There was once a man who watched himself die — and said nothing.

He saw the blood, the silence, the end that should not have come. He buried it beneath purpose. Buried it beneath names not his own, blades drawn in defense of strangers, and the hope that maybe he could outrun what was already written.

But the scars remain. So do the ruins.

Across fractured skies and dying dimensions, groups gather. They don’t trust each other. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But something hunts the remnants of broken worlds.

Something old. Something made.

In the ashes of collapsing realms, ancient machines stir and gods remain silent. And when the walls fall — when the line between past and future folds into itself — the man who watched himself die may have to decide if saving others means letting himself disappear entirely.

This is the story of when the stars went quiet… and the echoes began to speak.