Echoes of the Forgotten War

A blinding crimson light engulfed them, swallowing everything in its path. The sensation of falling was overwhelming, yet there was no wind, no sense of space—only an endless abyss. Yan Xi felt his flames flicker uncontrollably, while Ling Yue gasped, clutching her chest where the strange power had awakened.

And then—impact.

They landed on cold, lifeless ground. The scent of blood and ashes filled the air. As Yan Xi pushed himself up, his eyes widened. They weren't in the void anymore. They were standing in the ruins of a battlefield—a place that looked both familiar and foreign.

Ling Yue stumbled forward, her gaze fixed on the broken banners swaying in the wind. "This is… impossible," she whispered.

Yan Xi followed her line of sight. His breath caught in his throat. He knew this place.

Scattered among the ruins were the remains of warriors, their armor shattered, their weapons rusted with time. And at the very center, impaled upon a golden spear, lay a figure with long black hair and an eerily familiar face.

Ling Yue's voice trembled. "That's… you."

Yan Xi staggered back. It wasn't just him. It was them—every version of them from every lifetime.

The whispers from the crimson gate returned, louder now.

"The war never ended. The cycle will not break. You will return. And you will die… again."

A shadow loomed over them. The golden entity had followed them through. Its eyes gleamed with something almost like pity.

"This is the truth you sought. Now… can you bear it?"