Kael raced across the city, tracking mana distortions, scanning rooftops and alleys.
Nothing.
Erevan had cloaked her presence completely.
Then the sky lit up.
A massive holographic projection appeared above the city—
an image of Erevan standing on a ruined tower, Lyra unconscious beside him.
His voice echoed through the streets:
"People of the Final Timeline… hear me."
Kael clenched his jaw.
Erevan continued calmly:
"For centuries, regressors have tried to perfect the world. To save it. To reshape it.
But the truth is simple—
Only the strongest has the right to decide the Final World."
The image zoomed in on Lyra.
"This is the World Anchor.
The core of the timeline.
The one who will shape the last reality."
Erevan's eyes gleamed.
"I offer you a choice.
Join me…
or die."
Kael felt a chill as dozens—no, hundreds—of mana signatures flared across the city.
Regressors from every corner of the world had received the message.
Some were killers.
Some were heroes.
Some were broken souls seeking meaning.
But they all shared one desire:
Power.
Erevan raised a hand.
"Kill Kael Ardyn.
Bring me his head.
And you will earn a place in the Final World."
The hologram faded.
Kael exhaled.
This wasn't a battle.
This was a war.