The Neutral Abyss did not welcome fugitives.
It consumed them—slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the act.
For three days, they walked without sight of a resurrection spire. No pillars of salvation. No sanctioned deaths. Only broken physics and older horrors. Gravity stuttered—at times dragging Orion knee-deep into bone dust, at others lifting him just above it like an unfinished thought. Acid rain spiraled upward, hissing softly as it dissolved nothing and everything. Above, the "clouds" were frozen battlefields—fractured armies suspended in the sky like shattered mirrors of forgotten wars.
Aria led the way.
Orion followed.
Retch staggered behind, muttering curses at every glitch in reality.
A translucent notification pulsed in Orion's vision, heavier than before.
⊳ Status: Active Surveillance — Priority Target
⊳ Alert: Memory bleed detected.
⊳ Recommendation: Containment advised.
The voices began on the second day.
At first, they were whispers—easy to mistake for the Abyss breathing. By dusk, they had grown names.
Kargan, gravel-voiced and furious: Swing harder, boy. My daughter's still waiting.
The Archer, humming softly: The song isn't finished.
A Seraph knight Orion once shielded—Master Seventy-Nine: Forgive me… for the lance.
They argued inside his skull.
Some demanded vengeance.
Some begged for rest.
All of them wanted something Orion could never give.
On the third night, he collapsed.
They were crossing a plain of petrified wings—thousands of stone feathers jutting from the ground like grave markers. Half Seraph. Half shadow. All broken.
Orion's knees hit the dust.
—THUD—
The axe slipped from numb fingers.
The voices surged into a chorus.
He curled inward, hands clamped over his ears, but sound meant nothing when the noise was memory.
Aria was there instantly.
She dropped to her knees and pulled his head into her lap without hesitation, without shame.
"Breathe," she said, firm and low. "Name them."
Orion gasped. "Kargan… He wants his daughter back."
Another voice—cruel, laughing. A Berserker who once used Orion as bait.
Let the war burn forever.
Then softer—aching. A Healer who had died holding Orion's hand.
End it kindly.
They overlapped. Pleaded. Contradicted.
Aria's scarred fingers brushed his temple, cool as ash.
"I hear only silence," she murmured. "But I know what it is to carry ghosts."
Her gaze unfocused, dragged backward by memory.
She spoke of the Nursery Pits—newborn shadows, unclassified, barely formed. Tiny things that could not fight back. She said she could still smell the burning.
"I stood over them," Aria whispered, "and could not raise my sword. Cassiel called it treason. Maybe it was mercy. Either way… they died because I hesitated."
The voices inside Orion stilled—just a fraction. Listening.
He forced himself upright.
"They're getting louder," he said.
"They always do," Aria replied. "The closer we get to truth, the harder the Observer will try to drown you."
A ragged voice cut in.
"You two done bonding?" Retch wheezed, stumbling up behind them. "Because there's smoke ahead. Camp. Rogues."
The camp was built inside the ribcage of something colossal. Bones arched into halls. Violet fire burned in the hollow of its sternum. Shadows moved between ribs like insects in a corpse.
They were surrounded before they reached the fire.
No visible ranks. No glowing sigils. No System obedience. Just weapons and suspicion.
Their leader stepped forward—tall, thin, stitched together from mismatched shadows. Eyes like cracked amethyst.
"State your business, deserters."
Aria lifted her chin. "Passing through. Seeking the Forgotten Spire."
Laughter rippled.
"Bold," the leader said. "Most who speak that name become dust."
Its gaze slid to Orion.
"You're the Omega Threat. The one carrying a library of dead men's regrets."
The System's bounty traveled faster than armies.
Retch shifted. "We're not here for trouble—"
"Enough." The leader raised a hand. Silence snapped shut.
"Bring them to the fire."
Neutral ground had its own rules. They were not disarmed.
Faces watched them around the violet flames—some missing pieces, some with too many eyes. All exhausted.
The leader sat cross-legged. "I am Echo. Tell us why the Observer wants you erased badly enough to unite legions."
Aria explained—calm, precise. The loop. The manufactured war. The Spire.
Echo listened. Then turned to Orion.
"And you, memory bearer? What do the dead say about ending their resurrections?"
The voices surged, eager.
Orion closed his eyes—and let them speak.
Let us rest.
Let us burn the stars.
Kargan: Give my little flame a world without war.
The Archer: Finish the song.
Orion opened his eyes.
"They don't agree," he said quietly. "Some want peace. Some want vengeance. All of them are afraid of true death."
Echo nodded. "I remember six deaths. Six masters. Enough to know the System wasn't always this cruel. Once… the Observer slept."
Night deepened.
Stories traded hands like rations.
Then the sky cracked.
—KRRAAAASH—
Violet code tore open above the camp. The fire guttered.
The Observer spoke—not as text.
Aloud. Inside every skull.
Orion saw all 114 deaths at once.
Pain stacked upon pain.
He screamed.
Aria relived the Nursery Pits.
Retch relived endless cannon fodder.
Echo collapsed under six perfect replays.
Aria moved first.
She seized Orion's hand and poured corrupted light into him.
—FWOOM—
Black fire raced his veins, burning illusions away.
The voices steadied him. Lent strength.
Kargan's rage.
The Archer's calm.
Dozens of stolen skills ignited.
Orion rose.
Together, they fought back.
His axe severed strands of violet code dangling from the sky. Aria's blade blazed with shadowed divinity.
—CRACK—
The tear sealed like breaking bone.
Silence fell.
Echo stood, shaking. "That was a warning. It's afraid of you."
Dawn came wrong—gray, glitching.
Echo led them to a cleft in the bone ridge and produced a black crystal shard.
"Old data. Insert it."
Orion didn't hesitate.
He drove it into his own chest.
—SNNNNAP—
Pain flared white-hot.
A map burned into his vision.
⊳ Rank: D → D+
They turned to leave.
The horizon ignited.
Two armies advanced beneath one banner—Ashen black and Seraph white intertwined.
In the sky, burning letters formed.
⊳ Emergency Protocol: Unity Directive
⊳ Target: Orion
⊳ Reward: Permanent memory retention
Eyes turned. Hunger stirred.
Echo whispered, "Run."
They ran.
Behind them, neutral ground shattered.
Inside Orion, the voices fell terribly silent.
They knew the price of freedom.
And they feared betrayal—from anyone.
Even those running beside him.