The Sea of Echoes raged around the memory-vessel, a storm of forgotten names and broken dreams howling from every direction. Fractured reflections of Li Shen's own past shimmered beneath the glasslike waves—faces he had seen die, choices he could never undo.
Before him, rising like a colossus from the mirrored sea, stood the Thousand-Faced Sentinel.
Its body was wrought of shattered swords, rusted regrets, and whirling shadows. The helms of fallen warriors—some with glowing eyes, some weeping blood—writhed across its frame. Its face was a kaleidoscope of shifting visages: a child he had failed to save, a brother in arms left to die, his own father's cold stare.
And most haunting of all—his own face, twisted by grief.
"You are not ready," the Sentinel intoned. Its voice echoed across the Sea like a judgment, not a sound. "Turn back, or become one of us."
Li Shen stepped forward, the planks of his vessel trembling beneath him. The seven blades at his back shimmered, then drew themselves in a radiant arc above his head.
"I don't need permission from ghosts."
He stepped into the air itself—and the battle began.
The Sentinel's first strike came like a falling moon—its massive arm, formed of shattered naginatas and spears, swept across the sky in a crescent meant to obliterate.
Li Shen's Ocean Soul Blade flashed forth, and with a motion like a flowing tide, he deflected the blow midair.
Sword Form: Tidal Reversal.
Water burst into existence around him, summoned from the very memory of rivers long dried. He rode it like a wave, twisting upward to meet the giant's mask with his Mirror Vale Blade.
He struck—and found only mist.
The Sentinel's form split into a dozen shimmering afterimages.
Each one bore a different face from Li Shen's past. Some were enemies. Some were allies. One wore the features of Master Jien, the first mentor to ever place a sword in his hand.
"You abandoned me," the illusion whispered, slashing downward.
Li Shen gritted his teeth, resisting the tide of sorrow threatening to unmake him.
Sword Form: Fracture the Horizon!
With a roar, he unsheathed the Eidolon Blade, whose edge carved through space itself. A horizontal gash split the air, disintegrating the illusory mentor and three other echoes. The sky bled light as the rift snapped shut.
But the Sentinel did not falter.
Its remaining forms joined hands, becoming a swirling vortex of memory, pulling Li Shen into the storm. Inside, time broke. He saw himself as a child, training in silence. As a youth, bleeding for pride. As a man, killing for peace.
And always… alone.
Trapped within the maelstrom, Li Shen felt his mind fray. His swords grew heavy. The Phoenix Manuscript tucked in his robe flared to life, casting burning script across the sky.
Remember who you are.
He drew Sērahn's Echo—the flame-forged sword of forgotten fire—and drove it into his own heart.
The vortex exploded in light.
Pain burned through his chest, but so did clarity.
Sword Form: Ash-Wrought Ascension.
Sērahn's Echo burst with phoenix flame, igniting Li Shen's body in ethereal fire. He stepped from the ruin of the maelstrom, surrounded by burning wings of sword-qi.
The Thousand-Faced Sentinel reeled, faces burning away, its edges softened by the heat of acceptance.
"I see you now," Li Shen said, walking calmly through the air. "You're not my enemy. You're my shadow."
"You are not ready," it repeated—quieter now.
"Then I'll forge readiness from flame."
He leapt, all seven blades orbiting him in a glowing lotus. Each sword responded with perfect synchronicity.
Ultimate Form: Celestial Bloom of the Blade Emperor!
A radiant explosion of petals made of steel and fire engulfed the guardian. Swords curved like falling stars, cutting through its limbs, through its heart, through every echo clinging to its soul.
The Sentinel screamed—not in agony, but in release.
When the light dimmed, nothing remained of the colossus except a single, floating stone—a fragment of obsidian, marked by a single glowing character:
始
Beginning.
Li Shen reached out and touched it.
A ripple tore through the Sea of Echoes. The waves calmed. The sky turned deep blue. And far ahead, the final island emerged—a floating temple of white bone and black crystal, wrapped in a cyclone of silent song.
There, atop a spire of dreamstone, embedded in a pedestal of starlight, waited the Blade of Origin.
But the moment he stepped forward, he felt it—another presence.
Dark.
Familiar.
Unwelcome.
A portal opened in the sky above.
Descending from it came Kaido Vren, a Reaping Hand assassin reborn in the Hollow Council's dark forge—once human, now a vessel of ending.
His sword was silent. His eyes were full of loathing.
"You are too late," he said. "The Blade of Origin is not yours. It remembers only one master."
Li Shen exhaled slowly, drawing every blade in a slow spiral of steel.
"Then come," he whispered. "Let memory and fire decide."