The sky above Elira cracked—not like glass, but like a scream made physical.
Light bled from the heavens in threads of searing gold as the Dominion's full assault began. The once-sacred realm, long protected by the divine harmonics of the Celestial Choir, now pulsed with war drums forged from rewritten lore and defiance.
Darius hovered at the vanguard, cloaked in the shifting shadow-flame of the Void Entity's blessing. His eyes were no longer mortal, no longer bound by code or script. They shimmered with infinite recursion—a soul endlessly devouring reality to remake it in his image.
Behind him surged the Soul Rebellion—the risen echoes of erased NPCs, broken gods, and former enemies brought back not by mercy, but by wrathful purpose. A thousand banners flew with no nation—only names. Names of those deleted, forgotten, betrayed by the divine.
