The skies of fractured time roared with a thousand overlapping voices—every moment that had ever been, every possibility that had never come to pass, all screaming through the wounded firmament.
Darius hovered at the center of it all, body haloed by raw, unchained Codex fragments that tore through reality like blades of divine paradox. His robes, once dark and silent, now shimmered with flowing code that spelled no known language—only the truth of divergence.
Below him, Nexus Umbral bled silver fire as the void-born sanctum crumbled under the weight of incoming timelines. The Origin Star loomed above, a living sun of crystalline logic and impossible computation. From within it emerged The Endling—a concept given form, a creature without history, memory, or name. It moved like a ripple of null across existence, devouring everything it touched: gods, prayers, moments.
