King stood at the edge of the unknown, the shard pulsing faintly in his hand. The figure's warning echoed in his mind: "The path will be set, and your fate sealed." Despite the ominous words, he felt no hesitation. Valjean's fate hung in the balance, and if the only way to free her was to confront the heart of the rift, then that's exactly what he would do.
The landscape around him was surreal—unnaturally still and silent, as if this strange world existed outside of time. The stars overhead seemed closer than before, as though they were watching his every move. King took a deep breath, steadying himself for the journey ahead.
The shard in his hand grew warmer, its glow intensifying with each step forward. He wasn't sure how it worked, but something about it seemed to guide him. He could feel a pull, a faint tug deep within his chest, like an invisible thread connecting him to the rift.
As King walked, the terrain began to shift. The smooth, barren ground became uneven, rocky, and twisted. Shadows darted in the corners of his vision, flickering in and out of existence. The air grew heavier, colder, the faint hum of energy in the distance growing louder with each step.
It wasn't long before he saw it—the rift.
Unlike before, this was no small tear in reality. It had grown, its dark edges swirling violently as if the fabric of the world itself was being torn apart. It loomed ahead, pulsating with an eerie, malevolent light. The sight of it sent a shiver down King's spine, but he pressed on, his grip on the shard tightening.
He knew this was it. The final test. The moment he had been dreading—and preparing for.
Without hesitation, King approached the rift. The closer he got, the stronger the pull became, as if the rift recognized the shard he held and was calling it back. The edges of the rift crackled with dark energy, and as King reached out with the shard, a sudden gust of wind whipped through the air.
The rift parted.
A swirling vortex of shadow and light appeared before him, opening like a doorway into the unknown. King felt the shard pulse in his hand, its light growing even brighter. He stepped forward, the vortex pulling him in, and the world around him shifted once more.
Inside the Rift
The moment King stepped through the rift, the oppressive energy hit him like a wave. It was suffocating, thick with darkness and the weight of countless souls lost to its grasp. The landscape was jagged, twisted, a surreal reflection of the world outside. It was as if reality had been shattered and then put back together incorrectly, with pieces missing and others forced where they didn't belong.
The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds, illuminated by occasional flashes of lightning. The ground beneath his feet was uneven, cracked, with blackened stones and pools of glowing, molten energy scattered throughout. The air smelled of sulfur and ash, and every breath felt like inhaling fire.
King's chest tightened as he scanned the horizon. Somewhere, deep within this twisted realm, was the nexus—the heart of the rift. And Valjean.
He just had to find her.
The shard in his hand flared, and King began to move forward, his steps careful and deliberate. As he walked, he became aware of movement in the distance—shadowy figures, watching him from the periphery of his vision. They were indistinct, formless, but their presence was unmistakable.
The rift wasn't empty.
King's pulse quickened, but he didn't slow down. He had no time for fear. He had to get to Valjean before the rift claimed him as well.
Suddenly, a sharp, echoing laugh filled the air—a sound that was cold and devoid of joy. King froze, his heart pounding as the sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"I wondered when you would return," a voice hissed, dripping with malice. "You've come so far, little one. But do you really think you can change what has already been decided?"
King spun around, searching for the source of the voice. "Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice echoing through the twisted landscape.
From the shadows, a figure emerged—a tall, cloaked being, much like the one he had met in the other realm, but this one exuded raw power and malice. Its face was obscured, but King could feel its eyes on him, boring into his soul.
"You're too late," the figure sneered, its voice a low growl. "The rift has her now. She is one with it."
King's jaw clenched, his anger boiling over. "I'll save her. I'll destroy the rift if I have to."
The figure chuckled darkly, shaking its head. "You cannot destroy what you do not understand. The rift is not just a place—it is a force. It is ancient, powerful, and it does not care for the desires of mortals. Your Valjean is no more. She belongs to it now."
"No," King said firmly, stepping forward. "She's still in there. I've seen her. I know she's still fighting."
The figure tilted its head, as if amused by King's defiance. "You are a fool," it spat. "But a brave one. Very well, then. Go. Face the nexus, if you dare. But know this: if you fail, you will be consumed. And not just you—your world, too."
With that, the figure dissolved into the shadows, its presence fading into the air. The path ahead remained open, but King knew this was no simple journey. Whatever lay ahead, whatever the nexus was, it would be the ultimate test.
King pressed on, his resolve hardening. The landscape around him twisted further as he ventured deeper into the rift, the shadows growing more aggressive. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him, hear their whispers in the wind, but he refused to falter.
And then, at last, he saw it.
In the distance, rising from the jagged ground, was the nexus.
It was massive—an enormous, pulsating sphere of dark energy, swirling with fragments of light and shadow. The air around it crackled with power, and King could feel its pull, stronger than anything he had felt before.
But what truly caught his attention was what lay at the center of the nexus. Suspended in the heart of the swirling energy, her form faint but unmistakable, was Valjean.
She floated, motionless, her body encased in a shimmering cocoon of energy. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, but King could sense the struggle beneath the surface. The rift was holding her—binding her to its core.
King's heart raced. She was so close, yet so far.
He approached the nexus, his hands trembling as he held the shard in front of him. The energy crackled, resisting his presence, but King pushed forward. He could feel the heat, the pressure of the rift's power bearing down on him, but he didn't stop.
"Valjean!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the nexus. "I'm here! I'm going to get you out!"
There was no response.
King gritted his teeth, his grip on the shard tightening. He had come too far to give up now. With a surge of determination, he plunged the shard into the ground at the base of the nexus, and the world around him exploded with light.
The ground shook violently, the air crackling with raw energy as the shard's power surged into the nexus. The swirling darkness around Valjean began to pulse, flickering as the rift fought back.
But King didn't stop. He poured every ounce of his will into the shard, his mind focused on one thing—freeing Valjean.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.