Chapter 2
When Nyxen stepped through the spiral, the world flipped inside-out.
For a heartbeat there was only weightlessness and the roar of collapsing stars.
Then gravity returned—sideways.
He was falling, yet the ground rose to meet him from every direction.
He landed on something that looked like glass but pulsed like flesh. A faint heartbeat thudded beneath his boots; rivers of light coursed through translucent veins, looping up toward a ceiling of molten night. Every breath tasted of iron and lightning.
Above him floated entire mountains, upside-down, their roots dripping waterfalls of burning water. Oceans hung overhead like mirrors suspended by invisible threads. This was not a world made to exist. It was a reflection of creation after it had been broken and then forced to keep breathing.
"The Inverted Universe," he murmured. His voice came back twisted, syllables folding over themselves, echoing from behind his heart.
A figure awaited him across the glass plain—a woman sculpted of smoke and starlight, her eyes two black suns. The guardian of the second seal.
She bowed once, slow and deliberate. "Wanderer of the Unorthodox Path," she said. "You walk where gods have drowned. Turn back."
He did not answer. Instead, he drew his sword finger through the air. Light gathered around it, a single strand of silver fire. "Show me the path to the sword."
The guardian's expression did not change, but the world did. The glass plain liquefied into a storm of mirrors. From every surface, reflections of Nyxen stepped out—hundreds, each with different eyes, different scars, different lives.
The guardian's voice rippled through them all.
"Every choice you abandoned, every self you murdered, still breathes here. To reach the Heaven-Sealing Sword, you must kill yourself a thousand times."
He smiled faintly. "Then I'll start with the first."
The battle that followed had no noise. Each reflection attacked with his own movements, each one anticipating his thoughts. Blades of mirrored light carved the air, colliding in flashes that made the universe convulse. When he cut one down, another was born from the wound.
They're endless, he thought. Every sin, every mercy, all given form.
He shifted his stance—the Golden Scripture of the Unorthodox Path flared to life across his body, runes burning through his robes. Elemental rings appeared behind him: metal, fire, water, earth, wood. The runes spun faster until the air screamed.
"Metal—cut the false," he whispered.
The first ring split apart, blades of argent Qi slicing through the mirrored army. Dozens of his reflections shattered into shards of memory.
"Fire—burn the emotion."
Flames erupted from his heart, devouring both enemy and light. The smell of ash and lotus petals mingled in the air.
"Water—reflect the truth."
He opened his palm; the flames turned to liquid, cascading around him in a spiral. Inside that spiral, he saw her—the monk woman Lianhua—her face calm, eyes filled with the same sorrow that had once broken him. For a moment his strike faltered.
One of the reflections lunged, stabbing through his chest.
Blood splashed across the mirrored floor, disappearing before it touched. Pain seared through him like molten ice. Yet he smiled again.
"Earth—anchor the self."
His blood hardened into crystal, sealing the wound. The next blow glanced off harmlessly.
"Wood—regrow the spirit."
Roots of light burst from his feet, tearing through the false sky. The roots wrapped around the mirrors, crushing them one by one until only the guardian remained.
The woman of starlight stepped back, her form flickering. "You've destroyed your reflections," she said, "but each death left a mark."
He looked down. Tiny cracks webbed his skin, glowing faintly with dark light. Inside those fractures writhed shadows of his former selves.
"I'll bear them," he replied.
The guardian inclined her head. "Then learn the price."
She raised her hand—and the Inverted Universe screamed. Mountains collapsed upward, oceans fell from the ceiling, and a blade of pure darkness descended from the sky, its edge humming with divine hatred.
The Sword of the Void.
Nyxen clenched his fist. The Demonic Heavenly God Art stirred within him, nine spectral swords orbiting his body like moons of despair. Each sword resonated with a suffering of creation.
He crossed his hands before his chest.
"Sword of Starvation."
The blade devoured the falling darkness, drinking its energy until it dimmed.
"Sword of Drowning."
A pulse of illusion expanded, trapping the guardian in visions of endless death.
Yet she broke free, her form fracturing into wings of glass that cut reality itself. Shards sliced through his aura, severing two of the spectral swords.
Nyxen coughed blood. "So, the Inverted Universe defends its core directly," he said softly. "Then let it witness the truth."
He spread his arms wide.
"True Art of Mara—Heavenly Phantom Plane."
The world inverted again.
Now she stood inside his illusion—an endless plain of black fire, each flame a screaming thought. Above, the six moons of desire burned violet. The guardian faltered, her divine light flickering under the weight of so much sin.
"Emotion is not weakness," he said. "It's the blade that cuts heaven."
He brought his palms together.
The Finger of Flowery Swords ignited, blooming with petals of pure destruction. He thrust once.
The petals scattered, each carrying a sliver of his will. When they reached her, they bloomed silently.
The guardian disintegrated into motes of light.
The Inverted Universe convulsed one final time, folding in upon itself until it became a single, radiant point—the second seal.
He reached out and touched it. The light poured into him, fusing with the cracks on his skin, sealing them with golden flame.
Power surged through his veins like molten scripture. For an instant, he felt the breath of the Heaven-Sealing Sword calling from far ahead—a note of music older than the stars.
Then everything went dark.
When the darkness faded, he stood before a staircase made of frozen light that rose into nothingness.
"The third seal…" he whispered. "A path that climbs above gods."
He took the first step.