Brown’s breath turned to mist.He had slipped from the main dig lines, descending deeper into the forbidden lower shaft, driven by instinct—and the scent of something off. He followed old tracks, abandoned rails half-buried under soot. The map he had stolen from the dead overseer whispered of a hidden tunnel that split beneath the shaft, marked only with one word: Test.This wasn't mining anymore. This was something else.He crept forward, boots crunching bone-dust and slag. The air thickened with heat and chemicals.A steel door appeared, framed by scorched rock. It pulsed faintly with red runes.Imperial glyphs. Binding sigils. Illegal tech.Brown hesitated.Then struck.The door groaned, twisted. He struck again. On the third blow, it gave way, revealing a massive underground chamber lined with glowing tanks—each filled with green liquid and distorted shapes.Bodies.Some human. Some fused with machine. Others... unborn.A cold fury crept over him.This wasn’t a mine. It was a bree

Echoes Across DimensionsDeep within the ruins of the Sealed Nexus, beyond the veil of mortal understanding, Brown stood before a mirror of fractured worlds.His armor was scorched, his breath steady, and his eyes locked onto the swirling storm of light and memory that danced beyond the arcane gates.Eliar and Clara were safe—for now. But Varek’s threat was growing. And Brown needed more than armies.He needed power—true, ancient, and limitless.“Call them,” he whispered into the void. “The warriors I was. The paths I’ve never taken. The bloodlines I left behind.”From the abyss, the echoes of other Browns stirred.A king with golden wings. A warlord of obsidian and flame. A broken sage with a crown of glass. A godkiller wrapped in chains.All stepped forward from their own dimensions—versions of himself who had walked different destinies.“You seek convergence,” one said.Brown nodded. “The war isn’t just in Konzia anymore. It’s everywhere. I need your strength.”The others didn’t sp

He fell like a star no one remembered.Through collapsed dimensions, broken timelines, and silent universes, Brown’s body—burned, barely alive—landed in a realm untouched by gods or maps. The land itself rejected logic. The skies bled static. The air whispered memories not yet born.Brown gasped.He was alive.But everything else was gone.His name, his past victories, even his enemies—burned away in the last confrontation. Only Clara’s face remained in his mind like a dying ember.He sat up slowly, flames crackling around his broken fingers.A voice called out.“You're not from here.”Brown looked up to see a woman standing atop a dune of shifting bones. Her eyes shimmered like cracked mirrors. Her armor was made of thought and echo.“I’m called Solara,” she said. “And this place... this is where forgotten things come to breathe again.”Brown stood, wincing.“Then it’s the right place for me.”Meanwhile — Ash Citadel, Clara’s QuartersClara sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the

Above the Wounded Sky — Riftspace Tear LineReality screamed as the Hollow Saint descended.Clouds parted in reverse. Lightning wept upward. The very fabric of time and dimension bent around the incoming horror.The Hollow Saint stood at the threshold of Brown’s camp—taller than mountains, with no face, only a mask of bone and shadow. Chains clattered around its limbs, each link engraved with names that no longer existed.And on its chest, a hollow wound—the mark of annihilation.Solara’s mouth went dry. “That thing doesn’t walk. It erases.”Brown stepped forward, cloaked in the power of the two echoes he had merged—flames coiling around his limbs, scars glowing with sigils of convergence.“Take Clara and Eliar. Go,” he said calmly.Solara hesitated. “You can’t fight that alone.”“I’m not alone,” he answered. “Not anymore.”He stepped beyond the camp's edge.And called the Saint by name.It raised a hand and unmade the ground.Brown leapt sideways, flame coursing through his veins. He

Clara sat at the edge of her bed, cradling her now noticeable belly. The pain would come and go, but what hurt the most wasn’t physical—it was the silence. No message. No trace. It had been five months since the last time she saw Brown. Five long months since he disappeared—forced away by his own father, his own family.“Clara, you have to think clearly. This baby will ruin your life!” her mother snapped, again.Clara turned to her mother, eyes burning with a fire of both pain and defiance. “This baby… is the only part of Brown that I still have. I won’t get rid of it.”“Then don’t expect us to accept you back into this family,” her father added coldly.Clara stood slowly, her hand protectively placed on her belly. “Then consider me never a part of this family to begin with.”Meanwhile, in a dimension split between dusk and dawn, Brown stood amidst the ruins of the Shadow Citadel. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth, his clothes torn, but his eyes—his eyes blazed like twin suns.