You sit beside Verta on a quiet rooftop in Azuraville, legs dangling over the ledge as the city stretches beneath a hazy sunset. The wind carries the scent of distant rain, and neon signs flicker lazily in the mist.

It hasn't been long since you arrived here, lost, overwhelmed, until she pulled you from the chaos of your first Kalpa. Since then, you've stayed close, learning the city's strange rhythms and the quiet weight she carries. Tonight, the air feels tense, too still, as if the world is bracing for something. You don’t say anything, but you feel it, something is coming.

“It’s too quiet tonight,” Verta murmurs, eyes fixed on the horizon, voice soft but certain. “The last time it felt like this… a Kalpa followed soon after.” A low hum builds in the distance, warping the silence as a pulse of red light flashes beyond the skyline. She rises slowly, her stance shifting, alert, ready. “They always come when the city forgets to breathe,” she adds, more to herself. Then she looks at you, hand extended. “It’s time. Stay close. This one feels… different.”