The Hall of Echoes did not sleep. It watched.
From the walls of rippling glass and whispering silver, a thousand reflections trembled as Nameless walked deeper into its heart. Each step he took carved fissures across the mirrored floor, warping the faces that stared back — his own, Ryne's, Elara's, even Tianlong's — all whispering in tones that were not theirs.
And somewhere in that infinite reflection, a figure watched him with eyes like eclipsed suns.
Lianxu.
The Deceiver sat upon a throne that wasn't real — a seat made from the idea of reverence. His body was draped in robes woven from thought, not cloth, every thread a forgotten promise. Around him, the illusions of worshippers knelt, their heads bowed, their prayers hollow.
"How fragile," he murmured, his voice a ripple that moved through every reflection at once. "He walks through my realm with rage as his compass… and yet he calls himself free."
One of the false attendants looked up, its mouth forming a question that had no sound. Lianxu silenced it with a glance, and the illusion burst into glass dust.
"He is a wound," Lianxu continued, rising from his throne. "And wounds, if left to bleed, create truth far sharper than lies. Perhaps that is why he interests me."
He stepped forward — and the realm obeyed.
The mirrored corridors twisted, reshaping into a long hall that stretched toward Nameless. And from the reflection nearest to him, a man emerged — a tall figure draped in white, eyes calm and voice measured.
He looked nothing like a god. Just… human.
"You've walked far," the man said softly, his smile patient. "But every step has been through lies. Tell me, warrior — are you sure the ground beneath your feet is real?"
Nameless turned, blade half-raised. "You speak as if truth matters here."
"Doesn't it?" The man tilted his head. "Without truth, why swing your sword? Without certainty, what is vengeance but another illusion?"
Nameless's crimson eye narrowed. "You talk too much."
He moved — a blur of violence and intent. The sword hissed through the air, carving through the man's chest—
—only for the world to shatter.
Blood poured, but not his. The man vanished, replaced by Ryne. Her blade dropped from her hands as she looked up at him, confusion turning to pain.
"Nameless… why?"
He froze, grip faltering. The wound bled real. The warmth was real.
Then, her body melted into mirrors again.
Lianxu's voice came from everywhere, soft and venomous. "See how easily your truth bends? You are not ready to face gods, child of battle. You cannot even face yourself."
The ground split, and hundreds of reflections burst forth — each a version of Nameless. Some wept. Some screamed. Some still loved Elara. Some begged Tianlong for death.
They all turned toward him.
"You kill to remember," they whispered. "But what if there was nothing worth remembering?"
Nameless snarled and lunged into them, carving through reflections like a beast unchained. Every slash broke another illusion — and yet, each one that fell smiled as it died.
Because he was playing their game.
A single hand caught his blade mid-swing.
The man in white stood before him again — unchanged, untouched. But this time, the calm smile fractured. The skin split, revealing beneath it a body made of mirrors, swirling constellations, and smoke. His voice deepened until it shook the hall.
"Enough."
The Hall of Echoes trembled. Every illusion around them screamed and shattered into fragments. Lianxu stood in his true form now — vast, shifting, unreadable. His face was a blur of every face Nameless had ever known. His body flickered between man, serpent, and void.
"Do you finally see?" His voice was layered — a thousand voices speaking through one. "You cannot kill what never existed. You cannot wound what was never born."
Nameless dropped to one knee, his breath ragged, body shaking from the sheer weight of presence pressing against him. His blade trembled, its sigil flickering weakly.
For the first time since his rebirth, he felt small.
Lianxu leaned closer, eyes glimmering like cold stars. "You've learned to cut through lies, Nameless. But a lie that knows it's a lie… that is beyond your reach."
Nameless forced himself up, defiance flickering like a dying flame. "Then I'll reach higher."
That earned him a faint chuckle. "Good. Defiance is the seed of strength."
The god straightened, his vast silhouette dissolving into the mirrored sky. "But I do not need you broken yet. The truth you seek — the one Elara died for — will destroy you before I ever can. So, go."
The mirrors around them twisted, forming pathways, each one showing glimpses of impossible worlds — battles, memories, futures.
Lianxu's voice echoed as he began to fade.
"Walk through whatever fantasy you desire. Break them, love them, drown in them — until you learn what your reflection truly means. Then, when you are something greater than truth itself… come find me again."
Nameless clenched his jaw, his eye burning with crimson light. "And when I do—"
Lianxu's voice whispered close to his ear, though the god was already gone.
"Then I will finally kill you… as an equal."
The Hall fell silent again, leaving Nameless standing amid shattered mirrors and bleeding stars — the echo of divine laughter fading into eternity.