Chapter Sixty-Three: Shatter Thy Dreams

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A/N: Do read "Chapter Sixty-Two: He, Who has Broken Fate" before reading this chapter to avoid confusion.

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"He has done it."

"He has passed."

"Indeed, he has passed. With this, Idrila will pass on with no regrets."

"Hahaha! This is fun, fun! Oh, look! He's going to destroy the dream and go back to !@#$%^&*()."

"Answer: No."

"◼◼"

"Equilibrium, he has succeeded, hasn't he?"

"Order, enough."

"That is acceptable."

"He touched the Tree, and it will grant him personas of many kinds."

"He is neither mortal nor a god. He will have enemies in his story from here onwards."

"Finally! An enemy, a rival! Yay, yay!!!"

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Artorias stood in the midst of the Eternal Rest, the domain that had both confined and defined him. As he grasped the High Abyss, the greatsword hummed with a readiness that mirrored his own resolve. The blade, infused with the essence of the Abyss, was eager to cut through the veil of a tormented dream—a realm that had once ensnared him with illusions of failed beauty and grotesque creations masquerading as the Great Ones. Now fully aware of their abhorrent nature, Artorias was determined to end this deception.

Turning his attention to the resurrected knights, his new legion borne from the legacy of Idrila, Artorias inspected them. Each knight radiated with a light purple glow, their jet-black armor sheathing them completely, paired with tattered black capes that fluttered like shadows in the wind. They were formidable, each wielding swords that seemed to whisper of battles past and those yet to come.

Among them stood Igris, distinguishable by the long red hair-like ornament that flowed from his helmet, a stark reminder of their shared journeys with Alphen and Sandra. Memories of camaraderie and strife filled Artorias's mind, bringing a rare smile to his lips. 

"Igris, it is delightful to see you, again," he declared.

The knight kneeled in recognition, followed by his brethren. They retained their memories and essence but were now bound by a new allegiance—to serve and protect Artorias eternally.

Yet, the silence from the knights was palpable. Artorias understood that their resurrection under his command was still incomplete. Perhaps, as he grew stronger, so too would their essence fully awaken.

Artorias then focused inward, sensing the pulsating power of his Black Heart. This new core within him absorbed the surrounding void, converting it into a form of energy he identified as mana. Though it differed from traditional mana, its potential was undeniable, a mystery he planned to unravel in due course.

With a mental command, he directed his Shadow Army to meld back into the darkness, their forms disappearing into the void, ever ready for his summons.

He then activated the Abyssal Gate. The portal, now more menacing with the Black Heart amplifying his powers, swirled open, and Artorias stepped through it, emerging into the decayed kingdom where he once met his end.

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