Beneath a sky still finding its constellations, Rotham stood atop the surface of a newborn world — not mapped, not named, untouched by any cycle.
The Architect hovered beside him, lines of luminous geometry shifting across his robes. Behind them, Selin observed the construction drones — not mechanical, but conceptual — building not with matter, but with meaning.
This was the birth of the Nexus Tower — not merely a structure, but a lighthouse in the rebuilt fabric of reality. One that would anchor memory, choice, and freedom.
"What is it exactly?" Selin asked, stepping closer.
Rotham placed a hand on the glowing framework of the tower's base.
"A record. A defense. A beacon. A promise."
The Architect nodded slowly.
"The first of many. Each Nexus will protect this reality from falling into another cycle. From being rewritten."
As the tower rose, Rotham felt a resonance deep in his chest — like the Seed, but gentler. It wasn't power. It was remembrance.
Selin walked through the structure as it built itself around her.
"You're making history as you go."
"No," Rotham replied. "I'm giving others a future."
Suddenly, the sky flickered.
A tear. A pulse.
The Architect turned, his face grim.
"Something is testing the threshold. A force from a forgotten domain."
From the rift emerged a shard — dark, spiked, bleeding fragments of broken time. It hissed with voices: failed gods, extinct timelines, corrupted seeds.
Rotham stepped forward.
"I thought the cycles were dead."
"They are," the Architect whispered."But the things that fed on them… are not."
The Nexus Tower flared to life.
Its first defense had been triggered.
And the war for the new reality was about to begin.