And stared into the abyss.
"You are the seed," the voice finally echoed—inside his bones, not his ears.
"Chosen not by fate… but by defiance."
Aiden's jaw tightened. "You know me."
"We do not know," it said. "We remember."
The throne leaned forward. The chains rattled without sound.
"You are not of this place. But you wear the echoes of many truths. Pride. Grief. Rebirth. Purpose."
It lifted a finger. Or perhaps it simply imagined it.
And space rippled.
"You seek to stop us."
Aiden nodded once. "Yes."
"To what end?"
"To protect those I love."
The faceless god tilted its head.
"A noble lie."
Aiden took a step forward.
"I've seen what your kind does to worlds. You eat stories. Burn dreams. Twist memories."
The air around him trembled with rising pressure.
But he didn't stop.
"You think mortals are weak. That we break too easily."
He raised his hand.
Summoned the Reaper Scythe—its blade now black with galaxy flame.
"But you forget something."
He vanished.
