Time folded around the platform like waves folding over sand.
Two Hetus stood opposite each other — one young and burning bright, the other aged and dimly aflame. The air between them shimmered, thick with overlapping timelines, where each heartbeat could alter eternity.
The older Hetu's robe was torn; beneath it, lines of light ran like veins of crystal. His right eye glowed faintly blue, mechanical. His left — weary, almost human.
"You think you can change destiny," the elder said, voice echoing through every mirrored dimension.
"You can't. I've seen the cycles. Every Empire, every star, every cultivation path — all end in noise."
The younger Hetu clenched his fists.
"If endings are certain, then meaning is the resonance between them."
The older smiled — bitter, almost pitying.
"Spoken like I once did. But I learned the truth too late."
He raised his hand. The monoliths surrounding them hummed in response.
Each one released a beam of harmonic energy — nine tones weaving into a dissonant storm. The sound didn't strike; it collapsed space. The young Hetu barely moved aside as the fabric of reality cracked behind him.
He responded instinctively — spreading his palms. Golden light erupted from his core, forming concentric circles of vibration — The Dharma of Harmonic Reflection. The storm met the circle, and both froze, locked in a trembling equilibrium.
"You've learned resonance," the elder admitted. "But you still fight against the flow."
"And you stopped fighting too soon."
Hetu stepped forward. His aura shifted — sound transforming into motion, motion into thought.
He struck once, and time slowed.
The older Hetu's counter came instantly — faster than thought, a movement of inevitability. His hand sliced through the resonance field, touching Hetu's chest. Pain, sharp and deep, bloomed like a star.
In that moment of collapse, Hetu saw what his elder self had seen:
Cities burning, machines devouring minds, cultivators turning into data ghosts — the end of the Empire, repeating across millennia.
"You will become me," the elder whispered. "You can't stop it."
Hetu coughed, forcing himself to focus. His vision blurred — yet within the pain, he saw something else. Not destruction, but the vibration that bound destruction together. Even ruin had rhythm.
"You're wrong," he said softly. "Resonance isn't about stopping endings… it's about tuning them."
He pressed his palms together. The golden circles shattered, not outward — inward. Energy folded, condensed, reversed polarity. For an instant, both Hetus shared the same pulse, their heartbeats aligning.
The older version's mechanical eye cracked. The light faded from his veins.
"You… changed the frequency," he gasped.
"I listened," Hetu said.
The elder smiled faintly. "Then maybe… you'll do better."
He dissolved into light — a single tone rising, pure and clear, merging into Hetu's chest. The monoliths quieted, and the storm withdrew into silence.
Hetu stood alone, trembling. The Mirror World began to fade; the silver plain turned translucent. Beyond it, the faint outline of a door shimmered — the final gate.
He whispered to himself:
"Not the end. Just the next resonance."
And he stepped through.