Lucian fell through the fracture like a stone tossed into a storm. Time lost meaning. Light, shadow, and sound twisted around him in impossible loops, each moment stretching into eternity before snapping away. The world he had known—the ruins, the Vanguard convoy, Axel's cold stare—all vanished. Only the fracture remained, alive and pulsating, its rhythm beating in tandem with his own heart.
When he landed finally, it was on a surface that felt neither solid nor liquid. It shifted beneath his weight, molding itself to his presence, reacting to his fear, his determination. The pulse of the crystal—the fracture itself—was stronger here. He could feel it in his bones, threading through his nerves, pulling him deeper into the world's memory.
The voice returned, omnipresent and soft, yet sharp. Do you remember this place, Lucian?
"Yes," he said aloud, voice trembling. "I remember."
Shards of memory flooded him—visions not his own, yet somehow familiar. He saw a city of crystal towers reaching endlessly into a violet sky. Airships floated lazily between spires carved from living stone. People walked streets made of transparent material, yet their faces were indistinct, blurred. They moved with purpose but without sound, as if the world itself demanded silence.
He felt the pulse again—a reminder that he was inside the fracture, inside the memory of a world that had existed long before the current one. The crystal, the source of all the distortion, was a shard of the original core of creation, fractured in the wars of ancient gods.
You are the heir, the voice whispered, though it felt like it came from inside his skull. The one who carries what was lost.
Lucian staggered forward. The ground beneath him shimmered like water, reflecting fragments of memories. Every step showed him something new—scenes of cities rising, falling, people fighting for survival against beings of pure energy, machines of impossible complexity, and magic that bent reality itself.
He realized then that the crystal hadn't just been a source—it had been a repository. Every soul, every thought, every memory of the first world was embedded within it, waiting for someone to awaken it. And the fracture was the gateway.
A shadow moved across the fractured horizon. It had shape now, humanoid but distorted, wings of light sprouting from its back. Its eyes glowed a pale blue, and when it spoke, the sound was both everywhere and nowhere.
You have awakened too early, Lucian. The balance is fragile. To control the fracture is to rewrite the first world—but at what cost?
"I don't care," Lucian said. His voice was steadier than he felt. "I won't let it destroy this world. I'll stabilize it."
The figure tilted its head, studying him. You cannot stabilize what you do not understand.
Lucian clenched his fists. The shard in the center of the fracture pulsed brighter, as if acknowledging his determination. Then I will learn, he said. I will understand.
And in that moment, visions assaulted him—warriors of the first world, their weapons forged from pure thought, clashing against monsters that defied description. Cities crumbled beneath them, oceans boiled, mountains shattered. And amidst it all, a lone figure—an echo of him—stood at the center, commanding the power of the crystal.
Lucian staggered backward, overwhelmed. He realized the truth: he was not merely a witness. He was a part of this history, the fragment of a lineage that had been buried under centuries of forgotten time. His soul resonated with the crystal because it carried the bloodline of the first world's guardians.
And now, the voice continued, softer but urgent, you must choose. Will you embrace the inheritance, or will you let it consume you?
Before Lucian could respond, the fracture shuddered violently. Light and shadow twisted into shapes of living terror, reaching for him, testing his resolve. The crystal pulsed in response, almost as if it were alive, judging him.
He took a deep breath and reached out with his mind, trying to connect with the crystal. He felt the memories pulse beneath his fingers—echoes of lives, of wars, of love, and of loss. He felt their pain and their hope, their failures and triumphs. And through it all, he heard the voice again, now mingled with countless others: Guide us. Protect us. Remember us.
Lucian fell to his knees. The pressure of the first world's memory was overwhelming, but in the crushing weight, a clarity emerged. He understood what the figure had meant. Stabilizing the fracture wasn't about containing it with force—it was about harmonizing with it. To survive, to protect the world outside, he needed to become one with its rhythm, to guide the crystal, not control it.
The shadow moved closer, its pale light washing over him. Then accept the memory. Accept yourself.
Lucian's hands lifted instinctively. Energy surged from the shard, wrapping around him, threading into his veins. Pain, brilliance, and understanding flowed into him simultaneously. His body shook violently, but he forced himself to endure it.
And then—a calm.
The world around him shifted. The chaotic pulse slowed. The visions of war faded into soft echoes, like memories of a dream upon waking. Lucian opened his eyes. The fracture still existed, but it was no longer tearing the environment apart. Its energy was steady, contained, and responsive to his presence.
He could feel the first world inside him, not as a weapon, but as knowledge and guidance. Every heartbeat of the fracture matched his own.
And in that moment, Lucian knew one thing: the real battle was just beginning.
Above the fracture, he glimpsed faint silhouettes moving—Zara, Kai, Axel, and others. The fracture had not consumed them, but they were trapped in the edge of the memory, their forms distorted. He would need to bring them back. And beyond that, the ACO would not let him leave with this power untouched.
Lucian rose to his feet. He could feel the shard inside him, alive, humming with possibility and threat alike. He turned toward the fractured horizon.
The first world's memory is mine to bear, he whispered. And I will not fail.
The shadow receded, fading into the light of the shard, leaving Lucian alone. Yet he no longer felt fear—only determination. The fracture would not destroy this world. He would master it, and when he emerged, he would confront Axel, the ACO, and whatever else awaited him outside.
Because now, Lucian was no longer just a Vanguard soldier. He was the heir of a forgotten world, and the weight of history would bend to his will.
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