Chapter 68:
The Hollow Throne and the Broken Root
I. Echo and the Realm of the Fifth Root
The Fifth Root was meant to test Wisdom—not of intellect, but of discernment. The ability to see through things, not merely at them. It manifested as a crystalline palace of mirrors floating above a sea of stars. Every surface reflected not just Echo's image, but every version of himself from all other dimensions.
But something was… wrong.
Each reflection twisted a little. One grinned with blood-stained teeth. Another wept endlessly. One held a crown of bones; another, a noose of light.
> "Which one is the true you?" the realm asked.
Echo stepped forward—and the mirrors shattered into dust. The throne at the heart of the palace appeared: cracked, lopsided, and empty.
The Usurper's corruption had already infected it.
The root of Wisdom had no wisdom left.
Echo knelt in despair. But then, he closed his eyes. He breathed inhaling deeply...
> "If the truth is broken... I will forge a new one."
From within, his divine core lit up. Not borrowed power, not ancestral memory—but his own spark.
A mirror formed from his breath. It didn't reflect anything—but absorbed everything.
The Fifth Root trembled—and reformed itself through Echo's intent.
And then, he sat on the throne.
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II. Errin and the Void Path
Far away in the constellation-filled temple of the unborn god-son, Errin stared at the glowing orb.
He felt it shiver.
> "The boy is connected to Echo," he whispered. "He will inherit the storm."
A ripple in the divine threads showed a dark tear approaching from the Void Paths—a secret way between the folds of dimensions, used by the Ancients and abandoned after the first divine war.
Errin stepped through.
Beyond the veil, the Usurper's essence lurked, watching Echo through time-mirrors, ready to intervene again.
Errin raised his hand—and summoned the Blade of Unraveling, woven from threads of fate and anchored to the souls of every ancestor who gave him their shard.
> "You dare interfere with destiny?" he growled.
The Void echoed back:
> "I don't interfere. I reclaim. The future belongs to BNo one Except to those who dare to take it."
Their clash began—not of bodies, but of soul intents.
Each strike shook dimensions. Each blow split stars and healed them.
Echo, unaware, gained strength. The Fifth Root glowed brighter.
Errin, meanwhile, weakened. The Usurper's form was a mask—an endless series of fake futures, each absorbing blows meant for the real one.
Errin bled willpower. But he smiled.
> "You may wear many faces. But my son's soul has only one."
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III. In the Womb of the God-son
The fetus stirred.
A heartbeat.
Then another.
Then a pulse so powerful that the Devouring Star, the prison of a fallen elder god, blinked.
> "He's awakening early," whispered the Flame Ancestor.
Within the womb, the boy reached out— His hand
And touched Echo's throne.
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