The Obsidian Hollows were not built.
They were forgotten.
Yuto collapsed on the obsidian-black ground, panting, one limb gone, ichor leaking from hairline fractures in his chitin.
[Status: Critical]
[Integrity: 31%]
[Auto-Regen: Disabled – Core Sync interrupted]
[Emergency Evolution Locked]
"We're… not dead?" Yuto rasped.
[No. But the Spiral is still tracking us.]
[This place is beneath its surveillance. For now.]
He looked up.
The sky wasn't black.
It was absent. Like someone had uninstalled the stars.
The terrain was worse—twisted bones the size of buildings, cracked temples half-swallowed by the earth, ancient machinery powered by divine cores gone mad.
Everywhere, whispers:
"We were gods once…"
"We bled eternity and were still not enough…"
Yuto limped toward shelter—a hollowed coliseum built from failed timelines, where forgotten monsters gathered to sleep.
Inside, he found a derelict cocoon. Something massive had once curled here… then vanished.
He curled up in it. Alone. Cold. Trembling.
"Nyx…"
[Still here.]
"Why are there so many of us? Failed Sovereigns? Rejected gods?"
[Because the Spiral never wanted perfection.]
[It wanted control.]
[Rest Node Discovered.]
[Do you wish to begin Meditation Protocol – Memory Scavenge?]
(May cause mental instability.)
Yuto grinned bitterly.
"At this point, what haven't I broken?"
[Beginning Scavenge… Initiating Dream Dive.]
He dreamed.
Not of his own memories—but those of a being far older.
A god. Forgotten.
He had once ruled a plane made of song.
He had rewritten physics with rhythm.
He had defied the Spiral.
And he was unmade.
Yuto saw it—Threadcutters, but not the ones he met. Stranger. Scarier.
Entities of pure erasure.
They didn't just kill. They rewrote histories so the victim never existed.
But the god had whispered one final thread into the void:
"We are not errors. We are answers the System fears."
Yuto woke, gasping.
[You have acquired: Fragment – Forgotten Sovereign: Auralis the Composer.]
[Passive Skill Gained: Soul Echo LV1 – Can sense lingering divine residues.]
[Trait Gained: Will of the Unwritten]
He could feel it.
Not just power…
But the resolve of the erased.
And then—movement.
From the shadows of the coliseum, something crawled out.
Not a monster.
Not a Threadcutter.
Another like him.
Thin, spider-like, barely humanoid, with dozens of small eyes stitched across its face.
It looked at Yuto. Sniffed.
And then it spoke.
"You smell… new."
"I thought I was alone," Yuto said.
"You're not. Not anymore."
It reached out a clawed hand.
"Welcome to the end of gods, little brother."