The Boy Who Burned the Heavens

"You don't measure time in seconds… you measure it in scars."

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🌌 [Scene: The Ruins of Inkdeep – Beneath the Forgotten Shelf]

The land trembled beneath Riven's feet.

The air shimmered with unresolved sentences, floating midair, bleeding punctuation like blood.

They had entered Inkdeep — the oldest vault beneath creation.

The place where Time itself was once written.

Lyara gasped.

> "These walls... they're made of calendars."

True enough — each brick held faded dates, scratched-out eras, broken timelines.

Some glowed.

Some bled.

And at the very end of the hallway — sealed in a sarcophagus of silence — floated a pen.

Not glowing.

Not waiting.

Just watching.

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✒️ Lore: The Pen of the First Flame

> 🔥 "This pen did not write history. It made it burn."

– Created by Ithrael before the gods rose

– Capable of inscribing Timefont, the primal fire that controls when something exists

– One stroke can erase a century

– Two strokes can resurrect a moment

It is The Flamechron Pen.

And it's alive.

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🧍 [Trial Begins – The Timefonts]

As Riven approaches, the Pen spins once.

And time fractures.

Suddenly—

They are not alone.

Three shadows emerge from history's broken ink.

Each speaks in tones of ancient fonts:

1. The Future That Never Happened

2. The Present That Was Stolen

3. The Past That Refused to Die

Each steps forward.

Each demands a duel.

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⚔️ Duel 1: Riven vs. The Future That Never Happened

A blinding light surrounds them.

Riven sees himself — years older.

A crown on his head.

Worlds burned behind him.

A face with no soul.

> "This is what you become," the future whispers,

"If you keep writing with only rage."

Riven attacks — flame colliding with mirrored truth.

But every hit echoes back at him.

Until he falls.

Bleeding.

Gasping.

Then he looks up and says:

> "Maybe that's who I could become…

But it's not who I chose to be."

He strikes the future's chest — and writes:

> "My story bends, but it never breaks."

The future shatters like cracked glass.

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⚔️ Duel 2: Riven vs. The Present That Was Stolen

A silent battlefield.

He sees Mirael dead.

Lyara vanished.

His flame gone.

No power. No story. Just survival.

A world where he never became the Flamebearer.

> "This is what would have been," a voice says,

"If Caelen had won the first vote."

The present attacks — mundane. Brutal. Exhausting.

Every punch is real.

But Riven fights with memory.

And says:

> "I didn't survive all that just to be average."

He slams Ashbrand Quill into the ground.

And writes:

> "The pen was mine the moment I bled."

The false present fades into ink.

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⚔️ Duel 3: Riven vs. The Past That Refused to Die

The final opponent…

Is a child.

Small. Burned. Shivering.

> "It's me," Riven whispers.

The child speaks.

> "Why did you leave me behind?"

"Why did you forget my screams?"

"Why did you only remember the fire, and not the fear?"

Tears form in Riven's eyes.

He kneels.

And for the first time, hugs the younger version of himself.

> "I didn't forget."

"I carried you."

The child fades into light.

And whispers:

> "Then carry this too…"

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✨ The Flamechron Pen Accepts Riven

The sarcophagus unlocks.

The pen rises.

Not black.

But glowing with living time.

It floats to Riven.

Then burns itself into his spine.

Flame surges.

But not forward.

Not backward.

Inward.

And time stops.

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🔓 Power Unlocked: The Flamechron Pen

> 🔥 Passive: Timefont Ink

Every attack now burns scars through cause and effect. Can delay damage, reverse one second, or accelerate outcomes.

> 🕰 Active Skill: Chronoburn

Once per arc, stop time in a limited zone and rewrite the flow. Useful for predicting enemy strikes, rewriting wounds, or altering a critical moment.

> 📖 Signature Move: Epoch Quill Slash

A blade strike that lands ten seconds before it's swung.

> ⚠ Warning: Too many rewrites invite the attention of the Time Librarians.

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🌪 Final Scene – Gods React Again

Far above, in the Scriptorium of Eons…

The gods look up.

One of them whispers:

> "He has the Flamechron now."

"He can write over our laws."

The head scribe smashes his hourglass.

> "Then we don't burn his pages…"

> "…we erase the book."

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