The sky cracked like glass under pressure.
From the rift above, an eye emerged—vast, unblinking, without iris or pupil. It stared at the world, at the tower, and at Fenrir, who stood alone beneath it. Its gaze was not malevolent, nor curious. It simply was. Endless. Eternal. Watching.
And yet, Fenrir smiled.
A thrill surged through him, crawling down his spine like the whisper of death and power intertwined. This... this was it. The thing beyond the sky, the force that even the divine council whispered about in silence. This was the being that fed on order, devoured entropy, and laughed at what lesser beings called "balance."
His heart pounded, but not with fear.
Excitement. Purpose.
He took a step forward, toward the entity that no one dared name.
Behind him, the divine council cried out.
"Stop, Fenrir! That's not something you can fight!"
"You'll be consumed!"
"You'll destroy everything—yourself included!"
But their voices were wind to him now.
