The wind howled through the crumbling rooftops as Lina stood her ground, facing the figures closing in. Footsteps, the click of weapons loading, orders barked in distorted tones—it all rang clear, like time had slowed and each second pressed against her skin.
She should be afraid.
But instead, she felt something strange—calm.
Light still pulsed in her hand—not blinding, not wild. Warm. Steady. As if the power inside her finally understood that she had accepted it.
An explosion rang out in front of her—the steel door burst open, and the first one appeared: full black armor, red eyes, no longer human… if it had ever been.
She stepped back.
Not out of fear—but because behind the cracked wall, a sound echoed.
A growl.
Not mechanical. Not man-made.
The air shifted—dense and briny, like sea wind laced with ash.
She heard it then.
A heartbeat.
But not hers.
Thump.
Thump.
The wall behind her split apart. A claw emerged—black as night, glowing faint blue along vein-like patterns. And then it stepped through.
A creature, three times the height of a man, its back arched and covered in scale and starlight patterns, with slit, snake-like eyes that watched—with intent.
With will.
The hunters hesitated.
Someone screamed, "Tri-chimera! Red-level formation—RETREAT, RET—"
Too late.
The beast roared. Not with sound—but force. Glass shattered, the ground cracked, and metal twisted like paper.
Lina barely managed to shield her eyes as a vortex ripped through the alley.
But it didn't strike her.
When she looked again, it was standing in front of her—between her and the soldiers. Its skeletal wings spread wide, its breath colder than void.
It was protecting her.
Somehow… it knew her.
She froze. "You… know who I am?"
It didn't answer with words—but a vision bloomed in her mind: a gate, suspended in nothingness, ringed in fire. And her—another version of her—walking through it, fearless.
A memory.
Not hers.
Its.
It had seen her before. In another crossing.
Lina placed a hand over her chest. Her heartbeat and the creature's—they matched. Not a bond. Not control.
An ancient pact reawakening.
Behind them, the surviving soldiers began to flee, panicked. A few fired blindly—more in fear than hope.
She didn't stop them.
Didn't need to.
She turned to the creature watching her, its eyes twin abysses reflecting the weight of infinite worlds.
"…Take me," she whispered.
It turned without a sound, as if it had been waiting for that all along.
Lina followed. She didn't know where. Didn't know who else she would have to face—what version of herself was waiting next.
She only knew this:
The next gate was open.
And this time—she wasn't walking through it alone.
The creature led her through the ruins, its massive form moving silently, as if it was part of the shadows themselves. The world around them felt distorted—blurred, as if reality was thickening, like the edges of a dream slipping into another. The remnants of shattered buildings and abandoned streets were swallowed by darkness, while dim lights flickered above, as though the very fabric of the city was losing its grip on existence. It was the kind of place where time didn't flow in a straight line—it fractured, splintered into countless paths, none of them quite aligned.
Lina's breath came in shallow bursts, her heart still racing from the chase. Her body was exhausted, yet there was a strange, persistent clarity in her mind, as if she could see more than she ever had before. The power inside her stirred restlessly, shifting like an ever-growing storm—unpredictable, but no longer entirely foreign. She didn't fear it anymore. It was a part of her, bound in a way she couldn't fully explain, but she knew it was hers to command.
The creature beside her moved with purpose, its glowing patterns shifting with every step. It was leading her somewhere—somewhere important—but Lina wasn't sure what that place was. She only knew that it was a place she had to reach.
They walked in silence for what felt like hours, the world around them shifting and melting like watercolors. There were no other sounds, save for the occasional distant rumble, a sign of the battle that was happening somewhere far away—one that Lina no longer had any part in. She had left it behind. The only thing that mattered now was the path ahead of her, and the growing sense of familiarity she felt as they drew closer to whatever awaited her.
Then, without warning, the creature stopped. It turned to face her, its eyes gleaming like twin moons in the darkness. It nodded toward the sky, where the stars seemed to swirl, forming patterns she couldn't understand.
"You're here," it said—not with a voice, but with a presence that pressed into her mind. "The crossroads."
Lina looked up. Above her, the sky rippled like the surface of a pool disturbed by an unseen force. The stars twisted, folding in on themselves, and suddenly, she saw it: a massive, swirling gate, its edges torn like the fabric of reality itself. It pulsed with light—strange, unfamiliar light that seemed to come from all directions at once.
"The gate," she whispered, her voice trembling. She could feel the energy radiating from it, and it was both terrifying and mesmerizing.
"Beyond this gate," the creature spoke again, its form shimmering slightly, "you will face the truth of your choice."
Lina's heart skipped a beat. The truth of her choice—what did that mean? She had made so many choices. She had walked through countless doors. But the weight of this one felt different. It wasn't just about survival anymore. It wasn't just about finding Kai or protecting the worlds she loved.
This was about her.
The very core of who she was—and what she was becoming.
She stepped forward, drawn by an invisible force. The air crackled with energy as she neared the gate. Her hand reached out, fingers grazing the shimmering edges of the light. A pulse of warmth surged through her, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire universe was holding its breath.
And then—the gate opened.
A wave of power washed over her, filling her senses, drowning her in a flood of memories—images of lives she had lived, people she had been, and places she had visited. All of it rushed through her like a torrent, leaving her breathless. Faces flashed before her eyes—Kai's face, but older, different. Her own face, too—strange, yet achingly familiar.
But then—one face stood out.
The face of the other Lina. The version of her she had seen earlier, standing before the burning gate. The one who had spoken of the vessel, the key, the gate.
That face smiled at her, but it was a smile full of sorrow.
"You can still change it," the other Lina's voice echoed in her mind. "You can still choose."
Lina's pulse quickened. Choose. Choose what? There were no answers here—only fragments, pieces of a puzzle that she couldn't yet understand.
But the gate was opening wider now, and she had no choice but to step through.
The moment her foot crossed the threshold, a jolt of energy surged through her. Her body trembled, every fiber of her being screaming in protest, yet she pushed forward. The world twisted again—blurring, shifting—until suddenly, the darkness cleared, and she found herself standing in a vast, endless void.
The creature beside her was gone.
And in the distance—there—a figure appeared. Tall, cloaked in darkness, their face obscured by a mask made of obsidian.
"You've come," the figure said, their voice like the whisper of a thousand winds. "Just in time."
Lina took a step forward. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What is this place?"
The figure raised a hand, and the world around them flickered. In an instant, the void was filled with endless mirrors—reflections of herself, each one different, each one alive.
"You've crossed many paths," the figure said. "But this is where all choices converge. Here, you will decide who you truly are."
Lina's heart pounded. "I don't understand."
"You will," the figure replied softly. "When the time comes."
And just as quickly as it had appeared, the figure dissolved into the air, leaving her alone in the center of the mirrored world.
Alone.
But as Lina stood there, staring at the endless reflections of herself, something inside her shifted. The power inside her pulsed—no longer just a force to be contained, but something alive. Something she could embrace.
The mirrors began to fracture, each one splitting into more images—more choices. More versions of herself. And Lina knew then, with a certainty that reached deep into her core:
The decision was hers. But which version of herself would she choose to be?
And with that, she stepped forward into the unknown, ready to face the truth of her power, her purpose, and the person she was meant to become.
Lina moved forward, each step echoing in the silent void, her breath steady despite the overwhelming weight of the choices pressing in on her. The mirrors before her fractured and reformed, each shard reflecting a different possibility, a different life she could have lived, or perhaps would still live. The air felt heavy, saturated with potential—an oppressive quiet that seemed to hum with unseen energy.
Her reflection shifted, her eyes meeting those of the countless versions of herself. Some smiled back, others frowned, their faces twisted in sorrow or fear. Each one was familiar and foreign at once, like pieces of a broken puzzle that could never quite fit together.
But there was one—there, standing just a few steps ahead of her—whose gaze was steady, resolute. It was the version of her that felt… whole.
Lina stopped in front of the reflection. It was her, yet it wasn't. Her hair was longer, her eyes darker, the edges of her form surrounded by a faint, radiant glow that pulsed with a rhythm she could feel in her bones. This version was older, more experienced, and yet there was a certain softness in the eyes—an understanding that had been earned through countless battles, losses, and victories.
What am I supposed to do? Lina thought, her mind racing. What path do I choose?
"You already know," a voice whispered, and she turned sharply. But there was no one there. Only the endless mirrors staring back at her. Yet the voice—it felt real, familiar, as if it had always been there.
Lina reached out to touch the glass. Her fingers grazed its cool surface, and for a moment, everything stopped. The reflections of herself twisted and blurred into something new—an image, a vision, not of a future, but of a past.
A memory.
The other Lina's face appeared before her once more. "The power you carry isn't meant to control," the reflection said softly, a note of warning in its voice. "It's meant to guide, to protect, to anchor."
Lina's heart fluttered, as if something deep within her was stirred by those words. Anchor. She had heard that before. The words anchored her mind, pulled her back to something familiar. Something she had forgotten.
But then, the reflection flickered—its eyes momentarily filled with a terrifying emptiness. A coldness that sent a shiver down Lina's spine. "But power does not stay anchored forever," it continued, its voice more distant now, like a fading echo. "It shifts. And when it shifts, it will either break you or forge you into something else."
Her chest tightened. The fear was real now, undeniable, but so was the fire in her veins. The power. It surged again, almost in a response to her thoughts. It was there—it had always been there, waiting for her to acknowledge it fully. The rush of energy, the raw intensity—it both terrified and exhilarated her.
Before she could process any further, the reflection shattered into a thousand pieces, the shards falling away into the void. The mirrors dissolved, leaving nothing but a vast, open space—empty, silent.
A soft hum vibrated in the air.
The floor beneath her feet began to tremble, faint at first, then more pronounced. The ground cracked open, and out of the darkness rose a figure. Tall. Cloaked in shadow. And yet, there was a strange radiance around it—like it was both a part of the void and separate from it.
Lina instinctively stepped back, her senses alert. The creature before her was not like the others she had encountered. It was… otherworldly, its form constantly shifting as if it existed in multiple dimensions at once.
"You're not ready," it said, its voice echoing like the distant crash of waves against cliffs. It wasn't threatening. No—this was something else.
"I know," Lina replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. "But I have to try."
The creature's eyes glowed, burning with a light that was cold, ancient, and vast. For a moment, it studied her—its gaze piercing, as if seeing into the deepest parts of her soul.
"Then you will face what you fear the most," it murmured.
And with that, the ground beneath her shattered completely. A rift opened, splitting the space between them, and Lina was pulled forward—into the void.
Into the unknown.
She fell for what felt like an eternity, the sensation of weightlessness swallowing her, the noise of the rift roaring around her ears like a storm. Her heart pounded in her chest, but in the chaos, there was a strange peace. This was it. The choice. The moment.
Then—silence.
The world around her shifted again, as if her entire existence was being rewritten. She found herself standing in a new space, one so vast it made her feel small—infinitely small. There were no walls, no boundaries—just an endless horizon stretching into the void, as if time itself had no meaning here.
And before her, stood the figure once more.
"You are ready," it said, its voice softer now.
Lina's breath caught. She was no longer afraid. No, this was not fear. This was something more profound—something ancient. Something that had always been inside her, waiting for her to finally understand.
"You are the gate," the figure said, stepping forward. "The key. And the vessel. All in one."
Lina stepped forward as well. Her mind was clearer than it had ever been, the storm of power inside her now calm, controlled. She wasn't just her anymore. She wasn't just the girl from the worlds that had shattered around her.
She was the gate.
The power within her surged again—stronger, more alive than ever before. And as the figure reached out to touch her hand, the ground beneath her feet rumbled once more. This time, it wasn't the tremor of something breaking.
It was the hum of something beginning.
And Lina, at that moment, understood.
She wasn't just finding herself. She was becoming the catalyst for everything that was to come. The moment when all choices converged was now.
And it was her choice that would determine what the world would be.