No one spoke.
Because language had failed.
The titan stood at the root gate wearing Aran's face.
Older. Harder. Scarred by stars. But unmistakably him.
Or what he had once been.
The Root Blade trembled in Aran's hand.
Recognizing its first master.
Lena whispered,
"…I need an explanation immediately."
Kalen answered hollowly,
"I suspect we won't like it."
The giant stepped fully into the vault.
Each footfall shook buried machinery awake.
The void in its chest moved like a living wound.
Its eyes—Aran's eyes—rested on him.
Then it spoke.
And its voice sounded like continents breaking.
"So."
A pause.
"The fragment survived."
Fragment.
Aran felt the word strike somewhere ancient.
Seris dropped to one knee.
Not willingly.
As if old oath compelled him.
Even Malrec looked unsettled.
The First Witness whispered,
"He should be dead."
The giant's gaze shifted.
"Death did not keep me."
Lena stepped beside Aran.
"You know him?"
Aran answered honestly.
"No."
But memory stirred.
Terribly.
The titan looked at the Root Blade.
"You reclaimed it."
Aran tightened his grip.
"Who are you?"
The answer came like judgment.
"I am Arakel Prime."
Silence.
Kalen slowly said,
There are… multiple Arans."
No one corrected him.
Because somehow yes.
Aran forced breath.
"Prime?"
The titan touched the void in its chest.
"When the first war broke reality…"
A pause.
"I divided myself."
The truth hit like impact.
The fragment.
Aran.
Not reincarnation.
Partition.
He was a splinter of something older.
Lena looked at him, stunned.
"You are literally a piece of an ancient cosmic warlord?"
Aran looked equally horrified.
"Apparently."
Malrec stepped forward.
Almost reverent.
"You endured the Void Wound."
Prime's eyes sharpened.
"And you embraced corruption."
Old hatred crackled there.
Seris stood rigid.
"Why are you sealed below the root?"
Prime answered simply.
"Because I chose extermination."
Silence.
The Nine understood before Aran did.
The star-forged weapon.
The refusal to use it.
The split.
Aran whispered,
I separated from… myself to prevent genocide."
Prime looked at him.
"At last, understanding."
The First Witness stepped forward.
"You were entombed because you would have slain all three Sleepers and broken the weave."
Prime answered coldly.
"I would have ended the war."
Malrec smiled faintly.
"Perhaps he was right."
Seris spun on him.
"Do not start."
Too late.
The division already widened.
Aran stared at Prime.
"Why return now?"
Prime's expression darkened.
"Because the Null King stirs."
Every glyph in the vault flickered.
Even saying the name weakened things.
Prime continued.
"Mercy has delayed extinction."
He pointed at Aran.
"You are my hesitation given flesh."
Cruel.
Perhaps true.
Lena stepped forward, furious.
"He is not your hesitation."
Prime regarded her almost curiously.
"You are the reason he remains fragmented."
Aran moved between them.
"Enough."
Prime's gaze returned to him.
"Then choose."
Of course.
Always choice.
Prime lifted one massive hand.
In it appeared a second blade.
Dark twin to the Root Blade.
Forged from void instead of stars.
"The Sleepers must die," he said.
"Take up your whole self and finish what I began."
The Root Blade pulsed in Aran's grip.
Responding.
Calling.
The First Witness whispered sharply,
"Do not join with him."
Malrec said the opposite.
"Or doom repeats."
Even the Nine split.
Ancient loyalties awakening.
The vault itself seemed balanced on decision.
Aran looked at Prime.
Then at the void wound in his chest.
And realized with horror—
Something was moving inside it.
Not wound.
Containment.
Prime saw him notice.
Too late.
The void in his chest opened.
Like an eye.
And something looked back from within.
The First Witness went pale.
"No…"
Prime smiled.
And said the worst words yet.
"I did not return alone."