​"Foreman, trace that signal!" Han Jin roared, his boots clanking against the vibration-absorbing alloy of the command deck.​The blue holographic orb pulsed rapidly, shedding sparks of digital static. "Administrator, the signal is bouncing off the ionosphere. It’s a high-tier 'Quantum Bridge.' Source identified: Northern Europe. Specifically, the Norwegian Fjords."​A map of the globe flickered into existence, shrouded in the toxic purple fog of the Collapse. A single, crystalline white dot pulsed over Norway.​[Target Identified: The 'Glacial Cathedral' — Tier 3 Sanctuary][Architect Class: Frost-Weaver (Divine Grade)][Distance: 3,800 Miles. Closing Velocity: Mach 2.]​"Mach 2?" Aris gasped, her violet eyes scanning the data. "They aren't just sending a message. They’re moving a mountain. Just like us."​Han Jin’s jaw tightened. "They aren't just moving. They're hunting. In the logic of the System, two Tier 3 Fortresses cannot exist in the same sector without 'Merging.' The winner

The transition from the open sky to the interior of the Devourer was like being swallowed by a cold, wet throat made of static and nightmares.​Gravity ceased to make sense. Up was a wall of pulsing, violet veins; down was a bottomless slurry of dissolved skyscrapers and military jets. The Glacial Cathedral and Babylon were no longer floating; they were being slowly digested, held together only by the flickering remnants of their mana-shields.​[WARNING: Dimensional Stability at 14%][Atmospheric Composition: 90% Corrosive Mana-Acid.][Suit Oxygen: 12 Minutes Remaining.]​Han Jin slammed onto the slick, obsidian surface of what used to be Freya’s courtyard. His armor was hissing, the metal pitting as the Devourer’s digestive juices ate through the alloy.​"Freya!" he roared, coughing as a lungful of metallic air hit his chest.​He found her slumped against a shattered ice pillar. Her white hair was stained purple, and her sapphire eyes were clouded with shock. Above them, the massive

The air inside the Pillar of Genesis was too clean. It lacked the grit of the shipyard, the metallic tang of Babylon’s forge, and the scent of ozone that Han Jin had come to associate with survival. It smelled like nothing—a sterile, vacuum-sealed void.​Han Jin stepped off the ramp, his charred [Kinetic Suit] hissing as it pressurized. Behind him, Zhao Wei gripped his hammer, and Aris stood frozen, her violet eyes darting between the silver-skinned woman and the ten colossal statues lining the hall.​"The other planets?" Han Jin asked, his voice rasping. "You're saying this isn't a global apocalypse. It's a galactic culling?"​The silver woman—the Herald—inclined her head. "Earth is the twelfth seed, Han Jin. A late bloomer. The others have been 'refined' for eons. They have already integrated their worlds into the System. Now, they compete for the right to exist in the next Great Cycle."​[System Notification!][Entering: The High Architect Council Chamber][Warning: Physical Combat

The impact wasn't a crash; it was a planetary concussion.​When ten billion tons of enchanted granite and reinforced alloy slammed into the Pacific Ocean, the resulting displacement sent a tsunami three hundred feet high racing toward the shattered remains of the California coastline. Inside the core room, Han Jin felt his internal organs shift as the inertial dampeners shrieked in agony.​[WARNING!][Altitude: 0 Feet (Sea Level)][Hull Integrity: 32%][Buoyancy Compensators: FAILED]​"Brace for submersion!" Han roared, his voice barely audible over the sound of screaming metal.​Babylon didn't float. It sank like a jagged, metallic tooth. The boiling white foam of the ocean surface vanished, replaced by the deep, oppressive turquoise of the abyss. The roar of the wind was instantly silenced, replaced by the terrifying, rhythmic thrum of water pressure against the outer shell.​"Administrator," the Foreman’s voice flickered back to life, now tinged with a cold, aquatic resonance. "Ini

The white light didn't fade; it shattered like a glass mirror.​Han Jin woke up with the taste of copper and salt in his mouth. The rhythmic hum of the [Divine Architect System]—the constant digital companion that had dictated his every breath since the reboot—was gone. No HUD. No status bars. No reassuring pings of "Level Up."​Silence. The kind of silence that usually precedes a burial.​He was lying on a beach of black volcanic sand. Beside him, the rusted wrench of the First Architect was half-buried in the tide. Further up the shore, the massive, jagged remains of Babylon lay beached like the carcass of a dead whale, its enchanted granite cracked and its violet lights extinguished.​"Zhao? Aris?" Han croaked, his voice raw.​"Over here, Boss," a muffled voice groaned. Zhao Wei crawled out from under a piece of hull plating, his massive frame shaking. He wasn't wearing his mana-reinforced apron anymore; just a tattered shirt. "The Turbine... it's dead. The System... I can't feel t