Sanctum's sky no longer welcomed strangers.
In the wake of Z'RHAKUL's annihilation, the mountain fortress—once a sanctuary to the broken and hopeful—transformed into a fortress of absolute control.
Atop its high towers, mana convergence arrays pulsed in rotating formations, and floating ward-pylons swept the skies for any trace of teleportation runes or unauthorized gate-signatures.
At Iden's command, every teleportation access sigil tied to allied nations was revoked. Sanctum stood alone again. Deliberately.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT][— INTERREALM TELEPORTATION CHANNELS — TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED][STATUS: LOCKED TO SANCTUM-CODED SEQUENCES ONLY][NOTICE TO ALL FACTIONS: "Sanctum's gates are sealed. No exceptions." — Issued by Lord Iden]
Inside the central command citadel, Iden stared at the pulsing map-table. Dozens of alliance pings blinked out, unable to tether to Sanctum's grid anymore.
"Some will take this as betrayal," Kael muttered, watching the alerts roll in.
"Let them," Iden replied. "I gave the world proof that survival is possible. They answered with poisoned gifts and betrayals in disguise."
Nyra leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed. "Cutting off access will force their hands."
"Exactly," Iden said. "And now we see which ones panic… and which ones plot."
The Council of Flameglass—Sanctum's inner circle—gathered in the crownlit chamber beneath the vault of command. There were no chairs. No rituals. Just results.
Around the table stood:
Iden, at Level 58, Soul Resonance active.
Rael, recovering from the echo's integration, with her new soul-light pulsing visibly beneath her skin.
Kael, his necrotic core now bonded to bioengineered units from the Crownfall wreckage.
Arlen, working nonstop on fusion-tech theory and battlefield adaptive rigs.
Nyra, who had already dismantled five infiltrators during the alliance "negotiations."
Behind them stood elite units—war-forged skeletons upgraded with reactive alloy bones, and mage variants marked by a deep violet glow: the result of soul-layer syncing through Rael's link.
Iden lifted a hand, and a new directive glowed in the air:
OPERATION: PHOENIX GRID[DURATION: 6 DAYS][GOAL: REACH LEVEL 70 BEFORE RIFT EMERGENCE][RESTRICT: ALL FOREIGN ACCESS – FULL ISOLATION][ELEVATE: CORE ALLIES TO MINIMUM LEVEL 55]
Across the fractured world, the message hit like a crack of thunder:
The Skyhold High Strategists considered this an open declaration of independence.
The Ryseran Crown Regents declared emergency recall of all scouts inside Sanctum borders.
The Nomadic Arclight Tribes mourned the "second death of unity."
But Sanctum didn't respond.
There were no denials.
No appeasements.
Just the quiet sound of gates slamming shut and sky-banners changing shape—replacing the olive branch of alliance with a crimson sigil bearing three glyphs:
SURVIVAL | ASCENT | FLAME
Some alliance emissaries, advisors, and even soldiers were already inside when the gates were closed.
For them, Iden issued a choice.
[You may stay and submit to Sanctum's law.Or leave immediately and never return.]
Most stayed. Not out of loyalty—but fear.
They saw what Sanctum had become: not just a last bastion, but the only bastion. Outside, the world was crumbling. Inside, a god-forged power was rising.
"Do they hate me?" Iden asked Rael quietly, watching a caravan of nobles choose to kneel.
Rael smiled faintly. "Yes. But they fear you more."
"And that's enough?"
"No," she said. "But it's a start."
As the day ended, the first Rift pulse rolled through the sky—an aurora of sickly light that stretched from the horizon to the stars. Reality cracked like glass in slow motion.
Time began to fracture.
Small events started echoing backward. Footprints moved before the steps fell. Shadowbeasts appeared, died, and then were born from their own corpses.
And at the heart of it, the God-Rift, far beyond reach… but not for long.
Iden raised his gaze to the storming void.
"Six days," he whispered. "Let's become gods in five."