Chapter 25 – What It Costs to Be Chosen

Ancient Legends: The Rise of the Legendary Super Saiyan

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The Silence Before Truth

The chamber had gone quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the heavy, suffocating silence that wrapped around your chest and whispered—everything is about to change.

Eryx stood in front of me, his ancient armor cracked, his violet eyes burning with more truth than I was ready to carry. His hand was still resting on my shoulder, but it felt like a mountain of expectation pressing into my soul.

"You're not ready," he said simply.

I blinked. "Then why bring us here?"

"Because none of us ever are," he replied.

Korr shifted behind me. "We didn't come all this way to turn back."

Taro scoffed. "Speak for yourself. I'd love to turn back. This place gives me the creeps."

Eryx let out a low chuckle—dusty and worn, like a man who hadn't laughed in centuries. "The Trial you faced was only the first layer. To become the Last Warden… Akuma must make a choice."

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The Warden's Price

Eryx raised his hand. The stone beneath us trembled as a circular platform rose from the floor—smooth obsidian, etched with interwoven runes that pulsed with a strange, ancient light.

"This," he said, "is the Heart of the Bastion. Here, every Warden before you has stood. And here, they have each given something away."

I stepped toward it. "Given what?"

"Whatever tethered them to who they were before. A memory. A bond. A belief." His gaze darkened. "A life."

I hesitated. "You're saying I have to give something up… to gain the Warden's power?"

"No," Eryx said. "I'm saying you have to choose what you're willing to sacrifice. The Warden does not carry just a title. It is a burden that cannot be shared."

My stomach turned. It wasn't the idea of pain or loss that unsettled me.

It was that, for the first time, I had to choose the cost.

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Visions of the Fallen

When I stepped onto the platform, the world fell away.

I was surrounded by starlight and shadow—memories not just mine, but thousands of Saiyans who came before me. Warriors. Kings. Survivors. All reliving their final moments.

I saw the First Warden give up his identity to remain nameless—so the Abyss would never learn his true soul.

The Second Warden sacrificed her own people to seal a Rift that would have consumed ten systems.

The Third… gave his life in battle, never knowing if he'd succeeded.

And then, I saw… myself.

Not now. Not past.

A possible future.

Me—alone, bloodied, standing atop the ruins of a dead world, flames fading from my fists as shadow swallowed the stars above.

A voice echoed in the dark.

"What will you give up to stop what's coming?"

I didn't have an answer.

But I knew I needed one.

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The Weight of Choice

When I came to, Korr was standing beside me, silent. Taro leaned on a broken pillar, arms crossed, eyes shadowed.

I looked up at Eryx. "I'll do it. I'll become the Last Warden."

Eryx studied me. "And what will you sacrifice?"

My heart pounded. So many things crossed my mind—my pride, my rage, my need for vengeance. But none of it felt right.

Then I thought of them.

Korr. Taro. My team. My friends.

The ones who stood beside me when they didn't have to.

I took a breath.

"I'll give up the right to die."

Eryx's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

I stepped forward. "I accept that this path may take my life. But more than that—I accept that I won't have the peace of rest. I'll carry this fight, even if the others fall. Even if I survive every battle, I'll keep walking. I'll become the Warden because someone has to. And I'll give up the right to stop."

Korr's eyes widened. Taro muttered, "That's… heavy, even for you."

Eryx nodded solemnly. "Then kneel."

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The Binding Flame

When my knees touched the stone, the runes around the platform ignited in brilliant gold and violet. Energy surged through me—painful, raw, ancient. I screamed as it laced itself through every inch of my soul, rewriting me.

The voices of the fallen didn't whisper anymore.

They sang.

Their knowledge wasn't something I had to reach for—it was me now. Their techniques. Their instincts. Their pain. Their triumphs.

And through it all, I felt the presence of something… older.

A warmth beneath the storm.

The original Flame.

A voice, not mine, whispered:

"You are the Warden now."

When I opened my eyes, the chamber was silent.

And I was no longer the same.

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Shadows at the Gates

We didn't have long to rest.

Not an hour after the trial ended, the fortress trembled.

Alarms—ancient, mechanical groans from forgotten ages—howled through the halls.

Taro's head snapped up. "That's not weather."

Korr drew his blade. "They've found us."

Eryx's voice was grim. "Xyros' scouts. They've sent the Order of Dusk."

I blinked. "Who?"

Eryx turned to me, his face grim. "A faction that once served the Wardens. Before the corruption. Before the Abyss seduced them."

As he spoke, shadowy forms began emerging from the gates of the Bastion—tall, robed figures with jagged armor and swords that pulsed with black energy.

The leader stepped forward, removing his hood.

And I froze.

Because his face looked like mine.

"You're not the Last Warden," he said, voice cold. "I am."

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The Duel of Mirrors

Combat exploded around us.

Korr and Taro rushed to intercept the Dusk warriors, clashing in fast, brutal engagements that sent stone and sparks flying.

But my eyes stayed locked on him—this warrior who looked like me, moved like me, felt like me.

He smiled.

"A shadow of a Warden is still a Warden, Akuma."

I didn't speak. I charged.

Our fists collided with a blast of golden and abyssal flame, ripping a crater in the floor.

He moved like he'd fought my fights. Knew my choices. Anticipated my counters.

But I didn't fight alone anymore.

I called on the fallen—not for strength, but for innovation.

I shifted my stance, blending ancient formations with modern fury, overwhelming his perfect copy with unpredictable evolution.

In the final moment, I caught him off-guard, slamming my palm into his chest and sending him flying into the Bastion wall.

He staggered.

Blood on his lips.

And then he laughed.

"You passed the test," he whispered. "That was… all this was ever meant to be."

And with that, he dissolved into shadow.

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The True War Begins

When the battle ended, I stood amid the broken stones of the Bastion.

Eryx approached, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"They will come harder now. Faster. The Abyss knows you've been chosen."

I looked around.

At Korr—bloodied but still standing.

At Taro—grinning through a cracked rib.

At the bastion—still holding, barely.

And I said the only thing I could.

"Then let them come."