The light changed first.
Not brighter. Not darker.
Just... composed.
The world around Rex shifted — not like scenery revealing itself, but like a curtain rising to reveal a set already in place.
Shadows slid into alignment. Shapes leaned into view. Even the air itself seemed to settle into a golden hue, as if touched by the memory of dusk.
It was beautiful — in a very intentional way.
He looked down, and took a step forward, a bit confused.
The marble beneath him had turned warm, sunlit, like an old courtyard — the kind that remembers footsteps long gone.
Far in the distance, he thought he saw… waves? A coliseum? A battlefield?
Each vision flickered like memory through a lens.
He blinked.
They were gone.
No message this time. No whisper from the system. Just an unmistakable feeling:
He was being watched.
Then — SLAM.
A door slammed. Somewhere unseen. The echo snapped through the air like a director clapping a slate.
And from the haze, a voice rang out:
