The sealed corridor waited ahead like the throat of some ancient beast, wide enough for three people but long enough that its end vanished into a glowing red haze. As Rin stepped forward, the air shifted again—lighter, yet so charged with energy that the slightest breath felt like inhaling sparks. Aya walked on his left, Daichi on his right, both keeping close, neither willing to take a step without matching his pace.

Behind them, the armored titan had returned to its throne, head bowed as though entering an eternal meditation. Its crimson veins slowly dimmed, the pagoda's heartbeat softening into a deep, silent pulse.

Rin kept his hand against the cool stone wall as they entered the corridor. Strange symbols carved into the surface flared to life under his touch, rippling down the hallway like living veins awakening after centuries of slumber.

Aya reached out and brushed her fingertips against the symbols too. "These aren't ordinary runes," she murmured. "They're responding to you and me both… in different ways."

Rin glanced at her. "Your system is interacting with the pagoda?"

She nodded. "But only faintly. It's like it recognizes my existence… but doesn't accept me."

"You're my mother," Rin said quietly. "Anything that recognizes me… should understand that."

Her soft smile held strength. "Sometimes ancient things don't understand human relationships, Rin."

The corridor trembled as if in response.

Daichi tapped the wall with his knuckle, listening to the echo. "This place isn't built with stone," he muttered thoughtfully. "It's grown. Like bone."

Rin stopped.

Aya and Daichi froze with him.

Ahead, the red haze shifted—fluttering like a curtain of smoke being brushed aside by an unseen hand. For a moment, Rin thought the corridor was simply ending.

Then he realized something was moving behind the haze.

He raised a hand sharply. "Don't move."

Aya instantly gripped his wrist. "What do you see?"

"Shapes," Rin whispered. "Dozens of them."

The haze thinned gradually, as though intentionally revealing the space beyond.

And then they saw it—

An enormous chamber, circular, with towering stone monoliths arranged in a perfect spiral pattern. Each monolith was carved with the image of a warrior—different armor styles, different weapons, different stances—but all sharing one thing in common:

A hole through their chest.

Aya exhaled slowly. "Are these… grave markers?"

Daichi shook his head. "No. Look at the carvings. These aren't graves."

Rin stepped closer.

He felt it before he understood it—an intense, suffocating presence, filling the chamber like stale air trapped for centuries. The monoliths weren't gravestones.

They were seals.

And whatever they were sealing was massive.

Rin circled the nearest monolith slowly. Deep cracks ran along its edges, faintly glowing from within. "Something tried to break free," he murmured.

Aya placed her palm on the stone. "Or something succeeded… long ago."

A sound, like a faint cracking heartbeat, echoed through the chamber.

Rin turned sharply.

The monolith at the center—the tallest one—shivered.

A long vertical fracture crawled from top to bottom, glowing brighter with every passing second.

Daichi took a step back. "Rin… something's waking up."

The fracture widened.

Crimson light burst out, filling the room like a wave.

The monolith exploded.

Stone shards flew in every direction—but the blast was absorbed mid-air by a sudden barrier of swirling red energy that manifested around Rin's family.

Rin didn't summon it.

It activated by itself.

Aya shielded her eyes. "Rin—your system—!"

"I didn't do this!" Rin shouted over the hum.

The barrier rippled like liquid glass around them.

When the dust settled—

Something stood where the monolith once was.

Not a monster.

Not a human.

Something in between.

A towering figure nearly ten feet tall, with a body shaped like a man's but built from interlocking plates of obsidian bone, glowing red threads connecting each segment like muscle fibers of light. Its eyes were hollow except for two tiny red sparks swirling deep inside.

It took one step.

The floor cracked.

Another step.

Rin's pulse matched the vibrating hum the creature emitted with each movement—an incredibly old frequency that shook the air.

Aya inhaled sharply. "This… isn't an enemy."

Daichi frowned. "Then what is it?"

Rin felt his blood warming.

The system interface flickered across his vision.

UNKNOWN ENTITY

CLASSIFICATION: BLOOD SPIRIT SENTINEL

ALIGNMENT: NEUTRAL

DIRECTIVE: TEST | GUARD | TRANSMIT

COMPATIBILITY: 84%

The sentinel lowered itself to one knee before Rin.

Its voice boomed inside their minds rather than the air itself:

"HEIR OF THE CRIMSON CORE… YOU HAVE REACHED THE CIRCLE OF RECKONING."

Aya and Daichi both stiffened at the psychic pressure, but Rin held firm, taking a single step forward.

"What is this place?" he demanded.

The sentinel rose slowly, towering above him.

"THE CHAMBER WHERE ALL CRIMSON-BEARING SOULS WERE JUDGED.

THE PLACE WHERE EVERY PROGENITOR OF YOUR BLOODLINE FELL… OR ASCENDED."

Aya's breath hitched. "Bloodline?"

Rin turned to her slowly. "What?"

The sentinel tilted its head, glowing fractures shifting across its armored form.

"THE SYSTEM YOU WIELD DID NOT CHOOSE YOU BY CHANCE.

IT CHOSE YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE THE LAST THREAD OF AN EXTINCT LINE."

Aya staggered backward slightly as if the words themselves hit her.

Daichi caught her arm. "Aya—hey—breathe."

Rin's heart hammered. "What do you mean extinct? What line?"

The sentinel raised one massive arm and pointed toward the far end of the chamber where another structure stood—unlit, dormant, covered in soot and ancient blood.

"THE ANSWERS LIE BEYOND THAT DOOR.

BUT ONLY ONE WHO SURVIVES THE FINAL RECKONING MAY PASS."

Rin's jaw tightened. "And that's me?"

"YES."

Aya stepped immediately in front of Rin. "If you think he's going in alone—"

The sentinel's head moved slightly toward her.

"HE DOES NOT GO ALONE.

BUT ONLY HE WILL BE JUDGED."

Daichi stood beside Rin. "No matter what, we stay with him."

The sentinel didn't argue.

It simply turned its massive body toward the center of the spiral, where glowing red lines now carved themselves through the floor, forming a vast circular symbol—a ritual platform.

The glowing runes along the corridor walls surged brighter.

The pagoda's heartbeat echoed deeper.

The final trial was awakening.

Rin's blood pulsed with the same rhythm.

Aya whispered, voice trembling but steady, "Rin… whatever happens, don't lose yourself."

He didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Because at that exact moment—

The system inside him opened something new.

Something ancient.

Something terrifying.

A second interface appeared—one he had never seen before.

CRIMSON CORE PROTOCOL

STATUS: UNLOCKED

INITIATING BLOOD RECKONING…

The chamber trembled.

The runes turned blinding red.

The sentinel stepped back, lowering its head.

The ground beneath Rin's feet split open—and a column of crimson light erupted upward, swallowing him whole.

Aya screamed his name.

Daichi reached out.

But the light was too strong.

Rin disappeared into it.

The world reformed around Rin like a living wound stitching itself open. The crimson light dissolved, dripping away from his body in long liquid strands that evaporated as soon as they touched the unseen ground beneath him. The atmosphere was weightless—yet crushing. Silent—yet deafening. Dark—yet glowing from every direction at once.

He stood on an endless plain of shifting red sand, glowing like embers beneath a pitch-black sky. Suspended far above were colossal circular symbols—like halos—each one slowly rotating, carved with runes older than language itself. They weren't just symbols.

They were memories.

And they were watching him.

Rin inhaled sharply, gripping his chest. His heart no longer beat in the rhythm of a human. It thrummed with something older… colder… something carrying the echo of every warrior who ever stood here before him.

He stepped forward, and the ground pulsed with every movement.

This place… feels alive.

CRIMSON CORE PROTOCOL

PHASE: RECKONING I — IDENTITY

OBJECTIVE: ENDURE | ENDURE | ENDURE

The command burned into his mind like a brand.

Rin scanned the empty plain—only to freeze as the sand ahead rose like a tidal wave. It twisted, folding into itself until humanoid shapes tore free from the ground. One, then ten, then dozens. Figures made from crystallized blood, their eyes hollow pits, their forms shifting like living glass.

Warriors.

Ancestors.

Failures.

The system didn't need to explain.

These were the remnants of those who once carried the Crimson Core but never completed the reckoning. Their souls had been consumed and added to the trial.

The first warrior lunged.

Rin didn't even think—his body moved on instinct. Flame surged from his palm, coating his arm in blazing red fire as he slammed his fist into the warrior's chest. The blood-glass figure shattered into glittering shards.

But before they even hit the ground, three more shot forward.

Rin ducked, rolled, and swept his leg outward. His flame exploded in a circular burst, blowing the attackers apart.

More rose from the ground.

More still.

Thousands.

The endless plain twisted into a battlefield—one that had no beginning or end.

Rin exhaled, dropping into a stance. "Fine… then come."

The swarm descended.

Rin met them head-on.

The battle was fast—quicker than any real fight, because the enemies weren't bound by physicality. They were tests, memories, echoes. They attacked from every direction, each strike calibrated to dig into the deepest weakness in his technique. His fists erupted with flame. His legs moved like lightning. His breath matched the battlefield's pulse.

Glass blades swung at him.

Blood spears shot from the ground.

Every impact launched explosions of crimson shards.

Minutes or hours passed—it was impossible to tell.

But he kept fighting.

When the last warrior shattered, Rin dropped to one knee, panting. Steam rose from his body. His arms trembled, flames flickering weakly.

CRIMSON CORE PROTOCOL

PHASE I — COMPLETED

PHASE II — ORIGIN

INITIALIZING…

The plain rumbled.

The air thickened.

The halos above condensed into a single burning circle.

A shadow descended from its center, landing with a force that shook the entire realm.

Rin staggered to his feet.

The shadow straightened.

And when it fully formed—

Everything inside Rin's chest froze.

It wasn't a monster.

It wasn't a memory.

It was a man.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Muscular. Skin swirling with crimson tattoos that glowed like molten rivers. Eyes burning with a flame too old to name. His presence alone forced the very sand to kneel around him.

His voice was a storm of fire and steel.

"At last… the final ember awakens."

Rin's throat tightened. "Who—who are you?"

The man smiled—a mix of triumph and sorrow.

"I am the First Flamebearer. The original carrier of the Crimson Core.

…And I am your ancestor."

Rin stumbled backward.

Ancestor.

My family? My bloodline? But we weren't… meant to have anything supernatural—

The man stepped forward, the air warping around him.

"You don't know your history because it was erased. Buried. Stolen."

Rin's fists tightened. "Stolen by who?"

A flicker of anger crossed the man's face.

"By the Architect."

Rin's breath caught like a punch to the ribs.

The Architect.

Aya. Daichi. Solaris. The Dominion.

Everything connected back to this.

Rin took a shaky step forward. "How long… has this curse existed?"

"Long before your world. Long before systems. Long before names." The First Flamebearer raised his hand, and the air split open, revealing a shifting vision of ancient battles, burning lands, and an impossible war against a sky filled with cold steel.

"The Crimson Core was the first weapon forged to fight the rise of the machines."

Rin's heart pounded.

Machines.

Systems.

The Dominion.

The Architect wasn't new—he was the end of a cycle repeating across worlds.

"Your bloodline carried the last ember of hope," the man continued.

"But the Architect found you. Hunted you. Forced your family to discard its true heritage."

Rin swallowed hard. "My parents… they didn't know."

"No."

The man's voice softened.

"They were chosen by fate. But only you carried the dormant spark."

Rin lifted his eyes. "Then why test me? Why drag me here?"

The First Flamebearer spread his arms, the sky igniting into a swirling firestorm.

"Because this is the only place where truth is allowed to live."

"And because the Crimson Core cannot be inherited."

"It must be earned—by defeating its origin."

Rin's pulse stopped.

"…what?"

The man lowered his stance.

Flames erupted behind him, shaping themselves into wings of living fire.

"You must defeat me to claim your true power.

Your bloodline's legacy.

The final authority of the Crimson Core."

Rin took a horrified step back. "You're telling me… to fight a memory of you?"

The man smiled.

Cold.

Merciless.

Proud.

"Not a memory."

Fire exploded across the battlefield.

"Fight your origin."

Rin barely had time to brace before the First Flamebearer appeared in front of him, fist already coated in blinding red fire.

The punch landed squarely on Rin's chest.

The entire plane cracked like glass.

Rin was thrown hundreds of meters, skidding across the ground until his body slammed through a crimson pillar.

He gasped, feeling his ribs grind.

The First Flamebearer didn't slow.

He didn't hesitate.

He didn't give Rin time to breathe.

He came down like a meteor, fire burning in arcs around him that sliced the air in roaring crescents.

Rin forced himself up, flames erupting around his own arms.

He blocked the second punch—barely—but the force still sent him sliding back, boots carving trenches into the ground.

The man's voice thundered:

"SHOW ME THE FIRE THAT DEFIED A GOD-MACHINE!"

Rin roared, unleashing a massive flame wave that split the battlefield in two.

But the First Flamebearer cut through it with a single strike.

Their fists collided.

The realm shattered.

Light and fire devoured everything.

Aya's voice echoed faintly in Rin's mind—"don't lose yourself…"

Rin clenched his teeth, eyes burning, blood boiling, every instinct screaming.

Then he launched himself forward—

And the clash between past and present erupted in a storm of crimson fire that would decide the destiny of his bloodline.

The battle… had only begun.

---

[To Be Continue...]

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