The rain lashed against the metallic hull of the Hellion, each drop sounding like a spent casing hitting the floor. Haru Glory gripped the hilt of the Ten Commandments, his knuckles white. The air here tasted of ozone and old, stagnant magic—the unmistakable scent of the Dream Yard. ​"I finally made it out," Haru whispered, his breath hitching as he looked at the jagged horizon. "The Dream World... it's behind us." ​But the cost had been high. Since the journey began, the group had been fractured. Doryu’s influence had been a poison, a calculated strike that had separated him from Ash Ketchum and the others from the very start. The Dream Yard hadn't just been a prison; it was a graveyard of ambition—an abandoned research facility near the borders of Symphonia