The war had reshaped the world.
Mountains had fallen. Oceans had split. Continents were scarred with the relics of gods, systems, and dying stars. Even time itself had become unreliable—folding in pockets, skipping in bursts, slowing where anomalies slept.
And yet, Raven stood still.
He watched the skyline from the edge of an artificial plateau—what remained of the capital city, now called Core Remnant-1. His hair fluttered in the cold wind, his expression unreadable.
It had been fifteen years since the war began.
Fifteen years of blood, steel, and data.
Fifteen years since he last smiled.
Ava stood beside him, older now—though barely aged thanks to the divine system's interference. Her memories had returned, mostly. Sol was gone—lost in the 7th year, a name now etched on the Wall of Endless Memory, a monument Raven refused to visit.
Below them, millions of people survived in stacked metal towers wrapped in digital flame-barriers. Technology and magic intertwined so completely that one couldn't exist without the other anymore. Dungeons were no longer contained—they were cities, ecosystems, religions.
The Nihilos system remained silent… but synchronized at 100%.
Raven hadn't used its full power since year 10.
Because every time he did, something in the universe changed—permanently. He wasn't a player anymore. Not a god either. He was something else. Something the void itself had tried to forget.
Today, though, something new stirred.
Not a monster. Not a threat. Not another god.
But a door.
A literal, physical door.
It had appeared overnight, on the far edge of Sector 9. A black steel arch with carvings that pulsed with symbols even Nihilos refused to decode. And written above it, in every known language:
> "Choose. Path One or Path Two. You may not return."
Raven had kept it hidden from the public. Even Ava didn't know.
He reached into his inventory and summoned a sealed scroll—marked with the crest of Hephaestus and Void combined.
He had received it at the end of the 15th year… unopened until now.
It read:
> "Raven. You will stand at the fork. Each path you take will erase the other from existence. One leads to peace. The other, to truth. Only one remembers Ava. The other, remembers you."
He burned the scroll.
From behind, Ava approached, sensing something off. "You're planning to go through that door, aren't you?"
Raven didn't answer.
He just looked at the horizon.
Two moons now hung in the sky—one red, one white.
Both watching.
Both waiting.
Raven stood at the base of the door.
It was taller than any building left in Core Remnant-1. No hinges, no handle. Just a surface smooth as memory, cold as regret.
Ava followed close behind. She clutched a shard of Sol's old blade — the only thing left of him after the 7th year's collapse. She hadn't said a word since Raven confessed the door's arrival.
The sky trembled slightly.
Somewhere in the distance, divine lightning struck, carving a scar into the clouds. The war never really stopped. It only waited when Raven walked.
He stepped closer.
The door pulsed, like it knew.
> "One leads to peace. The other, to truth."
He turned to Ava. "If I go through… I don't know what stays. What disappears."
She stared at him. "Why go at all?"
Raven's voice was quiet. "Because I've forgotten something. Or everything."
Behind them, the ground cracked. A thin tendril of silver fire surged from below, curling through the air. It brushed Ava's arm, but didn't burn. Instead, it whispered in broken code:
> [Sync Rate Unstable — Dual Core Conflict Detected]
> [System Merge at Risk: Nihilos // Divine Core]
Ava stepped back. "You said you fixed it."
"I did. Or I thought I did."
The door shimmered.
A voice—deep, feminine, ancient—emerged from nowhere, vibrating through Raven's bones.
> "You have made too many endings. You must now choose a beginning."
It was not a system voice.
It was something older than gods. Something that even Nihilos never mentioned.
Raven's hand trembled.
He looked at Ava one last time.
> "If I lose you in one path… and myself in the other… I'd rather lose both than choose wrong."
Ava grabbed his wrist, firm. "Then don't go."
He looked at her. "You know I have to."
She didn't reply.
But she didn't let go either.
Suddenly, the door opened—without a sound, without force. Just a crack wide enough for one to walk through.
The space inside shimmered like liquid mirror.
Two paths split ahead.
One was bathed in warm light—like a summer morning.
The other was dark but filled with music—notes made of memory and loss.
Behind them, a second scroll appeared in the air, folded with obsidian thread.
> "If you pass through, something else will take your place. You cannot return the same."
Raven breathed in deeply.
"I'm not scared."
Ava didn't smile, but her voice was soft. "I am."
He took a step forward—
—and froze.
Because something was watching him from inside the path.
A reflection?
A memory?
No.
A boy.
Younger. Bruised. Alone. Eyes wide, afraid.
It was him.
The Raven who first entered the capsule.
The one who had no powers.
No system.
Just questions.
The boy mouthed something.
Raven leaned in closer—
And read the words.
> "You were supposed to save her."
The door shut behind him.