The collapse of the first rift settled behind them like a scar finally sealing shut. Where an infinite nest of monsters once existed, there was now nothing—no echo, no concept, no memory strong enough to return. Even the idea of that rift had been erased.
Ashura and Armageddon stood within the corridor between dimensions, a vast black expanse threaded with faint lines of reality—each line leading to another Dimensional Rift.
Ashura looked ahead, eyes calm, posture relaxed, as if he weren't standing before structures that terrified gods.
"The rifts aren't all the same," Ashura said casually. "Most beings never realize that."
Armageddon inclined his head slightly, listening.
"Some rifts," Ashura continued, "are like the one we just destroyed—infested with monsters. Creatures born purely from the residual aura of the Ancient Greys, mindless, evolving endlessly, driven by instinct and hunger."
He took a step forward. With each movement, reality subtly aligned around him.
"Others," he said, "are far more troublesome."
Ashura raised a hand, and several rifts came into focus—each one vastly different in structure.
"There are rifts filled with higher-dimensional beings," he said. "Entities that exist above conventional space and time. They aren't corrupted by the Ancient Greys' aura."
Armageddon's lightning flickered faintly.
"They're aware of it," Ashura added, lips curling slightly. "They study it. Refine it. Exploit it."
That, more than anything, made the space feel colder.
"And then," Ashura went on, his tone sharpening just a bit, "there are rifts ruled by Rulers. Singular existences who dominate their rift entirely. Kings. Tyrants. Architects of their own miniature laws."
Armageddon's voice finally broke the silence.
"Sovereign," he said, "do you wish to subdue some of them?"
Ashura paused.
Then he smiled.
"That depends," he said lightly, "on whether I feel like it."
Armageddon remained silent, already knowing what was coming.
"You of all beings should understand this," Ashura continued. "I don't need an army to fight. An army is optional. Authority is not."
He turned slightly, black light reflecting faintly in his eyes.
"If they amuse me—if they are adaptable, broad-minded, capable of understanding balance—I may take a few under my domain."
A beat.
"If not," he said calmly, "I erase them."
The words weren't a threat. They were a statement of fact.
Ashura looked toward a particular rift ahead. This one was different. Its structure wasn't chaotic or bestial. It was layered, folded inward on itself like a thought contemplating itself. Symbols flickered within it—laws not meant for three-dimensional minds.
"They haven't yet crossed the line," Ashura said. "They haven't threatened the balance directly."
His smile returned, faint but sharp.
"But they are using the residual aura of the Ancient Greys."
The black light around him stirred, responding to that judgment.
"And that," he finished, "puts them under my interest."
Armageddon straightened slightly, white lightning crawling across his armor.
"As you will, my lord."
Ashura stepped toward the portal. The rift reacted instantly, its higher-dimensional layers recognizing him. Space folded. Time hesitated.
He paused at the threshold, half-turned, and spoke one last time—almost amused.
"Let's see what kind of beings think they can touch remnants of the Ancient Greys… and not be judged for it."
Then Ashura stepped forward.
The portal swallowed him whole.
Black light surged once—
—and the Dimensional Rift of Higher-Dimensional Beings opened its gates.