The Obsidian Ant chamber for Rank 19 did not welcome them with stone or echoing chants. Instead, it opened to silence—a void-like space beneath a false sky where stars blinked like distant regrets. Floating islands of broken constellations drifted in low gravity, each tethered to glowing chains of memory.
Leon floated in with slow grace, his armor catching faint glimmers of nebular light. A pressure settled on his shoulders—not from gravity, but from the sheer presence of the one waiting.
Iskar Veln, the Hollow Starlord, stood at the center of a shattered celestial ring. His body was ethereal, clad in robes made of stardust and shadow. One eye burned with endless nova-fire. The other… was a black hole.
"You carry too many echoes, Leon of Above," the voice whispered in cosmic delay. "Return them. Or be undone by their weight."
Leon readied his staff, feeling his Destruction Core pulse uneasily. "I'm not here to return anything. Just to move forward."
