The atmosphere inside the Vault of Origins grew dense, laden with an overwhelming sensation that snaked around Asher like a lethal parasite. The man in the shining suit of armor took one step forward, his expression hidden behind a mask that only covered half of his face.
Asher had experienced it before, against the magic of powerful beings. He had battled monsters, battled Guild enforcers, even looked into the abyss of magic itself. But this man…
This was another thing altogether.
Beside him, Seraphine tensed, magic snapping to her fingers. "Who the hell is this guy?"
The masked man chuckled lowly. "Oh? No formal introduction?" He tilted his head slightly. "I guess the Guild likes to keep its Architects a secret. But you, Asher — " His voice got sharp. "You were meant to find me."
Asher tightened his hold on his dagger. Architect? The word chilled him to the bone.
"Funny," Asher said, his voice level. "I don't remember signing up for a meeting."
The Architect smiled a knowing smile. "And yet, here you are. Right where you need to be."
A sudden, sharp pain pierced through Asher's skull. A memory — no, a vision — flashed before his eyes.
A city engulfed in flames. The screams of thousands. And standing above it all…
A golden-armored figure, looking down on the burning world.
Asher's heart pounded. His previous life — his previous lives — were unspooling in his mind, like a puzzle coming together. This Architect… he'd recognized him from before.
"What the hell did you do to me, Crenshaw?" Asher growled.
The Architect opened his arms. "Nothing. Yet. But your soul remembers, doesn't it? It remembers me."
Seraphine glared at Asher. "What is he talking about?"
Asher clenched his jaw. "I don't know. But I intend to find out."
Asher did not hesitate to lunge.
In an instant, his Phantom Step triggered and his figure flickered like a ghost. The faint light glinted off a dagger as he crossed the distance like the blink of an eye.
But just as the blade neared the Architect's throat—
The golden-armored figure disappeared.
Asher's dagger sliced through empty air.
Then—pain.
A congealing mass hit his ribs and propel him, skidding, across the vault floor. He slammed against a containment pod, the glass cracking upon impact.
Seraphine hardly had time to react until she was approached from behind by the Architect.
In less than a blink, he seized her wrist, mid-spell, twisting her arm in a way that was so agonal and even cruel. "Tsk, tsk. No interruptions, little mage," he said.
He threw her backward; she narrowly managed to flip through the air and land on her feet.
Asher coughed and forced himself up. His ribs ached.
That speed… that precision…
This wasn't just strength. It was total control over movement and space.
The Architect hadn't dodged. He had merely walked into an entirely different moment.
Asher narrowed his eyes. "You're manipulating time."
The Architect slowly clapped his hands together. "Very good. You're starting to remember."
Seraphine swiped blood from her lip. "What in the hell does that mean?"
The Architect's smile didn't falter. "It means he's almost around to what he really is."
Asher didn't like riddles. He bolted forward once more, this time faking left before casting a wide arc of shadow laced energy.
The Architect barely moved. He raised one finger — and Asher's assault froze in midair.
Asher's stomach dropped.
His magic… had stopped.
The Architect snapped his wrist, and Asher felt his own attack turn against him.
With less than a second to react, Asher turned his body, just missing the recoil of his own strength.
But the Architect had already slipped beside him.
The impact of a devastating palm strike struck Asher's chest.
A wave of force erupted.
Asher's eyesight grayed as he was hurled backward once more, slamming into the vault wall with a sickening crack.
Seraphine threw fire and electricity and raw magic at it, but the Architect walked through it like a god unburned by human flame.
"You're wasting your energy," he said, unmoved. "This fight was settled before it ever started."
Asher coughed hard, fighting to push himself up.
And then—another memory hit.
Not just a vision. A fragment of his past self.
A battlefield. Corpses piled high. And at the center of it all…
Him.
A different him. In royal armor, next to the same Architect.
"We made this world," the Asher-from-the-past said in a whisper. "But it wasn't ever supposed to be like this."
The Architect's response had been chilly. "And then we will forge it again."
The vision cut off, and Asher gulped for air.
His hands trembled. He knew this man.
And worse — he had once fought beside him.
"You…" Asher's voice cracked. "You and I… we were…"
The Architect nodded. "Yes. We were partners. Brothers."
Seraphine froze. "What?"
The Architect cautiously stepped forward. You've lived so many lives, Asher. Each time you die, and each time, the cycle resets. But this time … this time it's different."
Asher's heartbeat thundered. "Why?"
The Architect smiled.
"Because this time you're actually ready to break the cycle."
The Architect held out a hand.
"Come with me," he said. "The Guild, the tyrants, the false kings of this world… they have deceived you. We were supposed to be more than pieces in their game. We can end this world's tyranny together."
Asher's mind raced.
Everything was falling apart too quickly. But too much history lost in forgotten lives.
But one thing was clear.
He couldn't believe you could trust the Architect.
Asher let out a slow breath. Then—he smirked.
"Let me think about it."
The Architect nodded. "Take your time."
Then, all of a sudden—Asher hit.
He cast his most powerful spell with all of his might.
A wave of energy as black as his name shot from his hand toward the Architect's heart.
Raw force detonated outward, making the floor shake.
And when the dust settled—
The Architect was gone.
Asher's hands trembled. His breath was ragged.
Seraphine stared at him. "Did you just—"
"He left," Asher muttered. "He let me attack him. And he still left."
The voice on the other end of the earpiece screamed Reed.
"Asher! Seraphine! The entire Guild's security force is converging on your position — you gotta move NOW!"
Asher clenched his fists.
There was no time to digest it all.
There was no time to realize what the Architect's words really meant.
But one thing was certain.
Escape now, or never, if he didn't escape now.
He turned to Seraphine. "We're leaving."
She nodded, already beginning to conjure a teleportation spell.
Asher glanced back at the Vault—the place that initiated his past's resurgence.
Then he seamlessly disappeared into the night.