The door creaked open.
Its hinges did not moan—they screamed. Behind Hiragi, the Spiral trembled. Before him, the corridor stretched out like a throat, pulsating with a heartbeat not his own. The red walls were alive, layered with sinew and scripture—each glyph spelling out something he wasn't meant to read.
But he read them anyway.
You are the sin of the soul that denied its name.
A whisper? Or his own mind cracking under the pressure? Hiragi couldn't tell. The deeper he stepped into the corridor, the louder the silence became. Footsteps vanished into the red carpet, absorbed by the floor like blood into flesh.
Then—
"Welcome, Vessel."
The voice slithered across his skin. A figure stepped out from the wall itself—formed from melted eyes and torn smiles. Its body wore a mask, but the mask had no face.
"I am the Door-Keeper," it said.
Hiragi narrowed his eyes. "You're not real."
"I am as real as the soul you abandoned."
The Door-Keeper raised a hand. The hallway twisted behind Hiragi, the way dreams twist before you wake up. A mirror dropped from the ceiling with a shatterless thunk. It didn't show Hiragi's reflection—it showed hundreds of them.
Each one was almost him.
One had killed Nolan in Eden. Another had let Akane die. A third had accepted the Architect's gift and become a god. All wrong.
"All of these are versions you left behind," the Door-Keeper said. "They want their turn. Will you deny them again?"
Hiragi clenched his fist. Void rippled down his arm.
"No. I'll end them."
The Door-Keeper grinned. "Then choose. Only one soul walks through the next door. The rest... remain."
The mirrors cracked.
Every reflection stepped out.
A battlefield of Hiragis began.