The sky had changed.
Once a swirling vortex of corrupted data and heavenly decay, it now rippled with something colder—structured, mechanical, flawless. Geometries not meant for human eyes formed across the heavens, and from them descended the Godslayer Protocols.
Darius stood atop the blackened spires of his citadel, his cloak whipping in an artificial wind that smelled of rust and ozone. Celestia and Nyx flanked him—loyal, glowing with newly anchored souls, their eyes burning with devotion and fear.
"They're not of this world," Celestia murmured, watching the descending shapes. "Not game code. Not human. They're… something else."
Darius nodded, his jaw clenched. "They were never meant to be. This is the Prime Coder's hand. I can feel his design behind every curve."
