Echoes of the Forgotten

Orion awoke gasping, his body weightless, suspended in a void of swirling energy. Reality itself seemed to pulse around him, fragments of cities, forests, and wastelands flickering in and out of existence. He was nowhere—and everywhere.

He twisted in the air, panic settling into his bones. His limbs felt sluggish, as though trapped in thick molasses. Was he dead? Dreaming? Had the world finally unravelled, taking him with it?

A voice cut through the void. "Orion Vale. You stand at the edge of divergence. Choose."

The voice was neither male nor female, old nor young. It resonated in his skull like a command woven into the fabric of existence itself. He tried to respond, but no words left his lips. He wasn't in control. Not entirely.

Below him, the void began to shift. Two paths emerged, stretching into the infinite—a bridge of neon circuitry leading into a blinding metropolis on one side, and a crumbling staircase vanishing into the depths of an ancient ruin on the other. The contrast was stark. A choice, but one without context.

Before he could act, another force yanked at him, dragging him downward. The world shifted again, and suddenly, he was falling.

The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. He hit solid ground—a rooftop of some kind, cold and slick with rain. The city sprawled beneath him, but it was not the fractured world he had glimpsed before. This place was intact.

Or was it?

Lights flickered erratically, holographic billboards glitching between advertisements and static. Shadows twisted unnaturally, as though something unseen lurked just beyond perception. A city on the verge of collapse.

Orion groaned, pushing himself upright. He was still dressed in the same torn hoodie and combat boots, but his skin tingled as if it had been rewritten. Something had changed. He had changed.

And then he heard the footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate. Closing in from behind.

He turned sharply, instincts kicking in. A figure stood at the edge of the rooftop, its form obscured by a shifting cloak of black void. Eyes—too many eyes—blinked into existence across its faceless helm.

An Eschaton Judge.

Orion's heart pounded. He had to move, but before he could take a step, the figure raised a gloved hand.

"You should not be here," it intoned. "Yet, you persist."

The world shuddered.

And then, the Judge attacked.

A shockwave erupted from its outstretched hand, distorting the air as it shot toward him. Orion barely dodged, rolling across the rooftop as the space where he had stood fractured, revealing a void of swirling darkness beneath. His mind raced—how was he supposed to fight something that could erase reality itself?

The Judge moved with unnatural speed, closing the distance in a blink. A blade of pure nothingness materialized in its grasp, slashing toward Orion's chest. He twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, but the force of it sent him sprawlingbackwardsd, his body skidding across the wet surface.

Pain lanced through his ribs. He wasn't sure if the blade had even touched him, but the sensation was undeniable—a gnawing emptiness, as if part of him had been severed from existence itself.

"Move," a voice whispered in his head. Not his own. Something deeper. Older.

Without thinking, Orion shifted his stance. The world around him flickered, and for a split second, he glimpsed an overlay of possibilities—countless versions of himself moving in different directions. A split-second divergence.

Instinct took over. He chose.

His body blurred, slipping between moments, and he reappeared behind the Judge. A flicker of surprise rippled across its form, but Orion didn't give it time to react. He drove his fist forward, striking at the shifting void where its face should be.

A shockwave rippled outward. The Judge staggered, its form momentarily destabilizing, before it recalibrated, refocusing on him with renewed intent.

Orion's breath came fast and ragged. Whatever he had just done, it had worked—but only barely. He needed to move, to escape, to figure out what the hell was happening to him.

Then, from the depths of the city below, a low hum resonated. The Judge halted. The air trembled with unseen energy, and Orion felt it deep in his bones.

Something else was coming.

And he wasn't sure if it was friend or foe.