Day after day, the sky opened.
Keal never knew what would arrive—beast or man, construct or corrupted echo. They came through the portals like nightmares flung across stars, every shape and scale imaginable. Some wielded axes twice his height. Others were pure energy, humming with broken time.
And every time, Keal fought.
His body was no longer his own—it was will wrapped in muscle, memory fused with instinct. His hands bled but never broke. His voice, though rarely used, cracked the barrier between dimensions when he roared.
But there were no cheers for him. Only for the spectacle.
And far, far away, the pale-suited man climbed the ladders of power.
His name was whispered in council chambers and private palaces. The Broker. The Architect. The Collector.
Every realm wanted a piece o
