The air was thick with tension, vibrating with the force of the battle. Sam's heart raced as his hands, crackling with power, tore through the dark void that surrounded the Rift. His mind burned with clarity, but it was like trying to hold water in his hands—slippery, elusive. The Rift was a living thing, a wound in the fabric of reality, and it resisted every attempt to heal it.
Rael's blade cut through the air like a thunderstrike, meeting the dark warriors summoned by the Architect. Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through the ground, but for every warrior felled, two more emerged. Valencia's lance glowed with an ethereal light as she danced through the swarm, lightning crackling with every thrust, but the enemy was endless, relentless.
And above it all stood the Architect, its form flickering like an unstable star. Its presence was suffocating, a weight pressing against the very essence of Sam's being. The dark figure floated just out of reach, its cold, calculating gaze watching every move they made.
"You can feel it, can't you?" the Architect's voice echoed, reverberating in their minds. "The world tearing at the seams. The time... the timelines... they are mine to control. And you, foolish mortals, think you can stop it?"
Sam gritted his teeth, pushing himself further, tapping into the very core of his Vein. The pull of his Echoform, the fragmented pieces of his soul, thrummed with power—but it was unstable. The two halves of him were at war, each vying for control. One side wanted to destroy, to unleash chaos, while the other clung to purpose, to a single goal: stopping the Architect.
"Enough of this," Sam muttered to himself, fighting to center his focus. "I won't let you win."
The Rift trembled again, the ground beneath their feet cracking open. From the depths, a new force surged, darker than before. It was like the very core of the Rift was being pulled into a vortex—time bending, history collapsing. Sam could feel it pulling at him, trying to drag him into the endless void.
"Sam!" Valencia's voice broke through the chaos, sharp with urgency. "We need to finish this! Now!"
He looked at her, his vision momentarily blurred by the weight of the Rift's power, but he nodded. He knew what they had to do. He couldn't wait for everything to align perfectly. They had to act, now, before the Rift swallowed them all.
Rael fought valiantly by their side, his sword flashing in the dark, but even he was starting to tire. The endless tide of enemies was relentless, and the Architect's minions seemed to multiply with every strike. Sam could feel the pressure building, the realization sinking in—they were running out of time.
The Rift had already begun to fracture, the past and future bleeding into one another. He could see glimpses of moments yet to come—his face, twisted, corrupted, worshiped by fanatics. He saw Lapu-Lapu's death, rewritten, erased, and replaced by another version of history, another life that never existed.
"You see it too, don't you?" the Architect taunted, its form shifting once again. "You can feel the weight of it. The futility. Your world is already gone."
"No!" Sam shouted, pushing forward, but the weight of the vision dragged at him. "I won't let you erase it."
With a roar, Sam unleashed the full force of his Echoform. Energy exploded outward, a violent pulse that tore through the dark shadows of the Rift. For a moment, time seemed to slow, as if everything were caught in a single breath. The world shimmered around him, the boundaries of space and time blurring together.
Then—
The Rift shuddered violently.
A sickening crack echoed through the air as the fabric of reality split. Sam's vision blurred, his mind fraying at the edges. The weight of the Veins—the power of the ancestors—was too much. It was suffocating him, drowning him in a flood of knowledge he wasn't ready to bear.
"Sam!" Rael's voice cut through the chaos. "Focus!"
But it was too late.
The Rift was tearing itself apart, and Sam was caught in the middle. His body felt like it was being stretched between two worlds. The Echoform's power surged violently, uncontrollably, threatening to tear him apart. He screamed, trying to hold on, but the world around him was falling apart.
Then, in a burst of light, everything went still.
Inside the Rift
Sam's mind unraveled, but the world around him held. Time itself seemed to stop. He was floating in a sea of silence, nothing but the cold emptiness surrounding him. There were no walls, no horizon—only the endless stretch of dark, fractured space.
"What is this?" Sam's voice echoed, but there was no answer.
He reached out, feeling for something, anything to ground him. But his fingers passed through the nothingness, like trying to grasp a shadow.
A figure appeared before him, flickering like a broken projection. It was a man, tall and regal, his face obscured by shadows. Sam recognized him—he had seen him before in the memories of the ancestors.
"Who are you?" Sam asked, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at him.
The figure stepped forward, the shadows parting to reveal a face he had never seen before. It was like a mirror, a reflection of Sam's own features, but twisted, warped.
"I am... what you could have been," the figure said, its voice distorted, like a thousand whispers mixed into one.
Sam's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
The figure tilted its head, an eerie smile stretching across its face. "You don't know yet? You are me. And I am you. The past, the future—this... this is what the Rift has made us."
The world around Sam began to distort again, time warping and shattering. The figure reached out, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"You've always had a choice," it said. "But now, there is no more time. The Architect's plan is unfolding. The past is lost. The future—already decided. You are caught in the fracture. And there is nothing you can do to stop it."
Sam's blood ran cold.
And then, the figure's face shifted, revealing a twisted version of his own—familiar, yet terrifying.
And it smiled.