The last guardian: Rise of Ethan Wilson

[LEVEL 50 REACHED]

New Abilities Unlocked: Weapon Casting – COMPLETE

*Now Initiating: Telepathic Link Training

 WARNING: Emotional Overload May Result in Mind Fragmentation. Use Responsibly.

(Too bad we both know you won't.)

The silence inside the forgotten cathedral was suffocating—like time itself was holding its breath. Moonlight pierced through broken stained-glass windows, casting fractured halos across the dust-laden floor.

Ethan stood in the center of the cold basement, his sweat mixing with ash on his shirt, chest heaving from hours of combat drills. His sword floated beside him—silent, shimmering like a memory forged in pain.

"You know, for a kid who's already almost died fourteen times," Rick grumbled, "you sure have a thing for doing stupid training the moment your system dings."

He stood near a crooked altar, rummaging through a glowing sack of what could only be described as psionic brains, casually juggling one in his greasy hand like it was a hacky sack.

Ethan arched a brow. "I thought telepathy was supposed to be about... mind reading?"

Rick rolled his eyes, tossed the brain high, and burped mid-spin. "Jesus, what are you, twelve?"

"…I'm fifteen."

"Exactly." Rick scoffed. "Listen, Xavier can suck it. Telepathy isn't about scanning what people are thinking. It's surviving what you're thinking. The dark parts. The parts you dodge. The guilt you turn into workouts. You're not here to be a shrink. You're here to stop yourself from becoming the next Pain."

At the mention of that name, something inside Ethan shifted—tightened.

He clenched his fists. "Then let's do it."

Rick nodded, solemn just for a moment. "System, you know what to do."

[System Initiating Mental Dive…]

Ethan's knees gave way. His body went limp and fell backward—caught softly in mid-air by a sudden invisible force. He hovered there, motionless, suspended by the system's psychic link.

Rick sighed, took a long drink from his flask, and muttered to himself.

"If he makes it out of this with his brain intact, I swear I'll… still never say I care."

Silence. White nothingness. Then—fog.

Ethan opened his eyes into a world made of shadows and smoke. There were no floors or ceilings, just endless mist dancing with memory.

He took a step.

The fog stirred.

And then—

Flames. Screams.

He was there again.

Back in the house. The night everything burned.

His mother's scream ripped through the silence like a blade.

"ETHAN, RUN!"

He turned—and saw himself: a younger Ethan, maybe nine, trembling in the hallway, too frozen to move, choking on thick, black smoke.

His father's silhouette burst through the bedroom door—eyes wide with panic—then gone, swallowed by fire.

Ethan gasped.

"No… not this again."

[Mental Stability: 72%]

He dropped to his knees, the weight of it pulling at every tendon like guilt was a noose.

But it got worse.

The fire… paused.

From within it, a figure emerged—twisted, smirking. A mockery in his own skin.

It was him.

But corrupted. Burnt. Eyes glowing crimson, mouth twisted with shadowed fangs.

"You left them," the shadow Ethan hissed. "You ran. You let them die."

Ethan shook his head, trembling. "No. I tried to save them—"

"You survived. That's all that matters to you, right?" The voice grew louder. Crueler. "You trained to forget. But you remember every scream. Every crackling bone. Every desperate breath."

The words sliced deeper than any blade.

[Mental Stability: 51%]

"I didn't want to forget…" Ethan whispered, his voice breaking. "I—I just wanted to be strong."

"You wanted to stop the pain? Then become it." The shadow's grin widened. "Become me."

Ethan nearly collapsed—nearly gave in.

But something surged inside. A voice. Not the system. Not Rick.

His own.

"I didn't survive to forget them," he whispered. Then louder. Stronger. "I survived to become the fire that protects others."

The shadow snarled.

Then cracked.

Then shattered into a thousand ash-white fragments.

[Telepathic Link Stabilized – 100%]

You may now enter minds voluntarily. Strength based on emotional connection and proximity.

Ethan's body convulsed—then gasped back to life like a man pulled from drowning.

His eyes shot open. Sweat dripped down his temple.

Rick stood over him, holding a baseball bat and half a beer.

"You were twitchin', sobbing, and whispering your trauma out loud, so I figured I'd give it another five seconds before I bludgeoned you conscious."

Ethan exhaled hard—then smirked weakly. "Thanks… I guess."

Rick gave him a crooked grin. "You're welcome. Next time, though? Try not to make it so dramatic. I've seen K-dramas with less crying."

Far across the multiverse—at the Xavier Institute—Professor Charles Xavier paused mid-lecture.

His hand trembled against his wheelchair's rim.

Jean Grey noticed immediately. "Charles? You okay?"

He didn't answer right away. His mind was elsewhere—far, far beyond Earth.

"There's a mind," he whispered. "Wounded. Deeply. But evolving…"

Jean tilted her head. "What kind of mind?"

Xavier turned to her, voice solemn.

"A celestial survivor."

In the Anime Universe, beneath a blackened moon, Sung Jin-Woo stood atop a shattered temple.

He felt it.

A pulse. Familiar. Terrible.

Another system had awakened.

"...So," he muttered, staring into the dark, "they made another hunter."

Behind him, his shadow army murmured.

"He's growing quickly."

Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes, memories of his own rebirth resurfacing—how power nearly consumed his soul.

"If he's like me… he'll need someone to remind him that strength doesn't come from pain. It comes from surviving it."

In a dying realm where reality moaned in agony, Pain sat upon his bone-forged throne.

His eyes—voids carved from stars—flickered open.

"The host has reached Level 50," he whispered.

Around him, the world fractured.

Nyxalith the Hollow Judge sliced her way out of a time loop prison, dragging a clock bleeding hours.

Vyrm the Griever awakened inside his black hole, screaming molten sorrow.

Serena the Void Flame opened her eyes and smiled—every flicker burned through hope itself.

Threxon the Wailing Star cracked his gravity cage with a silent roar.

Calyx the Unweaver snapped threads of fate as if they were harp strings.

Malzarion the Ruin Architect dipped his pen in blood.

Pain rose.

"Begin the shadow march."

Natalie Longmen had stopped going to parties.

Instead, she trailed Ethan like a ghost—watching from rooftops, shadows, corners of empty streets.

He didn't notice her. Or maybe he did, and just didn't care.

But she cared.

She saw how he vanished between alley walls. How sometimes—when no one else looked—his body shimmered like light bending wrong.

Once, she swore she saw wings. Black. Ethereal.

One night, she hid near the orphanage fence.

He walked past—limping, bruised, breathing like he'd just run through hell.

She whispered, too quiet for herself even.

"…You're not normal, are you?"

She didn't know the system heard her.

[New Emotional Link Detected: Natalie Longmen]

[Bond Strength: 48% – Rising]

Back at the cathedral, Rick had built a transdimensional beacon powered by three things: tequila, sarcasm, and illegal alien parts.

Morty was duct-taped to the ceiling "for radiation calibration."

Ethan sat nearby, sharpening his blade, eyes cold.

"You gonna send me into another mind trip?" he asked.

Rick burped. "Nah. I'm saving the next round of guilt demons for Level 75. It'll be a blast."

He paused.

"You're improving, kid."

Ethan didn't smile. "They're coming, aren't they?"

Rick sighed, reluctantly serious. "Yeah. They're stretching their limbs right now. Pain's lieutenants don't sit still."

Ethan looked down at his hands—scarred, shaking, still human.

"I won't be enough."

Rick slapped him with a beer bottle. (It was empty.)

"Congratulations. You sound just like every hero who ended up in a crater. Get stronger. Or shut up."

Morty (from the ceiling): "Rick, can I please come down now?!"

Rick: "You're fine. Builds character."

Ethan stood alone on the rooftop of the cathedral, city lights flickering below like dying stars.

The wind whispered through his hair.

The system hovered beside him, a soft glow pulsing like a second heartbeat.

Next Objective: Interdimensional Missions – Level 100 Required.

Warning: Shadow Borns spreading. Chaos Signatures Rising.

He stared up at the stars, jaw tight.

"Mom. Dad. I'm scared."

There was no shame in saying it. Not anymore.

The system took a long pause before answering.

"It's okay to be scared."

"It's not okay to stop."

He closed his eyes.

Then opened them—burning with new fire.

"I won't stop."