After Reed returned from his test,
there was no celebration. No public acknowledgement.
Only the world silently accepted the meaning of his existence.
The next night, without a sound,
Shia disappeared.
Not kidnapped. Not gone.
But absorbed into a formless space—
the dimension of the Sixth World test.
And Shia's test was different.
Not about cities.
Not about power.
But about loyalty.
And the price of not having it.
Shia stood in the middle of the desert.
But every step transformed the place into something different:
– A village burned
– An army destroyed
– A child cradling his mother's corpse
All the fragments had one thing in common:
Shia was there.
But not to save.
A voice rang out.
Not loud, but flowing like water from an old wound.
"You said you couldn't save everyone.
But why didn't you ever choose who to save?"
A figure that resembled Myra appeared before him.
But not the Myra of today. This was young Myra, wounded, desperate.
She spoke without mercy.
