As the light of the ritual dimmed and the ancient glyphs stopped pulsing, the air grew eerily still. The weight of Selene’s sacrifice lingered in the chamber like a wound carved into time itself—a death outside the loop, final and permanent.

Alastor stood motionless, the ache of loss sharp in his chest, but there was no time to grieve. The Codex of Eternity had awoken, the swirling glyphs on its surface glowing brighter, rearranging into new patterns as it revealed the knowledge they had fought and bled to obtain.

Aurora knelt beside the pedestal, her neural interface flickering as she synced with the Codex’s shifting language. Her hands trembled as she worked, scrolling through endless layers of ancient text that spoke of life, death, and time itself.

Alastor stepped forward, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "What does it say?" he asked, his voice tight, the weight of Selene’s absence a shadow on his soul.

Aurora’s glowing eyes scanned the inscriptions, her expression growing darker with every passing second. "It’s not what we thought," she whispered. "The Pyramid… it was never supposed to be a path to immortality."

Alastor’s heart thudded in his chest. "What do you mean?"

Aurora exhaled slowly, her eyes flickering as the Codex unfolded its terrible truth. This wasn’t salvation. It was something far worse. "The founders didn’t build the loop to become gods," she said, her voice brittle with disbelief. "They built it to punish those who tried."

Alastor felt the ground shift beneath his feet—not literally, but in his mind, as though the foundation of everything he had believed was crumbling.

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Aurora continued, her voice low and haunted. "The founders were priests and sorcerers… but they were also men who thought they could conquer death, reshape time, and live forever." She gestured to the shifting glyphs on the Codex. "But when they tried to cheat death, they unleashed something they couldn’t control."

The symbols glowed brighter, the swirling patterns forming intricate spirals—representations of life and death folding endlessly into one another.

"The loop isn’t a gift," Aurora whispered. "It’s a curse." Her eyes darkened as the full meaning of the Codex became clear. "It binds those who enter it into an endless cycle—forcing them to live, die, and repeat until they are twisted into shadows of who they once were."

Alastor clenched his fists, anger and disbelief roiling inside him. The trials, the betrayals, the endless deaths—it had all been a prison. "So the Pyramid knew," he muttered. "They knew they weren’t immortal—they were trapped."

Aurora nodded grimly, her gaze locked on the glowing glyphs. "The loop is their punishment. They tried to control life and death, and instead, they became prisoners of both. And the worst part is..." She swallowed hard, as if struggling to believe the words she was about to say. "The only way to escape the loop is to destroy the entire system—to tear the Pyramid down."

Alastor took a step back, the enormity of what they had uncovered sinking in like a cold weight in his chest. The rebellion wasn’t just about freedom. It was about obliterating the very foundation of the loop—the thing that kept Lucius Cipher and the other elites locked in their endless game of death and rebirth.

Aurora’s hands trembled as she touched the Codex’s surface, tracing the spiraling patterns. "The founders thought they were building a path to eternity," she said softly, her voice hollow. "But instead… they built a trap. And everyone who steps into it becomes part of the curse."

Alastor’s mind raced. Every trial, every death, every loop—it had all been designed to trap souls in an endless spiral. The only way out was through total annihilation—the destruction of the Pyramid itself.

"This isn’t salvation," Aurora whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s damnation."