Darkness swallowed him whole.
No light. No sound. Only the cold wind spiraling downward, dragging Matt through a void deeper than death. It wasn't a fall—it was a descent. Like being pulled into the soul of the world. Whispers rode the air, fractured and cruel, echoes of forgotten gods screaming in tongues not meant for man.
Then—
Impact.
Stone cracked beneath him like a corpse's spine. Dust exploded outward. Matt gasped, lungs burning. Blood smeared his lip. His whole body screamed. Bones cracked in protest, but didn't break. He blinked through the swirling dust. His muscles ached like they'd aged centuries in seconds.
The Shadowsidian Blade pulsed beside him—slow, alive. Its red glow streaked the floor, revealing where he had landed.
A chamber.
A tomb.
Not for the dead.
For the erased.
Obsidian walls loomed in every direction, carved with jagged glyphs and murals: winged titans falling from broken heavens, chained gods howling into voidlight. Under the sword's glow, the carvings seemed to shift—like they remembered pain.
These weren't memorials.
They were warnings.
Matt stood, breath fogging in the cold air. Every inch of the chamber felt dense, heavy with forgotten power. The scent of ash and old judgment thickened as he stepped forward. His foot scraped a rune—it flared crimson.
The chamber didn't resist.
It welcomed him.
Each step brought whispers—not sound, but presence.
"You've walked here before. You just forgot."
He looked to the walls.
One showed him.
Cloaked in gold. Blade raised. Crowned in fire.
But the face was obscured. Deliberately.
At the far end stood a pedestal: black stone shaped like a serpent devouring its own tail. Resting atop it—a mask. Cracked obsidian, veined with light, pulsing with the same rhythm as the blade.
It felt alive.
He reached out, touched it—
> VOID SIGIL RESONANCE: DETECTED.
Cold fire surged through him.
His body arched.
And he screamed.
---
The Memory Flood
The vision hit like a sword through the mind.
A burning sky. Golden armor. Legions. Matt stood atop shattered marble, blade raised, armies behind him.
Below, gods fell.
Flames raged across the heavens. Divine blood soaked the earth. Time bent around the battle. Names thundered across realms: Nitrine, Kalzeir, Vaelra. War cried louder than creation.
Then—
Betrayal.
A blade tore through his spine.
He gasped. Choked.
Behind him—five figures. Celestial armor. Faces cold. Remorseless.
Imperial Paladins.
Monshin led them. His voice a verdict:
"You were too human."
Matt bled. "We bled together!" he shouted. "You swore before the flame!"
Monshin's voice didn't waver:
"And now I seal you by it."
Far off—a scream. Amiya's.
White light surged. Then—
Silence.
Darkness claimed him.
---
Matt collapsed to his knees. Smoke drifted from his skin like burnt memory. The chamber pulsed.
> VOID MILESTONE UNLOCKED: WHISPER RIFT.
Something inside him broke.
Something else slithered in.
A presence. Old. Infinite. Familiar.
The Void spoke:
"Now you remember. Now you rise."
---
The Tomb Opens Wider
The ground beneath his feet quaked. A secret stairway twisted downward, revealing a maze of winding paths—an underground labyrinth of god-fall relics. The walls wept black liquid, and faded banners hung in pieces from shattered statues of winged warriors.
Matt moved deeper, blade ready.
His breath was a warning. His heartbeat a war drum.
Ahead—whispers rose.
Not the Void. Not the chamber.
Her.
Amiya's voice.
"This tomb was built to hold what they could not kill. You, Matt. Not your body—your truth."
A shimmer formed in front of him. Her silhouette—ghostlike, radiant, barely stitched into the world.
"They feared the memory of you more than your blade. You were not meant to wake yet."
He stepped forward. "Why now?"
"Because your soul cracked wide enough for me to find you. But I can't stay."
Her form flickered violently.
"Below, they've buried a piece of your origin. The mask was only the first seal. If you reach the sigil core, your memory won't just return—it will unmake what they built in your place."
She touched his chest—his heart flared with Ashlight.
"Don't trust the next face you see."
She vanished.
---
The Phantom Knight Arrives
A roar split the air.
The tunnel ahead melted open—heat and darkness colliding. A figure emerged, massive and bent, helmet fused to bone, one eye glowing red, the other… human, and crying black tears.
> TIER II: PHANTOM KNIGHT
Its greatblade dragged behind it, screaming sparks across the obsidian.
Its voice—a garbled rasp, fused with broken hymns:
"You were not supposed to wake… Not again."
Matt didn't blink. The Shadowsidian Blade ignited.
Red lightning laced up the edge. The chamber warped—its runes pulsing, twisting into a combat sigil. Ancient combat systems reactivated. Seals cracked.
> VOID SYNC: 40%
> AURA BLEED DETECTED
> TIER MATCH… INCONCLUSIVE
The Phantom Knight charged.
Matt dodged low—barely. Its blade carved the wall behind him, pulverizing ancient sigils. Shards of divine glass sprayed the room.
Matt's counterstrike met air. The Knight phased—half-solid, like a memory refusing to fully exist.
"You're still broken," it hissed. "Still half-real. Still bleeding from sins you don't remember."
Matt narrowed his eyes.
"And you're stalling for someone."
He leapt back as the Knight launched a pulse of anti-magic flame. Runes shattered. The pedestal behind Matt exploded.
Matt grinned, breath heavy. "I don't need to remember everything—just enough to kill you."
And he lunged.
---
The Fight
The battle tore through the chamber. Each blow rewrote gravity. Time staggered. Blood met blade, void met memory. Matt fought like a ghost remembering how to be alive.
The Knight's mask cracked. Beneath it—a glimpse of something familiar.
"They made me from your sins," it wept. "They made me to replace you."
Matt stabbed it through the chest.
"Then they made you weak."
---
The Knight exploded into black static.
Silence.
Dust fell.
The tomb no longer whispered.
It chanted.
Ritual glyphs lit the stairs. A deeper door opened below—one marked with Nyuga's sigil.
Matt wiped blood from his jaw.
"Not just a tomb." "A vault."
He stepped forward.
The Void did not follow. It led.
And Matt followed his own past into the dark.