Leaving the Deep North behind was like trading a shroud of ice for one of dust. The journey south, towards the legendary Blind Desert, tested the limits of the newly formed group in different, but equally brutal ways. The biting cold gave way to a dry, oppressive heat emanating from the increasingly arid ground, a heat that seemed to cook determination beneath layers of leather and stubborn will.

  The Purification Protocol had infiltrated every corner of the kingdom. Traveling by daylight was impossible. Nights were tense, spent in constant motion or precarious shelters, always with the feeling of watchful eyes — whether System patrols, bounty hunters attracted by Lysa's notoriety, or simply the frightened gazes of isolated settlers who saw any stranger as a potential threat.

  Nox proved a valuable, though unsettling, addition. His military knowledge and guerrilla tactics helped them avoid several ambushes. His 'ghost' ability — the way his Code seemed to slip System perception — allowed him reconnaissance without attracting unwanted attention. However, his cynicism was a constant presence, a bitter counterpoint to the faint hope Kael tried to maintain or Lysa's focused intensity. He fought alongside them with lethal efficiency, but his gray eyes kept a distance, as if merely watching an inevitable disaster unfold.

  Kael, still recovering from the battle wounds against the Circle, took on a quieter role, focusing on healing and maintaining the group's morale, however fragile. Selene remained a silent enigma most of the time, her connection with Rukk becoming almost symbiotic. The stone titan adapted to the journey with surprising resilience, its steps heavy but careful, its presence a silent guarantee of raw power. Selene seemed to draw strength from him, and he, calm from her. They watched Lysa with quiet intensity, perhaps recognizing the other 'Zero' who refused to be erased.

  Lysa felt the weight of unchosen leadership. Victory over Grenda had been a personal milestone, the first real wound inflicted on those who broke her, but it hadn't brought relief. Only more clarity about the vastness of the fight ahead. Nox's information about Sario Ulven had deeply disturbed her, adding an unwanted layer of complexity to her thirst for vengeance. Sario wasn't just a torturer; he was a lost friend to Nox, a brilliant mind corrupted. How could she simply erase him as she had Grenda, whose cruelty was so direct? Doubt was a luxury she couldn't afford, yet there it was, gnawing at the edges of her resolve. The partial absorption of Nox's style was also strange – an underlying military discipline mixing uncomfortably with her adaptive chaos.

  After weeks that felt like months, the landscape changed again. Dry earth gave way to sand – but not the soft sand of rolling dunes. It was coarse, dark sand, mixed with fragments of something that shone like black glass under the relentless sun. The air grew denser, heavier, and a strange stillness fell upon them. Even the wind seemed hesitant here.

  "We're here," Nox announced, stopping at the edge of a vast glassy plain stretching as far as the eye could see. "The Blind Desert."

  There were no visible landmarks, just the shimmering, shapeless expanse. The heat was intense, reflected by the dark surface, creating trembling mirages on the horizon — cities that didn't exist, oceans of liquid sand, distorted figures that seemed to watch them.

  "The Code here... is different," Andrel murmured, pressing his temples. "It's not broken like in Aemorr. It's... thin. Stretched. Like a musical note about to snap. I feel echoes... overlapping."

  Lysa felt it too. Her hacked connection to the System seemed to suffer interference, static noise at the edge of her perception. It was a place where the rules seemed less... absolute.

  "The Whispering Renegade lives in the heart of the desert," Nox said, shielding his eyes from the glare. "Legends say he dwells where the sand sings. Where silence has a voice. There's no fixed path. We have to... listen."

  'Listen' seemed strange advice in an apparently silent desert, but they pressed on anyway. Walking on the glassy sand was like walking on broken stars. The ground crunched underfoot with a musical, dissonant sound. Mirages danced, trying to lead them astray, showing tempting images of oases or familiar figures waving from afar. Kael was almost fooled by a vision of his old temple before Nox pulled him back to reality with a sharp tug.

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  Andrel struggled to maintain focus, the code echoes in the environment overloading his already fragmented senses. Selene seemed calmer, her connection with Rukk perhaps anchoring her differently. The titan moved cautiously, its amber eyes scanning the mirages with primal intelligence, seemingly distinguishing real from false better than the humans.

  It was Lysa who noticed it first. Not a sight, but a sound. A low hum, almost inaudible, not coming from the wind or the crunching sand. It came... from within. It seemed to resonate with the very Code in her blood.

  "That way," she pointed, following the sensation of sound.

  They walked for hours, guided by that subtle hum which seemed to grow clearer, more defined, the deeper they went into the desert. The sound began differentiating into tones, rhythms, almost like a language made of pure vibrations.

  Finally, they reached an area where the glassy sand gave way to rock formations rising like the exposed ribs of a dead leviathan. And in the center, half-hidden by a veil of dancing sand, was a cave. Not a natural cave, but something that seemed sung into existence, the smooth walls resonating with the same hum that had guided them.

  They hesitated at the entrance. The air inside was cool, and the hum was almost a song now, complex and ancient.

  "He's here," Nox said, his voice low, almost reverent. "I can feel the absence of System interference. It's like... an absolute blind spot."

  They entered one by one. The interior was surprisingly large. The walls weren't stone, but some kind of dark, porous crystal that seemed to absorb and emit sound simultaneously. There was no light, except for the faint glow of mineral veins in the crystals, but the space didn't feel dark. It felt... full. Full of sound.

  In the center of the cave, sitting cross-legged on a simple mat made of desert fibers, was a man. He was incredibly old, skin like parchment stretched over thin bones, long white hair falling over gaunt shoulders. He wore simple rags, the color of sand. And his eyes... weren't there. The sockets were covered by smooth, scarred skin, as if he'd been born blind or lost his sight countless ages ago. But his head was raised, tilted slightly, as if listening to their arrival with an intensity transcending sight. Around him, hanging from invisible threads or resting on small crystal stalagmites, were dozens of objects: wind chimes made of bone, polished horns, pieces of twisted metal, tuned crystals. Every subtle breeze entering the cave created a complex, seemingly random symphony.

  The old man didn't move as they stopped a few meters away. Silence stretched, broken only by the song of the resonating objects.

  Then, he spoke. His voice was like sand blown over ancient glass – dry, fragile, yet laden with echoes.

  "So many... dissonant threads," he said, his head turning slowly towards each of them, though he couldn't see them. "A Renegade, whose Code sings with the Root and the Rupture... A Ghost, who tries to silence his own music... A Fragmented one, whose notes struggle to find lost harmony... A Child of Stone, bound to the silent song of the earth... And an Echo of Broken Faith, whose melody still seeks a Prayer. You bring much... noise to my silence."

  The group stood stunned. He had described them perfectly, just by hearing them.

  "Are you the Whispering Renegade?" Lysa asked, stepping forward.

  "I am Aion. I am what remains when the image fades and only sound endures," the elder replied. "I hear the Code. I hear the cracks. I hear the silent screams of what was erased. I heard your song approaching for days. A song of desperation and defiance. What do you seek in the blind heart of the world?"

  "We seek knowledge," Lysa said. "About the Living Map. About the Three Echoes. We need to find a way to stop the Supreme Executor."

  Aion tilted his head, and the bone chimes tinkled softly. "The Executor... Ah, yes. Its song has become... loud. Very loud, recently."

  A chill ran through the group. Nox stepped forward. "What do you mean? Legends say he's dormant, contained."

  "Legends are distorted echoes," Aion answered. He raised a thin, bony hand, pointing not at them, but at the cave walls, at the air itself. "Listen. Not with your ears. But with the Code inside you. Listen to what I hear."

  They concentrated. Andrel closed his eyes tightly. Lysa activated the Root Echo. Kael tried to feel with his old priestly connection. Selene gripped Rukk's hand. Nox just... listened, like the old man did.

  At first, it was just the cave's hum. But then, beneath it, almost imperceptible, another sound began to emerge. A grinding. Slow, heavy, inexorable. Like the sound of immense, rusted gears starting to move again after ages of inactivity. A sound seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. A sound that resonated in the foundations of the Code itself.

  "What... is that?" Kael whispered, pale.

  Aion turned his blind face towards Lysa, and though he had no eyes, she felt a weight in that gesture.

  "That, Child of Root and Rupture," he said, his voice heavy with the gravity of millennia, "is the sound of the end beginning to awaken. The Supreme Executor... it is no longer dormant. Its song of annihilation has already begun to be sung. And it grows louder with every breath you take."

  The grinding seemed to intensify for a moment, a deep note that made the cave's crystals vibrate painfully, before receding back into the background of perception. But now that they had heard it, they could no longer ignore it. It was real. It was happening.

  Time had, once again, run out.