The rift above the capital writhed like a wounded beast, its veins of white light pulsing against the heavens. The air itself had grown heavy, suffused with a silence that pressed down on the lungs of every soul in the city.
And across the continent, that silence did not go unnoticed.
The Avaron Empire –
Hall of Warlords
A long table of black iron rattled as the Emperor's warlords gathered. Seven men and women, each clad in different shades of steel and fury, turned their gaze toward the imperial throne.
Emperor Avaron: "The Rift has opened again. And this time… something stirs within it. Send the Second Warlord. If what emerges rivals the legends, I want its head displayed before the world."
The Second Warlord, clad in obsidian plate, rose without a word. His aura was so condensed it made the chamber walls crack. He left with a single promise: to erase whatever walked from the void.
The Northern Wastes –
Frost Sanctum
Blizzards roared around the monastery as the Rune-Priests pressed glowing frost marks onto their skin. Their leader, an elder whose body was etched with more runes than flesh, raised a hand.
Elder Rune-Priest: "The Seed blooms. The White's resonance is clear… We march."
Ice giants stirred from slumber. The wastes moved.
The Desert Kingdoms –
Arena of Ash
A coliseum thundered with the cheers of a hundred thousand, but the Ash-Titans stood unmoved. Colossal warriors, bronzed and scarred, hefted axes that could split mountains.
Champion Titan: "A battle worthy of legend awaits. If the White itself breathes again… then let me carve my name into it."
Sand and blood awaited the Rift.
Eastern Mist Lands –
Palace of Shadows
In silence, a dozen assassins knelt before their lord. He lounged on a throne of obsidian mist, fingers brushing the edge of his blade.
Lord of Shadows: "One blooms in the Rift. If he is prey, take his head. If he is predator… offer him an alliance."
The assassins vanished, leaving the chamber as empty as death itself.
Cults of the White –
Hidden Sanctuaries
Far below, fanatics of the White raised their voices in frenzied hymns. To them, the bloom was salvation, not threat.
"The Sole Exception has revealed himself! The Blooming Seed rises! We must prepare the world for his ascension!"
Their chants twisted like poison across the land.
Back to the Rift –
Lucien vs Reflection
Inside the heart of the storm, Lucien staggered, blood at his lips, his silver eyes locked on the smirking face of his reflection. The Void-Forged Blade hummed in his hand, so sharp it erased light itself.
But then—
A shift in the air. Dozens of distant presences descending like wolves. Lucien felt it instantly. Each aura was vast, oppressive, honed by lifetimes of conquest. Champions of nations. Predators of the continent.
His reflection laughed, the sound hollow and cruel.
Reflection: "They come for you, Lucien. Not for me. Do you understand now? You were never meant to be free. You are the seed. And every power in this world will fight to claim you—or end you."
Lucien's grip on his blade tightened, his aura storm howling. For the first time since escaping The White, he realized the truth: this was not a fight against a single enemy. It was a war against the world itself.
And the Rift pulsed wider, ready to birth chaos into reality.