The rift in the heavens didn't just crack—it screamed.
The sky split in two, the light of a thousand distant stars spilling from the wound. The Blade of Echoes trembled violently in Jack's hand, pulsing with energy, as if it were both the cause and the effect of the world's breaking. The ground beneath them cracked, splitting wide, as the very foundation of reality began to warp and twist. The universe seemed to hold its breath.
And then—
A rush of air.
An explosion of energy that sent a shockwave through the very fabric of existence. Jack was thrown back, his body crashing to the ground, but the Blade stayed clutched in his hand, glowing with a brilliance that outshone the sun itself.
For a moment, nothing made sense. The world was a blur of light and shadow, shapes twisting in unnatural angles, voices echoing in the silence. The only thing that remained clear was the weight—the weight of everything that had led to this point, pressing down on him.
"You've done it," Lola's voice called out to him, distant but unwavering.
Jack blinked, forcing himself to his feet. The world around him was disintegrating, fragmenting into shards of reality. The air shimmered with energy, like the threads of the universe were unraveling. In the distance, he could see the Maw, a gaping wound in the world itself, and from within it, something was rising.
Something ancient. Something old.
It wasn't the One Who Unmade, not entirely. It was something far more primal, more fundamental—a force of creation and destruction bound together, forged in the heart of the first world.
"You're not just fighting for the world," Marek said, stepping into Jack's line of sight, his expression grim but resolute. "You're fighting for everything that's ever existed."
The One Who Unmade had been reborn, not as a being, but as the concept of ruin itself—a force that had always existed, lurking beneath the surface of reality, waiting for the right moment to awaken. But now, it was no longer just a force. It was aware.
And it was rising.
"Jack!" Nyssa shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "You can't do this alone. You need to let go."
Let go?
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Jack turned toward her, confusion and fear clouding his mind. He couldn't let go. Not now. Not when everything was on the line. He had to fight. He had to end it.
But something deep inside him was starting to shift. He could feel it—an undeniable pull, a connection to something greater than himself, something that transcended time, space, and even fate. It was as if he were no longer just a man with a blade. He was the catalyst, the key to everything that was, and everything that would ever be.
"I'm not letting go, Nyssa," Jack said, his voice steady, though his body trembled with the weight of the decision. "I'm holding on. I'm holding on to everything that matters."
A low, rumbling laugh echoed from the Maw. It wasn't just a voice—it was the sound of the universe itself laughing at the folly of mortal defiance.
"You cannot stop me," the One Who Unmade hissed. "I am eternal. I am the beginning and the end. You are nothing but a fleeting moment in time."
"No," Jack said, raising the Blade high. "You are nothing. I am the end."
The Blade of Echoes blazed brighter, a beacon of light that pierced through the fractures of reality. It was no longer just a weapon—it was a manifestation of his will. His soul. His defiance. It was the power of a thousand lifetimes, of every decision that had been made, and every mistake that had been learned from.
And with it, he struck.
The universe trembled.
The ground beneath them cracked wide open, swallowing the world in a chasm of dark light. The Maw roared, its edges writhing with the force of creation and destruction clashing together. And then, in the center of it all, Jack felt it—the pulse of the Blade. It was more than just a weapon. It was a doorway.
A doorway to everything.
The crack in the sky widened, and for a moment, Jack thought he saw a figure—no, a shape—standing at the edge of the rift, watching. Its form was indistinct, shifting like smoke, but its presence was undeniable. It was watching the unraveling of the world, waiting for something.
"What do you see, Jack?" Lola asked, her voice just behind him.
"I see... the end," Jack replied, his eyes narrowing. "But not the end of everything. The end of this. The end of the cycle."
The Blade's glow intensified, burning with an otherworldly fire. The presence beyond the rift flickered—almost as if it were uncertain, afraid.
"You are the end," the One Who Unmade whispered from within the Maw, its voice a hiss of defiance. "But you are also the beginning. You are me, Jack. You always were."
"No," Jack said, his grip tightening on the Blade. "I was never you. I was never this. I am Jack."
And with that final declaration, the universe screamed.
The fabric of reality tore, the world shattered.
And for a moment—
Everything was silent.
Then, Jack saw it. A light. A spark. A single thread of life that had been untangled from the fabric of reality, weaving its way through the darkness.
It was hope.
And it was enough.