the weight of his own will."

  The rift widened, and I heard the sound of a thousand clocks striking midnight at once.

  "Go now," Genesis commanded, waving a hand. "Before he decides to argue with me for a century about your erasure. Go to the Underworld, Zany. Find your friend. But remember—you are the scale, not the soul."

  The silver light exploded, and the "Weight of Silence" returned.

  I was back in the Shallows. The Collector’s chains were wrapped around my neck, pulling tight. The masked entity leaned in, his porcein smirk inches from my face. "Do you feel it, ghost? The weight of your debt?"

  I looked him dead in the slits of his mask. I didn't feel the debt. I felt the Gold.

  "I don't owe you a thing," I said.

  I didn't struggle. I just... blinked.

  In a heartbeat, the shadow-metal vanished—simply deleted from reality. The Collector recoiled, his violet ntern flickering violently as he stared at the empty space where his chains had been.

  "What... what are you?" the mask stammered.

  "I'm the guy who’s had a very long day," I said, the gold veins in my arms glowing through my sleeves. "And I’m done talking to the janitor. Lead me to the Gates. Now."