The world ended in a roar of collapsing obsidian and the shriek of twisted rebar. I plunged into the throat of the earth, my fingers locked into the mutated, leathery hide of Marcus’s throat. We slammed through layers of forgotten history—old subway tunnels, limestone caverns, and then, a sudden, violent burst of blue light.CRACK.We hit a floor of polished jade. The impact sent a shockwave through my spine that would have liquefied a normal human. I rolled, coming up in a crouch, the golden light of the Anchor illuminating a nightmare of architectural grandeur."Where... what is this place?" Marcus’s voice was a wet gurgle. He hauled his distorted frame upright, his chitinous blade-arm twitching.We were in a cathedral of the damned. Bioluminescent vines crawled up white marble pillars that stretched hundreds of feet into the gloom. A dead city, silent for five thousand years, lay spread out beneath the foundations of my old office."It’s your grave, Marcus," I spat, wiping black ic

The air in the strategic war room of the Thorne Conglomerate was thick with the scent of ozone and high-end scotch. Director Chen, the man who had served as my father’s shadow for three decades, stood before a holographic map of the world. It wasn’t showing stock prices. It was showing glowing red fractures across the continents."You think we sell insurance and tech, Elias?" Chen asked, his eyes reflecting the crimson light of the map. "Look closer.""I see the rifts," I said, my hand instinctively twitching. The gold light of the Anchor was restless under my skin. "The ones beneath the office. The ones beneath the hospital.""Precisely," Chen snapped. "The Thorne Conglomerate isn't a company. It’s a lock. We are the global defense network that guards the gates. Every skyscraper we build sits atop a rift. Every satellite we launch is a sensor for dimensional instability. We don’t manage wealth; we manage the survival of the species.""And now the lock is breaking," I muttered."Becau

The rain in the lower districts didn't smell like the penthouse lilies; it smelled of grease, desperation, and old metal. I walked through the crowded market, the General two paces behind me in a nondescript trench coat. My aura was tucked tight, a silent hum behind my ribs, but the world still felt slow—my senses tuned to the heartbeat of every gutter rat in a three-block radius."Sire, why are we here?" the General whispered, his eyes scanning the rooftops. "The Aegis merger is still in flux. The Lunar Sanctum is watching. This isn't the place for a stroll.""The Citadel is a cage, General. I need to see the cracks in my city," I said.Suddenly, a blur of movement darted through the crowd. A small, ragged figure collided with my hip—a collision so calculated it was almost invisible. I felt a light tug at the inner pocket of my coat where I kept the remnant shard of the Anchor.I didn't reach for my wallet. I reached for the air.My hand snapped shut around a skinny, grime-streaked w

The storm didn't just break; it screamed. I hit the flagstones of the Old Cathedral’s courtyard like a thunderbolt, the impact cratering the ancient stone. The air here was wrong. It tasted like ozone, copper, and the static of a world being torn apart."Sarah!" I roared. My voice echoed off the Gothic spires, swallowed by the howling wind.I kicked the massive oak doors. They didn't just open; they disintegrated into splinters. Inside, the cathedral was a cathedral no longer. It was a slaughterhouse of physics. Thousands of candles floated in mid-air, their flames burning a cold, spectral blue. At the altar, a swirling vortex of silver and black energy pulsed, anchored by four obsidian pillars.Lydia was there, suspended in a cage of jagged light, her blood dripping onto a stone basin. And standing before the basin, draped in robes of shimmering void, was Sarah."You're late for the sermon, Elias," she said, her voice amplified by the ritual’s resonance. She didn't look like the woma

The Swiss Alps were supposed to be neutral ground, but the air inside the Great Hall of the Iron Summit felt like a firing squad’s courtyard. High-ranking ministers in five-thousand-dollar suits sat shoulder-to-shoulder with men in ancient, silk-spun robes—the hidden Sect Leaders who truly pulled the world’s strings."The surge originated from the Thorne district," Minister Vane of the UN argued, slamming his folder onto the obsidian table. "It was a planetary-level anomaly. Our satellites went blind for three minutes. We want answers from the Thorne executors.""The Thorne family is a mess of scandals and corporate infighting," a white-haired man in a frost-blue robe countered. This was Master Haku, the Sage of the North, a man rumored to have lived through three centuries. "What you saw wasn't technology. It was a Bloodline Awakening. A Sovereign has risen, and he’s turned the secular world into his playground.""Which is why we must contain it," another Sect Leader hissed. "Before