The World Announcement was not just text on a screen. It was a declaration of war.

Edward stared at the glowing red words. Time seemed to slow, and the noisy Ashen Market grew quiet.

This was not a random dungeon breach.

Random breaches happened in areas of high magical concentration. Near existing dungeon portals. Or where the veil between worlds was naturally thin. They did not happen in the middle of a quiet, magically inert residential district.

Not unless they were made to.

This was a message. A punishment. A cold, calculated, and exquisitely cruel act of retribution from the one entity that knew his greatest weakness. The Oblivion Core.

He had defied it. He had refused its mandate to assassinate Silas Thorne. He had consumed one of its nascent Avatars. And now, he had just formed a "Soul Bond." A connection the system itself had flagged as a potential vulnerability. He had given his enemy a target. And the Core, with the cold, impersonal logic of a machine, was now pulling the trigger.

It was a trap. A blatant, unsubtle, and utterly horrifying one. The Core wasn't just trying to kill Sarah. It was trying to draw him out. It was using his own lingering humanity. His protective instincts. The very qualities that made him more than just a monster. As a leash to drag him back into the light. Back into the open. Where the Inquisition's hunters were waiting.

A surge of rage swept through him, so cold it felt like it would break his bones.

This was a violation of a different kind.

The system had not just punished him. It had targeted an innocent. A non-combatant. A good person. All to get at him. It had crossed a line. His secret, one-man war against the Core had just become deeply, violently personal.

He moved so fast the wooden chair scraped loudly against the stone floor. His once calm eyes were now burning with rage.

Selene watched him. Her arms were crossed. Her expression was cool, professional detachment. But her eyes were filled with a grim understanding. "It's a trap, Edward," she stated. Her voice was flat. Not a warning. A simple, undeniable statement of fact. "You know it, and I know it. They are baiting you. The moment you set foot in Sunstone, Daniel and his entire legion of holy warriors will descend on you. It's tactical suicide."

She was right. Every logical, strategic part of his mind, the part influenced by the Scribe's paranoia and the Lich's ancient, cynical wisdom, agreed with her. To go back would be to walk into a perfectly prepared ambush.

The practical choice was to cut his losses: accept that Sarah was lost and use his grief to fuel his revenge. It was a monstrous decision.

Fenris, woke by the noise, stood by the door, her hand gripping the hilt of a heavy iron axe.

She did not understand the tactics.

She didn't care about the Inquisition or the Core. She just looked at Edward's face. At the cold, murderous fury in his eyes. And she understood the only thing that mattered.

"Pack is in danger," she growled. Her voice was a low. Not a question. A statement of allegiance. She was ready to follow him. To fight by his side. Whether it was into a trap, into the heart of an army, or into the fiery maw of hell itself.

Edward was torn, his mind a battlefield between the cold survivor and the protector within him. Selene's logic was clear, going back and risking everything: his life, his freedom, his rising faction, even the war against the Core. Sarah was only one person, and the stakes were high.

But then he remembered her face. He saw her in the alley, he remembered how scared she was, even at the arena.

If he abandoned her, if he let her die to save himself, what would be the point of surviving? What would be left of him worth saving? He would just be a monster. A creature of pure, selfish survival. No different from the starving, cosmic entity he was trying to fight. He would become his enemy.

He had made a choice on that balcony. To defy the system. To accept the punishment. To hold onto a piece of his soul. This was the same choice. But the stakes were infinitely higher.

The war in his mind was over. There had never really been a choice at all.He turned and walked towards the weapon rack by the door. He picked up the Shadowfang Dagger.

Its cold, familiar weight was a grim comfort. He then strapped on the new, custom-made shortsword the Iron Circle blacksmiths had forged for him. A blade of dark, unadorned steel.

"This isn't a tactical decision," he said. His voice was low and cold. Not to them. But to the warring ghosts in his own head. "This is a statement of principle."

He turned to face them. Then he said "The Core thinks it has found my weakness," he said. His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. "It thinks it can use the people I care about to control me. It's time to teach it a lesson. It's time to show it that what it thinks is my weakness is actually my strength. And when you threaten my strength…"

He left the sentence unfinished. The promise of violent, absolute retribution hung in the air.

Selene let out a long, weary sigh. A sound of profound frustration. "So we are really doing this, then? We're walking into the lion's den, waving a big, red flag that says 'please eat me.'" She shook her head. But there was a new, sharp, almost excited glint in her eyes. "This is insane. This is suicidal. This is, without a doubt, the stupidest strategic decision I have ever had the privilege of participating in."

She pushed herself off the doorframe. A slow smile spread across her lips. "I'll go and gather my best assassins. If we're going to do something this monumentally idiotic, we might as well make a spectacular show of it."

Fenris didn't say a word. She just hefted her new axe onto her shoulder. A savage, joyful grin on her face. The alpha had decided to hunt. And the pack would follow.

Edward walked to the main door of his safe house. The door that led out into the bustling, chaotic safety of the Ashen Market. He paused. His hand on the latch. He looked out the massive crystal window. His gaze was distant. As if he could see all the way back to the sun-drenched streets of Sunstone City.

"This is a trap," Selene warned him one last time. Her voice was now devoid of its usual, playful sarcasm. Replaced by a note of genuine and grim concern.

Edward's lips pulled back in a cold, mirthless smile. A baring of his teeth that was pure, predatory promise.

"I know," he replied. His voice was a low, chilling whisper that was more dangerous than any roar. He pulled up the simple, black mask he now wore. A piece of cloth that hid the lower half of his face. Leaving only his cold, furious eyes visible. He drew the Shadowfang Dagger. Its black blade seemed to drink the very light from the room.

"But it's a trap they'll regret setting."

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