The moment Alastor, Selene, and Aurora crossed the threshold of the temple’s inner sanctum, the atmosphere shifted. The warmth of the sunlight turned harsh, oppressive—like a furnace, scorching their skin and forcing them to squint beneath its blinding intensity. The Eye of Ra lay ahead, glowing atop a pedestal at the center of the chamber, but the path to it was blocked by something far greater than traps or illusions.

The walls shimmered, and the carvings of the ancient gods seemed to come alive, their stone gazes burning with judgment. The air grew heavier, thick with power and intent, and the golden light intensified until it felt like the sun itself had descended into the room.

Then, without warning, the light coalesced into a towering figure—a radiant form clad in robes of flame, his falcon-like head burning with golden fire. His eyes blazed with the fury of a thousand suns. Ra, god of the sun and judgment, had awoken from his long slumber, and his gaze fell upon them like a hammer.

Alastor’s heart pounded as the radiant figure loomed over them. This was not just a test—it was a trial of the soul, one that no mortal could endure without being stripped bare.

Selene and Aurora stood tense at his sides, their weapons at the ready, but Alastor knew instinctively that no blade, no technology, no trick could fight what stood before them. This was the final trial—the Sun’s Judgment. And if they failed, they would never leave the temple alive.

The Eye of Ra was not a gift to be taken—it was a power that demanded absolute worthiness.

The blazing figure’s eyes locked onto Alastor, his gaze burning through him as if peeling away every lie, every ambition, every hidden desire. Ra saw him for what he truly was.

"You stand at the threshold of divine power, mortal," the god intoned, his voice booming like thunder across the chamber. "Do you seek to wield the Eye, to command time itself? Or do you come to shatter what the gods have built?"

The words hit Alastor like a punch to the chest. The god’s question wasn’t just about his intentions—it was about the truth buried deep within his soul. Ra wasn’t asking for Alastor’s plan. He was asking for his heart.

The light around them twisted, forming into illusions that only Alastor could see. Visions of everything he had ever desired flashed before his eyes: a world reshaped by his will, the Pyramid broken beneath his heel, and him standing at the pinnacle—untouchable, unstoppable, a god among mortals.

He saw himself wielding the Eye, bending the flow of time to undo every mistake, every betrayal. He could rewrite his own story, unmake his failures, bring back those he had lost. He could control the future—not just escape the loop, but command it. He could be free, finally, completely free.

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The temptation clawed at him, sharp and insistent. All he had to do was reach out and take the Eye. It was right there, glowing with the promise of absolute power.

He could hear it whispering to him, calling him by name. This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it? Power. Control. Freedom.

Selene’s voice cut through the visions, sharp and steady. "Alastor. Focus."

He blinked, and the illusions wavered—but they didn’t disappear. They hovered at the edge of his mind, waiting.

Ra’s burning eyes bore down on him, radiating fury and expectation. "You would claim the Eye for yourself," the god thundered, "but are you prepared to face the truth of your own heart? Will you wield it for power, or will you break the cycle that binds you?"

The air in the chamber thickened, the pressure unbearable. This was the moment of judgment. If Alastor faltered—if he allowed his darkest desires to take root—the Eye would reject him, and they would all die here, trapped within the temple’s eternal light.

Aurora stood beside him, her neural interface flickering with interference as the ancient magic overwhelmed her systems. "Whatever you’re seeing, Alastor, you need to fight it. This place knows exactly how to mess with your mind."

Selene’s gaze was hard, her hand steady on her blade. "Don’t think about the past," she said softly. "Don’t think about what you lost. The only thing that matters is what you do next."

Alastor clenched his fists, the weight of the choice pressing down on him. Ra’s question wasn’t just about power—it was about intent. Was he here to become a god, to replace Lucius at the top of the Pyramid and reshape the world in his image? Or was he here to destroy the system once and for all, even if it meant losing everything?

The future lay in his hands.

The scarab beneath his sleeve buzzed violently, as if sensing his indecision. It had carried him this far—through every loop, every death, every betrayal. And now, it hummed with the weight of his choice.

He could take the Eye and use it to command the future. Or he could destroy it—and with it, destroy the Pyramid’s grip on time.

Ra’s voice thundered through the chamber once more. "Choose, mortal. Power—or freedom. The path of a god—or the path of a destroyer."

The air crackled with tension, the weight of the gods pressing down on them. This was the final test—the truth that no weapon, no strategy, could overcome.

Alastor exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. He could see the futures laid out before him—the infinite possibilities, the countless paths twisting in every direction. But in the end, there were only two choices: to control or to break.

He opened his eyes and looked directly into the burning gaze of Ra. The illusions melted away, the visions fading into nothing.

And in that moment, he knew his answer.

Ra’s eyes narrowed, as if reading the choice in Alastor’s soul. The golden light dimmed, shadows gathering at the edges of the chamber.

"You are not worthy," the god intoned, his voice like a final decree, as darkness swirled around them, waiting to consume them whole.