The Hollow Deep trembled as the shadow of Haruto faded back into the orb. For a moment, silence reclaimed the chamber—but it was the silence of held breath, of something watching.
Serenya drew closer, her voice steady despite the tension. "The others… they're fragments, aren't they? Alternate versions of you born from the choices you never made."
Haruto nodded. "And this place preserved them. Not to trap me—" his eyes darkened "—but to test me."
As if on cue, the mirrored floor rippled.
One by one, silhouettes emerged from the darkness—twelve figures cloaked in void-black, faces veiled, their forms flickering like half-formed thoughts. They formed a circle around the trio.
Lucien's hand went to his dagger. "Council of Shadows, I'm guessing?"
The tallest figure stepped forward, speaking in a voice layered with many tones—male, female, ancient, young.
"We are the remnants of your unchosen selves. The rulers of forgotten outcomes. And now… your judges."
Haruto didn't flinch. "I don't need your approval."
"You misunderstand," the figure replied. "You must choose one among us to absorb. One path to walk. The rest—will be erased."
Serenya's breath caught. "Wait—if he chooses wrong—?"
"He won't just lose memories," the voice said coldly. "He'll lose a piece of his soul."
Haruto clenched his fists. Around him, the twelve began to glow—each one projecting a vision:
One showed him as a warlord, ruling through fear.
Another, a wanderer who refused power entirely.
A third, a savior who died for peace before it began.
And yet another… a god who reshaped magic itself.
Each vision flickered with danger—and potential.
Lucien frowned. "So, what's the game? You pick the most righteous version of yourself and call it a day?"
"No," Haruto said quietly. "I choose the version that will save the world. Not the one that seeks to redeem it."
He stepped forward into the center of the council.
"I've seen what mercy costs. I've seen what tyranny breeds. I'll walk the path that changes everything—even if it breaks me."
The council figures flickered. One stepped out from the rest, more solid than the others. His eyes were calm. His aura, balanced.
He was Haruto—neither cruel nor kind. Determined. Strategic. Willing to sacrifice—but never blindly.
The others began to fade.
"You have chosen the Tactician," the council intoned. "He does not rule. He does not kneel. He acts."
The chosen self stepped into Haruto's body. A surge of pain arced through him, and then—clarity.
New memories. Calculations. Strategies. Knowledge of the leyline nexus. And the location of the first god-forged seal.
Haruto collapsed to one knee, gasping. Serenya rushed to him.
"What did you see?"
He looked up, eyes burning like tempered steel.
"A city buried beneath time. And a name I haven't spoken in a thousand years."
He rose, taller somehow. Steadier.
"Veydril. That's where the war begins."