Within the shattered remains of Backworld, violent void currents raged without restraint.
Fragments of broken space drifted like debris in a cosmic storm, colliding, dissolving, and reforming in an endless cycle of destruction. Spatial laws had long since collapsed, and even time itself felt unstable, stretched thin like a fraying thread.
Suddenly, a fissure tore open in the void without warning.
From within it, Daniel stepped forward.
His figure emerged calmly, as though he were merely walking out of an ordinary doorway rather than ruptured spacetime itself. He paused for a brief moment and glanced back at the chaotic expanse behind him—the collapsing Backworld, now nothing more than a broken husk drifting toward annihilation.
With a casual wave of his hand, Daniel stabilized the surrounding space.
A luminous, perfectly formed teleportation gate unfolded in midair, its structure precise and unshakable, forcibly imposing order upon the surrounding void.
"Let's go."
