Meanwhile
Lorien floated in the expanding white void.
He touched the crack in his mask.
It hurt, he murmured.
Then he laughed softly.
I like him.
The void responded.
Color bled into existence.
Red.
Gold.
Deep violet.
Platforms formed like floating stages.
A sky of swirling auroras twisted overhead.
Broken thrones reassembled themselves upside down.
Mirrors floated in midair, reflecting futures that hadn't happened yet.
And at the center
A colossal circular arena formed.
Lorien raised both arms dramatically.
Welcome he declared,
To the Carnival of Collapse.
The realm anchored itself between dimensions.
Not heaven.
Not mortal plane.
Not void.
Something new.
Rules began writing themselves:
Logic bends to performance.
Emotion amplifies power.
Spectators influence outcomes.
Entities across existence felt it.
Demons paused.
Angels trembled.
Even the Tribunal felt a tug.
Lorien sat upon an inverted throne made of cracked porcelain and starlight.
This will be our stage, he whispered.
A new title manifested around him:
Sovereign of the Final Act
He looked toward the heavens.
I'll make you laugh yet.
Far away, Kaelen stood fully ascended.
The gods armed.
Lyssara watching both.
And reality itself now had two poles:
The Carnival.
And the Divine Order.
The war was no longer theoretical.
It had structure.