Orphyn bled again. But this time, the blood wasn't red.
A thick black liquid oozed from his right arm, pooling on the marble floor, forming repeating numerals:
**7... 7... 7...**
Lyx caught her breath sharply, her golden eyes widening as she stumbled back. "This isn't blood... It's the Black Ink of the Archive."
Orphyn tried to smudge the numbers with his boot, but they seared into the marble as if carved centuries ago. "What does this mean?"
Before Lyx could answer, one of the high shelves in the library burst open. A massive book, bound in human skin, crashed down. It fell open on its own to the seventh page, revealing an illustration of Orphyn's face—but with only **one eye**.
The dark twin materialized behind them, laughing—a sound like shattering glass. "At last... The countdown has begun."
The little girl, who had been playing with her black tears, suddenly froze. "Don't look at the seventh page!" she screamed—but it was too late.
Orphyn's eyelids grew heavy. When he fought to keep them open, he saw something that turned his bones to ice:
The drawing in the book was no longer his face.
It was now **the face of the Nameless One**, and its single eye tracked Orphyn's movements slowly.
The book began to tremble, its pages crumbling to ash one by one. With each vanished page, Orphyn felt a piece of his memory **erased**.
The numbers on the floor flickered, shifting:
**7... 6... 5...**
Lyx gripped his arm. "This isn't a countdown... It's how many days he has left to finish writing!"
Then—a sound.
The grating scrape of an eraser on paper, echoing from **inside** the library walls.
**4... 3... 2...**
Orphyn understood the horrifying truth:
The seventh number was never a warning.
It was **his signature**.
**1...**
All light vanished.
In the suffocating dark, Orphyn opened his eyes to find himself standing before a **black mirror**.
The only reflection staring back was a translucent hand clutching an eraser—
—slowly wiping his image away.