The Gate of Judgment stood silent. No longer a door, but a presence—like an eye watching from beyond time.
Fade stepped forward.
Each movement was heavier than the last, not from exhaustion, but from something else—a weight pressing inward, from within the bones.
His hand touched the edge of the stone frame.
[Warning: Trial Zone Entered – Subject Isolation Protocol Engaged]
The world blinked.
Everything fell away.
No light. No sound. No form. Just breath.
Fade's Trial
He stood in a formless space, surrounded by silence so thick it felt alive. The air held pressure, like the moment before a storm. Then—footsteps. His own, and not his own.
Three figures emerged from the dark:
A boy. A shadow. A hollowed version of himself.
The boy looked up, wide-eyed. "Why did you leave who you were?"
He wore the old uniform—stained, torn. Innocence frozen in time.
The shadow coiled like smoke, whispering from within. "You seek strength, but you hate the hunger that comes with it. Do you really want to be strong?"
It moved with grace, menace. Echoes trailed its voice.
The hollow one didn't speak. Its eyes were pits of nothing. Its skin cracked like ancient stone.
Fade stared at them all.
"I left because who I was couldn't survive," he said to the child.
"To want strength and still fear it—that's human," he told the shadow. "But I haven't stopped walking."
And to the hollow: "You are what I could have become. But I didn't."
The child smiled and vanished.
The shadow hissed and dispersed.
The hollow one crumbled to ash.
The darkness folded.
A presence emerged—silent, towering. Wings made of bone and starlight. Robes that shimmered like space itself.
Azrael.
He said nothing. He didn't need to.
He raised his hand. On his palm, a glowing core pulsed—half silver, half black.
Fade's chest responded instantly. Not with pain—but recognition. The marks on his skin, long dormant, began to burn softly.
"The pact was never gone. It simply slept beneath your fear."
[System Message: Bloodline Awakening – Condition Met]
[You have stepped beyond the boundary of choice. Fate acknowledges your will.]
[Trait Gained – Eclipse Core]
Effect: Compatible abilities may now resonate. Fusion potential unlocked.
His body lit up—not golden, not dark, but something between. The markings from the Vantablade inheritance flared again—black lines curling over his shoulders, his arms, his chest.
But now they moved.
They shifted with breath. They pulsed with rhythm.
They responded.
This was not a blessing.
It was a becoming.
His thoughts blurred. Voices layered. Not external—his own, but thousands of echoes.
He heard: Shadow Contract. Wraithstep. Unreflectable Move. Chain. Form. Sword. Soul.
Each word bent into the next.
Not separate. Not alone.
A sudden vision split across his mind—unbidden and raw.
A dim room. A woman's hand, warm on his shoulder. A voice:
"Not yet, Fade. He'll understand when it's time."
Another flash—his grandfather's back, framed by the fading sun.
"The blood will wake when it must."
Fade gasped as the visions cracked and disappeared.
[Species Updated: Vantablade / ????]
The human part… had gone quiet.
Fade collapsed to one knee.
His breath came in steady gasps.
He wasn't breaking.
He was shifting.
Azrael lowered his hand.
Then turned.
Then vanished.
And with him, the space unraveled.
Elsewhere – Arven & Darin
The illusion hadn't ended. But it had changed.
They knew it wasn't real. But knowing didn't undo it.
Arven sat on a low stone bench, watching a battlefield that hadn't existed in years. Smoke rolled across a field. A child's scream echoed from somewhere in the fog.
Darin stood beside a frozen image—his younger self, walking away from a boy who had begged him to stay. His brother.
Darin's voice cracked. "I told him I'd come back."
"You didn't," Arven said coldly.
"No. I didn't."
They stood in silence.
"This is all fake," Darin said.
"I know."
"It still hurts."
"I know."
From the mist, a figure approached.
Fade.
But not him.
This one had no emotion. Its eyes were static. Its voice dripped mockery.
"One of you will follow. One of you will fall."
The words were weightless. But they landed like stones.
"Not real," Darin whispered.
"I know," Arven repeated.
The fake Fade extended a hand.
"I'm what he's becoming. And you know it."
"No," Darin said.
"He'd never choose this," Arven growled.
But the doubt lingered.
Then—the air split.
The true Fade stepped through, steam rising from his shoulders. His eyes were sharp but heavy. He said nothing.
The false version shattered like glass.
They stood in silence. Breathing.
"You changed," Darin said finally.
Fade nodded. "I had to."
Arven didn't speak.
But he didn't turn away, either.
Later
Zeyna found Fade seated at the edge of the warped zone, arms resting on his knees.
The light of dawn hadn't yet touched the ground.
She approached quietly.
"You came back," she said.
He didn't look at her. "Not all of me did."
She sat beside him.
They didn't speak for a long time.
Then she said, "Something in you moved. I don't know what it is. But it doesn't feel wrong."
Fade finally looked at her.
"Do you think they'll trust me again?"
"They don't need to," she said. "They just need to follow."
Fade opened his hand. The markings glowed faintly.
Zeyna leaned back on her arms. "You know, I used to think you were the quiet one. Turns out you're just loud in strange places."
He almost smiled.
She nudged him with her shoulder. "You'll figure it out. And until then, I'll keep pretending not to be impressed."
Fade didn't answer.
But the dawn light finally broke the horizon.
He was no longer half-human.
He was becoming something else.
And it had only just begun.