The sky above the Nexus fractured—not like shattered glass, but like a mirror being rewritten.
Every pixel, every particle bent unnaturally as the laws of the forged game-world trembled. Deep fissures opened in the firmament, revealing writhing streams of lost code and spectral memory. Something vast was pushing through—not a monster, not a deity, but an old truth, long buried.
Darius stood atop the Forge Throne, his body now glowing faintly with layered, shifting symbols—runes of narrative dominance that twisted and evolved with each breath. Behind him, Celestia's eyes widened, her hands glowing in defensive ritual circles. Nyx had already vanished, shadows erupting from her body like wings, scanning for threats.
But even she could not predict this.
From the cracked sky descended a thing that defied symmetry. A figure too tall, too thin, and endlessly blurred at the edges, as if time and memory refused to fully recognize it.
