Francis closed his eyes slowly. He had spent an entire year restraining himself—not because he lacked the strength, but because every instinct told him that if he unleashed everything here, there might be nothing left to save.
"...Then I don't have a choice."
Lightning crawled beneath his skin.
The gatekeeper's expression changed.
"...Wait."
Francis ignored him.
Then it came—a groan so deep that calling it merely loud would have missed the point entirely. It felt as though reality itself had shifted.
Francis stopped. The gatekeeper turned slowly, and behind him, the Gate of the Afterlife moved.
It was so enormous that calling it a gate was inadequate—an entire civilization could have existed upon its surface.
For the first time in an entire year, the gate opened fully.
Footsteps echoed, one after another, as dozens of figures walked out. Not an army. Just people.
