The city was in chaos. Fires glimmered in alleyways like trapped souls, and shadows writhed unnaturally along every wall. Mohamed's body ached from the previous battle, yet his mind burned brighter than ever—memory fragments buzzing in every direction, some anchoring reality, others threatening to tear it apart.
Selene stood beside him, her violet eyes reflecting the city's chaos. "Tonight," she said quietly, "you face the culmination of everything. The Eclipse Order has advanced beyond mere agents. Faromet's influence touches every corner. And the corrupted figure… is only a herald."
Mohamed swallowed hard. Faromet… he's already here, even if I can't see him.
Suddenly, the streets shimmered, warping under the weight of memory energy gone rogue. Familiar buildings twisted, merging with visions from Mohamed's childhood—streets he had walked, rooms he had once occupied—overlapping with visions of destruction and shadow.
It's not just the Order… it's him. It's Faromet.
From the shadows, agents of the Eclipse Order emerged—humans and monsters alike—but something was different. Their movements were coordinated as if guided by a single consciousness, and the symbols etched into their armor glowed faintly red and black. Mohamed recognized them now: Freemasonic patterns, Kabbalistic glyphs, Vatican-encoded sigils, all fused into a single design.
They've merged their knowledge into war.
Mohamed raised his hands. Memory fragments surged, coalescing into spectral streets and blazing swords. He fought with precision, each strike dispersing shadows, each barrier protecting civilians fleeing the area. But the deeper he went, the more he felt the tug at his mind—a whisper of temptation, offering absolute power if he gave in.
"Take it… control all memories… reshape reality…"
The voice was not Faromet directly, yet he felt it in every thought. The whispers of Freemasonry, Kabbalah, and Vatican secrecy fused into one, guiding him toward chaos.
I won't give in… I am my own anchor.
The corrupted figure appeared again, stepping through the twisted cityscape. "Even now, you resist," they said. "But he is patient. Faromet always waits for the perfect fracture. Every memory you hold, every fragment you protect… he knows its weakness."
Mohamed's hands glowed as he summoned the deepest fragments he could recall—his mother's warmth, his childhood laughter, moments of triumph and loss—all woven into a lattice of light and memory. The shadows recoiled. The city bent and twisted under his will, his control stabilizing reality itself.
And then… silence.
A massive presence appeared atop the tallest building, silhouetted against the crimson sky. Black horns curved into the night, red lines pulsating along segmented armor—the unmistakable form of Faromet, the Eclipse Baphomet.
"You have grown," Faromet's voice boomed, omnipresent yet impossible to locate. "But growth is only the beginning. Memory is a cage, Mohamed. Power is a cage. And I am the key."
Mohamed's chest burned, memory fragments flickering under Faromet's mental pressure. Shadows began to flicker across the city, agents turning against one another as Faromet subtly warped their perceptions.
This is the moment… I either control myself… or the city falls.
Mohamed extended his arms, calling upon every fragment he had anchored. Streets, memories, spectral warriors, illusions—they all merged into a pulsating dome of pure memory energy, pushing back the shadows, stabilizing reality. His mind screamed, straining against the subtle pull of Faromet.
"You cannot hold it!" the corrupted figure shouted, their voice cracking. "Every memory will betray you! Every fragment will fracture!"
But Mohamed's resolve hardened. "I am not just memories. I am intent. I am will. I am choice!"
With a blinding surge of light, the city snapped back into focus. The shadows dissolved, agents fled, and the corrupted figure collapsed into nothingness, leaving behind only a lingering echo of Faromet's presence.
Mohamed sank to his knees, exhausted but unbroken. He could feel Faromet's gaze, subtle but omnipotent, like a shadow brushing against his soul. Selene crouched beside him.
"You survived the fracture," she said. "But remember this: Faromet does not strike directly. He manipulates, corrupts, and waits. Every choice you make, every memory you hold… he sees it all. The war has only begun, and he is the ultimate test."
Mohamed clenched his fists, blood and sweat running down his face. "Then I'll be ready. No matter what it takes… I will not fall."
Faromet's horns shimmered in the distance, black and red against the night sky, watching, waiting, and already planning the next move.
The Shattered Memories arc had reached its climax, but the shadow of the Eclipse Baphomet loomed larger than ever.