Just like that—without warning, without sensation—reality twisted again.
One moment, we were drenched in blood and fury on the battlefield of eternal darkness. The next, the carnage was gone, erased as if it had never existed.
And we were back, kneeling beneath the towering golden winged statues, beneath that blinding radiance, before that terrible, magnificent throne again.
The cries rose instantly. People collapsed to the floor in waves—some weeping, some shouting praises, others trembling with exhausted devotion. It was like watching zealots in the throes of divine ecstasy, each voice thick with desperation and awe.
I dropped to my knees with them. Head bowed low to the cold, gleaming floor.
After all… what else could I do? After everything that had happened, groveling came easily now, naturally, As if submission had been etched into our very bones—instinct carved from suffering.
And when I finally looked up, I saw him again.
