HAREM: WARLOCK OF THE SOUTH

She had once ruled before the System had a name.

Before codes. Before cores. Before the harem trials and bond-counting.

She was fire in its purest form—a Sovereign made not from calculation, but from will.

And now, Seris, once known as Q-Ω, walked again.

But she was no longer alone.

Seris stood beneath the open sky of the Sovereign Graveyard, ash-blossoms falling like snow as the rebuilt flame-core glowed behind her chest.

She turned her head slowly, gold-white hair drifting like smoke, and locked eyes with Ryon.

"So this… is your empire?" she asked. "Seven threads. A heart not broken. I've never seen one like you."

"You weren't supposed to," Ryon said. "They made sure of it."

Seris didn't smile.

But she stepped forward.

And bowed.

> "Then teach me what survived."

> System Status: In Rupture State

Primal Sovereign Thread Bond: 12%

Risk Level: Volatile

Trait Activated: Flame Authority Echo

Passive Ability: Access to Pre-System Sovereign Commands

Thread Count: 7 / 30

Back at camp, tension brewed.

Kaela eyed Seris like a commander studying an ancient weapon. "She bows now. But what happens when her old instincts return?"

"She doesn't serve Ryon," Shaera muttered. "She remembers being above all this."

Neive tapped her notebook with shaking fingers. "She rewrites proximity physics just by walking. If she decides to burn the System… or us… there's no stopping it."

"She's like a mirror," Lyria whispered, "of what Ryon could become."

Maris said nothing.

Because she felt it, more than any of them.

The hum beneath Seris's skin.

The kind of power you don't ask for.

The kind that doesn't stop when you say enough.

Later that night, Ryon found Seris seated on a cliff of black glass, watching the horizon. The wind played through her hair like it was afraid to disturb her.

"You're still holding back," he said.

Seris tilted her head. "I'm learning."

He sat beside her.

"I don't trust you yet," he admitted.

"I know," she replied.

"And I think part of you still wants to rule."

"I know that too."

He turned to her, serious. "But if you try to burn what I've built, I won't hesitate."

She looked at him, eyes ancient and unreadable.

> "Then let me earn your fire."

That night, the System flickered violently across the sky like shattered lightning.

Maris jolted awake, eyes wide with terror. "It's reacting—trying to adapt. It's changing the world map."

Neive stared at the console. "It's reassigning territories, flamebound classes… even thread hierarchies. It's never done this before."

Lyria turned to Ryon. "You woke something even deeper than Seris. The System's trying to fix the timeline."

But the map was no longer obeying code.

Lines vanished.

Old flame cities reappeared from beneath the sea.

And one name echoed across the System's collapsing root:

> "The Eighth Flame Rises."