The rain had stopped.
Smoke curled from the broken ruins of what once was an apartment complex, now nothing more than blackened debris and glass dust. Metro Nyos was silent—no sirens, no people. Only the distant hum of dying neon.
Matt stood unsteadily.
His muscles ached. His skin burned. And in his hand, the hilt pulsed—slow, steady, alive. Ancient black metal, etched in crimson. It felt like it remembered him.
His instincts whispered:
> Draw it.
He hesitated.
Then something moved.
A ripple in the air—like heat bending space. From the alley, a figure emerged: tall, cloaked in shredded black armor, its face a hollow mask. Its eyes—if they were eyes—glowed violet.
> Tier I Scout. Imperial Phantoms.
It didn't speak.
It lunged.
Matt raised the hilt by instinct—and the sword answered. Black steel erupted mid-swing, shaping in his grip like a creature exhaling. Shadowsidian Blade, fully born.
The first clash sent sparks flying. The shockwave flung Matt backward into a car, metal screaming beneath him.
Pain bloomed across his ribs—but the sword whispered:
> Let go.
He exhaled.
His pupils turned void-black. Time slowed.
The Phantom struck again, arm-blade slicing. But Matt moved differently now. Fluid. Perfect. Like he'd fought this battle a thousand lifetimes before.
> Reflex Surge — Activated.
He ducked. Pivoted. Drove the sword upward into the Phantom's gut.
No blood. Only shadow and static.
It screamed—glass scraping glass—then exploded into dust.
Matt dropped to one knee, chest heaving.
> "What… am I?"
A shimmer answered.
Light wove itself into the shape of a woman—elegant, glowing, heartbreakingly familiar.
Amiya.
> "Matt... you found the blade."
He stared. "You're… real?"
> "Part of me. A piece. I don't have much time. Listen carefully."
Behind him, the city trembled. Far off, a gate of darkness opened—wide, hungry. More were coming.
> "You must go underground. Back to where it began. Beneath this ruin lies a door... to your past."
She reached toward him. Light touched his forehead—
> Memory Surge — Unlocked.
Visions exploded behind his eyes:
A war-torn realm.
A burning house.
His parents hiding him in a pit.
The Shadowsidian Blade buried beside him in the dark.
And a face.
Monshin.
The one who condemned him.
Matt stood.
The sword pulsed.
The earth cracked beneath his feet—
And he fell into the black.
> Downward.
Toward truth.
Toward war.