The Rift God Awakens
The world was breaking.
The Gate of Nihilor, once a wound in reality, had become a churning vortex of chaos. The sky above was no longer the sky—just an infinite abyss of golden-black light, warping and twisting as if existence itself was unraveling. The land beneath them cracked apart, hovering in fragmented pieces as gravity lost meaning.
And at the center of it all—Nihilor was ascending.
Its form expanded, no longer bound by a single shape. Galaxies burned and collapsed within its shifting body, a being forged from the remnants of existence itself. Its golden eyes, vast and unblinking, locked onto Ethan as if he were the final piece of a puzzle that had remained unfinished for eons.
Ethan felt it in his bones—the weight of something far beyond divinity. Nihilor was no longer a god. It was the Rift.
"This is it," Ethan murmured, his voice steady despite the chaos. "The real war starts now."
