The sky was breaking.
Not cracking.
Not shattering.
Breaking—
as though something beyond reality itself was forcing its way through.
Space folded endlessly around Aarion as he ran.
Each step erased distance.
Each movement left dying stars trembling in his wake.
Entire galaxies dimmed as he passed—
like existence itself struggled to endure his presence.
Blood streamed from the wound in his side.
Yet none of it ever touched the void.
The moment it appeared—
it burned away into nothingness.
In his arms, a child slept peacefully.
Unaware.
As if the universe around him wasn't collapsing apart.
Aarion tightened his hold slightly, shielding the child's head as space behind him caved inward completely.
Then—
a voice echoed across the void.
Calm.
Cold.
Everywhere.
"You are injured, Endwalker."
Aarion didn't look back.
"Injured," he answered quietly.
"Not caught."
The void split open.
They emerged.
Outer Lords.
Their forms refused to remain stable. They shifted constantly—melting, reforming, distorting—as though reality itself could not decide what they were supposed to be.
Their mere existence crushed nearby stars into silence.
One of them raised its hand.
Sound became force.
A black thunder erupted forward—not lightning, but something far heavier.
Something that locked space itself.
For the first time—
Aarion stopped.
The void froze around him.
Then—
flames erupted from his body.
Not fire.
Erasure.
The thunder disappeared instantly.
Not destroyed.
Forgotten.
Aarion vanished.
Then appeared directly before the Outer Lord.
His hand pierced through its chest effortlessly.
The creature screamed once—
before its entire existence collapsed into nothing.
No corpse.
No remains.
Not even ash.
Silence rippled through the void.
Another attacked immediately.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Light.
Direction.
Meaning.
Aarion caught the creature by its throat mid-strike.
"You chose the wrong hunt."
His grip tightened.
The being didn't break.
It unraveled.
Concept by concept.
Until nothing remained.
Two dead.
The rest hesitated.
That hesitation became their death sentence.
Aarion moved again.
Like a falling universe.
Space ripped apart with every strike. Creation and destruction collided violently around him as entire star systems vanished in the aftermath.
One of the Outer Lords fled.
Barely intact.
But Aarion slowed.
His breathing grew heavier now.
Blood flowed freely from his side.
Then—
he looked down at the child.
Still asleep.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"…Good."
His voice softened for the first time.
"Stay that way."
And then—
the world changed.
Not violently.
Not suddenly.
Absolutely.
Space itself didn't freeze.
It obeyed.
Three figures stood ahead.
Simple.
Silent.
Unremarkable.
And yet reality bent around them carefully—
like existence feared touching them incorrectly.
Aarion's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…The Three Arbiters."
One stepped forward.
Axiom.
"Endwalker," he said calmly.
"Surrender the method."
Aarion laughed softly.
"You don't even understand what you're asking for."
Another figure spoke.
Veyronis.
"It was never yours," he said.
"It belonged to the one you called… brother."
For the first time—
Aarion's grip around the child tightened.
The third Arbiter moved.
Nyxar.
No warning.
Chains pierced through existence itself and slammed into Aarion's body.
Then came spikes.
Needles.
Dozens of them.
Each one locking something deeper than flesh.
His body trembled violently.
But he never screamed.
"Give us the path," Nyxar said.
Aarion exhaled slowly.
"…No."
Silence followed.
Then—
he moved.
Barely.
One arm broke free from the chains.
It was enough.
"Shyldra."
The artifact awakened instantly.
Liquid light flowed around the child layer after layer, wrapping him in absolute protection.
Warmth replaced chaos.
Silence replaced destruction.
Aarion looked at the child one final time.
And for a brief moment—
he no longer looked like Endwalker.
He looked human.
"…Live."
His voice was almost gentle.
"That is enough."
Then he threw the child into the void.
Not blindly.
Not desperately.
But toward somewhere beyond reach.
Beyond fate.
Beyond them.
The Arbiters moved instantly.
Too late.
The prison descended.
A structure vast enough to consume universes collapsed around Aarion, sealing him completely.
Darkness closed in.
Chains tightened.
Existence itself locked shut.
And Aarion—
smiled.
Far away—
on a quiet world called Eryndel—
the sky trembled.
Only for a second.
No one noticed.
But something fell from it.
A streak of light tore through the heavens before crashing deep into a forest below.
The earth split apart.
Flames rose.
Then silence returned.
A couple arrived moments later.
Careful.
Fearful.
At the center of the crater—
a child lay sleeping peacefully.
Wrapped in something unnatural.
Alive.
And for the briefest moment—
the sky above them hesitated.
As if reality itself had just made a mistake.
END