The Riven Execution Ground was no longer a sacred place of divine judgment.
It had become the eye of a cosmic storm.
The sky rippled, no longer blue or crimson—but layered in spiraling fragments of broken realities. Like stained glass shattered and bleeding starlight across the void. Space bent. Gravity wept. Winds twisted with whispers that belonged to no tongue of this world.
The Seven Sentients had been released.
And they were coming.
⸻
Ryu's Breaking Point
Ryu stood at the crater where his fist had shattered the Executioner. His body shimmered, not from flame alone but from something older, something rawer, something buried in bloodlines older than stars.
His fists trembled.
His dreadlocks flickered crimson at the tips, glowing like burning coals.
His ancient bandana fluttered as if it remembered war.
His eyes—once burning red—now pulsed with something deeper.
Ancient.
Primal.
Righteous.
Below him, Luto knelt over Onyx. His brother's chest barely rose, blood spilling too freely. Luto's dreadlocks stuck to his sweat-soaked face as blue sigils burned across his arms, pressing into Onyx's wound with dimensional precision.
"Don't you dare, Onyx," Luto hissed. "Not after everything…"
"Ryu!" His voice broke, louder now. "I can save him… but only if I do it now!"
Ryu's eyes didn't move. His chest rose and fell like a storm trying to cage itself.
"You probably can't use the one braincell you have right now—"
"—But FIGHT, you idiot!"
The words cut through the fury.
For a moment, the wild blaze inside Ryu sharpened into a blade.
He looked at Luto—blue energy glowing desperately in his hands, eyes wide and terrified. He looked at Onyx—his big brother, pale and dying.
And then, above… he felt them.
Not seen, not heard, but felt. Pressure. The weight of existence itself bearing down. Whoever approached—they weren't just trouble. They were death.
Ryu exhaled. His rage steadied into purpose. His body tensed.
The sky opened.
⸻
The Sentients Descend
The first tore through the storm like a verdict made flesh.
Kaelor, the Final Brand — Sentient of Judgment.
A towering figure in molten robes, faceless helm burning with fire-etched decrees. Chains of crimson flame snaked behind him like a judge dragging executioners' whips.
Then came Draelith, the Iron Mandate — Sentient of Order.
A colossus of flawless silver-blue armor, every plate perfectly symmetrical. His geometric mask emitted a cold blue light, his steps exact, as though reality itself corrected beneath his stride.
And lastly—Velissara, the Threaded Oracle — Sentient of Fate.
Her silver skin glowed under a cascade of starlit hair. Dozens of red threads danced from her fingers, stretching endlessly into the void, pulling unseen things into motion. She smiled, speaking in paradox.
"Three paths converge… one already ended, one broken, one aflame. Oh, what a delicious tragedy."
And behind them—others.
Velissara snapped her fingers. The crimson threads tightened. Portals unraveled. From them spilled over a hundred summoned beasts—shadows stitched from chaos, rebels turned divine husks, malformed angels, warped titans. Her "pets."
Built for one thing: to weaken the boy with the bandana.
⸻
A One-Man Storm
Ryu rolled his neck. Bones cracked like thunder.
Luto shouted from below, still pressing blue light into Onyx's body:
"Ryu! Onyx needs time! Buy it—or we lose him!"
He gritted his teeth. "You think I don't know that?"
His gaze locked on the Sentients above. He didn't need introductions. He felt it. Each one radiated power heavier than suns. But still—he wouldn't back down. He couldn't.
Velissara laughed softly. "Shall I set the stage then?"
She raised her hand. Threads quivered.
"Play with him, my pets."
They roared.
And Ryu charged.
BOOM.
The ground shattered underfoot. He blurred forward, faster than lightning, faster than thought.
The first ten?
Gone.
Fist to rib. Rib to dust.
One lunged from the left, blade raised. Ryu's grin was sharp.
"Too slow."
He kicked upward, launching it like a comet through a dozen others.
Spells lit the air. Chains snapped. Beams of corrupted light howled toward him.
But Ryu danced through them all.
He weaved, ducked, spun—his movements like a cosmic serpent of flame. Every strike was a storm. Every dodge was defiance.
"You think I'm slowing down?!"
He grabbed two creatures mid-lunge, smashed them together, and used the implosion to launch himself higher—straight into another wave. His fists burned with red fire, each punch splitting the air like meteor strikes.
And still—he fought with his back angled toward Luto and Onyx. Shielding them. Always shielding them.
⸻
The Race to Heal
Luto's sweat dripped into Onyx's wounds. His hands shook, but not from fear. From focus.
He wasn't a healer.
He was a tactician.
But tacticians broke rules.
He rewrote Onyx's flow of energy. He bent dimensional layers around his brother's body, forcing corrupted glyphs to disperse. He bypassed failing organs with temporary loops of cosmic script, rebuilding Onyx's channels from scratch.
"Come on, big bro," he whispered, voice cracking. "You were always the strong one. Don't you dare quit now."
His dreadlocks brushed against Onyx's chest as sigils flared brighter. He reached deeper, into theory Eralyx himself had warned him not to try.
Soul-Tether Transference.
If he failed—Onyx's mind would collapse.
But failure wasn't an option.
For a moment—the glyphs resisted.
Then—
A twitch. A gasp. Blood coughed up, but breath returned.
Onyx's fingers moved.
Vital signs.
Luto almost collapsed from relief, drenched in sweat. "He's… stabilizing…"
But he didn't stop.
Not yet.
⸻
And Still… They Come
Above, Ryu's storm slowed.
Exhaustion crept in, crawling up his arms and legs. For every dozen he crushed, more spilled through Velissara's threads. His chest heaved.
"Dammit… how many more?" he muttered.
His eyes flicked upward. Velissara floated smugly above him, threads dancing lazily. Draelith stood silent at her side.
But Kaelor…
Ryu's heart dropped.
"Where—"
The sound of chains.
From his blind spot, crimson flaming chains wrapped his throat.
Ryu's eyes widened—no time to scream.
CRACK.
The world blurred. Kaelor swung him with godlike strength, breaking the sound barrier as he slammed Ryu into the ground.
The impact erupted.
A crater burst open, cracks spidering across the Execution Ground itself. The riven dimension was now at the mercy of this war.
Smoke choked the battlefield.
Kaelor's footsteps echoed slowly.
Each one a verdict.
Each one absolute.
Through the smoke, he appeared at the crater's edge, helm glowing with fire-etched decrees.
And at the bottom—
Ryu lay broken.
Bloodied.
Unconscious.
⸻
"RYU!"
Luto's scream ripped across the battlefield, hoarse and raw.
He looked up from Onyx, panic breaking through the strategist's mask. His heart thundered. For once—he had no plan.
The storm had only just begun.