Y/N slowly opened his eyes, greeted by a landscape that was both familiar and foreign—a blurry vision of what seemed like another memory. The realization dawned on him as unusual; waking up in a place not his own was not a common occurrence. Beside him, IX, a constant in the variable realms of his journey, also surveyed the area with an observant gaze.

What struck Y/N most was the serenity that enveloped him. Despite the oddity of their situation, a sense of calm pervaded his being, a stark contrast to the confusion such scenarios would typically provoke. Glancing at IX, whose presence was as desolate as it was comforting, Y/N recognized the source of his newfound tranquility. IX's aura, a manifestation of absolute Nihility, seemed to clear his mind, honing his focus to a razor's edge.

"Is this the Abyss' doing?" he wondered silently. The thought that the Abyss could refine his mental state to better synergize with IX's nature was intriguing. If true, this was an advantage he hadn't anticipated but was deeply grateful for. In this moment of clarity, IX's presence was not just a boon but a blessing, subtly guiding him closer to his objectives with a tempered mind.

However, as Y/N contemplated this newfound insight, he shook his head, as if to dispel the fog of thoughts clouding his focus. His journey, though enriched by encounters like those with the Progenitor, had been slowed by such reflections. "The readers would likely agree," he mused, momentarily crossing the boundary between his world and that of his audience, a hint of the Flint Emperor's influence weaving through his thoughts.

His mind then wandered to the Heliobi, his erstwhile companion. "I hope it's faring well without me... Though, Lan is with it now," he reassured himself. Considering the Heliobi's ability to thrive in isolation, Y/N concluded that his absence would be but a brief interlude in the grand scale of its existence.

With a renewed focus, Y/N turned his attention to IX, who had comfortably settled on his shoulder. The immediate task was clear: to navigate out of this memory, this fragment of a world. Questions could wait; action could not. "Let's move," he whispered to IX, stepping forward into the uncertainty of the void with a determined resolve.

Only minutes had passed since Y/N began his trek through the vast, encompassing darkness, yet it felt like eons. The void he navigated was reminiscent of the abyssal depths he'd encountered alongside the Progenitor, yet distinctively different in its essence. It was not the Abyss, but a void of another kind—a realm of suspended memories.

Floating amidst the nothingness were shards of glass, eerily similar to those he discovered with Fuli. These fragments, he recognized with a general's acumen, were memories frozen in time. With deliberate care, Y/N extended his mind's reach, gathering the scattered pieces with telekinesis, orchestrating them into a coherent cluster. Each shard, a puzzle piece awaiting its rightful place.

IX observed silently, its interest piqued by Y/N's focused endeavor. But for Y/N, the task at hand was paramount. The shards offered glimpses into past lives, hints that guided his assembly with precision. His experience as a general, coupled with the nuanced appreciation for poetry instilled by Dan Feng, informed his method—a tactical yet graceful dance of memory and strategy.

"And done," Y/N declared, a note of self-congratulation in his voice. Puzzles were not his usual forte, but the challenge was met with a strategist's mindset and a poet's sensibility. The assembled shards now glowed with a dim light, coalescing into a small, hand-held portrait. As he reached out to grasp the floating artifact, a palpable sense of destiny emanated from it, a calling that resonated deep within.

IX, ever the silent companion, floated closer, circling the portrait in a dance of curiosity and contemplation. It then settled on Y/N's shoulder, emitting a buzzing sound of approval—a silent accord for the steps Y/N was about to take.

With a nod of understanding, Y/N closed his eyes, allowing the portrait's mysterious allure to envelop him. The light intensified, hands of fate drawing him into the frame, as he and the portrait vanished into the fabric of the void, leaving behind the silent, expectant darkness.

The transition through the portrait marked not just a physical journey, but a passage through the essence of memory and time—a leap into the unknown with only the silent approval of IX and the guidance of gathered memories to light the way.

---

As the light receded, Y/N found himself standing amidst desolation incarnate. Gargantuan structures pierced the sky, their Gothic silhouettes clawing at the clouds. The moon hung low, an indifferent witness to the decaying grandeur below. The air was thick with an eerie vibe, a chilling presence that whispered of death watching from every shadowed corner.

The decay was palpable, vibrating with the disturbing energy of the Great Ones. Y/N's face contorted with revulsion at its touch, a sentiment shared by IX, whose form shuddered visibly.

"I can feel them, they are close," Y/N murmured, his voice a hushed thread in the oppressive silence. The precaution seemed necessary, a way to conceal their presence from unseen entities that might lurk nearby.

The encounter with the Embodiment of Abyss had transformed Y/N, amplifying his powers to unprecedented levels. One such gift was a heightened sense, a shadow's intuition, allowing him to perceive energies and presences undetected by mortal means. The darkness was no longer a veil to him; it was his dominion, his extended sensory organ, alert and alive.

In this domain, he felt an absence—an unsettling nothingness. It was an enigma, a non-life that defied description, a transcendent aura beyond the ken of mortals, signaling the proximity of the Great Ones.

His reverie was shattered as a colossal figure emerged, draping itself around the clocktower like a grotesque ornament. The entity bore a resemblance to the amygdala, a creature of arachnid lineage, yet wholly other. Seven lean arms adorned its frame, each ending in clawed digits, two glowing ominously. A reptilian posture, an almond-shaped head caging a visible brain, surrounded by lidless eyes and writhing tentacles, completed its nightmarish visage.

With a sense of grim determination, Y/N summoned the Ornate Dagger, his grip firm. His powers, still untamed, were a risk he could not afford; the tangible steel was his chosen ally this night.

Yet the Great One remained passive, its multitude of eyes observing Y/N without intent. "Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice edged with hostility that seemed to dissipate against the creature's silent vigil.

The entity regarded him, its gaze alien in itself, before a voice, a cacophony of inhuman whispers, broke the silence. "Venture forward, godling. For Idrila awaits you."

The words heralded a surge of power from the deity. Instinctively, Y/N enveloped himself and IX in a cocoon of darkness, a barrier against the unknown. The Great One's hand enveloped the cocoon, curiosity rather than malice guiding its touch.

"I will show you of her memory, cursed fiends," it declared. The world twisted, dimensions warping, as Y/N and IX were catapulted through the eldritch tapestry to another chapter of their tangled odyssey.

The void swallowed them, leaving behind the crumbling cityscape, as they plunged deeper into the memories of a deity, towards revelations yet to be unfurled.

---

There was an immediate and profound sense of wrongness that permeated the air as Y/N stepped through the threshold of the new realm. His senses, usually so sharp and reliable, flailed wildly as if trying to grasp onto something tangible within a sea of chaos.

Seeking an anchor in this maelstrom, Y/N unfurled his shadows, casting them out like tendrils seeking purchase. The writhing darkness spread, forming a perimeter of stability that, with IX's bolstering presence, calmed the storm within his mind.

IX, sensing his disquiet, expanded into a larger form, its cosmic essence now matching the size of Y/N's folded arm. It extended a part of itself, forging an arrow in the void, guiding them through the nothingness.

With a silent nod of gratitude to IX, Y/N proceeded, stepping with purpose through an environment devoid of anything substantial. Shapes attempted to form in the periphery, only to be undone as quickly as they appeared, a testament to the area's volatile nature. He grimaced, but a sense of relief washed over him, knowing that the Abyss and Nihility shielded them from sharing such a fate.

Following IX's cosmic arrows that twisted and turned, Y/N sensed a tether to the reality he knew. IX, in its mysterious way, confirmed this sensation. With a deep breath charged with hope, Y/N summoned the Abyssal Gate. The dark portal spiraled into existence, and without hesitation, he stepped through.

The world that unfolded before him was a vibrant tapestry of life and light. Towering creatures, majestic in their form, floated through the skies, carrying fragments of a world upon their backs. Waterfalls cascaded down their ancient hides, feeding rivers that flowed through the air, defying gravity. The architecture was a symphony of spires and domes, a city suspended in the heavens, bathed in a golden glow of perpetual dawn.

This place was an antithesis to the grim shadows of the town he had left behind—a realm where fantasy and reality converged.

Then, familiar voices called out, slicing through the enchantment. He spun to see Igris, Alphen, and Sandra. "My liege!" they exclaimed, Igris and Alphen bowing deeply, while Sandra offered a cheerful wave.

Y/N's sharp gaze swept over them, his heightened senses probing for the truth of their existence. In a heartbeat, he felt the pulse of their essences, the unique signatures of their souls—undeniable evidence of reality.

A weight lifted from his shoulders as he addressed them, his voice imbued with the weariness of a traveler long absent. "I am back."

The reunion was not just a return to familiar faces but a reclamation of self, a closing chapter of his journey through the abyss of memory and the rebirth into a world resplendent with possibility and life.

---

Jingliu's heart raced with unbridled excitement; the training she had undergone these past three weeks was nothing short of transformative. The celestial siblings, guardians of this realm, had granted her an audience and an opportunity—a privilege among mortals.

The world around her breathed a life unlike any other. Recently, soaring with Icaria amidst dragons and myriad creatures, she marveled at the spectacle of the skies—a vista unknown to Xianzhou, her homeland of technological marvels and political strife.

A tinge of sadness touched her—her comrades back in Xianzhou were blind to these wonders. Yet, she was here, chosen, special among many.

Casting aside these thoughts, Jingliu stood with Seris, the moon's light coalescing in her palm, forming into a blade of dim blue and silver. "Focus on the serenity, Jingliu. The moon is as gentle as the light that bathes the night," Seris intoned, her wisdom shaping Jingliu's efforts, though her own past remained shrouded in enigma.

Jingliu inhaled deeply, reaching out with her senses to the moon. But the Mara within her writhed, a constant battle against the serenity she sought. Thanks to Yara, whose witchcraft had reined in the curse, she found respite, though not a cure.

"It must be hard to train with such a curse," Seris observed, her voice a soft caress against the harsh reality of Jingliu's struggle. Approaching, she wiped away the lunar construct from Jingliu's hands.

Seris's touch was gentle as she channeled her arcane energy, a brilliant amethyst hue enveloping Jingliu's hand. The magic, akin to the gleam of Jingliu's greatsword, wove a pattern of negation, taming the curse's wild energies. The potential of such power in combat was not lost on Jingliu—both formidable and fearsome.

As Seris' magic coursed through her, she spoke of the moon's essence, lamenting the curse that marred Jingliu's spirit. "The moon reflects the gentleness and brightness, expressing the beautiful yearnings. It is truly a shame that your kind has contracted this curse. It taints you."

Jingliu sighed, her voice a murmur in the still air. "Many have said that, but isn't it what balances life?" The question hung between them, prompting a silent encouragement from Seris to continue.

"It grows tiresome when everything is given freely. With every gift, a cost must follow. We may live for centuries, and yet..." Jingliu trailed off.

"The Mara exists to counteract the goodness," Seris finished, her words a reflection of Yara's teachings. "Goddess Yaoshi granted your people blessings, but remember, all gifts bear their prices, for better or worse."

Jingliu nodded, contemplation etching her features, while Seris sank into a deep focus, a meditative calm. After moments that stretched like hours, Seris released Jingliu's hand. "Do you feel better?"

Instead of words, Jingliu responded with action, summoning her ice lightsword and caressing its blade, her touch delicate yet deliberate. She faced Seris, a silent challenge in her gaze. "I have sparred with all but you. Each has taught me much. Mono, physicality; Icaria, elements; Pluto, permanence; Adabas, control; Holos, defense; even Yara, temperance," she recounted, the tip of her sword aimed at Seris.

"What can you offer me?" Jingliu asked, her tone not hostile, but threaded with an undercurrent of earnest inquiry.

Seris' reaction was a head tilt, a silent acceptance of the gauntlet thrown. The air grew cold, a prelude to the lesson about to unfold. From nothingness, Seris conjured ice, shaping it into a blade that mirrored Jingliu's own. Jingliu's eyes widened, recognizing the form as akin to her lightsword.

"You seek a fight; then a lesson shall be given," Seris declared, her voice a chilling promise. "Brace yourself, Nighthilt Sovereign."

Snow-like ice began to descend as Jingliu and Seris faced off, their gazes locked in an intense red stare—one burning with eagerness, the other cold with calculation. The air between them crackled, charged with the imminent clash of wills.

Seris initiated their dance, moving with deliberate slowness, each step a measured shuffle. Jingliu braced for an assault, but Seris dissolved into the chill air like a phantom breeze, leaving Jingliu alone with her bewilderment. Silence befell the arena until the soft crunch of frost betrayed Seris's new position—a trail of cold mist marking her fleeting presence.

"A flaw," Jingliu noted mentally, preparing for the next cue. It came as a swift blur, Seris reappearing with a lightsword aimed to strike a fatal blow. Jingliu's reaction was instinctual, her own blade meeting Seris' in a parry, ice clashing with ice, a symphony of crackles filling the air. The lack of force in Seris' strike revealed her reliance on speed, a technique Jingliu knew well and was prepared to exploit.

The lessons from the celestial siblings had honed Jingliu's intellect and strength, each sibling imparting wisdom that now flowed through her veins. Seizing the moment, Jingliu retaliated with a series of rapid ice slashes, Seris deflecting each one, her movements a dance on the icy ground they created. Stray slashes carved the landscape, trees and earth etched with frozen scars.

But Jingliu's focus on attack left her open. Seris, ever the adept, glided over the ice with grace, using Jingliu's own creation to gain momentum. In an elegant whirl, she seized Jingliu, tossing her skyward before summoning a massive ice blade that sent her adversary plummeting to the earth, a crater marking the force of the impact.

Gasping for air, Jingliu acknowledged the unexpected ruthlessness of Seris' strategy—a reminder that in true battle, honor is a luxury. She needed to end this swiftly. Memories of her duel with Y/N during the Sword Champion Ceremony surged within her, inspiration igniting her resolve.

Channeling lunar energy into her lightsword, she transformed it into a beacon of moonlight. "Second Form - Stab," she whispered, launching the attack. The blade, now a lance of light, pierced through the air towards Seris, who barely managed to shield herself from the onslaught. The lunar energy scorched the forest, drawing a radiant line of destruction.

Panting, not from exhaustion but from the pain of Seris' enchanted slashes, Jingliu couldn't help but admire her adversary. "Marvelous, Seris," she breathed out, acknowledging the cunning behind each graceful move.

Seris rose from the aftermath, seemingly unfazed, and brushed off the debris. Her brief smile vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving Jingliu puzzled by the abrupt shift.

"And you, crafting a technique that is distinctly your own," Seris responded, her eyes shimmering with a melancholic familiarity. "However, we made no pact for the loser, but I am compelled to confess to you as your reward."

She paused, her gaze heavy with the weight of untold stories. "I will speak to you of my past, why I am different from the others."

Surprise etched on her face, Jingliu focused inward, calling upon the soothing lunar energy. Her form radiated a soft glow, washing away the vestiges of battle—scars and blemishes fading under the tender luminescence. She exhaled a breath of relief, turning to find Seris already moving away, her back a silent invitation to follow.

In quiet compliance, Jingliu trailed behind, their footsteps a hushed echo in the tranquil forest. They arrived at a serene pond that mirrored a place from Jingliu's memories, a prelude to her journey through the memory planes. A majestic tree crowned in purple, its leaves shimmering with ethereal light, while flowers and mystical orbs of light danced in the gentle breeze. The water, a still mirror, caught the delicate play of light and shadow, a canvas of tranquility.

Seris settled at the pond's edge, patting the earth beside her. Jingliu, though filled with questions, took her place beside the woman who had been an enigma of poise and calm.

A profound silence enveloped them, as Seris stared into the reflective waters, her eyes pools of deep thought. Jingliu sat, wrapped in the quiet awkwardness of the moment.

Then, with a sigh that carried the weight of ages, Seris began, "I was once a noble of a forgotten history. A jewel in my family's crown, always in the spotlight, always yearning for more." Her voice was a whisper, yet it resonated with Jingliu, a mirror to her own life's tale.

Jingliu held her breath, the parallels in their stories binding her tongue in silent solidarity.

Seris continued, her voice tinged with the ache of memory, "Suitors surrounded me, until one day, I met him—a knight of Beauty, in service to Idrila." Her pause was pregnant with unspoken details, the air between them heavy with the unsaid.

Jingliu's heart ached in response; her own history with Y/N was a different tale, woven from the fabric of childhood innocence, not the complex weavings of adulthood and ambition.

With a solemn tone, Seris resumed, "It was a swift and passionate love. But then, I discovered something within me." Her hand rose, and from her palm emerged a flame of black edged with white—a symbol of power and envy. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving a chill in its wake.

"I envied his power, standing beside Idrila, while we managed mere mortal concerns. My heart grew dark with hatred." The air around Seris seemed to quiver, the once-vanished flame now a halo of fury.

Jingliu's instincts surged, her power responding to the emotional storm, encasing the area in a sheath of ice, the foliage and water crystallizing in an instant.

Unfazed, Seris spoke of her betrayal, her voice cracking, "I destroyed him, stripped him of his blessings, made him a shadow. When he saw the monster in me, he abandoned his identity, cast me out." Her words painted a portrait of loss and regret.

Jingliu's mind raced, imagining herself in such a tale of despair. She banished the thought; such a future with Y/N was unbearable.

Curiosity overcoming her, Jingliu ventured, "May I know the name of your lover?"

A single tear traced Seris' cheek as she whispered, "He was a knight once, but now, he is known as Pontiff, the follower of Abyss."

End of Chapter