The screen turned red. A warning flashed in a language Leo barely understood:

In this new era, the red mist wasn't just a physical barrier; it was a firewall. But the Revenants had found a way to bridge the gap. They weren't just sharing memories through blood vestiges anymore; they were uploading them.

Far across the digital haze, a thousand Revenants drew their blades at once. The hunt was no longer local. The Vein had gone global, and the cost of a "connection error" was eternal frenzy.

"It's a double-edged sword," Louis warned, stepping out from the shadows of the corridor. "If we can share our gifts and our strength over the web, so can the Queen’s shadow. The Lost are starting to sync up. They’re learning our patterns before we even swing."

The air in the Vein didn’t just smell like dried blood and ash anymore; it smelled like ozone and static.

"They call it the 'Web,' kid," Yakumo grunted, his voice muffled. "A ghost of the old world. Somehow, the Revenant signal is piggybacking on it."