Silence reigned in the aftermath of Ravahn's disappearance, broken only by the flutter of scorched banners and the fading cries of wounded phoenixes. The battlefield was still, but the tension was worse than war—an eye had turned its gaze toward the mortal world, and all could feel its weight.
Liu Shen stood at the edge of the crater, eyes fixed on the scorched remnants of the twelfth wing's light. He said nothing for a long time, until Meixing approached.
"You forced his awakening," she said softly. "But the Heavens nearly erased him to cover their mistake."
Liu Shen nodded. "They've become bolder. Less cautious."
Meixing narrowed her gaze toward the sky. "Because they fear you."
"No," Liu Shen said. "Because they think I'm incomplete."
He turned away from the crater. "And they're right."
Behind them, Lei Qing landed heavily, his lightning armor cracked and bloodstained. "The corrupted phoenixes are retreating, heading eastward. Should we pursue?"
"No," Liu Shen replied. "Let them go. They'll lead us somewhere worse."
Instead, his gaze turned toward the base of the Phoenix Altar. It had been broken during the battle, its hidden foundations now visible—and beneath the rubble, a staircase spiraled downward into shadow.
"The Altar was built atop something older," he murmured.
Meixing frowned. "Another Abyssal Gate?"
"No," Liu Shen said after a moment. "This predates even the Phoenix Empire."
The group descended.
Each step felt heavier, as if the weight of the past clung to the very air. The walls were etched in a language only Liu Shen recognized—Primordial Tongue, spoken before the Abyss had shape, before the Heavens claimed dominion.
Meixing traced one sigil. "Is this… a memory prison?"
"No," Liu Shen said, halting before a vast, circular chamber. "This is an oath vault."
Inside, a black monolith pulsed at the center, surrounded by twelve broken thrones. Each throne bore a different crest—some demonic, others divine, some neither. All had been shattered from within.
Liu Shen stepped closer, placing a hand on the monolith. His vision blurred—and then he remembered.
This chamber had once sealed the Founders' Pact.
Twelve beings—mortals, demons, beasts, even one fallen star-spirit—had stood here millennia ago, swearing to resist the heavens together. But something had betrayed them. One throne had vanished entirely.
"Who was the thirteenth?" Meixing asked, her voice distant, almost reverent.
Liu Shen's eyes narrowed. "A traitor who was never recorded. Someone who walked between realms."
From the monolith, a whisper echoed:
> "He wears no name, but his seal binds the world still."
The group went still.
Then, beneath their feet, the monolith pulsed once more—and released a fragment of golden stone wrapped in black flames. It hovered toward Liu Shen.
Meixing gasped. "That's… the Fifth Seal?"
Liu Shen shook his head. "No. It's a Keystone."
When his fingers closed around it, memories not his own poured into his mind—visions of the ancient pact, of the thirteenth founder standing cloaked in starlight, unseen by the others. And of a voice whispering in the heavens:
> "Let the oath be broken. Let their memories scatter."
The keystone blazed—binding to Liu Shen's soul.
Suddenly, the chamber trembled.
A deep rumble echoed upward—something was awakening beneath the vault.
"We're not alone," Lei Qing muttered, raising his halberd.
From the far wall, a ripple of light shimmered into form—revealing an enormous chained door etched with abyssal script.
Above it, the words carved in both demonic and divine:
> "Here sleeps the First Rebellion."
Liu Shen stared in silence.
Then a smile crept to his lips. Not cruel, not victorious—but resolute.
"They tried to bury it all. But history remembers. And now, so do I."
Meixing turned to him. "What now?"
He placed the keystone into the altar's center socket.
The door groaned.
"We wake them," he said. "It's time the Heavens remember who they betrayed."