What if the aliens attack before I'm ready?
The thought landed fast.
What if the Primed Epics take control while I'm chasing soul energy across half a world, and everything I care about here disappears?
The image came too easily—Elara, still and broken on a battlefield that never made the news. A spear falling from familiar hands. His mother, alone, the hope in her voice silenced before anyone arrived.
He blinked. Didn't look away. But the fear didn't move. It rooted him—right here, in this chair, in this room, in this moment.
Even as the crucifix whispered from somewhere far away. Not loud. Just persistent.
Naivety. Lies. This game will consume you before it frees you.
The drones clicked again.
The sound hadn't changed—but now it felt louder. Closer. A mechanical chorus that bled into the rhythm of his pulse, each one landing like a count.
He rose.
