The labyrinth pulsed with unseen will. Every stone, every shifting corridor, seemed to breathe as if aware of Jax's presence—no, as if acknowledging what he had become.
Two fragments of the Chronicle burned in his grasp, their radiant hum sinking into his veins like molten light. He could feel it now—the weight of the forgotten, the echoes of what once was and what could have been. His body was fire, his mind a storm.
And still, something watched.
A force beyond sight, beyond comprehension, lingering just beyond the veil of existence.
Then, a sound—low and sharp, dripping with disdain.
"Tch. How disappointing."
The voice did not echo. It simply existed, pressing against the fabric of reality like an immutable law. Jax stiffened, muscles coiling as the air grew heavy with unseen gravity.
"And to think he is my son."
The words struck harder than any blade.
Jax turned—too fast, too slow, it didn't matter—because what loomed before him was not bound by such trivial things as time or motion.
A figure stood amidst the labyrinth's shifting void, its presence both absolute and intangible. Cloaked in a mantle of unfathomable darkness, its form was neither solid nor ephemeral, but something beyond both—a being of paradox. And where its face should have been, only a vast, swirling abyss remained.
A Supreme Entity.
No.
His Supreme Entity.
Jax felt the weight of it now—the undeniable truth threading through his very bones. He had not merely stumbled through destiny's corridors by chance. He had been guided. Shaped. Tested.
And the hand that had always been waiting in the abyss... was his own blood.
"You have strength, but you lack understanding."
The entity lifted a single hand. The gesture was almost lazy—dismissive.
Yet in that moment, Jax ceased to exist.
The labyrinth, the echoes, the stone beneath his feet—all unraveled. His mind fell into a chasm of unbeing, slipping between the cracks of reality itself. Every fragment of self, every memory, every thought—undone.
For an eternity, there was nothing.
And then—
A single ember of light.
Not from the shards.
Not from the labyrinth.
From him.
A surge unlike anything he had ever known rushed into him, roaring through his being like a cosmic inferno. The Supreme's hand remained poised in that same idle motion—but Jax felt the impossible weight of power slamming into him.
His breath came in sharp gasps. His body trembled, burned, reformed. He should have been erased. He should have been nothing.
But he was still here.
The entity's abyssal face did not shift, yet something in its presence changed.
"Hmph. Of course. You are still alive."
Jax barely had time to process those words before the power within him exploded outward.
The labyrinth broke.
Every corridor, every riddle, every ancient rule that governed this place—shattered beneath the sheer force of his being. What once held him captive now bent to his will. The floating lanterns of memory bowed, the rivers of unmade fates trembled, the gate to the Forgotten Throne opened.
Jax did not walk forward. He commanded.
With a mere thought, the corridors aligned. The twisting paths unfolded. The trials of the seekers before him ceased to exist.
For the first time in the history of the Labyrinth of Echoes—
It obeyed.
Yet power, true power, is never freely given.
It comes at a cost.
Jax took one more step—just one—and the overwhelming might within him consumed his strength. His vision blurred. His body crumpled, weightless, folding into itself as the vast energy swallowed him whole.
Darkness took him.
But before consciousness fled entirely, the Supreme's voice reached him one last time—
"You still have much to learn, my son."
Jax awoke to silence.
His body ached, as if he had been reforged from the very essence of the cosmos. He gasped, dragging air into his lungs, his vision swimming with lingering afterimages of power.
He was no longer in the labyrinth.
He was… somewhere else.
A vast chamber stretched before him—ancient, sacred. Pillars of obsidian and light spiraled into the heavens, their surfaces carved with stories of gods and titans. A place lost to time.
A place meant for him.
Footsteps echoed from the far side of the chamber.
Jax pushed himself up, his body still trembling from the aftershock of power. The presence approaching was familiar—not the Supreme, but someone who bore echoes of the same boundless strength.
A figure emerged from the great archways, moving with effortless grace. Clad in robes woven from the night sky itself, his features were sharp, regal—his eyes carrying the weight of ages.
Jax knew, instinctively, who he was.
His brother.
A smirk played across the stranger's lips. "Took you long enough."
Jax exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he forced himself to stand. "I just collapsed after consuming raw power from a Supreme Entity. Cut me some slack."
The smirk widened. "Ah. Father always did have a dramatic way of bestowing his gifts."
Father.
Jax clenched his fists, still feeling the aftershocks of the truth he had learned. His lineage. His purpose.
His brother extended a hand. "Come. The true trials begin now."
Jax eyed him for a moment—then, with a steadying breath, he took the offered hand.
The path ahead was uncertain. The weight of his own bloodline pressed heavy upon him.
But he was ready.
And this time—he would not fall.
To be continued…