The heavens did not offer a falling star, but a jagged shard of flaming violet. It tore through the clouds, a streak of purple fire that refused to burn out. When it struck the Earth's crust, it hit with the fury of a thousand suns. A tectonic tremor, ancient and terrible, rippled across the world, making the very foundation of the globe groan in protest.
On the scorched plains of Hellspire, the heaving earth brought the mighty armadas of the GDA and the Awakened Army to their knees. For the first time in an age, a flicker of genuine fear crossed the Vile Wretched's mechanical visage. His four purple eyes twitched, fixed on the horizon as the sky began to bleed.
"What the..." he whispered, his voice a ghost of a sound lost to the grinding of the soil.
Within the depths of the laboratory, the duel between the Apex Predator and the Vile Engineer came to a violent, hollow end. The facility's power grid shattered, and the lights died, leaving the room in a suffocating shroud—broken only by the singular, neon-red glare of the Predator's eye.
The Engineer doubled over, a violent spasm racking his metal frame as thick, purple ichor spurted from beneath his mask. He stared into the encroaching shadows, a frantic, hateful hiss escaping his lips: "...Void..."
In a final act of spiteful desperation, he slammed his palm into the Apex Predator's chest. He forced a massive surge of corruption into its core—a dark gift to rot the machine from the inside out—before the darkness swallowed them both whole.
While the warriors bled, the elite sat in high halls, sipping tea and debating the fate of maps. Their peace ended when the rumble arrived. Fine china shattered against obsidian tables, and windows vibrated with such force they exploded inward in a rain of glass.
The mask of the aristocracy vanished. Panic erupted like a wildfire. Mr. Haumet lunged to his feet, his voice booming over the shattering decor: "Evacuate the people! Now!"
The terror spread like a plague to the GDA Command Center. Young recruits, caught in the middle of their drills, felt the shockwave not as a sound, but as a crushing weight. The pressure was so immense that the ears of the weak burst, blood trickling down their necks as they collapsed in soundless agony. Even the Overseer stood frozen, its logic circuits overwhelmed by a primal fear it was never programmed to feel.
Deep in the labs, Dr. Hana and the Advisor were hurled against the cold walls. Hana shrieked, clutching the Advisor's arm for any sense of gravity. The Advisor did not scream; he only stared at the seismic readings as the needles went off the charts.
"No, no, no..." he muttered, the terrible realization dawning on him.
Beyond the walls, the purple asteroid sat nestled in a crater of molten glass. The stone began to peel back like a hatching egg, releasing great, screaming clouds of pure Phantom Energy into the sky.
Elsewhere, the Heretic paced around John and General Leah like a wolf circling wounded prey. "Want to know a secret?" he asked, his staff crackling with the spark of lightning. "There was once a soldier who tried to stop the corrupted... but in the end, he became the very thing he fought."
General Leah spat on the dirt, her eyes burning with defiance. "Fucking nonsense!"
"Is this some kind of a joke?" John demanded, his knuckles white upon his weapon.
The Heretic's eyes flashed beneath his hood. "You'll see it to the end—who will truly be corrupted—"
A bang echoed through the chamber. Leah's bullet tore through the Heretic's shoulder. He grunted, clutching the wound, but his fury was instantaneous. He slammed his staff into the earth, unleashing a shockwave that threw the pair backward into the stone walls.
"You think you can beat me?" the Heretic raved, raising his staff high. "Mere mortals cannot best a calamity! You need the relics to fight the Catastrophic!"
Leah spat blood and wiped her mouth, her eyes never leaving the enemy. John leaned toward her, his voice low. "We need a strategy. Now."
"I go high, you go low," Leah commanded.
They began to rise for a final, desperate charge. The Heretic grinned, his pale skin glowing in the unnatural lightning. "Just surrender now and let the Awakened Army take your world once and for a—"
Suddenly, the Heretic's eyes bulged. A length of rusty, ancient steel erupted from the center of his chest, dripping with his own dark lifeblood. He looked down at the blade in silent disbelief. With a cold, metallic scrape, the sword was wrenched backward, tearing through bone and lung.
The Heretic fell to his knees, then face-first into the dust.
Standing behind the fallen villain was the Knight from the Farther Lands. He spoke no word, but the air behind him rippled and tore. From the rift, a colossal Skeleton Dragon descended. Its hollow ribcage glowed with an ethereal, ghostly light as it let out a roar that shook the temple to its very foundations.
TO BE CONTINUED