Absolutely. Here's Chapter 92, a shift in tone toward the calm yet terrifying awareness of a being like the Progenitor. It emphasizes subtlety, po. Chapter 92: The Progenitor Stirs
—A Glance Beyond the Veil—
In the stillness between dimensions, where time lost meaning and space folded into layered echoes, she sat.
The Ethereal Plane—vast, translucent, endless. A realm of pure essence, where gods wandered in fragments and ancient memories drifted like mist. Here, thought had form, and form bowed to the will of greater truths.
And in its heart sat Jane Ikemba.
Or rather—N`ythrll.
The Living Incarnation of the Spirit Sovereign.
The Progenitor.
She did not sit upon a throne.
She did not command legions.
She simply existed.
Calm.
Silent.
Infinite.
Around her, soullight whispered in ribbons—each strand a memory, a war, a life she once birthed or ended. Her eyes, closed in meditation, saw through more than vision.
And then—
A ripple.
Small. But not insignificant.
A current in the stream of all things.
Not a threat—
—but a provocation.
Her breath did not change.
Her eyes did not open.
But something subtle—ancient—listened.
The clash in Lafrosa.
The triggering of the Council Alarm.
The thunderous surge of black lightning.
The voice of Elder Daizo.
And then…
That shadow.
Mirex.
Daring to speak her name.
Daring to claim readiness.
The veil of calm around her remained unbroken.
But deep within her vast soul...
Something shifted.
A single strand of thought unfurled behind her.
It drifted, soft and serene—yet inevitable.
From the far end of the plane, a form emerged through the haze.
Kneeling already.
Kamharida.
Her shadow.
Her blade.
Draped in flowing black, her silver-threaded robe gleamed faintly with dormant power. She didn't look up, didn't speak. She had heard the call before it was spoken.
Jane's voice came—not aloud, but through the resonance of soul.
"Return to Soul Island."
Nothing more.
No warning.
No urgency.
Only will.
Unquestionable.
Kamharida bowed deeper, then stood.
"Understood."
She turned, not rushing, not hesitating. With a quiet ripple in the fabric of the Ethereal, she stepped back toward the living world—toward the Soulborne capital—toward Lafrosa.
Jane remained.
Eyes still closed.
Presence still infinite.
But the strands of her soullight now flowed with a quiet rhythm, like breath preparing to deepen.
She did not move.
She did not rise.
She had not yet acted.
But she was now watching.
And for the first time in decades—
The Ethereal Plane itself held its breath.
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