Chapter 60:
The world stood still as the sky cracked in veins of burning silver, and two figures faced each other amidst the ruin. One, Nezutsu—newly awakened as Sol'Tarein, the Echo of the True Flame. The other, a dark reflection, cloaked in blue-black fire, with eyes like hollow stars.
"You're not… a memory," Nezutsu said slowly. "You're real."
The twin grinned.
"Real enough to burn you."
Around them, the ground melted. Mana warped, twisted. Time grew soft.
Eshryn and Kaelith backed away, feeling the pressure between the two grow unbearable. Even Serapheia dropped to one knee, blood leaking from her ears.
"This is beyond Celestarch level," she muttered. "This is... Origin Flame Combat."
Subplot: The Twin Born of Void
Serapheia forced herself upright and gazed at the dark twin.
"That flame—he's not just your opposite. He's the backlash. The other side of your birth. The Void that shouldn't exist."
"Name," she called aloud. "What is your name?"
The twin turned slowly.
"I was never given one. I took one. From the mouth of a dying god."
He raised his hand, and a thousand dying tongues whispered in unison:
"Nyxtharyn."
"I am the Scorchmark where fate bled out. The Wound That Thinks."
Clash of Flame and Will
The battle began in silence.
No shout.
No motion.
Only an implosion.
The two vanished from view—then reappeared midair, locked in a spiral of clashing fire. Violet against void-blue. Starfire versus god-eating flame.
Their blows didn't echo—they rewrote the space they struck.
Trees turned to stone.
Clouds screamed.
The sun paused in the sky.
Eshryn shielded the others as shockwaves shattered the land. Kaelith conjured binding seals that broke simply by touching Nyxtharyn's aura.
"He's infecting the world," she whispered.
Twist: Nezutsu's Flame Isn't Whole
Nyxtharyn knocked Nezutsu backward with a blow that cracked open his chest with dark fire.
"You're missing something," he snarled. "The Flame was shattered into three."
"What?!"
"I carry the Rage. You carry the Will. And the third… carries the Memory."
Suddenly, a bolt of light struck from the north. A column of burning white descended from the sky, and within it, a third figure appeared—tall, wrapped in bandages soaked with starlight, face completely hidden, walking with the sound of a thousand whispers.
"Who—" Nezutsu gasped.
Nyxtharyn didn't smile this time.
He knelt.
"The First Flame. The Original Self."
The figure raised its hand—and both flames in Nezutsu and Nyxtharyn flickered in fear.
Subplot: The Keeper of Memory
The bandaged figure spoke in a voice not of sound, but of ancient thought.
"You are fragments. Echoes. Splinters of me."
"Then take us back!" Nezutsu shouted.
"No," the figure said. "You must earn reunion. Or the world dies in imbalance."
It raised two fingers—and a trial seal formed around all three.
A pocket dimension. A world suspended between time and ash.
"You will fight. Not to kill. But to understand."
"And if we don't?"
"Then the Thronebreaker wins. And every timeline folds into ash."
The Trial of the Three Flames
Inside the trial realm—each of the three found themselves alone, facing illusions made from their own choices.
Nezutsu faced the child version of himself—crying, broken, holding the corpse of Serapheia.
Nyxtharyn faced a god he once consumed—now weeping, asking if it hurt.
The Keeper faced a mirror… that didn't reflect him, but Nezutsu's face.
"He is not the echo," the mirror whispered. "You are."
Outside the trial, in the real world, Serapheia turned to Kaelith.
"If Nezutsu loses… everything burns."
[TO BE CONTINUED...]