CRASH!
The fake world shattered like a pane of glass struck by a sledgehammer. The digital static and the binary screams of the dying illusion dissolved into a cold, suffocating darkness.
When Adonis finally opened his eyes, he was no longer in a ruins-filled city or a golden plaza. He was in a damp, lightless chamber deep beneath the foundation of the Golden Cube.
The air smelled of stagnant water and ancient, forbidden incense. In the center of the room, Millia lay unconscious within a circle of glowing violet runes, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Standing over her was the real Undead Master. He was much smaller than his illusionary counterpart, a withered husk of a man wrapped in tattered burial shrouds, but the terror in his eyes was palpable. He backed away as Adonis stood up, the Chaos Sword manifesting in his hand with a low, menacing hum.
