Shadow Slave: Flaw of Gods.

After *** time, when the labyrinth of oblivion had become the arena of my inner struggle, the decisive moment arrived. Everything around me breathed a quiet hope, as if the darkness itself was preparing to return to me the lost parts of my "self."

Before me opened halls where, amidst the dust of ancient memories, fragments of my lost identity shimmered. Each piece reflected the pain of loss, loneliness, and bitterness that had haunted me since childhood – like forgotten pages of my life scattered by the wind of oblivion.

I slowly approached the last fragment, feeling that each encounter with the past brought not only excruciating pain but also a quiet call, reminding me who I had once been. In each shard lay the imprint of my soul – a small flame that, despite all the blows of fate, still tried to burn.

Standing in the middle of the hall, filled with the echoes of departed fates, I felt my determination grow. I understood that each memory was not just suffering, but an inseparable part of my path to rebirth. The inner spark, which had fought so long against the engulfing darkness, became the sign of my unyielding will. I began to collect the fragments, carefully assembling them, like a craftsman tempering a sword, and I felt my soul demand to embrace all the pain and turn it into strength.

[You have received a memory]

And so, having gathered all the fragments, I focused my will on one final action – I united them into a metaphorical "blade in the form of a human." This blade, glowing with a faint but stable light, became the symbol of my renewal. It represented the strength capable of cutting through the fabric of oblivion and emptiness, preventing them from invading my world. Each strike of this blade declared that the pain of loss would not go unpunished.

Suddenly, as I stood in the middle of the hall, the labyrinth trembled, and before me appeared the embodiment of emptiness – indescribable, faceless darkness, attempting to consume all that I had protected. It was like a vortex, devouring light, its dark tendrils creeping into every crack in reality, threatening to erase everything valuable.

I gripped the "Blade in the form of a human" in my hand and felt how the strength of my soul resonated with the pain of losses. My aspects – the Seal of Dream and Heir of Dreams – flickered with a faint but persistent light, reflecting my determination.

"Come on, bastard, try to kill me before I do it myself!"

With effort, I raised the blade and, concentrating all the pain of my losses and the fire of my inner struggle, struck a powerful blow. One strike – and the moment of impact was overwhelming: the cold nothingness collided with the small flame of my soul. My blade cut through the fabric of oblivion, and at the point of contact, a faint but clear light flared. The energy gathered from the shards of my lost identity penetrated the very heart of the embodiment of emptiness. Gradually, the darkness began to disappear, like smoke under the morning sun.

[You have destroyed the memory]

For a moment, he felt deeply disappointed, but a moment later, the nightmare's incantation began to speak with its whisper:

[You have fought oblivion for many centuries].

[Your soul bears the Mark of Divinity].

[You are the Forgotten Spark].

[The Forgotten god sends a blessing from beyond].

[Heir of Dreams, accept your blessing!]

[Prepare for evaluation...]