A suffocating silence filled the ancient ruins. The oppressive presence of the Forgotten One bore down on Ren, an unseen force pressing against his very soul. He could feel it—not just in the air but deep within himself, as if something inside him recognized this being.
Mira and Draven stood rigid at his sides, their weapons drawn, but Ren knew it was pointless. This was not a battle of steel and magic. This was something far older, far more dangerous.
The Forgotten One's voice echoed through the chamber, its form flickering like a shadow caught between worlds.
"You have freed me. Now, you must choose."
Ren's heart pounded. He had faced gods, fought against impossible odds, clawed his way up from nothing—but this was different. The gods wanted him dead. This thing wanted something far worse. It wanted him to decide the fate of the world.
His fingers curled around the Voidfang. The sword was silent, but he could feel its hunger, a resonance between it and the entity before him.
"What choice?" Ren asked cautiously.
"To stand with me," the Forgotten One murmured, "against those who would shackle the world. The gods who deceive. Or… resist me, and inherit their fate."
Draven scoffed, taking a bold step forward. "And why should we trust you? The gods locked you away for a reason. What are you?"
The Forgotten One turned its gaze toward Draven, its featureless face unreadable. "I am the first exile. The first rebel. The first god… and the last."
Ren's blood turned to ice.
Mira's grip on her sword tightened. "What the hell does that mean?"
The shadows around them deepened as the Forgotten One spoke, its voice a whisper carried by the ruins themselves.
"Before the gods you know, before the realms were divided, there was another order. I was among them. But I refused the cycle, refused their laws. For that, they erased my name, my existence. They created new gods to replace me."
Ren clenched his jaw. "Then why am I the one you've chosen?"
The Forgotten One shifted, its presence growing heavier. "Because you are different. You have severed the threads of fate. You have defied the order they built. And now… you stand at a crossroads."
The air pulsed. Ren felt the weight of its words settle deep into his bones. This wasn't just about revenge. This was about rewriting the laws of existence.
His mind spun. If he allied with this being, he would gain power unlike anything he had ever known—power to challenge the gods directly. But… what would he become?
The gods had tried to kill him, yes. But did that mean the Forgotten One was any better?
Mira stepped closer, her voice sharp. "And what happens if he refuses you?"
The entity's form flickered. "Then you will be hunted. The gods will not allow you to walk freely after today. Your fate is already sealed, one way or another."
A shiver ran down Ren's spine.
Draven cursed under his breath. "Ren, we need to get out of here. Now."
Ren stared at the shifting void before him. The Forgotten One was right—no matter what, the gods would come for him. The only question was whether he would stand alone… or with the darkness.
His hand trembled on the hilt of his sword.
His entire journey had been a battle against fate. Against those who sought to control him. Against the gods themselves.
Now, fate was offering him a throne among its enemies.
"I need time," Ren finally said, his voice steady.
A pause. The Forgotten One studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Time is fleeting. But I will wait."
The ruins trembled. Shadows peeled away, the air grew lighter. The unbearable presence faded into the depths of the forgotten world.
It was gone.
For now.
Ren exhaled. Mira and Draven released their weapons, but the tension in their bodies remained.
Mira turned to him. "Ren… what the hell are we getting into?"
Ren looked down at his hands. They were shaking. For the first time in a long time, he didn't know the answer.
And somewhere, beyond mortal sight, the gods had surely felt the barrier shatter.
They would not sit idle.
The real war had begun.