Time froze.

  The heel of the debt collector's boot hovered mere millimeters from Luxerio's forehead, the motion halting as if the universe itself had seized. The world became a tableau of suspended violence. The woman's sneer remained frozen on her lips, her foot caught in an unnatural pause, while her hulking companion stood mid-motion, her massive arm inches away from swatting away some unseen force.

  Then, reality cracked.

  A shudder rippled through the air, the stillness unraveling in jagged distortions. The buildings groaned as if something immense had shifted behind the fabric of the world. The very air seemed to bend, stretching in elongated warps as if space itself was being pulled into a vortex.

  And Luxerio's body was gone.

  Not erased. Not destroyed. Just… absent. As though existence had misplaced him in an error too great to comprehend.

  Time seemed to return once more, albeit extremely slowly.

  The debt collector barely had time to process what had happened before her companion lunged. The muscular woman, driven by pure instinct, threw herself forward, trying to knock her leader away from whatever unseen force was warping reality.

  Too late.

  A sphere of energy, a grotesque distortion of mismatched colors, exploded into existence where Luxerio had been. It was wrong—not merely light or energy, but something fundamentally incomprehensible, colors that shouldn't mix yet did, a vortex that should have been visible but somehow wasn't. It pulsed in chaotic, flickering instability, each second stretching and twisting in unpredictable surges.

  Cracks spiderwebbed from the point of emergence, fracturing the ground in perfect geometric patterns. The concrete beneath their feet pulsed—not as a reaction, but as if it had been waiting to breathe all this time. The sky, once dark, rippled like liquid, shifting colors and textures, morphing into something that defied reason. The very concept of up and down struggled to remain relevant.

  Then the shockwave came.

  It wasn't sound. It was force—an unrelenting burst of energy that turned glass to dust and steel to ribbons. Every window in the vicinity shattered instantly, sending lethal fragments in every direction. Buildings buckled, their concrete exteriors rippling like cloth caught in a hurricane. People, those unfortunate enough to be nearby, were thrown like ragdolls, some slamming against walls, others sent skidding across asphalt, skin peeling from the sheer force of impact.

  And the Mythgrave expanded.

  Across the city, the unease had already settled. A creeping, insidious dread crawled into the bones of those who knew how to listen.

  A beggar curled in an alleyway under a pile of damp newspapers stirred, his weathered fingers tightening around his thin blanket. The rats around him were silent, unmoving. He blinked blearily at the sudden chill in the air, his breath now visible. "The hell…?" His voice trembled as his mind screamed for him to run, though he had nowhere to go.

  A mother and her daughter, walking home from a late shift at a diner, paused. The young girl, no older than six, tugged at her mother's coat. "Mommy… something's wrong."

  The mother frowned, gripping her daughter's hand tighter. She glanced up, noticing how the neon lights of nearby signs flickered erratically. Then she felt it—the undeniable pull, a compulsion to look eastward, toward the lower districts. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a primal fear sinking its claws into her. "It's… it's nothing, baby." But her voice held no confidence.

  Further down, a group of gang members gathered outside a smoky bar, laughing and exchanging stolen goods. The leader, a man with cybernetic enhancements along his jaw, suddenly stopped mid-sentence. His cigarette fell from his lips. "Shit," he muttered, eyes widening. "What the hell is that?"

  One of his subordinates turned. "What are you—"

  Then they all saw it.

  The orb had grown. What was once a small, localized anomaly had surged outward in unpredictable bursts. Entire buildings vanished within its reach, devoured whole as though they had never existed. The district's skyline had changed in seconds, entire streets replaced with an unearthly void, tendrils of flickering, colorless light writhing at its edges.

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  People screamed. They ran. Some stood in stunned silence, unable to process the scale of the catastrophe unfolding before them. The night, once filled with the regular hum of city life, had become a cacophony of terror.

  The Mythgrave pulsed again, and another violent expansion tore through the city.

  What was once an alley became a crater. A crowded intersection became nothingness. A district's worth of human life blinked out of existence, swallowed by the Mythgrave's insatiable hunger.

  And still, it grew.

  As the expansion finally slowed, the chaotic sphere morphed, its erratic nature stabilizing into something worse—something alive.

  A dome.

  Towering over half of the entire city, black as the void, yet shifting with an oil-slick iridescence, it loomed in terrifying silence. The few survivors on its outskirts could only stare, their faces pale with disbelief.

  The Mythgrave had settled.

  Luxerio was gone.

  And the city would never be the same again.

  Elsewhere, in the other half of the city,

  The grand dining hall of the mayor's estate was bathed in the warm glow of an ornate chandelier, the golden light reflecting off the polished silverware and exquisite china. The rich aroma of expertly prepared cuisine filled the air as the mayor and his family enjoyed a luxurious meal.

  His wife sat beside him, poised and elegant, while his two daughters occupied the seats opposite. Their laughter and idle chatter painted the picture of a family untouched by hardship, their world isolated from the struggles of those beyond the walls of the high-class district.

  "I was thinking of learning to play the piano," the younger daughter mused, idly twirling her fork between her fingers. "Or maybe the violin. They say mastering classical instruments refines the soul."

  The mayor smiled at his youngest, his voice warm with encouragement. "You would excel at it, my dear. If that is what you wish, I will ensure you receive the best instruction available. We can have a grand piano brought in by next week."

  She beamed, momentarily abandoning her food to express her gratitude. Meanwhile, her older sister remained quiet, her hands folded neatly on the table, her gaze distant. It wasn't until her father took note of her silence that he turned his attention toward her.

  "What's on your mind?" he asked, setting his goblet down.

  The young woman took a deep breath, straightening her posture before responding. "I've decided. I want to apply to the Academy of Higher Arts."

  The room stilled. The warm, familial atmosphere shifted instantly as the weight of her words sank in. Her father's expression crumpled, his voice laced with disbelief.

  "Which one? Politics? Healing? Engineering?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

  "The actual Academy of Higher Arts, not the ones they push on the public," she said, her voice firm and unwavering.

  Her father's face darkened as he leaned forward, his tone turning sharp. "Absolutely not. You know what that entails! Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

  "I've already prepared for this," she countered. "I know what it requires of me."

  Her father slammed his palm against the table. "You have no idea what you're asking for. You aren't a noble. You haven't been trained since birth to withstand what that place demands. This isn't just some scholarship exam—this is life or death! You—"

  "I've trained," she interrupted. "Caius has been teaching me."

  Her father scoffed. "Caius? Do you think he has your best interests at heart? That boy is just trying to bed you. You're being na?ve."

  "That's not true," she shot back. "I've put in the work. I'm almost an adult. If I don't take my chance now, I'll lose my only opportunity!"

  Her mother, who had remained silent until now, finally interjected. "Darling, listen to your father. If you want to serve the Empire, there are other ways. You could study war tactics, join the army—there are safer paths."

  The girl's fists clenched beneath the table. "Safer paths won't change anything," she muttered, frustration bubbling beneath her breath.

  Before she could argue further, the doors to the dining hall burst open.

  A disheveled man stumbled inside, his breath labored and his clothes in disarray. The mayor immediately rose from his seat, his anger at the intrusion swiftly replaced by concern.

  "What in the name of the Emperor are you doing barging in like this?" the mayor demanded.

  The man could barely get the words out between gasps, his face stricken with fear. "A… a Mythgrave… it has… descended."

  Silence. The very air in the room seemed to freeze.

  The mayor's eyes widened in horror. His lips moved as if trying to form words, but none came. When he finally found his voice, his tone was urgent, desperate. "How close?"

  The messenger swallowed thickly, sweat dripping from his brow as he gathered the courage to answer. "It's… not outside the city. It's inside. It swallowed half of it."

  The mayor's heart lurched in his chest. The blood drained from his face as he staggered forward, gripping the messenger's shoulders. "Half of my city?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "Half of my city is gone?"

  The man could only nod, unable to meet his superior's eyes.

  "Have we contacted the Empire?! The Coalition?!"

  The man shook his head.

  "We... we can't. The Empire doesn't trust us enough to respond without your direct request and official channels, and the Coalition? They'll demand weeks of negotiation before even considering sending help!"

  The mayor slammed his forehead with his palm. "Damn this bureaucratic nonsense!"

  The mayor turned sharply to his wife. "Get the children. Prepare to evacuate."

  His wife nodded, immediately pulling the girls from their seats. His youngest clung to her mother, terrified. His eldest, however, remained still, her eyes wide—not with fear, but something else entirely.

  Excitement.

  As the mayor ran towards his office to establish contact with the Empire or the Coalition, cursing under his breath, his daughter stood rooted in place.

  She had spent years yearning for something greater. For the chance to prove herself. And now, as the city trembled under the weight of catastrophe, she felt the opportunity whispering to her.

  This was it.

  Her chance.

  Meanwhile, in a lightless yet light-filled incomprehensible void...