The battlefield no longer looked like a world.
Reality rippled in waves of burning paradox, rewriting itself mid-frame as if unsure which timeline to obey. Towers dissolved into code. Trees blinked into neon shadows. Skies bled fragments of both real-world satellites and virtual constellations. The war between gods and mortals had reached the heart of existence.
And Nyx stood at the center of it all.
She didn't move, didn't breathe—only watched as Kaela floated beside the Rift Core, her hand pulsing over the unstable weapon's spiraling heart. The Core wasn't just a weapon. It was a story-cutter—a system override that could erase fusions, delete ascensions, and unravel god-code itself.
"It's ready," Kaela said, voice flat. "One strike, and Darius's fusion collapses. He'll survive… but not as a god. Not as Voidborne. Just… Darius."
