{ a heart and a pact }
Aki stood before the final door, his hands trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer exhaustion of the gauntlet he had just overcome. He could feel the purity of the serene god's power radiating from behind it, a final beacon of hope in this place of despair. With a deep, shuddering breath, he placed his palm on the golden door. It didn't hiss or warp under his touch. It felt warm, and it yielded, swinging open silently. He had expected to see a god, a warrior, a colossal figure of light ready to stand beside him in a final battle.
But he was wrong.
Instead, a devastating, heartbreaking scene unfolded before him. The room was not vast and grand like the throne room. It was a simple, circular chamber, filled with a soft, ethereal light. In the center, suspended within a massive, shimmering orb of golden energy, was not a god, but a small, frail figure. He was a little child.
The child's face was hidden by a curtain of long, golden hair that fell over his eyes. His body was small and limp, his limbs hanging loosely. He was still wearing the robes of the serene god, but they were now a vast, oversized garment that drowned his tiny frame, a stark and tragic reminder of the god he once was. Chains, a horrifying mockery of the ones that had bound Aki, wrapped around his tiny ankles and wrists. But the most horrifying detail was the chain around his throat, a thin, almost invisible band of pulsing darkness that seemed to be suffocating him even in his unconscious state.
The orb that held him was not protecting him. It was a prison, and the chains were not just binding him; they were actively draining him. The ethereal light from the orb pulsed in time with the malicious thrum of the chains, a horrifying beat that was stealing his essence, piece by piece.
Aki's heart, which had been so full of fury and resolve, shattered. The powerful, all-encompassing rage he had felt just moments before was replaced by a profound, agonizing sorrow. This wasn't a hero to be saved. This was a child, a precious, innocent being. The Architect had not simply defeated a god; he had committed an act of cosmic, unpardonable cruelty. He had reverted the serene god to his most vulnerable state, a living, silent testament to his own triumphant malice.
"Oh, my brother…" Lyra's voice was a mournful sob in his mind, filled with a sorrow so deep it felt like a physical weight. "He didn't kill him. He shrank him. He's draining his pure essence, his very innocence, to power his new world. The sacrifice day… it's when he takes his final breath."
A cold, familiar voice echoed from behind Aki. The Architect stood in the doorway, a triumphant smirk on his face. He wasn't enraged. He was filled with a gleeful, sadistic joy.
"Such a beautiful, ironic end, isn't it?" the Architect purred, his voice a low, gravelly hum. "He called me flawed, brother. He said my rage was a childish tantrum. So I gave him the tantrum he deserved. I am taking his power and his purity, not with a quick kill, but with a slow, agonizing theft of his innocence. He will be my new world's foundation, a child forced to watch his own essence used to build a universe of his brother's twisted will."
The Architect's gaze fell on Aki, his smirk widening.
"He taught me never to be sentimental. So, I will not simply kill you, little hero. I will show you the end of all things, built from the broken remains of the very hope you stood for. He is the power. You are the instrument. Now, come, and be a part of my new reality."
The Architect's form began to shift, to grow, to become a colossal, terrifying being of pure, unadulterated menace. He was ready to fight, a god against a child and a broken-hearted boy. Aki's sorrow turned to a white-hot fury, a rage more pure and devastating than anything he had felt before. The Architect had not only defeated his god but had humiliated him. He had not only broken his friend but had turned him into a weapon. Now, he was going to take an innocent life. The time for sorrow was over. The time for vengeance had come.