The rift didn't just close; it collapsed. Kaelen felt the agonizing sensation of his data being stretched across two different dimensions. On one side, the absolute void of the falling Vault; on the other, the vibrating, overloaded atmosphere of New Astora.
With a final, guttural roar of "Null" energy, Kaelen threw himself through the shrinking seam of white light. He hit the obsidian floor of the Spire's balcony with a force that cracked the stone, his Void-Skin smoking and flickering like a dying candle.
[STATUS: NULL-SOVEREIGN]
[LEVEL: 50]
[HP: 85/550 (CRITICAL)]
[MP: 12/750 (CRITICAL)]
[DEBILITY: DIMENSIONAL NARRATIVE OVERLOAD]
"Kaelen!" Elara scrambled toward him, her hands already glowing with a desperate, frantic light.
Kaelen waved her off, coughing up a spray of violet pixels. He forced himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the balcony's railing. He didn't look at his wounds. He looked at the city.
The Ghost Tide
