2025-03-16 08:43:54
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Split
Location: Shardpoint — The Frozen Wound of TimeThe air at Shardpoint shimmered with ancient frost, suspended in a perpetual moment where time had nearly collapsed during the Rift Wars. It was here the next fragment of Brown’s soul had chosen to reside. A place of sacrifice. A place of silence.Brown stepped into the stillness, his breath fogging.Beside him, Solara slowed. “This is the one who gave it all up.”Brown nodded. “Clara. Xenna. Even his name. He burned everything just to keep the Rift from swallowing our world.”The silence split.From the swirling frost stepped another version of himself—taller, gaunter, his eyes sunken but burning like stars long dead. He wore no armor. Only chains of ice. And at his side, a blade of pure void.“You came,” the Echo said. “Why?”Brown exhaled, steam curling from his lips. “To take back what I lost.”The Echo’s smile held no joy. “You mean... who you lost.”He raised the voidblade.“I’ll not give her back.”---Konziad Imperial Vaults – Th
The Emberfall
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
The Void Bastion
In a realm where light had long forgotten its name, where time bled sideways and thoughts echoed as physical waves, the Hollow Saints gathered once more.They floated above obsidian thrones carved from the bones of failed gods, voices stitched together by threads of anti-song. The silence around them was absolute—until it wasn't.A crack spread through their sanctum.A man stepped through.Not through a gate. Not through time.But through will.Brown.Not a copy. Not an echo.The convergence was complete.“You wanted the king,” he said, voice filled with molten steel. “Now bow before your emperor.”The Hollow Saints screamed in reverse—sound warping into screams of forgotten truths. They leapt at him as one.But Brown was not just himself now.He moved like memory, struck like prophecy.His blade—a reforged piece of every weapon he had ever wielded in every life—sang as it clashed against divine bone and cursed steel.Behind him, ripples opened: echoes of his former selves joined the
The Chair of Ruir
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
After the Ignition
Ashveil CraterWhen the fire died down, nothing but blackened steel and scorched corpses remained.Brown stared at the crater, his ears still ringing.Eliar stood at the center, unharmed. His chest sigil glowed softly. Around him, the ash spiraled upward—caught in a wind that had no source.Brown approached slowly. “Are you… okay?”The boy turned. Eyes like suns. “I heard her voice again. The one from the tanks.”“Whose voice?”“The one who made me.”Brown’s jaw tensed. “Varek.”Eliar nodded slowly. “He said I was a gift. To someone named… Seraphine.”---In the Skies Above — Seraphine’s FallThe Riftglass wings sputtered as Seraphine limped through the clouds, her left arm burned, her pride shattered.She had seen Ashblood ignition before—but not like that.Not… controlled.She clutched a rune stone. “Tell Varek the boy is fully awakened. But he’s with him—the Warborn. The King of War lives.”The rune pulsed once, then faded.Northern Estate — Clara in HidingClara had disappeared.M
Ashblood
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
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