The space didn't collapse.
It chose.
That was the first thing Dante understood as everything folded inward this wasn't destruction, not exactly. It was selection. Compression with intent. A narrowing of existence until only what could hold remained.
And something answered.
Not the original.
Not the system.
Him.
The moment the pressure reached its peak, Dante stepped into it not against it, not trying to stop it, but aligning with the exact point where everything converged. Where the rules had ended. Where choice was the only force left.
Victor saw it and swore under his breath. "He's doing something reckless again."
The girl tightened her grip on his arm. "He's always doing something reckless."
Camille's voice cut in, sharper than before. "No this is different. He's not resisting the collapse… he's matching it."
Victor's eyes snapped back to Dante. "…Why would that be a good idea?"
"It's not," Camille said.
A beat.
"But it might be the only one left."
