The silence that followed the Sundering was deceptive—a predator's pause before the kill.
Where once the Sovereign Confluence had stood as a unified realm spanning infinite dimensions, now forty-seven fractured realities drifted like severed limbs in the cosmic void. Each fragment pulsed with its own distorted heartbeat, reality itself struggling to maintain coherence as dimensional anchors failed one by one.
Reed Ashworth stood at the observation deck of what remained of the Central Command, watching through reinforced crystalline barriers as the nearest reality fragment—designated Sector 7—tore itself apart. Crimson lightning split the artificial sky as two armies clashed across floating landmasses, their battle cries echoing through the dimensional breach.
