He stood at the center of it all, a legend made flesh.
People filled the streets, thousands upon thousands of them, cheering. They called out to him, their voices a symphony of awe. Nioh the Architect. The Master of Harmonics. The Man Who Reshaped the World.
Their gazes carried no doubt, no hesitation—only worship. They didn't just respect him; they revered him. There was no higher authority, no one above him. Even the great houses, the warlords, the old masters of the Corebinder Order—they all bowed.
The world had bent to his will.
A part of him, deep within, felt the pull. This was right. This was inevitable. The path to greatness had always been clear, hadn't it?
He saw himself standing atop a vast citadel, his hands outstretched, his voice shaping the very fabric of existence. Not just a warrior. Not just a creator. But something more.
A force.
A truth.
Yet—
A shadow nagged at the back of his mind.
Something… missing. Someone missing.
