Ash drifted like snow from a dying heaven.
Erik stepped cautiously across the broken stones, his boots crushing bones of long-forgotten idols. Once, this place had echoed with divine songs. Now it was silent. The only sound was the soft crunch beneath his feet… and the voice waiting for him.
"You remember, don't you?" the First Seer said, without turning.
Erik gripped the silver-black coin tighter. Veyrion's weight pulled at his back like a chain forged from destiny itself.
"I remember enough," he said.
She turned slowly.
Her presence was unchanged from the vision—the same flowing white hair, the same tear-streaked golden eyes, the same smile that felt equal parts sorrow and serenity.
And yet… she looked older now. Not in appearance, but in being. As though time had peeled away the layers of her soul and left only the truth.
"I waited for this moment," she said. "A thousand years, through lifetimes, through timelines that never happened. I saw every version of you. The tyrant. The martyr. The god. The ghost."
Erik approached carefully. "And which one am I now?"
She tilted her head.
"The one who chose to know. That makes you the most dangerous."
His pulse quickened.
"You were there," he said. "Back then. When the First Realm fell."
"Yes."
"You begged me to reset everything."
"I did."
"And I said no."
She nodded. "You said we should remember, even if it broke us. You believed pain could purify."
He looked around—at the ruins, the ash, the fallen sky.
"Seems like we were both wrong."
The Seer smiled sadly. "Maybe. But you came back anyway."
He stepped closer. "Why? Why did you call me here? Why now?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Because the Vault is unlocked."
He felt it. Deep in his bones. The ripple.
"You knew it would happen."
"I saw thousands of futures. In almost all of them, you were either dead… or something worse." Her gaze met his, unwavering. "But this one—this moment—was always a blur. A space even I couldn't predict."
Erik frowned. "Then what is it?"
She took a breath. "A choice. But not yours alone."
From the ruins behind her, they came.
Not enemies.
Versions.
Of him.
Erik turned and felt his throat tighten.
Dozens of them.
Some armored in godsteel, faces hidden behind masks of judgment. Some cloaked in rags, with eyes that burned with madness. One held a Veyrion made of pure shadow. Another had no blade, only fire for hands.
Each version stepped forward from their own reality.
Each was Erik.
Each had made a different choice.
"I summoned them," the Seer said softly. "Fragments of what you might become… what you could still become."
He stepped back.
"This is insane."
"No," she replied. "This is truth. You are a Key—but every key has many uses. And now, all your possible selves stand before you."
One of them stepped forward—a version clad in gleaming silver armor, eyes radiant, voice calm.
"I rewrote fate," he said. "Burned the gods and replaced the system with my own."
Another, with bloodstained robes and hollow cheeks, snarled. "I let it all rot. The world deserved to end."
A third—dressed like a wanderer—spoke softly. "I chose peace. I walked away. Let the realm burn behind me."
They all stared at Erik.
Waiting.
"You don't need to fight them," the Seer said. "But you do need to decide—who are you going to be?"
Erik looked at the coin in his hand.
Two sides.
Two outcomes.
But now… a thousand reflections of himself.
His voice shook. "What if I choose none of them?"
The Seer's eyes glowed.
"Then you become the truth that was never written."
He took a long breath.
Closed his eyes.
And stepped forward.
—
The ground vanished beneath him.
He stood in a place outside time, where only possibility existed.
And within that place—
A throne waited.
Not of gold or stone.
But of questions.
Words hovered above it:
"The One Who Shapes."
Erik approached.
One by one, the other Eriks faded.
Not in defeat.But in acceptance.
He sat.
And as he did, the fifth glyph on his chest ignited.
The coin in his hand melted into light.
And Veyrion—ancient and silent—bowed in reverence.
The Seer appeared beside him once more.
"Now," she said, "you are not the Key."
He looked at her.
"Then what am I?"
She smiled.
"You are the Lockbreaker."
And far, far away—
In the celestial halls of the Architects,Something woke up screaming.
Because for the first time in countless ages…
Someone had sat upon the Throne of Unwritten Truth.
And it was him.