Black steel screamed through the air, aiming straight for Jace's heart.
He twisted sideways—barely.
The blade scraped across his chest, tearing cloth and skin. Blood bloomed mid-spin as he hit the ground, rolled, and rose in one smooth motion.
No time to think.
The figure blurred—already in front of him again. Another strike.
CLANG!
Jace caught the blade with both hands, inches from his face. Sparks ignited between his palms, burning his skin, but he didn't let go.
This wasn't just a shadow. It was him. A twisted echo, a future, a fragment—something.
"You wanted strength?" the figure hissed, voice layered in echoes. "Then bleed for it."
It kicked him in the gut. Hard.
Jace flew backward, slammed into invisible ground, the wind ripped from his lungs. He coughed blood, wiping it from his chin.
"I don't even know what you are," he growled, staggering to his feet. "But I'm not losing to myself."
The shadow didn't answer. It raised the blade again—this time with both hands.
Jace's arm pulsed. The mark on his wrist glowed.
"Draw me."
He didn't question it. He reached toward nothing—and the void answered.
A weapon forged from memory and fire exploded into his grip: a broken glaive, its blade fractured, wrapped in golden thread that shimmered like starlight. He spun it instinctively, feeling ancient energy surge through his veins.
He roared.
The void around them shifted.
They weren't alone anymore.
The darkness peeled back to reveal a battlefield suspended in stars. Stone platforms floated in orbit, connected by crumbling bridges and shattered memories. Colossal statues of forgotten gods loomed above, some half-broken, others watching with molten eyes.
This was a place of trials. Of legends.
Jace leapt—straight at the shadow.
Their blades met mid-air.
CRACK!
The collision shattered a floating platform beneath them. Debris scattered, caught in zero-gravity. They fought among the wreckage—blade on blade, spin, parry, strike, duck.
The shadow was ruthless. Efficient.
But Jace was furious.
He turned, slammed the butt of his glaive into the figure's ribs, spun mid-air, and launched a reverse slash aimed for the neck.
The figure dodged—and retaliated with a downward strike that unleashed a shockwave of voidfire.
Jace crossed the glaive in front of him just in time. The flames washed over him, searing his soul. His scream echoed across the cosmos.
"Still standing?" the shadow mocked, drifting above him like a judge.
Jace dropped to one knee, panting. "You think this is new to me? Pain's an old friend."
The sigil on his chest lit up. A hum began—low, deep, like a war drum buried in his bones.
Thump.
Thump.
THUMP.
Jace stood.
His eyes burned gold.
He blurred.
One moment, he stood in place. The next—he was behind the shadow, striking from an impossible angle.
The blade connected.
The shadow reeled back, cloak shredded, black essence spilling into the air like smoke.
Jace didn't stop.
He dashed again—strike to shoulder, knee, back, ribs. Every hit pushed the figure further toward the core of the arena where floating rings of energy pulsed like a dying heartbeat.
And then—
The glaive shattered.
Its pieces froze midair, orbiting Jace like a crown of stars.
He raised a hand.
"Remember me."
The fragments exploded outward—dozens of golden projectiles arcing in perfect synchronicity, all aimed at the center.
The shadow raised both arms to shield itself—
BOOM.
Light engulfed the void. Blinding. Burning.
When the smoke cleared, the figure stood hunched, cloak burned away.
It looked up.
Jace froze.
The face staring back at him wasn't twisted anymore. It was his. Just… older. Scarred. Eyes full of regret.
"You were always strong," the man said. "But you had to become something else to survive what comes next."
Jace stepped back. "What are you talking about?"
The man smiled—bitter, tired. "I'm you. From another strand. Another broken timeline."
"…Why attack me?"
"Because I had to make sure you were ready. Because the truth will kill you if you're not."
He raised a hand. A glowing sigil appeared in his palm—circular, lined with seven interlocking glyphs.
"One of us caused the Cataclysm," the future Jace whispered. "One of us broke the Vein. And someone—something—is using your pain to reshape reality."
Jace shook his head. "You're not making sense."
"You'll understand soon." The sigil floated toward Jace's chest and sank into his skin.
He screamed. Not in pain—but in memory.
Visions crashed into him: towers burning, oceans swallowing cities, beasts made of flame and glass. And above them all—a throne of chains. And seated upon it…
A name.
"Aurelios," he whispered.
The other Jace nodded grimly. "He isn't dead. He never was. He's watching now."
The stars above rippled.
From the edge of the void, a presence stirred.
A ripple of heat. A grin made of teeth and fire. And two crimson eyes—
—watching from the cracks in reality.
"Find the others," future Jace whispered. "Or all timelines will fall."
And then he shattered into golden dust.
Jace collapsed, breath ragged.
The battlefield around him collapsed, breaking apart. He fell—
—back into his body, back in the ruins.
The runes had dimmed.
The mark on his wrist still glowed.
Behind him, in the shadows, something smiled.