Flames consumed everything.
Kael stood within a vortex of white fire that pulsed with memory and madness. His breath hitched—not from heat, but from the weight of it. Every ember carried a truth. Every flicker, a version of himself.
He saw them before him—echoes, reflections molded from choices he had made… or could have made.
One stepped forward.
Clad in black armor with a crown of bone and eyes of void, this Kael sneered. "I am what you could've been had you embraced the Abyss. A God-King, feared and worshipped through tyranny."
Another followed, cloaked in radiant gold, his face calm, almost mournful. "And I am what you'd be had you chosen peace… even if it meant letting others die. You call it mercy. I call it surrender."
A dozen more emerged. Kaels born from rage. From loss. From love twisted into obsession. One was missing an arm. Another had no face—just a scream. One wept constantly, cradling a broken world in his arms.
Kael steadied himself.
"What is this place?" he asked, his voice echoing in the crucible.
The First Flame spoke—its voice everywhere and nowhere:
"This is your soul laid bare, Kael. You cannot become the Celestial God unless you confront what you are capable of. Not just the hero. Not just the savior. But the monster. The coward. The tyrant."
The echoes lunged.
Kael fought.
But this wasn't a battle of blades or power it was a battle of will. Every strike they made pierced deeper than flesh. Visions flooded him: Lyra's death in a hundred worlds. Valen's betrayal. Entire civilizations burning at his command.
He cried out as the versions tore into him ripping through his defenses, whispering doubts.
"You don't deserve this power."
"You're not saving the world you're reshaping it in your image."
"You are no god. Just a boy who got lucky."
He fell to one knee. The fire flared. The tyrant Kael raised a sword of living darkness.
And then—
Kael laughed.
He stood, even bleeding, even trembling.
"I know who I am," he said. "I know what I could've been. And I'm still standing. Because I chose to fight for more than myself."
He opened his arms. "So come on. Show me everything. I won't run. I won't forget. I'll carry all of you."
The echoes froze.
One by one, they began to shimmer… and dissolve into light. Absorbed. Accepted.
Forgiven.
The Crucible blazed one final time.
And when the fire cleared—
Kael stood alone, reborn.
His armor pulsed with starlight. His eyes held galaxies. The mark of the Celestial God—once dormant—burned fully awake upon his chest.
And far away, the Endbringer felt it.
The game had changed.