The light engulfed Harry, stripping away the mist and darkness until he found himself standing in a vast, endless void. The ground beneath him was solid, but he could see nothing beyond the immediate space he occupied. The air was thick with an overwhelming presence—something ancient, something watching.
"You defy fate, yet you stand at its mercy," the voice echoed once more, shifting and warping as if it came from everywhere at once.
Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I don't believe in fate. I believe in my choices."
A low chuckle rippled through the void. Suddenly, shadows burst to life around him, taking the forms of faceless figures. Their shapes twisted, stretching unnaturally, but Hadrian recognized them.
They were copies of him—versions of himself from different possibilities, each one reflecting a path he had never taken. Some wore dark robes, their eyes filled with cold calculation. Others radiated untamed power, their presence overwhelming. One stood taller than the rest, an older version of him, cloaked in an aura of pure destruction.
"What will you become?" the voice asked.
Harry's grip on his magic tightened. He refused to let the vision shake him. He had seen what unchecked power could do, what obsession could lead to. But he also knew he couldn't afford weakness.
"None of these," he declared. "I forge my own path."
The faceless figures lunged.
Harry reacted instantly. Magic flared around him, a shield of crackling energy forming just in time to block the first assault. The ground trembled as spells erupted in every direction. He countered, weaving through the attacks, dodging blasts of dark magic, and retaliating with precise, controlled strikes.
One figure—the one wreathed in destruction—moved differently. It didn't attack with reckless abandon. Instead, it watched, calculated, and when it finally struck, it was with terrifying precision.
Harry barely managed to block. The force sent him skidding backward, his magic flaring wildly in response.
"This is your true enemy," the voice whispered. "The one who knows your fears, your limits. The one who is willing to do what you will not."
Harry's breath came hard and fast. He met the gaze of his strongest counterpart and saw himself staring back.
For the first time, true doubt crept in.
Could he win?
The doppelgänger raised a hand, summoning an abyss of raw power—power that Harry could wield if he let go of restraint.
"Choose," the voice demanded.
Harry's heartbeat thundered in his ears. He knew that power. He had felt its temptation before. But power without purpose was meaningless.
Slowly, he let his magic settle—not suppressing it, but embracing it in his own way. He didn't need to prove himself to a twisted reflection.
His magic roared to life, but this time, it wasn't wild—it was controlled, honed, unstoppable.
The doppelgänger hesitated for a fraction of a second. It was all Harry needed.
With a single decisive strike, his magic surged forward, unraveling the illusion and shattering the abyss around him. The faceless figures dissolved into nothing. The void trembled, then shattered like glass.
Harry gasped as he was pulled back to reality.
He was back in the chamber. He looked for Ivan but there was no one except him in there.
Suddenly there was a voice,"...."
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