: The Name That Burns Twice

Chapter 33

The scream that echoed from Nezutsu's soul was not his voice.It was older, deeper — layered with the agony of unspoken centuries.

As the name Aez'rah rippled through the realm of memory, something unlatched within him. Not a lock — but a promise.

The Loop shattered completely.

Thorns melted into white flame.The chained cathedral became dust.

Kaelith collapsed into his arms, gasping, her wrists still bleeding mana from where the bindings had once held.

"Nezutsu… what did you do?"

He stared at his hands.

Flames danced across his skin, but they didn't burn. Instead, they whispered. They knew him.

"I remembered something that was never mine."

Suddenly, the memory-world cracked again — but this time, it wasn't Nezutsu doing it.

Meanwhile — The Archivist Breaks the Sky

Asphor stood before the dying body of Velgrim.

The Archivist circled her, eyes furious and hollow.

"The name you spoke was forbidden. Burned from all books. Buried in the blood of gods."

Asphor clutched the sphere, trembling. "Then why does it live inside him?"

The Archivist's smile turned cruel.

"Because he's not a vessel. He's a lockpick. You all were. And now… the seal breaks."

Above them, the Archive — that infinite sky of memory — began to collapse. Pages tore from invisible tomes. Stars blinked out. Histories reversed.

"You've started a fire that will consume not just fate, but cause."

Asphor turned to Velgrim, his face pale and blood-covered.

"Hold on. Don't leave me."

He coughed, then whispered,

"Don't let him become the thing the gods feared."

Nezutsu Awakens in the Real World

When Nezutsu opened his eyes, he was no longer in Kaelith's loop — or even in the Archive.

He lay in a field of stardust, Kaelith unconscious at his side, and the black sky above weeping constellations.

The Fifth Flame burned around him — not just within.

And then… he heard it.

A voice. A familiar one.

"Took you long enough."

He turned.

Standing at the edge of the field was a figure wearing his face, older — eyes glowing like suns, hair crowned in flame.

"Who… are you?"

"I'm the version of you that gave in. The one that let the flame become god again."

"A future?"

"No. A warning."

The figure stepped forward, eyes hard.

"You think remembering the name makes you powerful? You haven't even scratched the surface. The Flame doesn't serve you — it's been waiting. You were just the matchstick."

Nezutsu stood slowly, fists clenched.

"Then I'll decide what burns."

"You won't get the choice. Because they're coming. All of them."

Suddenly, the world froze.

The stars stopped falling.

The field trembled.

And a thousand portals opened in the sky — each a glowing eye, each leaking a shadowy presence.

"What are they?" Nezutsu asked.

The older self's face twisted.

"The Hollow Gods. The ones sealed by the Fifth Flame. You spoke the name. You woke their dreams."

Kaelith stirred beside him, groaning.

"Nezutsu…"

And the older version said one last thing before vanishing into the stardust:

"If you want to survive what's next — don't trust your memory."

: The Rift of False Tomorrows

In the skies above Caldrith Nohr, the stars twisted into unnatural spirals.

Asphor, carrying Velgrim's body, emerged from a breach between timelines.

She looked up — and saw them.

The Hollow Gods.

Each of them shaped like a dream no mind could contain — hands made of prayers, wings stitched from prophecy.

And in the center of them all, falling — was Nezutsu.

Eyes open.

Fire blazing.

Name remembered.

And absolutely alone.

[TO BE CONTINUED…]