By IMERPUS RELUR
--
The sky pulsed with unseen breath.
Above Auren, beyond the clouds of gold and violet, hundreds of celestial eyes stared down like stars unblinking. Each was different—some serene, some furious, some hollow with age—but all were watching him now.
Eléa lowered her hand slowly, her voice reverent.
> "They've awakened… The Watchers."
> "Who are they?" Auren asked.
> "Gods. Not like the one you just faced. These are older. Silent. Some say they're the remnants of the first creators… beings who never formed races, but simply watched."
> "Why watch me?"
Eléa turned to him, face unreadable. "Because you did what hasn't been done since the Origin Fracture—you made a race remember itself."
The wind shifted.
From above, a ray of pure white light struck the ground in front of them, forming a symbol—three concentric circles with a vertical line through the center. A doorway of light opened within it, spinning slowly like a key unlocking memory itself.
> "The Gate of Witness," Eléa whispered. "They want to test you again."
Auren felt no fear.
Only… weight.
Responsibility.
> "What's on the other side?" he asked.
> "A world where other gods' races wander—those abandoned, forgotten, or fractured. You may enter only with a memory. If you return… you'll carry their stories inside you."
Auren stepped forward.
As he reached out, the light reacted—recognizing him. The glyph on his chest, still glowing from the Tree of Remembrance, resonated with the gate. A pulse connected them.
Then, the doorway opened fully.
Inside was not a place, but a fragment of another god's memory.
He stepped through.
---
Transition – Divine Memory Trial 01:
"The Boy Who Was Forgotten by His God"
Suddenly—mountains.
A dead valley.
Ruins covered in black moss, and the cold sky hung without color. A single child stood alone in the center, cradling a small doll in both hands. His body was pale, transparent, flickering.
He looked up and saw Auren.
> "Are you the new god…?" the boy whispered.
Auren stepped forward, heart heavy. "I don't know if I'm a god… but I came to listen."
> "He made us," the boy said, "but then he broke."
> "He forgot us… and so we started to forget ourselves too."
Behind the boy, dozens of ghostly figures appeared—children, warriors, creatures. A race half-erased by divine neglect.
Auren clenched his hands.
This wasn't a battle.
It was a choice.
The system spoke again in his mind.
---
[Divine Memory Trial Active]
[Do you offer a portion of your soul to anchor this race's final memory?]
[WARNING: This will change your Race's path permanently.]
---
Eléa's voice echoed softly beside him, though she hadn't followed:
> "This is why the Watchers fear you. Not for your strength. But for your willingness to carry broken stories."
Auren looked at the child.
He knelt. Placed a hand on the boy's head.
> "Then let your story live in mine."
A brilliant light flared. The boy cried out—and began to glow.
The ghostly race around him cheered silently. And in a wave of light, they were absorbed—not into death, but into Auren's remembrance.
---
[You have inherited Lost Fragment #02: The Child Without a Name.]
[Your Divine Race has begun evolving. Their next form will reflect empathy beyond origin.]
The gate reopened.
And Auren stepped out—changed.
His eyes now carried a second layer of light.
Not violet.
Silver.
---
Far above, the Watchers blinked once… and for the first time in ages—one of them smiled.