The forest around the Second Seal wasn't green. It was gray. Every tree looked drained of life, bark split open and bleeding mist instead of sap. The air stank of ash and metal. And yet Rayon walked through it like it was just another evening stroll. His steps were slow, deliberate, almost royal. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, head slightly tilted, crimson eyes flickering beneath his dark hair like coals caught in a storm.
The last time he was here, he'd backed off—his body wasn't ready. But now? There was no "not ready." Ever since the seal inside him shattered, there was no going back.
He was always in that state now.
Full potential Rayon. The version of him that Erethon once called the walking definition of insanity wrapped in elegance.
The air bent around him as he walked, tiny ripples of reality distorting in the wake of his presence. Each step hummed like a thread being pulled through existence. Erethon's voice echoed faintly in his head, sounding almost amused.
"You finally get it now, don't you? There's no on and off switch for what you've become. You're permanently awakened. Insanity isn't your curse anymore—it's your nature."
Rayon smirked, brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes. "And yet I'm calm."
"You're calm because you've accepted it," Erethon replied. "That's the difference. Most people drown in their madness—you made yours your throne."
A faint rumble echoed across the forest. The ground split a few feet ahead, dust rising like breath from the earth. Something was waiting.
The Second Seal.
A cracked obsidian monument half-buried in the soil, marked with spiraling runes that pulsed faintly like veins of molten gold. It wasn't as large as the one that held Vorthalaxis, but the pressure it gave off was denser—like the weight of reality itself was heavier here.
Vorthalaxis' voice coiled through Rayon's thoughts, dark and smooth.
"This seal feels… wrong. It's not ancient like the others. It's older."
Rayon tilted his head. "Older than ancient? That doesn't make sense."
"It wasn't made to contain something. It was made to keep something out."
That made him pause. His gaze dropped to the runes crawling over the black stone, glowing brighter the closer he stepped. He could feel it—the faint hum of strings vibrating under his skin, reacting to the seal's pulse.
Something about this place recognized him.
And that was never a good thing.
He crouched near the monument, fingertips brushing the surface. It burned. The markings seared against his hand, and yet the pain didn't register. His nerves had long since adapted. He could feel his body shifting constantly now, micro-adjustments in muscle fibers and cells, adapting faster than most could blink.
He didn't fear pain anymore—it just became information.
His Hollow Strings stirred inside him, resonating with the seal's energy. Erethon's tone dropped to something more serious.
"Be careful, Rayon. This isn't one of those beasts chained for amusement. Whatever's beneath this seal—it predates me."
That was saying something. Erethon was older than most civilizations.
Rayon stood, cracking his neck lazily. "Then I'll get to know my neighbor."
"You really are insane."
He smiled faintly. "Of course. You taught me well."
He raised his hand, and the air tightened. Threads shimmered between his fingers, invisible to mortal sight, but in this dead forest, they glowed faint silver.
The seal reacted instantly. The runes flared. A guttural scream erupted from the monument, not through sound but through thought.
Reality warped. The trees twisted, snapping at their roots. The ground split wide, a deep chasm tearing open as black mist poured upward like blood from a wound.
From that abyss crawled something massive.
A figure. Humanoid, yet not. Its flesh was dark stone laced with glowing red veins, and where its head should've been was a smooth mirror of shifting faces. Thousands of them—crying, laughing, screaming.
Erethon's voice hardened.
"That's Orrenval—the Mirror of Ten Thousand Agonies. The being sealed before my age. It devoured gods through reflection. You don't fight it—you fight yourself through it."
Rayon's smirk returned. "Sounds fun."
He cracked his knuckles, the faint hum of strings slicing the air.
Orrenval moved first. Its mirrored surface rippled, forming an exact copy of Rayon. Same eyes. Same smirk. Same posture.
Rayon stared for a heartbeat, then chuckled under his breath.
"Cute."
He vanished.
The forest shattered from the pressure of his movement. Wind howled. Two identical blurs clashed in the air, fists colliding with sonic cracks that bent the space around them. Each hit felt like a bomb detonating, each block a ripple in time.
But the real Rayon didn't look strained. He was smiling, eyes lit with that familiar thrill—the high that came with danger, chaos, and pain.
Orrenval's copy managed to catch him across the jaw, sending him skidding through a broken tree. The impact didn't slow him—he twisted midair and laughed, wiping blood from his mouth.
"Didn't hurt."
He lunged back, faster. Every strike was sharper, his movements adapting, refining, adjusting. Within seconds, he'd learned the mirror's rhythm. And then—he broke it.
The strings lashed out, invisible filaments carving through the reflection. The mirror-Rayon staggered, chest split open by silver threads that pulsed with unnatural life.
"He's syncing with you!" Erethon warned.
"I know." Rayon grinned wider. "That's what makes it interesting."
Orrenval's laughter echoed from every direction, a thousand distorted Rayons speaking at once.
"You can't destroy your own reflection, child of madness."
"Then I'll consume it."
The words weren't a threat—they were a decree.
His aura shifted. The air thickened. The forest turned pitch black as his Insanity awakened fully, that transcendent hunger tearing through his body like wildfire.
The reflection screamed as Rayon reached out, strings spearing through its chest and pulling its essence apart, threads unraveling its existence strand by strand. He absorbed it—every emotion, every pain, every memory—and the moment he did, the mirror creature shattered into shards of screaming light.
Silence followed.
The forest burned in a quiet glow of silver flames.
Rayon stood in the ruins, breathing slow and steady, eyes half-lidded. Erethon's voice came again, quieter this time.
"You just devoured something from before my time, Rayon… do you even realize what you're becoming?"
Rayon glanced at his reflection in the shattered ground—a faint grin curling his lips.
"Yeah. Something new."
But deep beneath the ruined seal, something else stirred. A presence far colder than Orrenval's. Watching. Waiting.
And in the Awakeners' fortress miles away, a pulse was felt. The Founder, Elydrin, looked up from his seat as the crimson sigil on his wall flickered violently.
"The Second Seal has been broken…"
His voice trembled—not in fear, but anticipation.
He smiled faintly.
"The game begins again."