The Memory of Flame

Kai stood still, the Bloodlight shard cradled in his hand, warm and thrumming like a heartbeat. Around him, silence reigned—but inside his mind, the noise of a thousand ancestors whispered like fire.

Ayaka stared at him, awe and concern in her gaze. "Are you still… you?"

Kai nodded slowly. "I'm more. I remember every path walked before me. Every sacrifice. Every betrayal. The Flame was never just destruction. It was judgment. And mercy."

Hisoka stepped back, his expression unreadable. "Then you understand now. The cycle begins again, unless we rewrite it."

Ren stepped forward. "So what's next? You wield that thing and what—become a god?"

"No," Kai said. "I break the chain."

The Heart pulsed again, its glyphs shifting. The chamber trembled. A hidden door behind the altar slid open, revealing stairs etched with molten veins.

"It leads to the Cradle," Hisoka said. "Where the Hollow was first sealed."

Kai turned to his friends. "I won't make this choice alone."

Ayaka grinned faintly. "We never let you do anything alone."

They descended, the light of the shard guiding their path. The stairs seemed endless, time bending around them until they reached a vast chamber bathed in golden flame.

There, suspended in the air like a dying star, was the core of the Hollow—a writhing mass of fire and shadow, bound in chains of runes.

The Hollow saw them. And it remembered.

It whispered in a voice only Kai could hear.

"End us. Or become us."

The shard in his hand pulsed violently.

Kai closed his eyes.

And stepped forward.