Aetheron stepped forward.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the world shifted.
The stone floor beneath him vanished, and he felt the unsettling sensation of weightlessness, like he had been pulled into a void. His breath caught for a second—then gravity snapped back.
THUD.
He landed on something solid.
Aetheron straightened, his eyes scanning his surroundings.
Darkness.
Not just any darkness—absolute, endless, suffocating. It was so thick it almost felt tangible, pressing against his skin like a living thing.
He took another step, and the sound echoed.
That was the first thing that struck him. The echoes shouldn't have been possible.
Where was he?
Aetheron exhaled through his nose. "No warnings this time, huh?"
His voice vanished into the void, swallowed instantly.
And then—a whisper.
Not in his ears.
In his mind.
Aetheron froze.
It wasn't words. It was… a presence.
Something vast. Watching. Waiting.
Then—light.
Faint at first, like a dying ember, then growing brighter. Lines of crimson and violet carved themselves into the air, forming intricate patterns that pulsed with a strange, rhythmic energy. They stretched far into the distance, creating a pathway in the void.
Aetheron frowned.
A path forward.
Or a trap.
Either way, standing still wasn't an option.
He started walking.
The Path of Remnants
Each step felt heavier than the last.
It wasn't exhaustion—it was something else. Like the very air was pressing down on him, as if something was testing his presence.
Then—
The whispers returned.
But this time, they weren't just a presence.
They were voices.
And worse—he recognized them.
"You took what wasn't yours."
Aetheron's steps faltered.
The voice was distant yet clear, heavy with resentment.
"You walk a path that doesn't belong to you."
More voices joined in, overlapping, whispering, accusing.
"You are unworthy."
"You should have never devoured it."
"You are nothing but a thief."
Aetheron's fingers twitched.
The whispers weren't just random.
They were from the ones he had taken from.
The ones he had devoured.
His Dominion stirred, almost in response, shifting uneasily.
Then—
The first figure appeared.
Aetheron's eyes snapped to the side.
Standing just off the glowing path was a familiar shape.
A warrior clad in shattered armor, his body flickering between existence and nothingness.
Aetheron recognized him instantly.
One of the first abilities he had ever taken.
The warrior raised his head, empty eyes locking onto Aetheron.
And then—
He attacked.
The Phantom's Assault
The warrior moved like lightning.
One moment he was standing still.
The next—he was inches from Aetheron.
Aetheron reacted on instinct.
His arm snapped up, Dominion flaring around him as he blocked the strike.
CLANG!
The impact rattled his bones.
The warrior's blade—ethereal, yet razor-sharp—pushed against him, crackling with energy.
Aetheron gritted his teeth, forcing him back.
The warrior skidded across the glowing path, but didn't stop.
He vanished.
Aetheron's senses screamed.
Behind you.
He twisted—
Just in time.
The blade sliced through the air where his neck had been.
Aetheron countered.
His Dominion lashed out, energy crackling around his fist as he struck.
BOOM!
The warrior exploded into mist.
But Aetheron didn't relax.
Because he could still feel him.
And worse—he wasn't alone.
The Tide of Shades
The whispers grew louder.
More figures emerged.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Some were warriors. Others were sorcerers, assassins, rulers—all the ones he had taken from.
Their eyes burned with the same emptiness.
And they were all coming for him.
Aetheron clenched his jaw. "Tch. You've gotta be kidding me."
The first wave charged.
Aetheron moved.
His Dominion erupted.
He became a storm of motion, dodging, striking, countering—but they kept coming.
For every one he destroyed, two more replaced it.
His muscles burned.
His breath was sharp.
This wasn't a battle he could just win.
The path stretched endlessly ahead.
And the shades weren't stopping.
He needed a way out.
Then—
The light pulsed.
Aetheron's gaze snapped forward.
There—at the farthest point of the path—
A gate.
Not like the one before.
This one was pure white, glowing with an aura that felt completely different from the darkness around it.
It was an exit.
Aetheron exhaled.
Then that's where he had to go.
The Final Push
Aetheron's Dominion surged.
His aura expanded, crackling with sheer force.
And then—
He ran.
The shades moved to block him.
He ripped through them.
His speed tripled.
His form became a blur of destruction, dodging, weaving, striking—unstoppable.
The gate drew closer.
Ten steps.
Five.
Three—
Then—
A hand grabbed his arm.
Aetheron's eyes widened.
Because the one holding him—
Wasn't a shade.
It was himself.
A perfect mirror image.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But its expression was cold.
Empty.
"You don't belong here."
Aetheron's grip tightened.
"Then move."
The reflection didn't.
Aetheron yanked free.
And then—
He lunged through the gate.
The Other Side
Aetheron staggered forward.
The air shifted around him.
The whispers vanished.
And when he looked up—
He was standing in a new place.
A vast, open chamber.
At the center—
A figure.
Not like before.
This one was waiting.
Watching.
And when they spoke, their voice was calm.
"You've made it."
Aetheron exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
Then—he smiled.
"Yeah. I guess I did."