The battlefield lay in silence, yet the rift above it howled.
Renji's boots crackled against the scorched ground as he stepped closer to the rip in the sky. The entity before him stood tall—cloaked in pure shadow, with fragments of stars flickering beneath his hood. His scythe wasn't crafted. It existed, like death had simply taken form.
"You're not from the Light Order," Renji said coldly.
"I am older than their birth... and your end," the Echo replied, voice soft yet crashing like waves of the abyss.
Behind Renji, Zach raised a barrier around their allies. "This isn't some priest with delusions of power. This thing hurts reality."
The Echo took a step forward, and time stuttered. Clouds slowed, fire froze mid-air, even the ash hung in place.
Renji gritted his teeth. "I don't care who you are. You're in my world now."
"No," the Echo said, "you're in mine."
Suddenly, the world twisted.
Renji blinked—and found himself in an arena of void.
