Crispin didn't blink. The pale hand crawled further out of the cracked sigil, fingers twitching like it was remembering how to be alive. His Echoes were going wild in his mind—screaming, clawing at him like cornered animals. Whatever was beneath that thing wasn't just strong. It was wrong.
Yara backed up fast. "Crispin… what is that?"
"I don't know," he said, his voice low. "But it knows me."
Revenna aimed her sword straight at the crack. "I say we blast it back underground and seal it."
Too late.
A head rose from the dark. Human shape. Black veins running through pale skin. Its eyes were open, but they weren't looking—they were remembering. Like it had seen too much and brought it back.
Then it smiled.
"Found you," it said.
Crispin moved. Flames burst from the Crown, Echoes snapping into formation, weapons drawn. He didn't wait. He charged.
But before his blade could connect, the thing vanished. No sound. No flash. Just gone.
Revenna's eyes narrowed. "Teleport?"
Crispin shook his head. "No. He didn't jump. He was pulled."
The ground shook. The sigil cracked wider. Seven more began glowing across the city map on Revenna's scroll. They weren't Gates.
Yara looked sick. "It's not a Gate. It's a… prison. And something just broke out."
Crispin clenched his jaw. "Who built a prison under Blackridge?"
A new voice answered behind him. "The same people who tried to stop you from wearing that Crown."
He spun.
A man stepped out of the alley. Tall, calm, dressed in a coat that looked older than the city itself. His eyes were golden.
"I'm here to tell you the truth," the man said. "And to warn you. That thing wasn't sent to kill you. It was sent to wake you up."
Crispin didn't move. "Who are you?"
The man smiled. "Your first follower."
And then, all across the city, the sigils lit up
Boom.
Another explosion ripped through the north side of Blackridge. The skyline lit up with red fire. Screams followed. Sirens didn't. The city was cracking open—slowly, perfectly. Like it was planned.
Crispin stared at the stranger. "You knew this was coming?"
The man didn't flinch. "They've been digging under the city for years. They knew you were coming. They knew about the Crown. They knew about the old prisons."
Yara shouted, "Who are they?"
The man looked at her. "The ones who ruled before the System. Before the Gates. Before any of us had power."
Crispin's voice was low. "And that thing… the one that climbed out…"
"Was one of them," the man said. "An Exiled God."
Revenna stepped forward. "So what—you're saying the System wasn't created to give us power?"
The man's smile faded. "It was created to contain it."
Before they could answer, a scream echoed through the street. Crispin turned fast. A hunter—one of the twisted ones Revenna had warned him about—dragged a civilian through the smoke. Its eyes glowed, its body covered in glyphs that weren't part of any known code. They didn't protect. They consumed.
The hunter saw Crispin and dropped the civilian.
It pointed at him.
It spoke one word.
"Crownless."
Crispin's blood ran cold.
And then it charged.
Crispin didn't hesitate. He met it halfway, blade flashing, Echoes trailing behind him like shadows on fire. They clashed in the middle of the street, metal on bone, flame on glyphs. The hunter moved like it didn't care about pain—like it was already dead.
Yara threw a blast from her staff, trying to buy him a second. Revenna went in low, slicing its leg. It didn't fall.
Crispin grabbed it by the face and snarled, "You want the Crown? Come earn it."
He drove his blade through its chest.
It didn't scream.
It laughed.
Then it exploded in his hands.
The force knocked him back. Yara caught him. His ears rang. But the worst part wasn't the pain—it was what the hunter whispered before it blew.
"He's waking up."
Crispin stood, chest burning, eyes locked on the spot where the hunter had just exploded. Smoke curled where it died. No body left. Just ash—and a warning.
He's waking up.
Revenna helped Yara to her feet. "That wasn't just some rogue Hunter. That was a message."
Crispin nodded slowly. "Not just a message. A countdown."
The golden-eyed man stepped forward again. "There are more of them. That one was the weakest."
Yara's voice cracked. "And you're just now telling us this?"
He didn't flinch. "You weren't ready. But now you're wearing the Crown. You walked into the Nexus. You fought your rivals and came back standing. So I'm telling you now—everything you've faced so far has been the tutorial."
Crispin stepped toward him. "Why do you care?"
The man's eyes burned. "Because I've seen the world if you fail."
A second explosion lit the skyline to the east. This time, it wasn't a sigil. It was a full Gate—a black one, bigger than anything Crispin had ever seen. It opened like a mouth tearing through the sky. From it, things poured out. Not monsters. Not Hunters.
People.
But twisted. Silent. Eyes hollow. Powerless… yet dangerous.
"What the hell are those?" Yara breathed.
"They're failed Ascendants," the man whispered. "People who tried to do what you're doing now… and didn't make it."
Crispin's stomach dropped.
Revenna cursed under her breath. "We need to fall back."
"No," Crispin growled. "We go in."
Yara grabbed his arm. "We don't know what's inside."
Crispin's eyes locked on the Gate. "Exactly. And if we don't know, they'll use that. We end it before it spreads."
He turned to the stranger. "You said you're my follower. Then help me. Show me where this leads."
The man stepped closer. "It leads to where the first Crown was broken."
Crispin's heart skipped.
"What do you mean… broken?"
The man didn't smile this time.
He pointed toward the Gate.
"That's where the last Ascendant fell."
Crispin stared at the Gate as if it might answer for itself. Black as midnight. Still pulsing. Still calling. His fingers clenched at his side.
Yara whispered, "You don't have to go in there."
He didn't even turn. "I do."
Revenna didn't argue. She was already checking her gear. "If we go, we go smart. In and out. We find out what's behind it and close it if we can."
The golden-eyed man gave a small nod. "You can't close it. But you can survive it. And that's more than the last Ascendant did."
Crispin narrowed his eyes. "What happened to him?"
The man didn't speak. Instead, he raised his hand and touched the side of Crispin's head.
Flash.
For a second—just a second—Crispin saw it.
A battlefield drowned in black fire. A man wearing the Crown. Standing alone. Surrounded. Bleeding. Smiling as everything around him burned.
And then—broken.
Shattered Crown. A scream that ripped the sky. Silence.
Crispin stumbled back, breath stolen. "He died."
The man nodded. "But the Crown lived. Waiting for someone new. Waiting for you."
Yara looked up at the Gate, then at her brother. "We don't run from this, do we?"
Crispin looked at her. "Not anymore."
They walked toward it.
Every step closer, the world got quieter. No wind. No sound. Even the Crown's glow dimmed, like it didn't want to be here. But Crispin didn't stop. He pressed his hand against the edge of the Gate.
It felt… cold.
Then, it swallowed them whole.
Darkness.
Weightlessness.
Silence.
And then—
A city.
Dead. Floating in the void. Skyscrapers cracked in half. Blood frozen in midair. Echoes of people long gone walking in loops. Repeating moments over and over.
Revenna drew her blade. "What is this place?"
The man's voice echoed from behind them.
"Welcome to the Grave of Ascendants."
The Grave of Ascendants didn't feel like a place. It felt like a mistake the world was trying to forget. Buildings floated sideways. The sky was split in two—half night, half white flame. Every step Crispin took echoed like a scream that didn't want to be heard.
Yara stayed close. "I don't like this."
Revenna was already scanning rooftops. "We're not alone."
Crispin agreed.
Because something was watching them.
From the shattered windows. From the black pools in the street. From the upside-down cathedral floating above their heads. The city was full of eyes.
They didn't blink.
They didn't move.
But they saw everything.
Crispin's grip tightened. "This place remembers him."
The golden-eyed man—who somehow looked perfectly at home here—nodded. "This is where the last one died. But it's also where he left behind what you'll need to survive what's coming."
Crispin's voice was cold. "What is it?"
The man smiled. "His last Echo."
Crispin stopped. "His what?"
"The strongest part of him. The Echo that refused to die. It's still here. Guarding what's left of him."
Revenna cursed. "Of course. There's always a catch."
A tremor shook the ground. Not big. Not loud. But the kind that rattled bones instead of walls.
Crispin looked around.
Then he heard it.
Breathing.
Heavy.
Behind him.
He turned—
And there it stood.
The Echo of the Fallen Ascendant.
It looked like Crispin.
Same face. Same height. Same voice.
But hollow. Dead in the eyes. Covered in broken code. And the Crown? Bent. Split down the middle. Still burning.
It didn't speak.
It just charged.
Crispin barely blocked the first strike. The force launched him backward into a crumbling wall. Echoes flew to his side, but the Fallen's Echo tore through them like paper.
Revenna went in next. Her blade met the Echo's arm—only for it to grab the blade, snap it in half, and throw her like a ragdoll.
Yara screamed his name.
Crispin stood.
Face bleeding.
Heart pounding.
He looked at himself—at what he could become if he lost.
Then the Echo spoke for the first time.
"Only one of us leaves this place."
Crispin didn't wait.
He ran straight at the Echo—at himself—and swung. Sparks flew as their blades collided, the sound loud enough to rattle the floating city around them. The Echo didn't grunt. Didn't breathe hard. It fought like a ghost with a memory of rage.
Yara yelled from the side, throwing a burst of force to stagger the Echo. It barely flinched.
Revenna was up again, limping, but still moving. "This thing doesn't break!"
Crispin growled. "Then I will."
He pulled on the Crown.
Harder than ever.
And something snapped inside him.
Not broke—unlocked.
His Echoes surged to his side, faster, sharper, burning with new light. He didn't know what changed, but they felt different—like they remembered things he hadn't lived yet.
The Echo of the Fallen Ascendant seemed to pause for just a second. It tilted its head.
"You heard it, didn't you?" it whispered.
Crispin didn't answer. He just attacked.
They clashed again—blade to blade, mirror to mirror. Every strike shook the street. Pieces of the floating buildings started to fall. One hit the ground and burst into dust. Time inside this place was dying.
The Echo caught Crispin by the throat. "You think you're better than me?" it hissed. "You'll lose everything like I did."
Crispin's voice was tight, furious. "Then I'll fight harder than you did."
He headbutted the Echo, summoned every last Echo he had, and screamed, "ARISE!"
A tidal wave of black-and-gold shadows tore through the battlefield, slamming into the Echo and throwing it into a cracked skyscraper. The building folded on impact.
For a second—just a second—it looked over.
Then rubble moved.
The Echo walked out. Slower now. Bleeding shadows. Its voice was quieter. "I didn't fall because I was weak… I fell because I fought alone."
Crispin's breath caught.
And he understood.
The Echo wasn't just a monster.
It was a warning.
He looked at Yara. At Revenna. At his Echoes standing between him and death. And he whispered, "I'm not alone."
Then he charged.
One final clash.
One last swing.
His blade tore through the Echo's chest.
Light exploded.
The Echo fell, smiling.
And vanished.
---
The city began to fall apart around them. The sky cracked. The floating buildings crumbled.
Crispin turned to his team. "We need to go. Now."
The golden-eyed man appeared beside them. "You passed. That Echo left you something."
Crispin looked at him. "What?"
The man pointed at Crispin's chest.
The Crown was glowing white.
It had evolved.
The glow from the Crown burned like a star on Crispin's forehead. His pulse thudded in his ears. Every part of him felt heavier—and stronger. But there was no time to think. The Grave of Ascendants was tearing itself apart.
Yara grabbed his arm. "Gate's closing!"
Revenna was already dragging a wounded Echo toward the crumbling bridge. "We move now or we die here!"
Chunks of the dead city fell around them, slamming into streets and shattering like glass. Whole buildings were collapsing inward. The sky above twisted like it was trying to eat itself.
Crispin looked back one last time at where the Fallen Echo had vanished.
Then he ran.
The Gate shimmered ahead—barely stable, flickering in and out of existence. Their boots slammed against the ground as it crumbled beneath them. The Crown pulsed with every step, urging him forward.
Then a scream.
Yara tripped.
She hit the ground hard. Rubble pinned her leg. Blood ran down her ankle.
"Go!" she shouted. "I'll catch up!"
Crispin turned around so fast it nearly threw him off balance. "Like hell."
He reached her in seconds, shoved the rock off her, and pulled her to her feet. Revenna appeared beside them and grabbed Yara's other arm.
They were ten steps from the Gate when the ground split.
A wall of void rose between them and escape.
From behind it, something stepped through.
Not the Fallen Echo.
Not a monster.
Something new.
A man. Younger. Smiling. Wearing a robe of red and gold.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"Hello, Crown-bearer," he said. "We've been watching."
Crispin raised his blade. "Who's we?"
The man tilted his head. "The Originals. The ones who built the first System."
Yara gasped. Revenna raised her sword.
Crispin didn't lower his weapon. "What do you want?"
The man smiled wider. "Not yet. You're not ready. But soon, you'll make a choice that'll change everything."
Then he stepped back into the void.
Gone.
The wall dropped.
The Gate began to collapse.
Crispin didn't wait.
He grabbed Yara, shouted to Revenna, and leapt through the Gate—
Right as it closed.
Silence.
They landed hard. Back in Blackridge. At night. The city around them burning.
The world hadn't waited.
A voice crackled over a stolen comm device.
"He's back. But something else came through."