, especially his. Zara, the scientist, was silent, running a million simulations in her head, none of them with a happy outcome.

Their new unity, the perfect bond they had forged in the fight to save him, was being tested. Their personal love for him was at war with their galactic responsibility.

The debate grew more heated, the voices rising, the terrible choice tearing them apart.

And then, a new voice, quiet and a little weak, but clear and familiar, cut through the noise.

"Scarlett."

Every single one of them froze. They slowly turned their heads toward the door.

Ryan was standing there.

He was leaning against the doorframe for support, and he looked pale and tired, but he was awake. And he was smiling, a small, weary smile.

His eyes found Scarlett's in the stunned silence.

"You're all very loud when you're worried," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

He had heard everything.

He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked slowly into the room. He looked at each of them, his gaze full of a deep, quiet understanding. He knew what they were struggling with.

He came to a stop in the center of the room.

"We have to do it," he said, his voice now firm, with no trace of doubt. The Genesis Lord was back.

He looked at Scarlett, his expression softening. "But I have to be the one to do it. My soul is linked to the Tree, to the Forge. I can feel it. If anyone else tries to draw its power, they'll rip it apart. But I can guide it. I can regulate it. I can shield the heart of the Tree from the drain."

He gave them a tired but determined smile. "It seems the only one who can safely use my power source… is me."

The terrible choice was no longer theirs to make. He had made it for them.

The only way to save reality was for the still-recovering Ryan to go back to the source of his power and wield an energy that had nearly erased him from existence once already.

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