The air beyond the battlefield turned still—thick with silence that trembled with memory. Matt climbed the obsidian stair that twisted around a half-collapsed temple ruin, his boots cracking glasslike ash. Each step felt heavier.
At the summit waited a shrine carved into the bones of a fallen titan. Its ribcage arched like a cathedral. Wind whispered through holes in its spine, carrying voices that weren't his own.
The shrine pulsed with ancient magic.
In its center lay a dais. On it: a disc of starmetal etched with lines and runes that spun slowly in the air like a constellation engine. Each movement painted threads of light across the air, revealing a vast celestial map.
The Map of Rebellion.
Matt stepped forward.
The moment his fingers brushed the edge of the disc, the shrine activated. Walls unfolded like blooming steel lotus petals, revealing six constellations—each aligned with a symbol: Thunder, Fire, Orc, Shadow, Frost, and Void.
But in the center, pulsing red, burned a single point:
Matt.
His name. His blood.
The map's glyphs began translating in real-time.
---
"The Flame Reborn shall rise when the constellations awaken.
Each King of Nayron sealed in place by false gods.
To break the wheel of divine lies, he must forge anew the Circle of Ruin."
---
The center of the dais opened, revealing a buried crystal core. It pulsed with memory-light.
System Prompt: Unlock Starpulse Memory?
Matt didn't hesitate.
He placed his palm on it.
Pain. Blinding. A flood of visions, not from his own mind.
---
Screaming skies. The five Imperial Paladins gathered in judgment.
A young orc king chained in lightning.
Firestorm cities. Skeletons riding beasts of magma.
A goddess—Pailance—watching from the distance, silent, broken.
Analice smiling in a golden throne.
"The rebellion was never meant to win," she whispered. "It was meant to burn."
---
Matt collapsed to his knees, gasping.
He had seen it.
They hadn't just killed the rebellion.
They orchestrated it… as a distraction.
To eliminate all Nitine blood from every realm.
And the Enternals? They stood back.
Silent.
---
A slow clap echoed through the shrine.
He turned, sword half-drawn.
A figure stood atop the wall, glowing with holographic distortion. Silver armor shimmered around a frame too perfect, too cruel.
Eyes like daggers. Lips like knives.
Analice.
"Bravo, Exile. You found the toy."
Matt's grip tightened. "You're not really here."
"No," she smiled, tilting her head. "But this projection holds enough of my consciousness to gut you, should you fail the test."
"What test?"
"The test of truth."
The shrine locked shut. Sigil walls rose around them. Analice's image descended, her armor warping into a spectral blade of light and shadow.
"Let's see if your convictions bleed like your people did."
---
Combat Simulation Initiated: Duel of Memory – Class: High Paladin Echo
Matt activated his Void Surge. Shadowsidian flared with both fire and Rift energy.
Analice moved first—faster than light. Her blade flickered between forms: scythe, whip, dagger. Matt blocked and parried, but every blow dug into the back of his mind—forcing old memories up like knives.
His mother's scream.
His father's last breath.
Amiya's voice begging the Enternals to intervene.
Analice grinned with every hit. "You wear pain like a crown, little exile. But can you wield it?"
Matt roared.
Void Technique Unlocked: Mindscar Flare
He surged forward, blade igniting with red-black flame. He didn't strike her body.
He struck the memory anchor—a sigil at the center of the shrine.
The illusion shattered.
Analice screamed—not in pain, but in fury.
The projection crumbled. Her voice lingered.
"This time… you win. Next time, I'll carve that defiance from your bones."
Silence.
---
The shrine reopened.
The starmap now glowed brighter.
One constellation had shifted. A trail lit up, pointing to a realm above the others—a realm of clouds and broken glass towers.
Stormvault. Domain of Myuthor, King of Thunder.
Matt stared at it.
Then at the broken crown behind him.
He reached for it. Placed it on his head.
It didn't fix itself. It didn't heal.
But it pulsed.
And the Void whispered:
"Not king yet. But close."