When Rant crossed the luminous corridor, he didn't feel like he was moving from one place to another.
It was more like he was shedding himself — slowly, painfully — piece by piece.
Each step stripped away the remnants of the human he once was, leaving behind something nameless… and ancient.
Then — the light stopped.
And before him stretched a city of ash.
The streets were cracked, the buildings twisted as though they'd been collapsing for a thousand years.
The sky rained black ash — soft and heavy, like the remains of burned screams.
But the strangest part… was that the city wasn't empty.
Shadows walked among the ruins — not spirits, not living beings, but something trapped in between.
Faces half alive, half turned to dust, whispering in broken voices that echoed like the memories of a dying dream.
One of them approached him —
a man without eyes, clutching a shattered clock, muttering endlessly:
> "I was late… I was late to say goodbye…"
Another passed by —
a woman in a torn white dress, talking to the air itself:
> "He promised he'd return… where is your promise?!"
Something inside Rant's chest tightened.
These weren't echoes — they were moments that never ended, lives repeating their final seconds forever.
He reached out to touch one —
and the world exploded into memory.
A burning house.
A crying child.
A promise left unkept.
Then — nothing but ash.
When the vision faded, the gray girl was standing behind him.
> "Every echo here," she said softly,
"is what's left of a life that couldn't finish."
Rant turned to her.
> "Why do I see them?"
> "Because you're beginning to remember more than you should," she replied.
"And this world doesn't forgive those who know too much."
They walked together through the ruined streets.
Each building cracked and crumbled as they passed, faces carved into the walls crying out when he neared — and falling silent when he walked away.
Rant stopped suddenly.
> "These aren't the dead."
The gray girl met his eyes.
> "No," she whispered. "They're the living who died inside… and never noticed."
Then — a sound.
A massive, broken bell rang through the city, deep enough to shake the world itself.
The rain of ash turned into storms.
The girl lifted her head.
> "The Fifth Guardian has awakened."
Before he could ask, the ground split open.
From its depths rose a colossal form made of ash and burning light —
its surface crawling with countless human faces, all screaming, all whispering.
> "Heir of flame…"
thousands of voices spoke as one.
"You walk among us… but you never left us."
Its enormous hand stretched out, shaking the air itself.
Around Rant, the echoes began to fall like burned leaves.
> "I am the Guardian of Echoes… the Keeper of the Unfinished."
"And I demand you return what you have stolen."
Rant shouted,
> "I stole nothing!"
The Guardian's thousand mouths replied:
> "You stole forgetfulness."
"And in this realm, those who steal oblivion are judged by the ones who could not die."
The streets filled with the whisper of countless voices, all speaking as one:
> "Give us back our silence… you who set the fire within us."
And among them — he saw her.
Elena.
Her face was calm, almost gentle — yet her eyes burned with grief.
She stepped toward him, whispering,
> "You said you'd burn the world to free me."
"So why did you end up being the one burned?"
Rant felt something inside him crack — but he refused to bow.
He lifted his head, voice steady and filled with something new:
> "If forgetfulness is a sin… then I'll bear it."
"But I won't let anyone turn me back into ash."
The echoes surrounded him, striking not with fists — but with memories.
Each regret, each scream, each unhealed wound pierced through him like burning arrows.
Blood mixed with ash beneath his knees.
> "You cannot erase what death could not complete!"
The Guardian's roar shook the skies.
But Rant raised his head — and for the first time, his eyes burned with dual light.
One half black, one half white.
> "I don't want to erase anything…" he said.
"I want to finish it."
The city screamed.
The echoes shattered.
And from his chest burst a flame — neither black nor white, but something between.
A gray fire that burned not to destroy, but to redeem.
The souls disintegrated into light, smiling as they vanished.
The ash turned to glowing dust, swirling like forgiveness around him.
The Fifth Guardian fell to its knees, its voice fading:
> "Completion… is only another form of death."
The gray girl stepped closer.
Her eyes shimmered with both awe and sorrow.
> "You've done the impossible, Rant."
"You've completed death itself."
He looked at her, exhausted.
> "I know what that means."
> "Yes," she whispered.
"It means you're next."