Nam stood before the colossal gate, its surface carved with swirling runes that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. It wasn't just a door—it was a seal, ancient and alive.
He placed his hand on it.
A deep vibration answered, not of sound, but of will. It asked him a question—not in words, but in intent: Do you accept the burden of truth?
Nam closed his eyes. He thought of Lan's tears, Bao's pain, Kien's sacrifice.
"I accept."
The gate opened.
Darkness did not rush out—it withdrew. Like curtains parting. Revealing a chamber beyond imagination.
At the center, suspended in mid-air, was a crystal sphere, larger than a man, spinning slowly, filled with stars and tendrils of light. It pulsed like a heartbeat. Like a dying god breathing in its final moments.
Nam approached, drawn forward.
As he neared, the voices began.
First, soft whispers, fragments of memories—his own, and others'. Then, louder—accusations, pleas, truths too heavy for mortals.
"You were never meant to be here."
"They lied to you."
"You carry more than your own fate."
Nam fell to his knees.
The crystal responded. It cracked. Light poured out.
Images flashed:
Lan standing on a battlefield, eyes glowing gold. Bao surrounded by flames, yet untouched. Kien in a future that never came—leader of a ruined world.
And finally, Nam, alone, before a throne of ash and bone.
The crystal spoke—not in sound, but with certainty:
"You are the Catalyst."
Suddenly, everything went still.
A single line of energy extended from the crystal—piercing Nam's chest.
But instead of pain, he felt clarity.
He saw the threads of time, the structure of choice, and the price of power.
Then—darkness.
He collapsed.
Back on the platform, Lan gasped.
"The bridge…" Bao whispered. "It's gone."
But before panic could rise, a faint glow began to form where Nam had disappeared.
And then—a pulse.
Something had awakened.