Far beyond the rift, across oceans and mountains, the world trembled.
From the marble towers of the eastern empires to the obsidian fortresses of the west, every continent felt it—a pulse, unnatural and cold, as though the very veins of the world carried a new poison. Kings halted mid-sentence, generals dropped their cups, priests tore open their scrolls as one undeniable truth swept the land: something had awoken.
In the Empire of Avaron, the Emperor's council chambers quaked. Seated upon his throne, the silver-eyed sovereign rose, his aura pressing against the gilded walls. "A fracture," he murmured. "The White has bled into our world again."
On the northern frontiers, warlords stared into the aurora-lit skies where a rift burned across the heavens. Entire tribes knelt in awe and fear. "The gods return," whispered one. But the oldest among them shook his head. "Not gods… something worse."
Even the hidden enclaves—the libraries of the Arcanists, the monasteries buried beneath snow—felt it. Records long forgotten began to glow with void symbols that no one alive had seen for centuries. Across the world, prophecies stirred, aligning to a single phrase: The Exception meets his reflection.
Meanwhile, in the city Lucien had left behind, chaos brewed. Merchants fled in panic as the skies above warped, nobles whispered of rebellion while secretly trembling, and the Chancellor's vacant throne became the center of new plots.
Yet none of them knew the truth. None of them knew where Lucien was.
Cut back to the rift.
Lucien stood within the shattered glass world, his obsidian blade locked against his reflection's burning counterpart. Each clash sent waves of aura tearing into the void-born copies that surrounded them, shattering beasts that were rebuilt instantly from the cracks beneath.
The reflection grinned, eyes alight with savage delight. "Do you feel it, brother? The world trembles not because you live… but because we fight. Every empire, every sect, every king—they are watching without knowing. Our war will not remain hidden for long."
Lucien's gaze was cold, unshaken. His blade pulsed with a storm of pale energy, shadows coiling tighter with every strike.
"Then let them watch," he said, voice low and cutting. "When I'm finished here, they'll see which one of us was worthy of being remembered."
The reflection laughed, but his laughter was drowned out by the sound of the rift widening, splitting further open as if unable to contain the clash. Outside, the world held its breath. Inside, destiny sharpened its blade.
The duel of Exceptions raged on.