In the boundless void where consciousness fragmented into stardust, silver light pulsed against amber radiance. The fragments of Klaus Lionhart no longer drifted aimlessly—they coalesced with deliberate precision, forming constellations of memory and identity that orbited a strengthening core.
The true self observed this unexpected development with growing disquiet, its confidence wavering for the first time in millennia. "This resistance should not be possible."
Gluttony's vast form shifted, wings unfurling across dimensions as he studied the phenomenon. "Perhaps you underestimated what can emerge from fragmentation. Sometimes the pieces become more than their origin."
