The Phantom Knight charged—a monolith of steel and shadow.
Its blade cleaved the air like thunder ripped from the lungs of a dying god.
Each step shattered obsidian beneath its feet, sending shockwaves through the whispering tomb like the heartbeat of a buried war deity. Voidshadow burst from its joints—staining the air in flickers of unreality. Time warped. Gravity recoiled.
Matt didn't think.
He moved.
Pure instinct.
He ducked—barely avoiding the downswing. The sheer pressure hurled him backward. The stone floor exploded behind him. Jagged shards sliced his shoulder as he slammed into a pillar.
Rolled. Rose. Blade drawn.
The Shadowsidian Blade pulsed—alive. Cold. Furious.
No longer a weapon.
A will.
Matt's eyes glowed—not just with Voidlight, but red lightning crackled beneath ash-pale skin.
The Whisper Rift hadn't just returned memory.
It rewired his soul.
"Reflexes from another lifetime…"
The blade thrummed.
Void Technique: Blink Slash
Time hiccuped.
Matt vanished.
He reappeared mid-strike behind the Knight, carving a diagonal arc across its molten spine. Shadowfire erupted—black and red.
The Knight staggered.
It did not fall.
It turned.
Fast.
Its greatblade ignited—not with flame, but Furnacefire.
The air screamed. Symbols scorched into the walls from sheer heat.
Matt's blood recoiled.
He remembered this fire.
Thermuz.
The blade came down like a god's judgment.
He couldn't dodge.
Impact.
Matt flew across the chamber, slammed into obsidian. Cracks spiderwebbed across the wall. Pain exploded in his ribs. Blood spilled from his mouth.
One knee down. Breathing ragged.
But he didn't fall.
Beneath the agony—
Rage. Ancient. Sacred.
"Do you remember now?" the Knight growled. Its voice echoed with centuries.
"Do you remember how they burned?"
Matt steadied himself.
Yes.
He remembered the molten sky. The screams.
His mother's scarred hands sealing him beneath the earth.
His father's body aflame—silver fire against the Paladins.
Thermuz, laughing. Burning everything.
He stood.
His voice was not just his own.
It echoed—like past lives speaking in chorus.
"I remember."
The blade flared—spitting Void sparks and bloodfire.
Void Technique: Rift Counter
The Knight charged again, blade descending like divine sentence.
Matt didn't flinch.
He vanished.
No light. No sound.
Just absence.
Then—impact.
He reappeared inside the Knight's guard—too close for the greatblade.
He drove his sword through the molten core.
The Knight convulsed.
Cracks spidered across its armor like shattered glass.
Then—implosion.
A Void pulse detonated.
Air collapsed.
The floor caved inward.
Ash, stone, and ghostlight spiraled into a vortex.
And in the crater—
Matt knelt. Burned. Bleeding.
Alive.
His palms pressed to the stone.
It glowed—glyphs flickering like starlight.
Ancient script.
Nitrine. Words of exile. Words of power.
They formed a map—not just to Nyuga, but to every sealed truth the gods buried in fear.
Memory Fragment Unlocked: Realm Gate – Nyuga Ruins
Ash drifted like snow.
A funnel of black wind rose from the Knight's remains.
A whisper:
"The Nayron Kings... awaken..."
Matt stood.
Heart hammering.
The Shadowsidian Blade vibrated in his grip, like it sensed what was next.
He turned to the altar—fractured and half-swallowed by ruin.
Behind it, the wall crumbled, revealing a hidden gateway.
Obsidian and crystal—runes flowing like liquid fire.
The air pulsed. Not just with magic.
With destiny.
Stone itself whispered—
Not from the Void.
Not from gods.
From memory.
This wasn't a door to a new place.
It was a door back to who he was.
"Nyuga," he whispered.
"My birthplace. The one place the gods wanted to erase."
He stepped forward.
The runes answered.
The portal opened.
Beyond it: flame-colored skies. Shattered towers. Truth.
Not redemption.
Reclamation.
"No more running. No more forgetting."
Matt stepped through.
Behind him: silence.
Ahead:
War.
He didn't carry fear.
He carried memory.
He carried vengeance.
He carried a blade once buried—
And now drawn.