While the Veil Operation spread confusion, Saelar trained in secret beneath Kelvorn's ancient catacombs, meditating beside a buried altar once used by the Order of Null.
There, his daggers Nyxfang and Solbite whispered in voices beyond mortal understanding. Visions flickered—scenes of battles yet to come, echoes of timelines branching like lightning veins.
> "Show me more," Saelar said, sweat beading on his brow.
He slashed Nyxfang through the air—and a bolt of pure null-energy shattered the magical warding crystal ahead.
> "Abyssal Rejection… no longer just defense," he murmured. "It devours now."
Solbite hummed with urgency.
He touched it to the stone floor—and saw it fracture, revealing images five seconds into the future.
> "Temporal Fracture... is evolving."
But each use left him drained, his memories flickering in and out.
He saw himself standing atop a burning tower... his eyes black and gold... the daggers fused to his arms.
> "What was that?" he asked aloud.
> "A path not yet taken," Solbite whispered.
Saelar collapsed to one knee, blood dripping from his nose. Temporal recoil twisted time around him, momentarily aging him by hours before snapping back.
He steadied his breath.
> "No… not the Balance Breaker. Not yet. I'm not ready to become a god."
Above, reports flooded in—cities surrendering without blood, governors fleeing in panic, border walls opening by bribe and whisper.
Alicent and Kerrin's network was devouring the Empire from within.
And in the depths of the catacombs, Saelar stared at his soul gear—twin blades pulsing with truth and void.
He wasn't breaking his limits yet.
He was redefining them.