Aric's world collapsed into darkness, the pain in his body slipping into a dull, distant ache.
Blood seeped from the wound, but it was no longer his concern. The voice had returned, as chilling as it was familiar, weaving its question into the silence that surrounded him.
"Is this the fate you wanted?"
In that instant, the battlefield disappeared.
The clashing of metal, the roar of ki attacks, the sneer of Aszer—they all dissolved as if swallowed by the void itself. Aric was suspended in nothingness, his mind barely comprehending the sudden shift.
For a moment, he wondered if this was death's cold embrace. But no, this felt different. Deeper. Older.
He blinked, and when his eyes opened, the world had transformed.
He stood in an endless space, not of earth or sky, but of something far stranger. Above him, threads—countless, infinite—wove themselves through the air, each one stretching beyond sight, shimmering faintly, as though they were alive.
