The Masked Virtuoso-Chapter 68: Death’s Door

The Moment Time Stopped

Ethan felt it the instant the Death Sea Scroll activated.

Not an attack. Not energy.

Something absolute.

Something final.

One moment, he was standing—his golden-shadow aura flaring, his breath steady, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

And the next—

His heartbeat stopped.

His breath ceased.

The world around him became nothing.

Not darkness. Not silence.

Absence.

The battlefield, his friends, the weight of the war—all of it vanished in an instant, leaving only a crushing, suffocating emptiness that wrapped around him like unseen chains.

He wasn’t just dying.

He was already dead.

---

The Others React

Mia’s dagger slipped from her grip, clattering uselessly against the ground.

Orion’s rifle trembled in his hands—then fell, as if suddenly stripped of purpose.

Kieran’s visor glitched violently, scanning the battlefield over and over—searching for a reading, any reading, where Ethan had stood just a second ago.

Selene’s golden aura flared violently, fighting against something she couldn’t see.

"Ethan—!"

But she already knew.

Her son wasn’t breathing.

He wasn’t even standing.

His body had collapsed mid-step, as if the very concept of his existence had been erased.

Like something had stolen his life away.

Because something had.

The Council Leader, standing atop the battlefield’s wreckage, smiled as the Death Sea Scroll pulsed in his hand.

He gazed down at Ethan’s lifeless form, tilting his head in amusement. "Pathetic," he muttered.

With a flick of his wrist, the scroll shifted, releasing another ripple of cursed energy.

"And now," he said calmly, his voice devoid of any emotion, "the rest of you can join him."

---

The Death Chain Reaction

Orion raised his gun—but he never pulled the trigger.

Because before he could even aim—

His body collapsed.

His breath was stolen.

His pulse disappeared.

Mia gasped, a strangled, horrified sound—but her breath never came.

She fell, her body hitting the ground with a sickening finality.

Kieran blinked—and his visor shattered with a high-pitched screech, his eyes glazing over as he collapsed next to the others.

Nefera reached for her blade, her hands trembling—

But she never got the chance to use it.

She fell mid-step, her body crumbling like a marionette with its strings cut.

Selene—

Selene didn’t fall.

Not yet.

Her golden aura exploded outward, divine energy surging in a desperate, instinctive resistance.

She dropped to one knee, her spear buried into the ground, its glow flickering. Her vision blurred, the cursed weight pressing in on her like an unseen noose.

"Damn you," she spat, her voice shaking with fury.

The Council Leader chuckled.

"Damn me?" He shook his head, stepping forward. "No, Selene Cross."

His boots crushed the brittle remains of the battlefield beneath him as he gestured lazily toward Ethan’s motionless body.

"This is his fault."

Selene’s fingers dug into the dirt, her golden energy flaring desperately, but she could feel it—

The creeping, suffocating nothingness clawing at her body, unraveling her from the inside out.

She refused.

Refused.

Refused to believe this was it.

Refused to believe that after everything—after all they had suffered—

This was how it ended.

But the darkness pressed in.

And then—

She collapsed.

The battlefield fell into an eternal silence.

Ethan Cross.

His mother.

His team.

All dead.

---

The Council’s Victory

The wind howled through the battlefield, carrying only silence in return.

It wasn’t the silence of peace.

It was the silence of complete annihilation.

The war—the rebellion—the impossible struggle that had brought them here—

Was over.

The Council Leader exhaled slowly, as if relishing the moment.

He stood above the fallen, his cloak swaying with the remnants of Rift energy still crackling in the air. The battlefield around him—a shattered graveyard of broken weapons, scorched earth, and lifeless bodies—was proof of his absolute victory.

His boots crunched over splintered stone and ash as he descended from the wreckage of a collapsed tower, moving toward the center of the battlefield.

Toward them.

His enemies.

His victims.

Ethan Cross. The Riftborn.

Selene Cross. The Divine Spear.

Mia, Orion, Kieran, Nefera. The Rebellion’s Core.

Dead.

Lifeless.

Defeated.

The Council Leader let out a breathless chuckle, his fingers grazing over the Death Sea Scroll tucked beneath his robes. He could still feel the cursed energy whispering through its parchment, like the murmurs of forgotten gods.

One touch.

One word.

And existence bowed to him.

"Such a waste," he muttered, stepping toward Ethan’s body.

There had been so much potential.

Ethan Cross—the golden-shadow warrior, the boy chosen by the Rift, the one who defied fate itself—was nothing more than a lifeless corpse at his feet.

A mere echo of what could have been.

The Council Leader knelt, tilting his head slightly, as if studying a failed experiment.

His fingers reached forward, barely grazing Ethan’s cheek—

And then—

A whisper.

Not a sound. Not a voice.

Something deeper.

Something wrong.

His breath hitched.

The air shifted.

A pressure—**heavy, suffocating—**crushed against his chest.

And suddenly—

The battlefield didn’t feel victorious anymore.

It felt wrong.

Like the universe itself was holding its breath.

The Council Leader jerked his hand away from Ethan’s skin, his heart hammering, his instincts screaming at him.

He stood quickly, stepping back, his eyes narrowing at Ethan’s motionless form.

He could still feel it.

Something... was off.

His pulse spiked—a warning he couldn’t explain.

But Ethan was dead.

The Death Sea Scroll never failed.

Nothing could survive it.

Nothing.

The Council Leader clenched his jaw, forcibly shoving down the unease clawing at his spine.

Whatever this was—whatever lingering presence remained—

It was just an aftershock.

He turned away, his cloak billowing behind him.

With a single wave of his hand, Council enforcers emerged from the shadows, stepping across the ruins with precision and purpose.

"Clean this up." His voice was sharp, emotionless.

One of the enforcers hesitated. "What about the bodies?"

The Council Leader glanced back over his shoulder—one last time—at Ethan’s lifeless form.

Then, he smirked.

"Burn them."

And with that—

He walked away

---

But the battlefield was not silent.

Not really.

Because deep beneath the surface of existence—

Something had already begun to stir.

Ethan Awakens in the Void

There was no pain.

No air.

No body.

Ethan floated in absolute nothingness.

It wasn’t dark. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t silent.

It was absence.

A void that stretched beyond time, beyond existence itself.

Then—

A voice.

"Well, kid."

Ethan’s eyes snapped open.

Before him—

A man in a white lab coat, arms crossed, smirking.

Sharp eyes filled with mischief and something unreadable.

Dr. Harrow.

Ethan blinked. "No way."

Dr. Harrow’s smirk widened. "Oh, way."

Ethan stared at him for a long second.

Then—

"...I’m dead, aren’t I?"

Dr. Harrow spread his arms. "What gave it away?"

Ethan groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Shit."

Dr. Harrow’s smirk faded slightly.

"Yeah, kid." His voice softened. "You’re dead."

A pause.

The weight of it settled in.

Then Ethan frowned.

"...Then why do I still feel like I can punch something?"

Dr. Harrow grinned. "Now you’re asking the right questions."

And with a snap of his fingers—

The truth unraveled.

---

The Truth About the Obsidian Shard

The void shifted.

Galaxies spiraled into existence.

Fractured stars reassembled themselves.

And before Ethan—

A massive black crystal floated in the emptiness.

The Obsidian Shard.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "...What the hell?"

Dr. Harrow gestured to it. "Recognize it?"

Ethan’s jaw tightened. "That’s—"

"The source of everything," Dr. Harrow confirmed.

The Rift. The Council’s artifacts. The reason Ethan could manipulate reality itself.

**All of it—**came from the Obsidian Shard.

Dr. Harrow’s voice was grim. "It’s not just a fragment of the Rift, Ethan." He turned to look at him.

"It’s a fragment of God."

Ethan’s blood ran cold.

His golden-shadow aura flickered violently.

He looked at the massive, pulsing crystal again, realization crashing down like a tidal wave.

The Rift wasn’t just some chaotic force.

It was a test.

And Ethan was never supposed to survive it.

His fists clenched. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

Dr. Harrow chuckled. "Nope. And guess what?"

Ethan’s golden eyes burned.

Dr. Harrow grinned.

"You’re the first one in history to actually pass."

---

To Be Continued...