Reinhardt's vision twisted, a rush of air roaring in his ears as reality snapped apart around them. **One moment, they were in the depths of the Hollow Bastille, facing the monstrous warden—**the next, they were somewhere else entirely.
His boots hit solid ground, but the world had changed.
Gone were the endless prison corridors. Instead, they stood on a floating platform of ancient stone, suspended over a sky of shifting gold and black. There was no horizon—only an abyss stretching infinitely in all directions, like a shattered piece of time itself.
Reinhardt turned sharply. Selene stood beside him, steadying herself, while Varian remained calm, as if he had done this before.
Reinhardt exhaled sharply. "Where the hell are we?"
Varian smirked. "Between fate and oblivion."
Before Reinhardt could demand a real answer, the space around them trembled.
A tear in reality formed, splitting open with a soundless scream. And from within, they emerged.
The Keepers of the Chain.
Clad in their golden armor, their eyes burning with the light of enforced destiny, the Keepers stepped forward, their presence making the very air heavier.
The tallest among them—the same one who had confronted them after the Hollow Seat—spoke, his voice absolute.
"Enough."
The word shook the very foundation of the realm.
Reinhardt gritted his teeth as a pulse of energy washed over them, threatening to drag him to his knees. He forced himself to stand tall.
Selene narrowed her eyes, magic swirling around her fingertips. "We expected you."
The Keeper studied them. "You should not exist."
Varian chuckled, stepping forward. "And yet, here we are. Again."
Reinhardt's grip tightened around his sword. "We know the truth now. Fate isn't absolute. It's a cage. And we refuse to be shackled."
The Keeper's golden gaze did not waver. "Then you have chosen your end."
With a single gesture, the final battle began.