The city erupted in chaos within hours.
Regressors appeared like specters—
Some in groups.
Some alone.
Each bringing abilities honed across dozens of timelines.
Kael rallied the city's awakened defenders—those who hadn't regressed but gained powers through natural awakening.
They formed ranks across the central district.
Kael stood at the front.
The ground trembled as the first wave approached—
A swarm of regressors descending from rooftops, sprinting through streets, teleporting in flashes of light.
Kael raised his sword.
"Hold the line!"
The battle exploded.
Kael clashed with a warrior who created weapon duplicates from mana.
He parried another who could bend shadows.
A third tried to snipe him with a compressed mana bullet—
Kael dodged, spun, slashed.
His experience from countless timelines guided each motion.
His defenders fought valiantly, pushing back against impossible odds.
But the regressors kept coming.
Kael sensed a familiar presence.
Jalen—the chaotic regressor—appeared atop a car, arms spread like a conductor.
"Kael! Still alive? Good! I hate anticlimactic deaths."
Kael glared. "Are you here to fight me?"
"Not yet." Jalen grinned. "I'm curious how far you've grown."
Then he vanished into the chaos.
The battle raged until nightfall.
By the time the last wave retreated, the streets were scorched, buildings shattered, bodies everywhere.
Kael stood among the ruins, panting.
A message flashed:
[Warning: High-level regressor approaching]
Kael turned.
Erevan stood calmly on the opposite rooftop, Lyra floating unconscious behind him.
His gaze was quiet.
Cold.
Final.
"Kael," he said, "the time has come."