Earth
The wind felt… wrong.
Matt landed on a rooftop in what remained of Lumina Heights.
Once peaceful. Now—
Smoke.
Sirens.
Buildings flickering between seconds.
Glass suspended mid-shatter.
In the plaza below, people wandered in loops. Some stood still, whispering names they no longer knew. Others looked straight through him—hollow-eyed, memory-scrubbed.
Matt gripped the Shadowsidian Blade.
"This isn't invasion," he muttered.
"It's… a rewrite."
The Void inside him shuddered.
Then he saw it.
Hovering above the plaza.
Gray robes. Porcelain mask. Five black dots.
"You are not written in the Codex of the Living," it intoned.
"You are anomaly. Error. Flame to be extinguished."
Vorenn, the Pale Whisper.
Lieutenant to Imperial Paladin Thermuz.
Wielding a Void Mirror Halberd—a weapon that could mimic Matt's every move… at double speed.
Matt dropped into the street.
"Tell Thermuz…
I'm coming for him next."
Vorenn raised a hand.
Reality glitched.
---
The Rewrite Duel
Fighting Vorenn was like dancing against fate.
He moved before Matt did.
He stole memories mid-blow—names, smells, whole childhood summers.
Each strike cut through more than flesh. It cut through self.
Void Corruption: 44%
Rage surged. That's what Vorenn wanted.
"You burn with remembrance," the Whisper hissed.
"Let me silence you."
Matt exhaled.
Stormpulse: Activated.
Ember Rift: Triggered.
And then—
All three sigils aligned.
A surge like thunder across starlight.
Stellar Void Fusion: Initiated.
Void, Thunder, and Ember spiraled into one blade.
His body lifted.
Wings of radiant shadow flared from his back.
He struck—beyond time.
One slash.
The halberd shattered.
The mask cracked.
Vorenn screamed—not in pain… but clarity.
"I see you now…
I see the Throne."
Then dissolved into static.
---
The Witnesses & The Writ
The city trembled.
Civilians gasped. Some cried. Some remembered.
Matt sheathed the blade and looked skyward.
---
Celestial Hall: The Five Thrones
Above Earth, in a star-wrapped council hall, five Paladins watched from floating thrones.
Thermuz stood.
"The Reincarnate has become the Flame once more."
Monshin smiled.
Analice licked her lips. "Handsome when he's angry."
Arshimest turned away. "He'll break. Or burn. All things do."
Nimistran simply sharpened his blade.
The war had begun.
And Matt Salurga… was its spark.