Yor stepped through the heavy stone door, and the sound of it slamming shut behind him echoed like a drumbeat in the void.
Darkness.
Again.
But this time… it breathed.
The air was thick with silence, but beneath it, something whispered. Not with words—but with emotions. Pain. Regret. Rage.
The corridor ahead twisted unnaturally. The stone walls pulsed with a soft red glow, like veins under skin.
Yor clenched his fists.
> "I don't care how deep this place goes," he said, stepping forward. "I'll keep walking."
---
Each step echoed forever.
Soon, the path opened into a strange chamber.
Massive. Circular. The floor was covered in black water that reflected the ceiling—an endless sky filled with floating eyes.
Twelve stone statues stood in a ring. Warriors. Kings. Monsters. Some had wings. Some had horns. One had a thousand arms.
Each held a weapon, but none moved.
Yor walked to the center.
Suddenly, the water rippled.
And then… the voices began.
---
> "You are his son…"
"You should not be here…"
"You carry forbidden blood…"
Yor's breath caught.
> "What… did you say?"
But the voices faded.
Only the sound of dripping water remained.
Then—one statue moved.
A massive figure cloaked in shadow, face hidden behind a broken mask. It raised a rusted spear and pointed it at Yor.
> "Prove you are worthy of your blood," it said. "Or be erased by it."
The chamber shook.
---
Yor didn't hesitate.
He sprinted forward, dodging the first strike. The spear sliced the air behind him like thunder.
The statue moved like a storm, but Yor's body—burning with the memory flame—reacted faster.
He countered.
Clashed.
Dodged.
But he wasn't winning.
He was being tested.
Thrown into the fire.
---
Every strike brought more flashes—images not his own:
A tall man wrapped in a long coat, standing before a burning battlefield.
Golden eyes—just like Yor's—looking down with sorrow.
A whisper: "I failed to protect them…"
A hand reaching out to a baby.
And then—blood.
Yor staggered.
The statue struck him, sending him flying into the water.
He gasped.
The visions stopped.
His body trembled—not from fear… but from confusion.
> "That man… who is he?"
"Why does it feel like… he's part of me?"
---
He stood again.
Bruised. Bleeding.
But burning brighter than ever.
> "I don't know who he is. I don't know what you're showing me."
His voice rang out, strong.
> "But my name is Yor Satoshi."
"And I'll find my own truth—step by step."
"No matter how painful."
---
The water surged beneath him.
He ran forward again.
This time, he wasn't fighting with anger.
He fought with purpose.
He dodged the spear, grabbed the shaft, and twisted.
The statue cracked.
A line of golden light split its mask.
It froze.
Then bowed.
The other statues began to vanish.
Only one remained.
A robed figure standing at the far end of the chamber.
It said nothing.
Just turned and walked into a dark corridor.
Inviting him.
---
Yor looked down.
The water was still now.
His reflection stared back.
But something was off.
A second reflection—right beside his—was smiling.
It had his face.
But older.
Stronger.
And its eyes burned with a deep, endless fire.
Yor's chest tightened.
> "Who am I… really?" he whispered.
But there was no answer.
Only the path ahead.
And the silence behind.
---
He walked on.
Behind him, the twelve statues crumbled into dust.
Before him, the corridor pulsed with golden light—and unbearable weight.
His journey had only begun.
And the truth?
It was waiting in pieces… buried in shadows.
---
Far away… in a mountain temple long forgotten.
An old monk stirred from his meditation.
He opened his eyes.
They glowed golden.
> "So… the blood awakens again."
He turned toward the wind, whispering a single name:
> "Yor…"
---