The air in the downer chamber was thick with the scent of soil and smoke, as if the world itself had been forged in an ancient furnace. Aaren stood beside Lenara he had brought her here to show where he found withered flame ZERION, her cloak fluttering in the warm, ever-moving winds of the subterranean world. They had just left the Shrine of Zerion, where Aaren had proven his worth to the slumbering Omni-being. The Portal Knife still gleamed faintly at his hip, pulsing as if waiting for another command.
But Aaren's mind wasn't on portals now. It was on the voice of the sword.
Levitine had gone quiet. Unusually quiet.
"Is it always this silent?" Aaren asked, turning to Lenara.
She tilted her head, her sharp green eyes watching him. "Swords don't sleep. But the ones that remember… sometimes fall into silence."
Then, without warning, a voice echoed in the chamber. Not from the outside, but deep within Aaren's mind.
> "You wish to know, don't you? Of who I am… of what I once was."
The Descent Sword of the King shimmered at his back, then floated into the air on its own, glowing gold and blood-red in the dim light.
> "I was never born a sword. I was born a king."
The world shifted.
In a flash of light, Aaren and Lenara were no longer in the downer chamber, but within a vision — a memory sculpted from raw emotion and time itself. They stood atop a vast mountain where kingdoms once thrived.
There, clad in black armor trimmed with silver flame, stood King Levitine, wielding a living blade of ash and light. At his side was another warrior, even taller, with crimson hair like wildfire — Withered Flame, son of Dragoroyale Boss III, the last emperor of the burning skies.
They stood back-to-back, swords drawn against an army that seemed endless.
> "We fought for balance, for truth. I was the ruler of the Sky Citadel. And Flame… was my brother in arms."
In the vision, Aaren saw the betrayal. The Council of the Upper Chamber feared Levitine's unity with the Downer Beasts. They feared his compassion. His strength. So, they conspired to bind him into the very sword he once wielded — the Descent Sword.
The vision faded.
Back in the chamber, Aaren dropped to one knee, overwhelmed by the weight of Levitine's past.
"You were never just a weapon…" he whispered. "You were a god among men."
Lenara stepped forward, her voice steady. "Now you know what kind of power you carry. It's no toy, Aaren. It's a legacy."
But that wasn't all.
Inside the secret scrolls in the drawer Aaren had taken from his grandfather's hidden room, there was more. As he opened the diary once again, a final page appeared — one that hadn't been there before.
The page bore a symbol he'd seen engraved in the stone ruins: a trinity of rings, each representing a chamber — Upper, Middle, and Downer — all connected by a hidden fourth path.
The text read:
> "If you've found this, Aaren… then I'm likely gone. But know this — your grandfather, Joseph Raythe, was not just an old man. He was the first to walk all three chambers. He was the keeper of the forbidden path — the one that binds them all."
Aaren's hands trembled. "He… was a Traveler."
Lenara looked at him, stunned. "The myth… it's real?"
Levitine's voice returned, soft this time.
> "He sealed me away, not out of fear… but to protect the only power that could resist the Council. Your bloodline is marked, Aaren. Your pain… is a legacy. And pain is a key that opens more than doors — it opens fates."
Suddenly, the chamber began to tremble.
From deep below, a divine figure emerged, cloaked in radiance. A being not from any of the three chambers — but older than them all.
"The time is coming," Levitine said. "You've seen who I was. Now let them see who you will become."
Aaren looked at the sky above. His grip tightened on the hilt of the Descent Sword.
"I will rise. Not because I want revenge anymore… but because this pain — our pain — is the fire that will burn their lies to ash."