The world was no longer right. The chaotic howl of the wind was a scream, and the sky above the shattered clock tower was an angry bruise of unnatural colors, a wound in the fabric of reality. Kiran was alone, the thrumming in his chest from the seed a wild, unhinged thing. The Alpha units lay in twisted heaps, their inner workings shorted out by his uncontrolled outburst. Dr. Koval was gone, a phantom who had slipped away in the chaos, her cold fury replaced by a sudden, primal fear.
He was on his own. He was bruised, his skin still radiating heat from the power that had torn the Veil. He stumbled through the plaza, the scent of ozone and the deep, unsettling smell of the other side thick in the air. The city around him was not just damaged; it was a patchwork of realities. A car lay on its side, its tires still spinning, but a shadow of it was frozen in a weird, shimmering distortion a foot away. Strange, almost invisible tendrils of energy stretched from the tear in the sky, causing random objects to flicker in and out of existence.
His mind reeled from Koval's final words. His parents. The first "Harvest." The truth of his entire life was a lie, a foundation built on a ritual he was meant to complete. The memory was a searing brand on his soul. He had to keep moving. He had to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to think, somewhere to understand this terrifying, new reality. He was no longer just running from hunters; he was running from the consequences of his own power, a living magnet for the raw chaos of the Eldritch's domain. The city was no longer his sanctuary; it was a battlefield.