The dark shockwave from the central core tore through the hall, sending deep cracks shooting across the obsidian floor. A ferocious tempest of black void energy surged toward Sagiri, roaring with the voices of a million forgotten soldiers.
The Archive no longer tried to soothe him into sleep; it tried to crush his individuality by sheer force. A relentless torrent of raw historical data, forgotten names, ancient troop movements, and tactical doctrines flooded directly into his brain.
The mental pressure was so intense that Sagiri fell to one knee, the glass cracking beneath his armored shin. He felt the memories of his childhood slipping away, threatened with replacement by the cold, endless records of dead centuries.
"You are just a vessel," the dark core thundered, its voice echoing from every mirrored wall in the chamber. "You are the container of our history, not a boy with personal desires. Forget your mortal name and become the Archive."
