The days passed in silence as Scott roamed the endless grey. His feet carried him forward with no destination in mind. Yet no matter how far he traveled, the incessant dings, thunderous explosions, and pulsing hums from the blacksmith’s forge followed him like a haunting rhythm.

  The gazes that constantly surveyed him remained, though their numbers had dwindled. Those who lingered, however, were more fervent—never losing sight of his form, no matter how far he walked.

  Scott didn’t know—or care—how much time had passed. Still, he persisted with his routine: surveying the grey expanse before returning to where he had begun. On rare occasions, he visited the old man, but their encounters had grown into wordless exchanges—neither of them feeling the need to speak.

  Now I see why he told me not to waste time searching for them, Scott sighed, turning his head from side to side. As had always been the case since he began wandering the misty space, no wandering ego appeared. No condemned. Nothing.

  I guess I’ll return and try again later… he thought, turning back the way he came.

  The rhythmic hammer blows and the forge’s distant cacophony accompanied him. Yet he focused only on his steps. On his twentieth step, he paused. His gaze lowered, a frown forming.

  Something feels different… His brows furrowed deeper as a thought surfaced.

  Why does it feel like they’ve… vanished? He looked around, then back at the ground. This time, I’m certain. The Chaos Vault must have closed.

  The sprawling presence that had always lingered beneath his feet was simply gone. Yet the hidden gazes remained.

  The others must have returned by now, a melancholic smile curved Scott’s lips. I wonder if they met with my avatar?

  Now that I think about it… if the Chaos Vault really has closed, will I absorb its memories? Who knows what sort of mess it stirred up in my absence. Scott sighed softly and shook his head.

  Hopefully, everyone’s alright. I trust Orion to do his best to keep them safe. With any luck, they got something decent out of this trip. I can’t wait to see them again, he thought, smiling.

  All traces of sadness vanished from his face as he pressed forward.

  Should I pay that old guy a visit? He should have more of those fruits ready for me…

  Scott suddenly stopped. His gaze narrowed.

  What was that just now? It had been faint, but a hazy silhouette had darted past, more than a hundred meters away.

  Was that an ego—there it is again… The figure flickered at the edge of vision, elusive and quick.

  Scott moved, his steps falling in rhythm with the shadowy, ethereal movements of the figure. But no matter how fast he ran, he neither closed the distance nor discerned any features.

  It’s toying with me, Scott thought, smiling. He sped up.

  The figure accelerated.

  Scott grinned wider, then unleashed a terrifying burst of speed.

  In a flash, he appeared beside the shadowy form—yet it remained blurred and indistinct. Scott reached out to seize it—

  “I’ll go now,” a voice whispered in his ear.

  Before he could respond, the figure surged forward with impossible speed and vanished into the mist.

  Scott stopped in place. What the hell was that all about?

  He stared into the space where it had disappeared, questions stirring in his mind.

  He sighed. There are still too many things about this place I don’t understand.

  He began walking again, heading toward the ever-roaring forge. But barely ten steps in, the surroundings stirred unnaturally. The misty grey peeled away, revealing a field of vivid green.

  Scott halted, brows creased. He turned his head in both directions—only to find endless grass swaying in the wind.

  How did I get here? he pondered.

  He knew this path. He’d walked it many times and had never encountered another domain in the mist aside from the old man’s. Yet now he stood in a space like the ego’s field—only this time, there was no wooden cabin.

  Is this the territory of a condemned ego? he wondered, stepping forward.

  A gentle breeze brushed against him, and each step parted the thriving vegetation. His eyes moved constantly, scanning different points in the distance. But nothing revealed itself within the tranquil field.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The forge’s echoes lingered, but they were distant, faint—no longer intrusive.

  “If you’re going to remain hidden, you might as well send me back,” Scott said suddenly. “I’m not in the mood for these games.”

  Though he saw no one, he felt it—the intensity of the hidden gazes had deepened the moment he entered this pristine place.

  “Last chance,” Scott announced. “I’ll leave if you remain—”

  Scott’s words trailed off as a blur entered his peripheral vision. It wasn’t just one, two, or three—there were more than a dozen shadowy figures, all blitzing about at breakneck speed.

  Scott narrowed his eyes. No matter how much I stare at them, I can’t see through their coverings. Have they been stripped of their original forms? Or am I simply not qualified to see their true selves yet?

  The drifting beings didn’t approach him but instead moved in deliberate, almost ritualistic patterns around his position—observing, judging.

  “Well?” Scott said suddenly, folding his arms across his chest. “Why bring me here if you won’t speak?”

  No response came.

  One by one, the shadows began to fade, their numbers thinning with each passing second. With each disappearance, the oppressive feeling of being watched lessened—until only three figures remained.

  These final three stopped, standing several feet from Scott. They had no distinguishing features—no markers to set them apart. Their silhouettes mirrored each other perfectly in shape, size, and form.

  Scott’s gaze shifted between them. He opened his mouth to speak, but a voice rang out before he could utter a word.

  “You will die a miserable death if you intend to challenge the gods,” the voice said.

  Scott’s brow rose, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. But again, before he could respond, another voice echoed out.

  “None of us wish to participate in your folly. Do not bother searching for us anymore.”

  As the second voice faded, so too did the serene field—swallowed whole by the returning misty grey. The shadows vanished without a trace.

  Scott stood unmoved, the same smile on his face. So they were the condemned egos. Seems they're even more terrified of the gods than most champions, he mused, chuckling as he stepped forward.

  It’s unfortunate, but I guess I’ve wasted my time.

  The persistent gazes that had watched him for so long were gone. Still, Scott felt no disappointment.

  Since there’s no point searching for them anymore, I might as well spend the rest of my time with that old man, he thought.

  Lingering near the blacksmith’s work area didn’t appeal to him—he had no interest in enduring the relentless barrage of noise. The nihilistic zone was another option, but its emptiness offered little comfort. The peaceful quiet of the elderly ego’s domain, along with its strangely satisfying fruits, made the decision easy.

  Without hesitation, Scott walked through the misty enclave.

  Scott lay on the ground, hands tucked behind his head, his left leg resting lazily atop his right. A soft whistle left his lips as he stared at the pristine sky above. Gentle winds swept over him and the surrounding vegetation.

  By his estimation, several months had passed since his encounter with the condemned egos. None had appeared again, and Scott hadn’t gone searching. Instead, he had spent nearly all his time lingering in the elderly ego’s domain.

  The realm didn’t follow the usual cycles of day and night. The light overhead never dimmed, yet it was never harsh on the land below.

  I hate to admit it, but I’m bored out of my mind… Scott yawned, shifting slightly.

  There’s nothing to do here but wait for that guy to finish his work. It’d be nice if some idiot came looking for trouble, he sighed, shaking his head.

  Though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he missed the adrenaline, the chaos—the life-and-death battles that used to define him.

  Well, since there’s nothing else, I might as well train.

  Scott sat upright, instinctively scanning his surroundings. A short distance away stood a forest of massive, verdant trees. Some of them, however, had been reduced to blackened stumps. Charred earth and ash littered the ground.

  He yawned again, scratching his neck as he rose to his feet. Cracking his knuckles, he took his first step—but a familiar voice stopped him.

  “Aren’t you bored of destroying those trees?”

  Scott paused and smiled, turning toward the voice. “Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to visit little old me,” he said with a grin.

  The ego frowned slightly but said nothing.

  Scott gave him a once-over. “Did a new batch grow already?”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” the ego replied, rolling his eyes. “But seriously—do you really have to destroy the trees?”

  “Since when did you become a tree hugger?” Scott chuckled. “And to be honest, it’s not like I want to destroy them… they just aren’t as strong as I expected.”

  “Oh, so now it’s the trees’ fault?” the ego shot back.

  Scott chuckled, wearing a bashful smile. “I doubt you came all the way here just to preach about trees. And it’s not like you showed up for the fruits either.” He tilted his head. “There’s no way you’d come here over something silly like being lonely… or missing me.”

  The ego rolled his eyes.

  “So,” Scott continued, his grin widening, “why are you here?”

  Silence stretched between them. Neither moved, neither looked away. Then the old man sighed and finally averted his gaze.

  “I’m not here of my own accord,” he muttered.

  Scott’s brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have a visitor—”

  “Who?” Scott cut in.

  “I can’t say more than that,” the old man said sternly. “It’s your choice whether you want to—”

  Before he could finish, a towering silhouette suddenly manifested between them.

  Scott’s expression hardened as he locked eyes on the hulking, blurred figure. A wave of pressure—subtle but undeniable—rolled over him. It wasn’t enough to harm, but it was impossible to ignore.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk,” the old man said, vanishing without another word.

  Scott’s eyes didn’t stray from the condemned ego. He could feel its stare locked on him as well.

  Several quiet, heavy seconds passed.

  Then a voice filled the air.

  “To be condemned is to be stripped of your name, your memories, your form, essence, purpose—your very reason for existing,” the being said.

  It stepped closer.

  “And yet, we are left with a single, eternal truth: the overwhelming majesty and might of the gods of these lands.”

  “So?” Scott asked coolly, his tone indifferent.

  “I refuse to exist as a purposeless being, chained by fear, doomed to wander forgotten for all eternity,” it said, drawing nearer. “Give me salvation and purpose. Let me be reborn anew. And I vow—across infinite timelines, throughout countless dimensions—no matter your enemies, I shall fight at your side until the day my existence is erased.”

  As the ego’s voice echoed into silence, a familiar chime rang in Scott’s ears.

  A system notification appeared.