The sealed door groaned open with a sound like galaxies colliding. Light spilled out—raw, primordial, unformed. Steven stepped through, alone, his body trembling with every step. Behind him, the door shut.
There was no floor. No sky. Only a shifting sea of stardust beneath his feet and a pulse in the air like a heartbeat that didn't belong to any god or mortal.
Then a voice—vast, layered, like all of creation whispering at once.
"Who walks in the chamber of the First Word?"
Steven didn't flinch. "Steven Lethal. The Final Shard. The one chosen by the Codex."
The light condensed into a sphere, then split into three celestial beings—faceless judges cloaked in time.
"Then let the Origin Trial begin."
The first being spoke: "The Trial of Memory."
Steven's surroundings shifted. Suddenly, he stood in his childhood room—London, raining outside, his mother arguing on the phone, his young self curled on the bed. The loneliness. The fear. The isolation.
"You were always different," the voice whispered. "Do you reject your human weakness… or embrace it?"
Steven stepped forward, touching the memory. "I embrace it. It made me strong. It made me choose this path."
The scene shattered.
The second being spoke: "The Trial of Power."
Steven was back in the void—the moment he killed the first Herald. His rage, his fear of losing control, the spark that made the Codex respond to him.
"You took life to save others. Would you do it again?"
Steven hesitated… then nodded. "Yes. Because sometimes mercy is a cruelty the world can't afford."
The stars around him flared—acceptance.
The final being loomed larger, its voice a rumble of collapsing suns: "The Trial of Identity."
"You are no longer only Steven Lethal. You are the Codex. But can the Codex still be… you?"
A mirror formed. In it—Steven saw himself: scarred, tired, filled with doubt. Then, slowly, the reflection smiled.
"I am not just the Codex," Steven whispered. "I'm the author of my story. And I choose who I become."
The chamber exploded in golden light.
A new form emerged. Steven hovered above the sea of stardust, robed in flowing script, eyes filled with ancient symbols, his voice now laced with cosmic power.
The Rewrite Absolute was his.
---
Outside, the sanctuary trembled.
The Archivist looked up. "He's done it."
Aetheron grinned. "Now let's see Pain rewrite that."
---
Meanwhile, Pain stood before the Gate of Ruin, his generals kneeling.
He paused. A flicker of fear crossed his face. Just once.
"So… the boy has become the Codex. Then it's time I become the Eraser."
He stepped into the Gate—and disappeared into the dark beyond.
---
To be continued