The world that greeted Darien Holt was not the one he had left behind.
He stumbled out of the warp gate and fell to his knees, coughing violently as the air hit his lungs—thick with smoke, dust, and the metallic sting of scorched mana. The light from the gate flickered out behind him, shrinking into a dim shimmer before vanishing completely.
Then there was silence.
Not the kind that followed peace, but the kind that lingered after annihilation.
He pushed himself up slowly, wincing as his knee protested. His armor, once polished silver, was now marred with black soot and streaks of dried blood. He blinked through the haze, his hand instinctively going to the relic case strapped to his back. Still intact. Still pulsing faintly with life.
But the land around him—
