What lies hidden in the crevices of the past we've forgotten?
Is it comfort or chaos?
Truth or torment?
And if the shadows conceal the truth, do we have the strength to face it?
Hiroto felt himself falling, deeper and deeper into the suffocating abyss of shadows. The cold was unbearable, cutting through his very soul as the darkness seemed to seep into his skin. A voice echoed all around him, deep and resonant, dripping with mockery and menace.
"You wanted to know about your past, Hiroto," the Shadow Sovereign said, its voice reverberating like a thousand whispers overlapping. "Very well. I shall show you who you were."
The words sent a chill through Hiroto's entire being, and before he could process them, his surroundings began to shift.
The crushing darkness faded, replaced by a vast expanse of lush green grassland. The sky was painted with soft hues of orange and gold, as if caught in an eternal sunset. The place felt both foreign and familiar, a strange dichotomy that gnawed at Hiroto's mind.
"Where am I?" he murmured to himself, turning to take in the scenery. His voice echoed faintly, as if the land itself was a hollow shell.
Then he saw it.
A figure stood in the distance, silhouetted against the fading sunlight. Clad in white and gold armor that shimmered with ethereal light, the figure held a long double-ended sword. Its hilt, perfectly balanced at the center, connected two blades—one extending upward, the other downward. The weapon pulsed faintly, as if it were alive.
Hiroto's breath caught in his throat. The figure was him—or rather, someone who looked exactly like him.
"This… this can't be," Hiroto whispered, his voice trembling. He began to move toward the figure, each step feeling heavier than the last. "Who are you?!"
But his words didn't reach the figure. The man, oblivious to Hiroto's presence, turned and began walking toward a massive cave in the distance.
Hiroto followed, helplessly drawn into the unfolding scene.
The air grew colder as they approached the mouth of the cave, which radiated an ominous energy. Inside, nestled in the shadows, was a massive, pulsating crystal of pure darkness—the Dark Crystal.
Hiroto froze in place, his stomach churning. The sight of the crystal was enough to bring back flashes of fear and pain. Memories of his first encounter with the Dark Crystal surged through his mind, but this was different. The crystal seemed even more malevolent, its black energy pulsating like a living heart.
The figure, however, showed no fear. Raising the double-ended sword, he spoke in a voice filled with both determination and sorrow. "Even I cannot destroy this crystal."
Hiroto's heart sank at the words.
The figure's weapon began to glow, its light intensifying until it was almost blinding. The air hummed with power as the figure continued speaking. "I am the Light Prodigy, the one who defeated the Dark Sage. But even with my power, I am too weak to destroy this Dark Crystal, I am even too weak to fight even one of the Six Shades. It's good that the Six Shades and their unnamed master are sealed here. The world is safe as long as they remain bound."
Hiroto's mind raced. The unnamed master… That means Shadeborn.
The figure turned to face the crystal, his expression resolute. "I have to guard this crystal until my last breath. If the darkness within escapes, there will be no saving the world."
Suddenly, the scene began to shift. Time seemed to accelerate, the sun and moon racing across the sky in rapid succession. Hiroto could feel the passage of years, then decades, then centuries.
The figure remained in place, unwavering in his vigil. But as the years wore on, his once-shining armor dulled, his posture hunched, and his body withered. The weight of time took its toll, and after what felt like an eternity, the figure collapsed before the crystal.
Hiroto felt a pang of grief as he saw the man's remains disintegrate into nothingness, leaving behind only the weapon, broken and corroded.
The cave grew silent for what felt like another thousand years. Then, from the shadows, a new figure emerged.
Hiroto's blood ran cold.
The Dark Sage.
The Sage moved with a deliberate grace, his dark robes flowing as if alive. He approached the broken weapon, his lips curling into a wicked smile. "Ah, how the mighty have fallen. The Light Prodigy, reduced to dust."
The Sage knelt, picking up the corroded weapon with care. "But even in death, your power lingers. This will do nicely."
Hiroto's pulse quickened as the Sage held the weapon aloft, dark energy swirling around it. "With this, I shall craft the perfect vessel for the darkness. A being strong enough to destroy the world. I shall call him… Hiroto."
"No…" Hiroto whispered, his voice cracking as the realization hit him. "No, no, no!"
The shadows around him trembled, and the scene dissolved into darkness. Shadow Sovereign's voice echoed once more, laced with cruel satisfaction. "Do you understand now, Hiroto? You are the vessel. The weapon crafted by the Dark Sage himself. You were never meant to be a hero. You were created to destroy."
Hiroto fell to his knees, his hands trembling as the truth sank in. "I'm… Shadeborn. I was created… to destroy."
The Sovereign's laughter rang out, a symphony of mockery. "And the memories you've lost? Those were taken by the Dark Sage when he remade you. The past you've been searching for is nothing but an illusion."
Hiroto's mind reeled, questions spiraling endlessly.
If my memories were erased because of the Dark Sage, then why did my friends lose their pasts too?
The Sovereign's voice faded, leaving Hiroto alone in the suffocating darkness, haunted by the truths he had uncovered—and the questions that remained unanswered.