---
At the High Temple of Elaria, Lyra collapsed to her knees mid-ritual. A blinding light had pierced her vision—a voice calling her name through the divine veil.
But it wasn't the Goddess.
It was him.
"Lyra."
A voice layered in countless echoes. Cold. Familiar. Undeniable.
Her eyes widened. Rael…
---
Elsewhere, inside the Guild Assembly Hall, a council of top-ranked Hunters watched a grainy recording on loop. A shadowed figure wielding a crimson-bladed phantom sword, cutting down a Reaper-class entity in one strike.
Selene stood in the center.
"I'm requesting a formal investigation," she declared. "This man used Rael Valtair's exclusive technique."
One guild master scoffed. "Rael is dead. And even if someone inherited the skill—"
"No one could replicate that move. Not without his soul."
A hush fell across the room.
Then Selene dropped the last bomb: "And the tower's AI system just flagged Floor 61 with a Level Omega anomaly. The same signature that appeared the day Rael died."
---
Meanwhile, in a hidden chamber beneath the ruins of the forgotten Sanctum, the real Rael opened his eyes fully for the first time in decades.
He stepped forward.
The clones had gathered relics. The system had awakened. His memories were complete. And his body, reforged by both divine and cursed mana, pulsed with terrifying potential.
His voice echoed in the chamber.
"Selene suspects. Aeris knows. Lyra remembers."
He raised a hand, and the black air shimmered—his control over space magic bending the room itself.
"Let them. They were the only ones who never truly abandoned me."
He looked to the tower's peak—the domain of the traitorous gods.
"I'm coming for you."
---