The chamber screamed.
It wasn't sound—it was existence folding in on itself. A thousand timelines combusted simultaneously. Future, past, and present warred for dominance, and the Godless emerged from the folds like nightmares given permission.
Shapes that defied reason loomed overhead. One had no face—just a ring of open mouths weeping flame. Another resembled a cathedral with wings made of ash. Dozens more formed in the black light above the spiral nexus, where Alex—Valerian's original self—stood with arms outstretched.
He wasn't afraid. He welcomed them.
"Do you feel it?" Alex whispered, eyes locked with Valerian's. "This is what we were born for."
Kael stepped forward, blade crackling in defiance. "You call that birth? Looks like death to me."
"No," Alex replied. "This is freedom from the system. Freedom from cycles. The Godless are entropy—pure will. No more resets. No more fate."
Valerian's heart thundered. The system was silent now, frozen. Frightened.
