The air beyond the battlefield turned still—thick with silence that trembled with memory.
Matt climbed the obsidian stair spiraling around a half-collapsed temple ruin. His boots cracked ash that sounded like breaking glass. Every step felt heavier.
At the summit waited a shrine carved from the bones of a fallen titan. Its ribcage arched like a cathedral. Wind whispered through holes in its spine, carrying voices that weren't his.
The shrine pulsed with ancient magic.
At its center hovered a disc of starmetal—etched in runes and slowly rotating like a celestial gyroscope. With each turn, lines of starlight mapped the air, sketching a constellation engine in motion.
The Map of Rebellion.
Matt stepped forward.
The moment his fingers touched the edge, the shrine responded.
Steel petals unfolded around him—walls of alloy and memory forming a circle. Six constellations ignited: Thunder. Fire. Orc. Shadow. Frost. Void.
At the center, pulsing red, burned a single point.
Matt.
His name. His blood.
Glyphs began translating themselves in real time.
---
The Flame Reborn shall rise when the constellations awaken.
Each King of Nayron sealed in place by false gods.
To break the wheel of divine lies, he must forge anew the Circle of Ruin.
---
The dais split open, revealing a crystal core glowing like a trapped star.
System Prompt: Unlock Starpulse Memory?
Matt didn't hesitate.
He placed his palm on it.
Pain.
A flood of visions—alien and ancient. Not his own.
---
Screaming skies.
The five Imperial Paladins, gathered in judgment.
A young orc king, bound in lightning.
Firestorm cities. Skeletons riding magma beasts.
Pailance, watching from the Void—broken, silent.
Analice, smiling on a golden throne.
"The rebellion was never meant to win," she whispered.
"It was meant to burn."
---
Matt collapsed.
Breath ragged. Eyes wide.
He saw it.
The rebellion hadn't failed.
It had been engineered.
A divine bait-and-burn—to wipe Nitine blood from every realm.
And the Enternals?
Silent.
Complicit.
---
A slow clap echoed through the shrine.
Matt turned, hand to his sword.
A figure shimmered into view—silver armor laced with static distortion. Perfect. Beautiful. Cruel.
Eyes like knives.
Analice.
"Bravo, exile. You found the toy."
Matt's voice cracked like steel. "You're not real."
"No," she smiled. "But this echo holds enough of me to gut you—if you fail the test."
"What test?"
"The test of truth."
The shrine sealed. Glyph-walls rose. Her armor warped into a blade of living light and shadow.
"Let's see if your convictions bleed like your people did."
---
Combat Simulation Initiated: Duel of Memory – Class: High Paladin Echo
Matt surged—Void energy swirling with ember flare. Shadowsidian pulsed with tri-flame.
Analice struck first—faster than thought. Her blade shifted forms: scythe, whip, dagger.
Each hit forced memories into him like splinters:
His mother's scream.
His father's gasp.
Amiya, begging the Enternals for mercy.
Analice smiled with every cut. "You wear pain like a crown, exile. But can you wield it?"
Matt roared.
Void Technique Unlocked: Mindscar Flare
He lunged—blade aflame.
Not at her.
At the shrine's core: a memory anchor etched in sigils.
Strike.
The illusion shattered.
Analice screamed—not in pain, but in fury.
"This time... you win.
Next time, I'll carve that defiance from your bones."
She vanished.
---
Silence returned.
The shrine reopened.
Above the disc, the Map of Rebellion glowed brighter. One constellation had shifted—Thunder.
A path lit up. It pointed toward a fractured realm of storms and glass towers.
Stormvault.
Domain of Myuthor, King of Thunder.
Matt stared.
Then looked back.
At the broken crown on the floor.
He picked it up.
Placed it on his head.
It didn't heal.
It didn't shine.
But it pulsed.
And the Void whispered:
"Not king yet. But close."