The void was no longer silent.
Every breath Vemy took rippled outward, the Prismarine Fire bending the air like warped glass. Each flicker of its light painted the chamber in shifting colors — sapphire, silver, violet — alive in a way no flame should ever be.
Akiar stood across from him, blade drawn, the storm around his body howling without sound. His aura pressed down like gravity, a storm that sought to crush the stars themselves. And yet… it did not smother Vemy.
It resisted him.
"I should strike you down where you stand," Akiar said at last, his voice sharp enough to cut through the void. His gaze never wavered, though there was something in it — not just fury, but restraint. "You tampered with the Thirteenth Ring, Vemy. You've taken what should not even exist."
The Prismarine Fire flared in answer, coiling tighter around Vemy's arms. His fists trembled, but not with fear.
"Taken?" Vemy's lips curved into a bitter smile. "No… I forged it. You cling to balance, to rules written before either of us were born. But I refuse to be a pawn to a system that devours its Guardians."
The Throne shadows stirred above, their whispers like knives against the soul.
"Defiance… madness…"
"He bends the forbidden into shape…"
"Yet he does not break."
Akiar's blade twitched, lightning crawling along its edge like veins of molten silver. He took a single step forward — and the void quaked beneath his heel.
Vemy felt it then. Not just the pressure of his rival's aura, but the sorrow buried beneath it. Akiar wasn't only a mirror. He was something else. A piece of the puzzle that even the Thrones had failed to bind.
For a heartbeat, Vemy hesitated.
"Tell me, Akiar…" His voice dropped, almost a growl. "What are you really protecting? Balance? Or the chains that bind you too?"
Akiar's eyes narrowed. For the first time, his composure cracked. The storm faltered, his grip tightening on his blade until sparks snapped against his gauntlet.
"I am protecting what remains," he spat. "If your Prismarine Flame spreads, it won't just break the cycle — it will consume everything. The Rings. The Thrones. This world. You."
The words struck harder than any blow. Vemy's chest tightened, the fire within him surging wildly, as if enraged at the thought of restraint. He pressed his palm against it, forcing the Prismarine blaze to obey.
Obey him.
And for a moment, it did.
But only for a moment.
A crack appeared in the void beneath his feet, spreading like a spiderweb of light. From it, something stirred. Something ancient. Something watching.
The Thrones went silent.
Akiar froze mid-step. His storm recoiled as if even it feared what had awakened.
And Vemy… Vemy felt it first. A gaze, sharp as a blade and endless as eternity, digging straight into his soul.
The Prismarine Fire shuddered.
A whisper slid through the chamber.
Not from the Thrones. Not from Akiar.
From beneath the void itself.
"At last… another who dares to claim me."
The crack widened. Indigo and silver fire bled upward, swallowing the air.
Vemy staggered, his fists burning brighter, the Prismarine answering with violence. He clenched his teeth.
Akiar's eyes widened, blade snapping up defensively.
"Vemy—what did you awaken?!"
Vemy's pulse thundered in his ears. He could not answer. He could only feel it—
the presence rising from the fracture.
Not a Throne.
Not a Guardian.
Something far older.
The void screamed as the fissure split open—
—and from the abyss below, a hand of living flame began to rise.