The ground opened.
Reality screamed.
From the heart of the breach emerged something vast—an Eclipsed Sovereign. It towered over the city, its body layered with fractured geometry and rotating void sigils. A halo of darkness hovered behind it, bending light and time alike.
Every lesser Eclipse stilled.
Then they bowed.
Lys felt it—pressure not just on his body, but on causality itself. The Sovereign's gaze locked onto him, and the world seemed to hesitate.
"So," it spoke, voice overlapping itself, "this is the Shin Dragon's answer."
The Sovereign moved.
The city shattered.
Lys was thrown across three blocks, skidding through reinforced steel like paper. He forced himself upright, blood dripping from his chin, seals screaming in protest.
He charged anyway.
Their clash warped the horizon— tearing, streets folding, sound vanishing under the weight of impact. Lys struck with everything he had left, chaining abilities in rapid sequence, pushing beyond safe limits.
The Sovereign adapted.
Again.
And again.
Desperation sharpened Lys's focus.
He locked onto the Sovereign's core—unstable, overconfident. Drawing on the last of his controlled power, he unleashed Seraphim Breath once more, compressed into a focused spear of annihilation.
The attack pierced the Sovereign's center.
It screamed.
Not in pain—but in recognition.
Its body fractured, void bleeding outward as it began to dissolve. But it did not die. Instead, it withdrew, collapsing back into the breach, dragging the remaining Eclipse with it.
Silence fell.
The breach sealed.
Lys collapsed to one knee, shaking, smoke rising from cracked seals. His people gathered around him, battered but alive.
This night had not been a victory.
It had been a message.
And somewhere beyond the Eclipse, something far worse now knew his name.