The Dead Strings Theatre was a place whispered about by the oldest Systems — a realm not recorded in books, nor acknowledged by history.
Because those who remembered it… never lived long enough to tell the tale.
Its entrance appeared as a spiraling tear in the sky, a black maw that hung above a crumbling opera house floating in void. Its red curtains fluttered though there was no wind. The chandeliers swayed with unseen weight, and music — soft, melancholic, broken — played without source.
Elias stood before it, cloaked in black and fire.
Behind him were Kael, Myra, and the Hollow Prophet — now called Nerion, bound by fate, but free in will.
"This is suicide," Kael muttered, checking his weapon. "The files say this guy can mimic Sovereign skills. Mimic. That means he can do what you do, Elias."
"Then he'll understand what it means to fight a Sovereign who refuses to lose," Elias replied, walking forward.
