The heroes stepped into the crimson chamber, seven veins of light pulsating like arteries. The air vibrated, whispering their names. Maya's pupils glowed gold-scarlet. Lacolone's katana hummed unsheathed. Eden felt nauseous, soul pressure too dense. They crossed the threshold of their own myths.
The seven doors melted into mirror-windows of different worlds. Each showed a memory twisted: childhood streets flooded with scarlet rain, old allies screaming. Valgor saw his father forging iron fists. Jessica saw herself with both arms, smiling. Salah heard chants from the revolution he started. The labyrinth did not separate space — it separated selves.
The Kid Saint stood on the throne of cables, knives spinning. "You want Elito? Survive me first." His eyes swirled like galaxies. "Each door is a truth. Enter, or be erased." Lacolone gripped his sword tighter. No battle begins without an unveiling.
Red lightning split the floor, dividing them into separate corridors. Lacolone alone in a cathedral of floating blades. Maya in a corridor of whispering code and glowing wounds. Jessica in a hall of target dummies shaped like herself. Valgor chained to a molten anvil. Tests carved from their sins.
Blades circled Lacolone; each blade a memory of someone he couldn't save. He closed his eyes, shifted to Driftform, weaving between them. Thunderbrand arced through dozens of blades at once. His own face appeared: "You will fail again." He shattered it with Riftquake. He forged resolve from ghosts.
Maya walked through corridors of code raining like digital blood. Each block whispered parallel timelines of Lacolone dying. Tears streaked as she realized she remembered all of them. She activated Whispercall inside the code, rewriting it. Healing pulses burst outward, rewriting the corridor's logic. A healer became a hacker of fate.
Jessica faced dozens of target dummies shaped like her, firing back with perfect mimicry. She lost her balance, bullets grazing. Reloading with new Whispercall cartridges, she fought like Dante — twirling, deflecting bullets, kicking off walls. To defeat herself, she had to become more than herself.
Valgor faced a molten anvil, chains and fists burning. "You build weapons but never wield them." He channeled Riftquake through his body. Chains exploded in shards. He forged new gauntlets from molten iron. The iron hammer forged itself.
Salah faced spectral citizens accusing him of betrayal. Their hands tore at his Veilward shields. He whispered a revolutionary prayer, feeding his shield with remorse. The ghosts dissolved, revealing a path upward. He climbed, blood on his hands. Defending the dream cost more than dying for it.
Eden alone in a void saw a version of himself as a warrior with all five Pillars. "Why are you weak?" He touched the reflection; it shattered. A hidden glyph appeared on his palm — unknown power. The weakest link held the strangest key.
The Kid Saint watched each test through floating knives. "They're unlocking faster than I expected." A shadow behind him — Elito's silhouette. "Then break them harder." Knives reshaped into scarlet beasts. The game's second phase began.
The heroes regrouped at a spiral staircase of light, battered but stronger. Lacolone's aura stable, Maya's eyes glowing. Jessica's hands trembling but guns steady. Valgor's new gauntlets crackled with Riftquake energy. Trials forged their evolution.
The Kid Saint stepped down the staircase. "You survived. Then you're ready for the real war." His knives dripped with black light. Lacolone: "You're still holding back." Kid Saint: "I am the doorway. Not the threat." His words cut deeper than his blades.
Scarlet glyphs coalesced into a humanoid shadow behind the throne. Maya shuddered: "This energy… Scarlet King." Lacolone's hand trembled near his katana. "This was always bigger than a Lord." Jessica aimed her guns at nothing. The Grand Lord was just a mask.
Maya touched each comrade, restoring vitality. Her healing pulses amplified Pillar resonance. Valgor: "You're not just healing us — you're unlocking us." Maya whispered: "Parallel memories taught me this." Lacolone met her eyes — recognition. Her tears became their armor.
Walid clutched his chest, sensing doom. Jessica noticed her arm flicker — future wound echo. Eden still stared at his palm glyph. The Kid Saint smirked: "Some of you won't reach the throne." Maya looked at him: "We decide our end." Hope tasted like metal and ash.
The spiral staircase stretched into infinity. Crimson lightning arced across steps. Lacolone: "Every step a battle." Valgor's fists clenched. Jessica spun her guns, ready. The road to Elito's throne began.
The staircase spiraled up into a gigantic, pulsating throne room. A silhouette seated upon it — Elito/Scarlet King, tendrils connecting to the 33 Saints like marionettes. In front of the throne stood the Kid Saint, knives crossed.
Beyond the staircase waited the Master.
Beyond the Master, the Scarlet King.