Carlos stumbled forward as the golden portal slammed shut behind him. The air cracked with a final echo, then collapsed into silence so deep it made his ears ring. He pressed his palms to the dusty floor, trying to steady himself, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.
When he finally looked up, his breath caught.
The shop.
He was back in the old tech shop where this nightmare had begun. The cracked linoleum floor, the leaning shelves, the front windows glowing faintly with neon light from the street outside—it was all there. For one fragile moment, relief surged through him. He was home. He had made it.
But something was wrong.
The air was heavy, stale with dust. Shelves stood crooked and bare, wood warped with time. Posters that had once been bright were faded and curling at the edges, as if years had passed since he last saw them. The faint electric buzz of fluorescent lights was gone. In its place was only silence.
A slow dread settled in his stomach.
"How long…?" Carlos whispered. His voice cracked in the emptiness. "How long was I gone?"
Then he saw it.
The Helm.
It lay on the counter where he had first found it, but it was changed. Its once-smooth surface was fractured, its visor dull, a web of cracks spreading like veins of dark glass. The glow that had once made it seem alive was gone—yet even broken, it radiated an unnatural presence.
Carlos stepped closer, his hand trembling as he reached out. If he touched it, maybe it would feel ordinary again—just plastic, just wires, nothing more.
The visor flickered.
He froze. Pale blue light pulsed through the cracks, casting long, sharp shadows across the room. Letters appeared across the visor, sharp and cold:
"Congratulations, Victor. Realm One cycle complete. Realm Two awaits."
Carlos staggered back. His chest tightened.
"I… I finished it," he whispered, voice shaking. "I won. I survived."
The words sounded weak even to him.
The Helm gave a low, steady hum. The sound vibrated through the floorboards, rattling the glass of the front windows. Carlos spun toward the counter behind it, toward the cracked computer monitor resting there.
And his blood ran cold.
In the reflection, he didn't see just his own face. Shadows moved behind him—shapes shifting where no light should reach. Then a pair of crimson eyes blinked open in the dark reflection, unblinking, fixed on him.
Carlos whirled around.
Nothing. Only empty rows of shelves. Dust. Silence.
But when he turned back, the reflection was gone—only his own pale, frightened face staring back.
Then the voice came.
Soft. Close. A whisper sliding into his ear though no one stood beside him.
"You thought it was over."
Carlos's breath stopped.
The Helm pulsed again, brighter this time. The cracks spread wider, like glass about to shatter.
"But the Helm is no game. It is a gateway."
The neon lights outside flickered wildly before dying altogether. Darkness swallowed the shop, leaving only the Helm's glow. The blue light spread across the walls, shadows stretching like claws. The air grew colder. He could feel eyes on him, the weight of unseen things pressing in.
Carlos's fists clenched. He wanted to shout, to demand answers, but his throat closed tight.
The Helm whispered once more.
"The cycle begins anew. Realm Two calls."
The counter shook, dust falling from the ceiling. Through the visor's fractures, Carlos glimpsed something impossible: swirling void, shifting stars, fragments of landscapes folding into each other.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, I'm done. I'm finished."
But the Helm did not care.
Its hum rose into a roar, and shadows spilled from its cracks, slithering across the floor and curling around Carlos's legs. Cold as ice, they pulled him toward the counter.
He struggled, clawing at the shelf behind him, but the darkness was stronger. The Helm's light blazed brighter, filling the shop with blinding brilliance.
And just before the shadows dragged him under, Carlos caught sight of his reflection one last time in the monitor.
Not his own face.
An older version of himself. Scarred, hardened, eyes burning with grim fire. A warrior staring back at him with silent warning.
Then the light swallowed him.
The shop vanished. The world vanished.
Only the Helm remained, carrying him onward—into the Echo Beyond.