{ethereal orb}
As Aki, now the Divine Incarnation, stood in his shattered prison, his body radiating a soft, golden light, a new vision pierced his pure white eyes. A shimmering, ethereal white orb materialized before him, not with a sound, but with a silent, heart-wrenching image. It showed Earth, his home, engulfed in shadow. Monstrous forms, born of the Architect's malicious will, poured from every tear in the sky, from every crack in the ravaged land. They were not just attacking; they were systematically consuming, polluting, and twisting every living thing. Cities burned, oceans turned black, and the screams of humanity echoed through the vision. Every continent, every corner of the world, was under siege. The Architect's victory over the serene god was not merely a conquest; it was the prelude to an apocalypse.
A wave of dizzying pain washed over Aki, a primal shock that shook his newly merged being. The Architect's presence, the sheer scale of his global destruction, was a psychic blow. He stumbled, his golden light flickering, his head swimming with the agony of a world in torment. But then, Lyra's essence, strong and resolute within him, steadied him.
"Aki, you are the world's hope. You are its shield. You must not falter now." Her voice, a chorus of timeless wisdom and fierce love, steeled his resolve. He pushed past the dizziness, the weakness, and the overwhelming despair.
He began to walk. His steps were slow at first, the rhythmic beat of a heart that now held the weight of a universe. He reached the heavy, ornate door of his cell, its dark metal pulsing with the Architect's corrupting power. He didn't touch it with his hands. Instead, he simply focused his pure white eyes on it. A wave of golden light pulsed from him, washing over the door. The dark metal shrieked, hissed, and then disintegrated into fine, black dust, revealing the oppressive gloom of the palace corridor.
Shadow guards materialized instantly. They were not living beings, but constructs of pure, solidified darkness, armed with blades of sharpened void. They moved with silent, deadly precision, their forms twisting and reforming with every malicious thought from the Architect. There were dozens of them, blocking his path.
Aki did not hesitate. He did not scream, or rage, or even raise his voice. He simply extended his hands, palms open. A wave of pure, golden energy erupted from him, not a destructive blast, but a cleansing tide. It washed over the shadow guards. Their forms, unable to withstand the absolute purity of the Divine Incarnation, shrieked a silent, agony-filled scream. Their shadowy bodies did not explode or burn; they simply unraveled, dissolved into nothingness, leaving behind only faint wisps of smoke that immediately dissipated in the oppressive air of Acheron. He walked through their evaporating forms, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
He moved through the labyrinthine corridors of the dark palace, his pure light cutting through the oppressive gloom. He was not searching blindly. Lyra's ancient memories, fused with his own, guided him. She knew this palace, not from having lived in it, but from sensing the Architect's malicious thoughts for millennia. She led him through the twisting, hateful architecture, past chambers filled with petrified screams and altars of sacrificed light. He moved with a quiet, terrifying purpose. He was no longer just a boy. He was a force of nature, a silent, unstoppable tide of purity in a sea of corruption.
His destination was clear: the very heart of the palace, where the Architect's throne room lay. He knew, with an instinct born of Lyra's divine knowledge, that his serene god's inert body was hidden there, not merely imprisoned, but used as a twisted source of power for the Architect's dominion. He had to reach it. He had to sever that connection. He had to save his world, and he had to save the last pure god. His march was silent, but it carried the weight of a thousand worlds.