than stood in front of the glowing mirror, the weight of the story pressing on him. The Sorcerer's voice broke the silence. "It is time. Choose which part of the story you want to enter." He recalled Javier's (soul 3) struggle—the ambush, the assassins, and the undelivered report. Justice for the orphan depended on changing that outcome.
"I'll take Javier's place during the ambush," Ethan said firmly. The Sorcerer tilted his head slightly, intrigued and clearly surprised by Ethan's decision. "Are you certain?" he asked, a puzzled look across his face.
Ethan's expression hardened with impatience. "I know it's not the ideal point to descend," he replied. "But the longer I wait, the more restless I become. I need to see my wife—soon." His eyes were steely with resolve. "To return to the ritual room, I have to die anyway. So, I'm choosing the ambush." The Sorcerer gave a slow nod. "It's your choice… and your burden to carry. I don't care how you do it—as long as you bring peace to Soul 3."
The mirror pulsed with energy, revealing the fateful moment—Javier walking down a quiet street, assassins lurking. The Sorcerer raised his hand. "The time has come," he said. "Step in and change the story." The Soul Navigator activated the Soul Story Mirror, its surface shimmering as it prepared to draw Ethan into Marcus's story. The glow enveloped Ethan. The ritual room faded. The mission had begun.
By the Sorcerer's command, the Soul Navigator opened Javier's coffin, allowing him to sit and watch the ritual mirror, where the echoes of his own past shimmered, and where Ethan began to alter his regrets. Ethan's soul was being transmitted into Javier's body, and he was taking control of it. He was now able to move his hands and legs. He found himself standing at the entrance of an alley. Ethan darts through the alley, evading the first assassin's blade with a sharp pivot, countering with a solid elbow to the ribs. A second attacker lunged, but Ethan dropped low, rolling to create distance.
They circled, closing in, but his years of military experience kicked in—his movements precise, his mind sharp. His unarmed combat instincts were honed, and he knew how to turn any situation to his advantage. With a burst of speed, he faked a strike, then kicked one assassin's knee, sending them staggering.
The first assassin pressed forward, but Ethan retaliated swiftly, knocking them back. A dagger grazed his arm, but he ignored the pain, his focus unwavering. The second assassin threw a knife; Ethan struck their wrist, slamming an elbow into their throat. As they crumpled, he grabbed the blade and hurled it at the first assassin, striking their shoulder.
Breathing heavily, Ethan pressed on. The courthouse was closed. He couldn't stop. But as he sprinted down the street, the second assassin drew a gun and fired the bullet slamming into his body. Pain lanced through him, blood soaking his shirt, but he refused to slow down.
A second shot rang out, hitting him in the shoulder, and the force sent him crashing to the ground. The report slipped from his grasp, but Ethan crawled, dragging his battered body toward it. Determined, he retrieved the report files and stumbled to his feet, fighting through dizziness and blood loss.
Without looking back, Ethan ran. The courthouse was nearby. The mission wasn't over, but he wouldn't stop now. Justice had to be served. Ethan forced himself forward, every step agony. The assassins were nearly upon him. With one final burst of strength, he hurled himself toward the courthouse steps.
A final shot rang out, grazing past where he'd just been—his unsteady steps had thrown off the aim. Ethan staggered — dragging himself toward the entrance. Guards at the entrance spotted the chaos and raised their weapons. The assassins halted, knowing they'd lost their chance.
Gasping, bloodied, but unbroken, Ethan staggered inside, collapsing to his knees as he held up the report, his body trembling with the weight of his words. "Please," he pleaded, his voice hoarse and strained, "submit the documents... for today's hearing." He felt a sense of peace knowing that he had completed his mission. His body, however, was reaching its limit.
The guard frantically called for help, waving to the other officials at the courthouse entrance. "Help! We need assistance now!" he shouted, his voice cracking as it echoed across the steps.
Ethan sat down on the steps, unable to stand any longer. His vision darkened slightly, and his head felt heavy. But a faint smile crossed his lips. He had done what needed to be done.
The courthouse officials rushed out, surrounding Ethan and the guard. One of them took the report and quickly headed inside to deliver it to the proper authorities. The mission was complete.
A soft smile crossed Ethan's lips as he leaned back against the cold stone of the steps. The pain in his body was distant now, overshadowed by the relief of knowing he had succeeded. The distant shouts of the assassins faded into the background as courthouse guards stepped in, securing the entrance. He had done it. The truth was safe. As the world around him blurred, he allowed himself to rest. His mission was complete. Justice would prevail.