The Door's realm quaked. Fire and storm clashed in endless waves, ripping the mirrored plains apart.
Two futures advanced.Two truths.Two betrayals of self.
Crowned Jinryu walked with the Prime Core burning in his chest, each step rewriting the ground into a throne room of ash. His smile was not cruel — it was inevitable.
Silent Maeryn descended from her marble throne, her blade whispering in voices of wind and grief. She moved like judgment, every strike inevitable, every breath a decree.
The First Blow
Jinryu raised Haeryun. His false self's flame struck it, and the blade screamed — not metal against fire, but word against word.
The crowned version laughed. "Do you feel it? This sword of yours is only a fragment. With the Prime Core, you could forge new truth."
Each swing wasn't an attack. It was an offer.
Jinryu faltered as visions spilled into him — worlds where famine ended, where death was undone, where no one he loved ever left.
His hand shook.
Was it so wrong… to want this?
The Silent Blade
Maeryn battled herself in the marble hall. Steel clashed — her own sword against her throne-self's silence blade.
Every strike pushed Maeryn back. Every cut stole her voice, her will.
The false Maeryn's expression never changed. "This is the peace you want, isn't it? A world without chaos. Without Vael. Without Jinryu."
Her words cut deeper than her blade.
"No!" Maeryn shouted, though her voice cracked. "That's not peace!"
The throne-self tilted her head. "Then why did you imagine me at all?"
The Breaking Point
Jinryu dropped to one knee, the crowned self towering over him.
"Choose, Jinryu. If you reject me, you reject salvation itself."
The firestorm roared, showing him a vision — Arashi alive again, smiling. A world without Scarlands. A Core unbroken.
Jinryu's heart splintered. "Arashi…"
The crowned self extended his hand. "Say it. Say the word. Una. Unite the Cores. Become what Vael failed to be."
Haeryun pulsed. Not with power — with defiance.
Jinryu clenched his jaw. "…No. I don't want a world where choice is burned away."
The crown-self's smile faltered. "Then you choose weakness."
"Maybe," Jinryu whispered, standing. "But it'll be my weakness."
And with a roar, he drove Haeryun through the false self's chest. Fire shattered, raining ash and light.
The Storm Unmade
Maeryn fell, her sword trembling. The throne-self's silence blade was pressed to her throat.
"Peace requires sacrifice," the cold voice said. "Sacrifice him. Sacrifice yourself."
Maeryn closed her eyes. For a heartbeat, she saw it — herself on that throne, eternal, alone. The world quiet, but lifeless.
Tears slid down her cheek.
"…Peace without laughter isn't peace."
Her glyph flared, not as judgment — but as wind, wild and free. She thrust her sword upward.
The silence blade cracked. The throne-self gasped — the only sound she had ever made.
And then she shattered into a thousand feathers of storm.
The Door's Verdict
Silence.
The firestorm faded. The marble hall crumbled. Jinryu and Maeryn stood alone, bloodied but alive.
The mirrored plains stitched themselves back into place, the glass now black and still.
A voice — not Vael's, not theirs — echoed.
"Choice accepted. Weakness embraced. You may pass."
The Door opened again. Not a wound this time, but a spiral of endless glyphs un-writing themselves into darkness.
Jinryu looked at Maeryn. Her hand still shook from her duel, but her eyes were steady.
"We go together," she said.
He nodded. "Until the end."
And they stepped through.