Oblivion Legacy Lost の小説・ストーリー

In her hand, she held not a glass of whisky, but the glowing QX-7 key. “You see, Anton?” Not-Evelyn said with his father’s voice. “Legacy is just another asset to be liquidated.” She pressed the key to the side of his head. It wasn't cold. It was burning. A searing, intelligent heat that burrowed into his skull, searching, sifting through his memories, his fears, his love for Sabe— “No price is too high,” the chimera of his father and his betrayer whispered. “Not even you.”

I could see the dark blooms of bruising on his ribs the price he’d paid to hold the elevator. "The nitrogen worked," I said, my voice rasping from the seawater I’d swallowed. I sat across from Sofia, my laptop open on a crate of vintage brandy. "The hardware on the island is shattered. The 'Legacy Node' is a fragmented ghost. You have no leverage, Sofia. No Default command. No Vanguard. You’re just a woman in a wet suit with a very long list of enemies." Sofia looked at me, her blue eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight of the cellar. She didn't look afraid. She looked... pitying.

He looked over his shoulder. "Someone has been maintaining Genesis all this time." --- Dani stared at Victor. "You said Legacy ended." "It did." "You said Richard destroyed it." "He destroyed Legacy." Victor's voice remained calm. "He never found the people who inherited Genesis." --- The distinction chilled the room. Legacy had been an organization. Genesis... Was an idea. One that had survived. --- Sarah's recording crackled back to life. "If you're still listening..." "...then you've discovered the hardest truth." "Organizations can be dismantled."

The shards slide into the silver scar on my forehead like they were always meant to come home. Warm. Heavy. Final. Crown HUD: 41 / 47 → 43 / 47 Strigoi King’s Legacy accepted. New passive: BLOOD OF THE IMPALER (Once per year, you may refuse death for someone you love.) The Forty-Eighth just lost two pieces she thought were forever buried. The blood in the sarcophagus begins to evaporate, turning into red mist that swirls around us, then dissolves into the night. A whisper (ancient, proud, exhausted):

On its cover: Legacy Activation — Conditional He looked at the skyline thoughtfully. “They think the fire is over,” he murmured. It wasn’t. It was evolving. Back at the penthouse, silence settled heavily. “They’re shifting to legacy,” Alessandro said quietly. “Yes.” “And legacy is not perception.” “No.” “It’s power.” She met his gaze steadily. “And power doesn’t burn.” “It restructures.”

While forming Carodia and creating the first wolves called legacies, Tuiren states here that she had regrets. She knew her gifted wolves will rise against her later on and so she made bloodlines and a clan of silver wolves to be their worst enemy. "Do you see it now?" Wendy asks, moments later. She knows I've picked the right book for a start. I run my fingers over the Celtic symbols of fire and water imprinted on a page. Tuiren had used these for her creations and that was why each legacy could control either of the elements. "A legacy is not the most powerful wolf alive. I am." I breathe the last words out. The realization shocks me. It's like Tuiren made my kind as a check on the first wo

He didn't look at me, but I could feel the cold radiating from him. ​"I have a Legacy to maintain," he whispered, so low it was almost a threat. "That Legacy doesn't include ghost stories from an island that doesn't exist on my map. If you want to keep your job on the 12th floor, I suggest you stop listening to Mateo and start focusing on your deadlines."

, Clovis admitted vulnerably. Lucas stormed out of the office, running into the woods, before he would tear this place apart. He needed air to breathe. His lungs burned with exertion as he finally came to a stop, his chest heaving with ragged breath. Lucas leaned against a tree, his mind swirling with a maelstrom of emotions. Anger, frustration, and betrayal roiled within him, threatening to consume him from the inside out. The weight of Clovis’ revelations bore down on Lucas like a leaden cloak, dragging him deeper into the depths of despair.

“W-What’s the thing—what’s the thing about these shadows—obsidian whatnot?” Blame, Kleint, and Luis looked at each other for a moment, seemingly communing through the sparkle of their orbs. “Obsidian-black shadow, Ms. Marjorie, is the legendary mark of Legends. It’s rare for a wielder to attain such a stage, especially when they ended up losing their energy with trivial things such as expensive food. Not only that, it requires a lot of training and determination. In fact, unless you can successfully wear your shadow and not die by using your energy 24/7, then you can attain such a level.

But she knew something even more important, whoever these people were, they were powerful, and they had already calculated her moves better than most global leaders could anticipate. And that meant the game had only just begun. That night, Olivia sat in the penthouse, staring at the skyline, her daughter asleep behind her. She touched her wrist. A small data device blinked. Unknown signal. Another message, encrypted and unsigned, “We’ve been waiting. Your research is more valuable than you know. Come willingly, or the Legacy War will end with your extinction.” Olivia’s pulse quickened. Her lips curved into a tight, calculated smile. The world had just drawn its first line.