The other side of Reincarnation

　I felt Eris’s warning arrive through the link a fraction of a second before I understood exactly how much danger it was actually carrying.

Kai — Enzo’s about to release something enormous. I don’t think it’s aimed only at the army. Stop him, or get everyone else out of the way—

Wait, what? Stop him how? What’s actually happening—

　I reached for Enzo through the same connection, urgent, desperate, and found nothing waiting on the other end but total, singular focus — his own mind narrowed entirely onto whatever he was about to unleash, no room left in it for anything, even me, to properly reach him in time.

He’s not hearing me. He’s too far gone into whatever this is.

　Anti-Subconsciousness’s voice was sharp and immediate, cutting through my own rising panic with total clarity.

The whole kingdom. Not just the army. Civilians. People who never chose this war, who probably don’t even know it’s happening.

　I didn’t let myself think past that single, urgent fact.

”Teleport me there,” I said, already moving. ”Now.”

　The spell activated instantly, the world lurching sideways in the specific, disorienting way I’d never fully gotten used to, and then I was simply there — standing at the edge of Myrath’s own capital, city spread out before me, entirely unaware of what was already falling toward it.

No time. No time to explain, no time to warn them properly. Just act.

　I reached for every ounce of Null I could gather, the same teleportation working I’d used before, except scaled now toward something considerably larger than I’d ever attempted — an entire kingdom’s population, gathered and moved in a single, desperate motion.

　Anti-Subconsciousness’s precision did the heavy work my own panic wasn’t leaving room for.

　I felt it take hold — thousands of presences, all at once, caught up in a working that strained against limits I hadn’t properly tested before, every person in that doomed kingdom suddenly, simultaneously, wrenched from where they stood.

Come on. Come on, just a little more, just enough—

　Above me, distant but closing fast, something enormous and terrible descended — light and heat and a pressure that made the sky itself seem to scream, the leading edge of Astro Nova finally reaching the kingdom’s outer walls.

　The teleportation completed a fraction of a second before the blast arrived, the entire population of Myrath simply vanishing from a city that, moments later, ceased to exist entirely.

　I felt the working release, exhausted, breathless, watching from Horizoncrest’s own edge — teleported alongside everyone I’d just saved — as the last echo of the blast finally settled into silence.

I did it. I actually did it. Barely, but I did it.

　Around me, thousands of confused, terrified Myrath citizens stood in a place they’d never seen before, disoriented, some weeping, some simply staring blankly at surroundings that made no sense at all against whatever they’d been doing only moments earlier.

This is a lot of people. This is — this is genuinely a lot of people, all at once, all needing somewhere safe and something to actually eat and someone to explain what just happened to their entire world.

I said Horizoncrest was as big as two kingdoms, once, I thought, distant, still catching my own breath, looking out over the sheer scale of what I’d just brought home. Guess now’s the time to actually prove that.

　Elaine reached me first, already assessing the scale of what had just happened with the same practical efficiency she brought to everything.

”Kai,” she said, careful. ”What happened. What is all of this.”

”I’ll explain everything,” I said, exhausted but steady. ”First — shelter. Food. Whatever comfort we can offer people who just lost everything they’ve ever known in the space of a single afternoon.”

　She nodded, already moving, already organizing, the same reliable competence that had carried Horizoncrest through every crisis so far.

Alright. Alright. One thing at a time. We’ll figure out the rest once everyone’s actually safe.

　I looked out over the crowd — thousands of frightened strangers, suddenly and entirely dependent on a home they’d never chosen, built by someone their own king had spent his final breath cursing — and understood, with quiet, settling certainty, exactly how much work was about to fall on everyone I loved.

Whatever comes next, we handle it together. Same as always.