A brief decade had slipped by with Konquest endlessly watching visions of his inevitable end.
He had been made to see it with absolute clarity—how his future self plotted, how he prepared, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the Endless Reality, crowned by its towering mountain.
And now, once again, the vision began to change.
Konquest found himself standing in a grand war room, its walls lined with maps of conquered realities and glowing tactical projections.
The air was thick with the scent of burning incense.
Around a massive obsidian table sat his closest subordinates — gaunt, fanatical figures who had served him for eras, each one an embodiment of absolute loyalty and ruthless efficiency.
They had been here for the past year setting their final preparations in motion.
Vesaad, the gaunt man with sunken eyes and skeletal fingers, leaned forward, his voice strained but insistent.
