The shadow stepped forward.
It didn't make a sound—no footfall, no breath—but each movement echoed like thunder in Haruto's chest. It looked just like him, down to the silver streak of hair and the jagged scar across his right hand. But its eyes...
Its eyes were hollow flames.
Haruto reached for the Nullblade.
The shadow did the same.
Steel rang as the two swords clashed—neither striking, neither retreating. The chamber shook from the impact, sending a cascade of light through the crystal pillars. Kaela and Lucien backed away, eyes wide, powerless to interfere.
The voice that came from the shadow was not a whisper, but a chorus—a hundred versions of Haruto speaking at once.
"You threw us away."
Haruto's grip tightened. "You're just a memory. An echo."
The shadow grinned.
"And echoes return when they're loud enough."
It lunged.
The force of its blow hurled Haruto across the chamber, slamming him into a pillar. Kaela cried out, rushing forward, but a barrier of shimmering energy erupted between them. The Vault had chosen its battlefield—and it wouldn't let anyone interfere.
Haruto rose to one knee, blood on his lip. "You were sealed here. Why?"
"Because the world couldn't bear the hero I became."
Another strike—faster than before. Haruto barely raised his blade in time. Sparks flew as steel scraped steel, and in the reflection of the Nullblade, he saw not one shadow—but many.
Hundreds of versions of himself. Each with different scars. Different choices.
All of them broken.
"You're not real," Haruto whispered, shaking.
"And yet," the shadow said, blade raised high, "I remember everything."
It struck again—this time breaking through Haruto's guard and sending him to the ground. The Nullblade skidded across the floor.
Kaela screamed. Lucien slammed his fists against the barrier.
And the shadow stood over him, sword poised.
"You are not ready to carry this burden, Haruto Kisaragi."
The last thing Haruto saw was the blade descending.