The blade began its descent.

Time stretched.

Not in mercy.

In cruelty.

Lian watched the edge drop—slow, deliberate, silver catching the faint silver thread from above. The double’s arm moved without hurry, without tremor. The curved black steel gleamed once as it passed through the dim light, then became shadow again.

Elara’s illusion stared up at it.

Blue cyber eyes wide.

Not afraid.

Just... accepting.

She did not scream.

Did not flinch.

She looked past the blade.

Straight at Lian.

And in that look—silent, steady, unbroken—something inside him tore open wider than any physical wound.

He froze.

Completely.

Not from the kicks.

Not from the broken bones.

Not from the blood pooling under him or the organs shifting inside torn flesh.

He froze because he could not move.

Because the sight of her—about to die again, the same way Harlan had—locked every muscle, every nerve, every scrap of will he had left.

Just like before.

Hab-Block 17.

Metal door.

Three hard knocks.

Harlan rising slow.

Lian hiding.

Too small.

Too scared.

Too weak.

Watching.

Unable to stop it.

The syndicate enforcers stepping in.

Metal Jaw.

Shock baton.

The holo-photo.

The debt.

The bargain.

Lian offering himself.

Double shifts.

Dangerous tunnels.

Anything.

And still—Harlan’s legs shattered.

Still—blood on the floor.

Still—Harlan’s last smile through red teeth.

“You... always were... too good, Lian.”

Still—Lian on the floor.

Holding a hand that grew cold.

Still—unable to save him.

Now again.

Elara.

Alloy body.

Quiet waiting.

Hand on his through chains.

Outside the door.

Every day.

Every night.

And now—blade descending.

And Lian frozen.

Again.

He looked at the double.

At himself.

At the thing wearing his face.

Smiling.

Mocking.

And saw everything.

The months in the forge.

Hammer rhythm.

Ten thousand strikes.

The academy.

Stolen forms.

Midnight yard.

Elara’s silent blade.

The book.

The first heart.

The scout’s eyes.

The elder’s core.

Power.

Jump after jump.

Realm after realm.

Stellar Circuit Early.

Middle.

Whispers.

Voices.

Fusion.

The other him.

And still—

Here.

On the ground.

Bleeding.

Broken.

Watching someone he loved die.

Again.

He looked down at his body.

Shattered leg.

Open stomach.

Cracked ribs.

Bleeding ear.

Twisted arm.

Weak.

So weak.

All that training.

All that harvest.

All that pain.

And still—

Weak.

The blade dropped another inch.

Elara’s illusion did not blink.

Lian’s vision narrowed.

Tunnel.

Only her eyes.

Only the blade.

Only the memory of Harlan’s empty sockets.

And something inside him—deep, older than the voices, older than the harvests—stirred.

Not anger.

Not fear.

Clarity.

Cold.

Absolute.

He spoke.

Voice cracked.

Blood bubbling.

“Why... should this body limit me?”

The double paused.

Blade hovering.

Lian continued.

Slow.

Each word forced through torn throat.

“I swore to the heavens.”

“I would become the strongest.”

“I would never waver.”

“I would never be weak.”

“I would find them.”

“I would make them pay.”

He coughed.

Blood sprayed.

“But see me now.”

Broken.

Bleeding.

Frozen.

Watching her die.

Again.

The double tilted his head.

Amused.

Lian’s good hand curled.

Fingers dug into sand.

“I have come so far.”

“Harvest after harvest.”

“Realm after realm.”

“And still—”

He looked at his own ruined flesh.

“—nothing.”

“No trace.”

“No clue.”

“No sign the white-eyed man was ever here.”

“I forgot.”

The words came harder.

Voice raw.

“I forgot the only truth.”

“Power is the only way.”

“Nothing else.”

“Power rules the world.”

“Power is authority.”

“You can do anything if you are powerful.”

He stared at the double.

At himself.

At the mirror.

“Why should this body limit me?”

The double’s smile faltered—just a fraction.

Lian kept going.

Voice rising.

Broken.

But rising.

“The body is weak.”

“Flesh fails.”

“Bones break.”

“Blood spills.”

“I swore I would become the strongest.”

“So why should a mere body limit me?”

He dragged himself forward one inch.

Then another.

Leg trailing.

Guts shifting.

Pain white-hot.

He ignored it.

“I will shred it away.”

“I will build a new one.”

“I will abandon it.”

“Or I will remove the limiter from it.”

The double stared.

Blade still raised.

Lian’s eyes—void, fractured—locked on his own face.

“I will become what I swore to be.”

The air thickened.

The silver thread above flickered—blue now.

Faint.

Then brighter.

The double’s smile returned.

Wider.

Colder.

“You think you can—”

Lian cut him off.

Voice low. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Final.

“I am Lian Yu.”

And in that moment—

He became...