The air was thicker than ever.
Akihiko pushed the red door hard. It didn't squeak, it didn't break, it didn't disintegrate: it simply disappeared. The threshold swallowed him as if reality had ripped open just to allow him to pass. On the other side, a dark hallway stretched like an intestinal tunnel, with damp brick walls and flashing lights embedded in the ceiling.
Each step echoed with multiple echoes, as if there were other versions of him walking side by side in parallel universes. Fragments of mirrors floated in the air, hanging from nothing, reflecting images that didn't exist: Akihiko dead, Akihiko as a child, Akihiko old and eyeless. One image, however, kept repeating itself: him, with his back turned, wearing a red cape, surrounded by flames.
A voice sounded silent, like a vibration in his chest: "This is the Threshold of Silent Blood. Here, truths aren't shouted. They're bled."
The Delta File: Blood and Record
The corridor led to a gigantic room, covered in documents hanging like paper cobwebs. The light was ashen, as if the sun had never been seen. In the center, a figure waited: an old man in a worn lab coat, his face covered by a dirty surgical veil.
—You've arrived, Akihiko. Not before. Not after. Just when you should have. His voice was calm, almost fatherly.
On the tables were VHS recordings, patient records, classified files with broken seals, and old maps of the City of Forgetfulness. The most terrifying were the files with her name on them: dating back to the age of five. One in particular was stained with dried blood.
—What's all this?
—The archive where masks melt. Your mother tried. Your father prevented it. You, on the other hand, were born for this place.
Akihiko flipped through one of the reports. It showed footage of him being injected with substances as a child. Another report, in Russian, spoke of a "Kintsugi Project." And another, more recent, mentioned a latent genetic anomaly… related to Ezra.
"What is my relationship with him?" Akihiko asked, his voice cracking.
The old man simply pointed to a video.
The Lost Recording
The screen projected a white room. In it, Ezra—younger, more human—sat in front of a camera.
—I dreamed it. Over and over again. The fire. The boy with the empty eyes. All of this... it's already happened. And it's going to happen again.
From the back of the room, a man appeared: Akihiko's father. He looked tired, aged with guilt.
"Can you see it too, Akihiko?" Past Ezra asked, looking into the camera. "Because you were there."
The recording was distorted. Screams. Shattering glass. The end.
Akihiko stepped back.
—What does this mean?
"It means," the old man said, "that your role was never to stop him. It was to replace him."
Meanwhile: The Child Witness
Isabella walked through a neighborhood of ruined buildings. There, in an abandoned church converted into a refuge for echoes, she found the child. His eyes were completely white. A broken cross in his hands.
—You were at Ezra's birth.
—Not in his birth. In his surrender.
-That?
—Ezra wasn't born. He was given. Like you. Like Kael.
Isabella froze.
—Us too?
—Yes. Different programs. Different hopes. One origin.
The boy reached out and gave her a black glass flower.
—Give it to Akihiko. And tell him... the tree has already started crying.
Kael: Interference
Elsewhere in the city, Kael found a still-functional resistance communications console. While analyzing data on Ezra's movements, he stumbled upon something else. A pattern of attacks. A hidden code.
These weren't random attacks. Ezra was targeting specific locations with neural mapping technology.
—He's... collecting memories.
Before he could finish his sentence, the screen went black. And a figure identical to him appeared in front of the console. But without eyes.
—Do you recognize yourself, Kael? I'm your mistake.
The Threshold Closes
Akihiko left the Archives. The walls began to close like a mechanical trap. The old man didn't try to flee. He just stood there smiling.
—Thanks for remembering, Akihiko.
At the last moment, Akihiko launched himself over the threshold. He fell to his knees in front of Isabella and Kael.
She handed him the glass flower.
—He said the tree is crying.
"So it's already started," Akihiko murmured. "It can't be stopped now."
Behind them, the entire structure collapsed without a single sound.
Last scene: The Tree of Eden
In a sealed area of the City of Oblivion, dark roots began to spread. Underground, a creature opened its eyes for the first time. It had no face, but it did have a voice.
—Sora Akihiko... we are not so different anymore.