The mirror lay shattered.
Lucius stood motionless in the dim chamber, his reflection broken into dozens of fragments that blinked like stars in the dark. Each shard held a different version of himself—eyes burning, screaming, laughing, dying. The silence that followed the mirror's shatter was more unsettling than its voice.
Now the Abyss sees you, it had whispered.
But more than that—Lucius felt seen. Not just by the mirror or whatever force stirred in the deep, but by something else. A higher judgment, ancient and bitter.
The echo of divinity, twisted.
He staggered back, the Abyssal Fang gauntlet twitching on his right arm. Lines of red fire now pulsed up his shoulder and neck, just beneath the skin, like veins of molten ore spreading outward from his soul.
It wasn't pain he felt. It was resonance.
As if the world itself had called his name and was now waiting for him to answer.
Lucius clenched his fist. "I am not your puppet."
But the chamber had no reply. Only the windless, oppressive quiet of stone and shadow.
Still, something had changed. The mirror's breaking had not gone unnoticed.
Far above, the Seer's Basin exploded.
Elder Nael stumbled back, shielding his face as shards of silver mist erupted from the artifact like steam from a bursting volcano. Screams echoed through the chamber as disciples rushed to contain the backlash of spiritual energy.
When the light faded, the Basin was inert. Cracked. Dead.
Elder Vaelin gripped her staff, face ashen. "He broke the Mirror of Judgment."
"No," Nael said grimly. "The Mirror revealed him… and could not bear what it saw."
Silence followed. Then Elder Myros, the most ancient of them all, spoke with a voice like paper scraping bone.
"It is as the Heaven Destroyer once did. When he awakened, the stars trembled."
Vaelin's jaw tightened. "Do not speak that name in this temple."
"Why not?" Myros said. "History already repeats. The boy has the Flame. The Fang. And now, the Echo."
Nael nodded slowly. "The Heaven Destroyer's Echo... it's begun to awaken within him."
"And so too," Myros added, "will awaken *those who remember the first."
Lucius returned to the upper Vault slowly, his legs heavy. Meditation no longer soothed him. His thoughts were too loud, too splintered. Even the Heavenly Flow forms trembled beneath his aura. His movements had become jagged, incomplete. Not due to weakness—but due to conflict.
The fire within him burned too brightly now. It was growing… greedy.
The Fang whispered louder, offering answers. Promising peace through annihilation. Lucius didn't always shut it out.
He collapsed beside a still pool of mineral water fed by veins in the rock. His reflection stared back—eyes no longer just golden, but ringed with crimson.
He cupped water in his palm. It boiled before it reached his lips.
He stared at his hand, trembling. "Is this who I am now?"
A breeze stirred in the windless vault. But it wasn't natural.
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward—silent, lean, cloaked in blue and gray. A blindfold covered their eyes, but they moved as if they could see everything.
Lucius stood quickly, assuming a stance.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The figure bowed faintly. "A messenger. From the Echo."
Lucius frowned. "The what?"
"The Echo," the figure said, stepping closer. "Of the one who came before you. The one who broke the heavens."
Lucius's heart skipped. "You mean… the Heaven Destroyer."
The figure nodded. "He left no name. Only devastation. But fragments of his soul remain, scattered across the spirit world. You've begun to resonate with one."
Lucius's mouth went dry. "Why now?"
"Because you are walking the same path," the figure said. "And the Echo does not sleep forever."
Lucius didn't speak. He could feel it—somehow this was true. He had touched something ancient in that mirror. Something the first bearer of the Heavenly Martial Body had left behind. But it hadn't been just a memory.
It was a warning.
Or an invitation.
The figure extended their hand. "Come. There is more to see."
Lucius hesitated, then took it.
The world twisted.
He stood in a burning sky.
Flames poured down like rain. Stars bled light. The world below was shattered glass—oceans carved into canyons, continents broken like pottery.
And in the center of it all, a lone man.
Barefoot. Clothed in blackened armor fused to his body. His hair long and silver. His eyes—twin cores of white fire.
He was beautiful. Terrifying.
The Heaven Destroyer.
Lucius tried to speak, but the echo was already moving.
With each step, the earth shook. Mountains crumbled. Spirits screamed.
Then the echo turned—and looked directly at Lucius.
"You are late," it said, voice like thunder in a vacuum.
Lucius flinched. "I… what are you?"
"I am the part that refused to fade," the echo said. "When my body was broken. When my soul was scattered. When the stars screamed for my end—I remained."
Lucius swallowed. "Why me?"
The echo walked toward him. "Because you carry the same burden. The same hunger. The same choice."
Lucius felt his knees weakening. "What choice?"
"To consume… or to create."
The echo extended a hand. "I destroyed the heavens because they demanded I kneel. I chose freedom. But it cost everything. My world. My name. My reason."
Lucius could barely breathe. "I don't want that."
"Then forge something new," the echo said. "Or die trying."
The vision broke like glass.
Lucius collapsed to the stone floor of the Vault, gasping, soaked in sweat. The cloaked figure was gone. But something had changed again.
The gauntlet now hummed constantly. Its crimson veins had formed a faint pattern—sigils of unknown origin—across his shoulder and collarbone. He could feel the Echo's memory within him. A sliver of its will.
And with it… knowledge.
New techniques. Ancient stances. Forbidden movements meant to burn celestial bodies from the sky.
He stood slowly.
And began to practice.
Each motion left streaks of flame across the walls. His body moved on its own, guided by memory not his own. He danced with destruction, cutting through the air with hands like meteors.
And for the first time since awakening… he smiled.
Not from joy.
But clarity.
The council watched from a new scrying circle, hastily crafted after the Basin's destruction.
Rengard was among them now, jaw tight, fists clenched.
"He's synchronizing with the Heaven Destroyer's style," Nael said, half in awe. "This shouldn't be possible."
Vaelin's voice was a hiss. "You said the Vault would train him. Not awaken a weapon of the old world."
"He hasn't fallen," Rengard snapped. "He's resisting it. Shaping it."
"But for how long?" Vaelin growled. "Every time the Echo awakens, death follows. Cities vanish. Realms collapse. We are dancing on the edge of the same ruin."
"Unless," Nael said quietly, "he's the one who can finish what the first never could."
"Don't be a fool," she spat. "The first sought freedom. What does this boy seek?"
Rengard didn't answer. He wasn't sure Lucius knew either.
Outside the temple, across the ocean of mist, an ancient fortress rumbled.
Its gates opened for the first time in a thousand years.
From its depths rose a man clad in obsidian robes, his face covered by a porcelain mask shaped like a phoenix.
He turned toward the west.
Toward the Verdant Ash Temple.
And whispered, "The Echo sings again."
Behind him, dozens of shadows stirred—cultivators, warlocks, forgotten things.
The masked man raised his hand.
"Let the world remember the name Heaven Destroyer once more."
Lucius meditated as the fire within him settled into a strange stillness.
It no longer roared. It listened.
In his mind, the echo's final words lingered:
"To consume… or to create."
He didn't know yet what he would become. But he knew this:
He would not be used.
Not by the Fang.
Not by the Council.
Not even by the Echo.
He stood. Flames rising around him.
The Vault shook again—but this time, it bowed.
Lucius had heard the Heaven Destroyer's Echo.
And now, the heavens would hear his.
And yet, even as his resolve hardened, a voice from deep within whispered doubts. What if you're wrong? What if the fire cannot be contained? He stared down at the Abyssal Fang, now dormant, its runes pulsing gently like a sleeping heart. It did not threaten him anymore—but it waited. Always waiting.
Lucius breathed slowly. "I am not your successor. I am not your mistake. I am not your vessel."
He opened his eyes, golden light spilling into the shadows.
"I am Lucius."
High above, storm clouds gathered far beyond the temple walls. And somewhere beneath the earth… something ancient smiled.
[End of Chapter 9]