The scroll dissolved beneath Koda's hands.
The world blurred again—
not with the sharp, wrenching snap of the memory dives before,
but something slower.
Heavier.
A thick drag against his soul.
Shadows poured around him, endless and cold, swallowing sight, sound, even thought.
Koda tried to breathe.
There was no air.
Tried to move.
There was no ground.
Only a dark, smoky expanse stretching in every direction, as infinite as the night sky and as empty as the void between worlds.
And there—
in the center of it all—
a voice rose from the stillness.
Ancient.
Vast.
Gentle.
Terrible.
"This is how it started," the voice said, rich with sorrow and memory.
A voice that was not a stranger.
A voice that felt carved into Koda's bones.
The voice of the Guide.
"You and I… we are not so different."
Shapes began to coalesce in the smoke.
Not images.
Not memories.
Meanings.
A feeling of warmth—then loneliness.
A flash of power—then the crushing responsibility it demanded.
The scent of a summer garden—then the stench of burning fields.
Koda stood silently, absorbing it all.
The Guide continued, the words slow, each one landing with the force of a hammer on stone.
"You might even wonder… how Clara, with the wind element, came to be remembered not for speed, not for battle—
but for healing.
For life."
The smoke thickened, twisting into a shape—a woman kneeling in a field of wildflowers, dirt under her nails, sunlight dancing in her hair.
"My wife," the Guide said, voice almost breaking. "She only wanted to tend her garden."
The vision shifted.
The flowers burned.
Smoke blackened the skies.
Children cried out from the rubble.
Blood soaked into the earth.
"But the world demanded more."
The figure of Clara rose, the flowers gone, armor now covering her slender form.
Her hands still healed.
But now they also defended.
Now they fought.
"And so we gave it," the Guide said, softer now.
Not anger.
Not regret.
Only the weary acceptance of those who could no longer run from duty.
"But this," the Guide said, the smoke swirling, reshaping again into the crumbling outlines of cities and broken landscapes,
"this is only the beginning."
A heartbeat passed.
Maybe an eternity.
Then—
"Two thousand years later from where you stand, and only five hundred years before your present time—"
The smoke twisted violently, scenes flashing faster than thought—
great cities falling, oceans boiling, skies torn by fire.
"You must see what came next."
The visions slowed.
A single towering spire rose from a blasted plain—Heaven itself, still whole, still luminous.
But the world around it was in chaos.
The cities of man—great, sprawling empires built on the foundation the Guide and his companions had once laid—had turned inward.
Had grown decadent.
Had forgotten.
Forgotten what sacrifice built their safety.
Forgotten what dangers still clawed at the edge of the world.
And something else had come.
Not from outside.
Not from distant stars or unknown monsters.
From within.
"You see," the Guide said, and now his voice was lower, a rumble that seemed to make the very fabric of the void shudder,
"we claimed the Dead God's will—its power, its knowledge."
The smoky world darkened further.
"But not its instinct."
From the mist, monstrous shadows rose, twisting and writhing.
Each radiated a different hunger, a different sickness.
"Left unchecked by will, the primal desires of the Dead God survived."
The shapes grew clearer now.
Seven figures.
Seven sins.
Koda could feel their presence crawling against his skin.
Gluttony. Greed. Envy. Pride. Wrath. Sloth. Lust.
Manifested not as mere flaws,
but as living forces.
Each a catastrophe waiting to devour all that humanity had built.
"You have already faced one," the Guide whispered.
The smoky void swirled and a vast, bloated thing appeared, dripping rot, gorging itself endlessly.
Gluttony.
"You crushed it. Stopped its spread. Gave your people another day."
The image dissolved into mist, blown apart by unseen winds.
"But now—"
The next figure stepped forward from the gloom.
Its form was slick and shifting, clad in robes of woven gold, its arms stretching into countless grasping hands, reaching, clutching, always wanting more.
Greed.
"You must overcome this next."
The Guide's voice grew stronger, and the smoky shadows shook under the weight of it.
"But beware."
The other shapes lingered behind Greed—silent for now, patient.
"You have yet to face Envy, Pride, Wrath, Sloth, or Lust."
Each name fell like a tolling bell, sinking deep into Koda's bones.
"And they are coming."
The Guide paused.
For a moment, the void seemed to still—
as if even the smoke itself needed to catch its breath.
"You are not alone," he said at last.
"I will support you."
A faint glimmer of light sparked in Koda's chest—small, but steady.
"The Dead God's will—what I shaped, what I preserved—will answer your call."
Strength surged through Koda.
Not raw power.
Not magic.
Something older.
A deep resilience.
A tether to those who had fought before him, who had built the world he now struggled to save.
"But know this," the Guide said, and the light dimmed again,
"this fight is not for survival alone."
The smoky world shifted again.
Images flickered—armies marching under black banners, cities devouring themselves in endless civil wars, monsters born of hatred and jealousy tearing through once-proud civilizations.
"If you fail," the Guide said, his voice now hard as iron,
"the world will not simply burn."
"It will become the very thing we fought to prevent."
Koda stood there, alone but not alone, the visions of sin still seething around him.
The weight of history—the cost of every step forward—settled on his shoulders.
He clenched his fists, feeling the new strength burn through his veins.
He was not the first to bear this burden.
He would not be the last.
But he would not fail.
He could not.
Too many had sacrificed.
Too much had been lost.
The Guide's voice softened once more, like a hand resting on his shoulder from beyond the ages.
"Go, Koda."
"Go with eyes open. Heart steady. Blade sharp."
"And remember—"
The smoke shivered, pulling tighter, coiling around Koda like a cloak.
"You are not alone."
The smoky void began to collapse inward.
The visions of the Seven Sins receded, lurking just beyond sight, patient and eternal.
The light in Koda's chest grew brighter.
A beacon.
A sword.
A promise.
And as the last of the Guide's words echoed through the vanishing darkness—
Koda opened his eyes.
The war was only beginning.