The night stretched long and heavy, like a wound that never closed.
Nihil stood atop a collapsed tower, once a watch post for one of the Surface clans, now just a broken skeleton jutting into the grey sky. Beneath him, the ruins slept. Smoke curled through fractured streets. The wind whispered in rusted voices.
He had burned the last of the bounty hunters two hours ago.
Now, there was nothing left to fight.
And that, somehow, felt worse.
He sat.
Cross-legged on the stone, sword across his knees, ash coating his shoulders like snow.
He hadn't spoken in hours.
But inside, his thoughts churned.
Because silence wasn't peace.
Not for him.
Not anymore.
The Echo had grown stronger.
Its grip on his senses tighter.
The three seconds of stillness he once controlled like a blade now lingered.
Each time he invoked it, the silence stayed longer. It crept back when he wasn't calling it.
It was changing him.
And deep down, he wondered:
Was this power his to wield…
Or was it already wielding him?
A sound cut through the ash.
Not footsteps.
Laughter.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
He stood, eyes narrowing, blade half-raised.
The sound echoed again, soft, bright, and full of the past.
Lira.
He turned toward the stairwell.
Empty.
He descended slowly, every step tense. The laughter drifted ahead of him, always just out of reach. It led him into the lower ruins, down into the catacombs beneath the old watchtower.
There, in the dark,
He saw her.
Lira.
Alive.
Whole.
Wearing the same tattered dress she'd been taken in. Hair still tangled. Eyes gentle. Smile soft.
She sat on a stone bench beneath a rusted torch, hands folded neatly in her lap.
"You found me," she whispered.
Nihil didn't move.
"You're not real."
She tilted her head. "Does it matter?"
He said nothing.
"You gave me up," she said.
"For power. For silence. For vengeance."
A pause.
"Was it worth it?"
He didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because the weight of what he'd done still lived in a corner of his chest.
Buried.
Chained.
But not dead.
Not yet.
She stood.
Walked toward him.
Reached for his face with fingers that trembled, either from fear or love.
And then…
Her skin cracked.
Not blood. Not bone.
Ash.
She began to crumble in front of him, blowing away on a wind that didn't exist.
Her final whisper was barely sound.
"If you keep climbing, you won't have a soul left to stand on."
He was alone again.
Truly.
And yet, when he looked down…
A thorned crown sat in the dust where she'd vanished.
Not real.
Not tangible.
But offered.
He reached for it.
And the Echo spoke again.
"This is the Second Offering."
"You gave up kindness. Now, give up guilt."
"If you bury her memory… we will give you strength."
He stood over the crown, unmoving.
The wind howled.
Inside him, something split.
He could walk away.
He could keep her with him.
The warmth. The pain. The tether to the boy he once was.
But he knew the truth.
That part of him… was already dying.
He knelt.
Lifted the crown of thorns.
And placed it upon his head.
Pain bloomed through his body.
But not from wounds.
From detachment.
Every smile, every touch, every word, gone.
The ashes of Lira were scattered.
And in their place: silence. Deep and absolute.
RUNG TWO ASCENDED.
TITLE: THE THORNED ASCENDANT
NEW ECHO UNLOCKED: CROWN OF MERCY
(Passive. All guilt, emotional hesitation, and fear of consequence are muted during combat. Every wound suffered in silence increases your next strike's power.)
Nihil stood.
Not weeping.
Not proud.
Just certain.
Mercy was no longer a thorn in his side.
It was a weapon.