The Red Sun Peaks stood like jagged scars against the horizon. Even in twilight, the rocks glowed faintly red, as if stained by ancient blood.
Raizen stood at the edge of a narrow ravine, staring at what looked like a collapsed archway hidden beneath withered vines and cracked stone. Kael stood behind him, quiet and alert.
Something about this place wasn't right.
Raizen stepped closer. As he did, the vines recoiled like dying snakes. The surface of the stone shimmered, revealing layered symbols that pulsed faintly—runic, but older than any human script.
Kael lowered his voice. "You sure this is it?"
Raizen pressed his hand to the stone. No glow. No flash.
Just a deep hum.
A seam cracked open in the earth. From it, a white bone gate slowly rose, layer by layer, until it stood tall behind the arch—eerie, quiet, and pulsing with unseen power.
A voice echoed from within.
> "You carry the mark of the forgotten, but not the burden."
"You are not yet worthy."
Raizen's voice stayed even. "Then let me prove it."
The mountains groaned.
Four figures emerged from the cliffside—ashen, faceless, and wrong. They didn't walk. They drifted. Not spirits, not beasts—something between.
Kael stepped forward.
Raizen stopped him. "I've got this."
One attacker vanished—appearing behind Raizen in a flash.
But Raizen was already gone.
He reappeared midair, twisting downward. His heel slammed into the figure's back. It exploded into smoke, but instead of vanishing, it crawled back together.
"Regenerative," Raizen muttered.
The next two came at once. Raizen flicked a finger, and the void around him shifted. The ground beneath them fractured into black spirals, consuming their movement and momentum.
His hand passed through the air like drawing a blade—and a sharp wave of void energy cut them into pieces.
They tried to reform.
But Raizen touched the fragments, erasing them entirely.
Then came the fourth figure.
It didn't move.
It watched.
Raizen walked toward it. "You're different."
The figure nodded.
Then everything vanished.
---
Raizen floated in empty blackness. No ground. No sky. Just thought.
Before him stood himself—before power, before awakening. Weak. Small. Human.
It spoke.
> "Why are you alive?"
Raizen didn't answer.
Then more appeared. Dozens of versions of him. The one who failed. The one who begged. The one who ran.
They charged.
Raizen fought, but not with rage. He moved through them like water through cracks—dancing between his past selves, dismantling each with calm efficiency.
Not resisting them.
Accepting them.
With each blow, he remembered.
And with every memory accepted, the army of regrets weakened.
Raizen paused, centered himself, then whispered:
"I lived because I wasn't finished."
The illusions froze.
Then one by one, they shattered into dust.
---
Outside, Kael watched.
Raizen's eyes opened.
The Gate pulsed once—then opened without sound.
What lay beyond was no battlefield. It was a mirror hall.
Each mirror showed a different future.
In some, Raizen was divine. In others, monstrous. In one—he was gone.
At the far end, a book sat on a black pedestal. No markings.
Raizen walked forward.
The book opened on its own.
> "He who faces himself controls the path ahead."
The book dissolved into light, merging with him.
Raizen breathed slowly.
He didn't feel invincible.
He felt clear.
As he turned to leave, he said one thing:
"Time to stop playing by someone else's rules."