The sky was a bruise of red and black, heavy with smoke and shadow. The land had been torn apart, with craters, fire, and the smell of blood everywhere.At the center of it all stood Oliver. His sword burned weakly in his hand, the crimson light flickering. His body trembled with exhaustion, every breath sharp and ragged. Blood ran down his arms, soaking into the dirt beneath his boots.The Wraithborn Lord loomed before him, towering, monstrous, and half destroyed. His body was cracked open where the Soulbrand had struck. Black fire poured from his wounds. Yet still, he lived. His hundreds of red eyes glowed like dying stars, furious and unyielding.And between them, lying on the ground, the chained girl’s glow dimmed with every heartbeat. Her golden light was fading fast.The wind howled through the wasteland, carrying the faint sound of battle cries from the surviving rebels in the distance. But here, at the center of the storm, everything felt still. Oliver’s vision swam. The Sys

Darkness swallowed everything. At first, Oliver thought he had died. There was no sound, no weight, no breath, only an endless void pressing in from every direction, then he opened his eyes.He was floating in a sea of shadow. Endless chains drifted through the air like ribbons of metal, glowing faintly red. Fragments of the world shimmered around him, broken memories, flashes of fire, screams, and light. The girl’s voice whispered faintly beside him. “You’re inside him now.”Oliver turned slowly. She was there, glowing faintly gold, her form half-transparent, her eyes calm but sad. “What is this place?”“The Titan’s heart,” she said softly. “He doesn’t fight with flesh. He drags your soul here. He makes you fight yourself.”Oliver’s jaw tightened. “Then he’ll regret pulling me in.”The darkness shifted. The void began to ripple, and from its depths, something enormous moved. A hand, made of black fire and smoke, rose from below, each finger long enough to crush a city. It reached t

The storm did not wait. Thunder crashed across the gray horizon as the second wave came.Oliver’s boots sank into wet ash. He could barely see more than a few meters ahead; the air was thick with smoke and flickering light. But he could feel them, dozens, maybe hundreds, circling just beyond sight. Each heartbeat brought them closer. He rolled his shoulders, pain grinding through every joint. “Come on then.”The first shapes broke from the haze. Smaller than the Hunter, faster, hunched low to the ground. Their skin shimmered like oil. They crawled on all fours, claws digging deep furrows into the earth.Oliver stepped forward. His sword hummed with gold fire, trembling against the wind. The first creature leapt. He cut it in half before its claws reached him. The next came from the side; he spun and kicked, sending it crashing into another. Black smoke sprayed across the mud. They came in a swarm, screaming with voices like breaking glass.Oliver lost himself in motion. Slash. Tur

The world was falling apart. The Gate screamed, a high, living sound that split the air. The light pouring from it bent like water, swallowing everything around. Sand, stone, and bones rose into the air, spinning like they were caught in a whirlpool. Mara could barely stand. The force of the wind pushed her to her knees, her hair whipping across her face. “Oliver!” she shouted into the storm.No answer. Only thunder. Behind her, Grelich anchored his staff into the ground, runes blazing blue as he poured what little magic he had left into a barrier. “We can’t get close!” he yelled over the roar. “The Gate’s feeding on itself, it’s unstable!”Garrick covered his face with one arm, squinting at the blinding light. “He went in there! We can’t just leave him!”Mara clenched her fists. “We’re not leaving him.”She took a step forward, and the ground cracked. The light lashed out, striking the earth like lightning. She jumped back just in time, eyes wide. The crater where she’d been standin

Oliver walked for what felt like hours, though time meant nothing here. The gray fog stretched in all directions, thick enough to drown thought. Every few steps, he thought he saw shapes move in it, shadows that vanished when he turned.His footsteps echoed on nothing. There was no ground, no wind, no scent. Just a heartbeat. Slow. Deep. Not his. He stopped. “Show yourself,” he said quietly.Silence, then, another step. Not his own. From the mist ahead, something stirred. A figure walked forward, barefoot, leaving ripples in the air where he stepped. His body looked human, but the longer Oliver stared, the less true that seemed. His skin shimmered like liquid metal, his eyes too many colors at once, blue, gold, red, and black, all shifting in slow rhythm.“Finally awake,” the stranger said. His voice was calm, deep, and oddly gentle. “The new chain-bearer. The last fragment of the Gate.”Oliver raised his sword. “Who are you?”The man smiled faintly. “Names are heavy things. I’ve ha