**4 : In The Relam of ???**

  The world was still. No winds, no sounds, not even the faintest stir of movement. Alex stood alone in the vast, endless expanse, his body weightless. The ground beneath him was gone, the sky was an indistinguishable swirl of light and shadow. He could barely make out his own form—translucent and glowing faintly—just a soul adrift in the unknown. His chest felt lighter than it ever had in life, but a cold unease gnawed at him.

  The memories of his last moments flickered in his mind—the bite, the struggle, the final breath that marked the end of everything he knew. Where am I? he thought, trying to grasp at any shred of understanding. I should be...

  A flicker of movement caught his attention. His head snapped to the side, his senses sharpened in an instant, as if his instincts had kicked in, still alert despite his new ethereal form. A figure materialized from the shadows, solidifying out of the haze—tall, broad-shouldered, with a presence that was hard to ignore.

  Thorne . The warrior, the blacksmith. His outline gleamed in the dim light, his form radiating an otherworldly glow, like molten metal, raw strength wrapped in something new. His eyes, once hard with the weight of battle, seemed distant now, searching the place around him with a deep, unsettling confusion.

  Alex instinctively took a step forward, his golden eyes narrowing. The weight of his past life—the endless fights for survival, the constant distrust—still lingered within him, and a sharp edge ran through his voice when he spoke.

  "Who... are you?" Alex’s voice echoed strangely in the emptiness, barely more than a whisper in the vast space.

  Thorne’s head snapped toward him, his large frame shifting with an energy that was as heavy as it was controlled. His eyes studied Alex, scrutinizing him for a long moment before he answered, his deep voice full of the quiet weight of someone who had lived through unimaginable hardship.

  "Thorne Ironhand." The name was thick with history, as if it were carved into the very air. "And you?"

  "Alex." He hesitated, his mind still fogged with confusion. "Alex Carter."

  There was a brief silence as both men sized each other up. In any other world, in any other situation, they would have been enemies, strangers from different lands. But here, in this strange realm, that sense of hostility was muted—almost nonexistent. Still, an unspoken wariness hung between them. They were survivors in a place where survival was a foreign concept.

  Before either of them could say more, another form materialized in the distance. This one was smaller but no less commanding. Her figure emerged from the shadows like a ghost, her movements precise, calculated, with a calmness that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil Alex and Thorne felt.

  Zara Voss. The tactician. Her emerald eyes glowed softly, an unsettling sharpness in her gaze. She took in the space around her with the cold efficiency of someone who had seen too much to be rattled by the unknown. Her steps were deliberate, controlled. She didn’t flinch as she saw the two men before her, but her mind immediately started working, assessing the situation as she always did.

  The tension between Alex and Thorne was palpable, but Zara cut through it with the quiet force of her presence. Her voice was soft, but there was a sharpness to it that made every word stand out.

  "Are you two lost as well?" she asked, her tone measured but not unfriendly.

  Both men turned to her, their eyes flicking to each other for the briefest of moments, as if wondering whether they should trust this newcomer or not. But there was something about her that made them pause. Something different. The air around her hummed with the quiet promise of power—a kind of cool, contained energy that neither of them could quite explain.

  "We’re all strangers here," Alex said, the confusion still heavy in his voice. "I don’t even know where here is."

  Zara gave a small nod, her eyes reflecting a deep, unfathomable understanding. "Neither do I. But... we’re not alone, and we’re not dead. Not in the way we think, anyway."

  Thorne grunted, a sound somewhere between skepticism and resignation. "This... isn’t where I expected to end up. I’m not supposed to be here."

  Alex, still shaken, finally spoke again. "None of us were supposed to be here. We were... I was... dead. I remember it."

  Zara’s gaze softened, but there was still that quiet calculation behind her eyes. "We’re not dead in the way we know it. We’re somewhere in-between. This is something else."

  The three of them stood in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of their individual realities pressing in. They were from different worlds, with different pasts, but now they were here. Together. A new, strange bond had already begun to form between them—not one of friendship or camaraderie, not yet—but something more fundamental. Their fates, inexplicably, were now entwined.

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  "Where are we going?" Thorne asked, his voice rumbling with the same determination that had carried him through countless battles in life.

  Zara’s gaze flickered toward the distance. "I don’t know yet," she said quietly. "But I’m sure we’re not here by accident. We’ve been drawn together for a reason."

  Alex nodded slowly, finally understanding the strange stillness around them, the way the space seemed to hum with something unseen. "Then we better figure out what that reason is."

  As they stood there, strangers from different worlds, the Realm around them pulsed with energy—a subtle, unspoken promise that their journey together was only just beginning. And though they had no idea what awaited them, the strange bond between them grew stronger with each passing moment.

  The moment their hands touched the pentatope, the Realm around them seemed to hold its breath.

  A wave of raw, overwhelming energy surged through their bodies, rushing into their very souls. The light from the pentatope flared brightly, pulsing with an ancient power. Alex, Thorne, and Zara were no longer just observers—they were participants in a shared experience that transcended time and space.

  Their minds, already connected by the strange bond of the Realm, now intertwined on a deeper level. Memories—not their own—flooded in. It was as though they were not merely witnessing each other’s lives but living them.

  Alex’s memories came first. He felt Thorne’s pain—the weight of the forge, the endless hours spent in isolation, the haunting losses of comrades who had fallen by his side. The smell of burning metal filled Alex’s senses as he lived through Thorne’s battles, feeling the ache of powerlessness and the burden of every soul lost. But Alex also felt the strength behind it—the burning resolve, the fire that never went out. He understood Thorne’s fierce determination to protect, even when the cost was too high.

  Then came Zara’s memories, cold and calculated. Alex felt the chilling calm that had defined her every move—her tactical mind dissecting every situation, her relentless pursuit of mission success. But there was something more: the cracks in her perfect exterior, the moments of vulnerability where her humanity had bled through. He felt her sacrifices, the moments of betrayal, the loneliness that followed each victory, and the brutal clarity of her reality.

  Zara, in turn, felt Alex’s desperation. His memories were a chaotic storm of survival, of pain and loss in a world devoured by the undead. She saw through his eyes—the last stand of humanity, the crushing weight of his failures, the desperate attempts to protect those he loved. Zara felt his heartache, the deep well of grief that never quite left him, even after death had claimed him. But she also felt his unwavering will to fight on, to hold onto hope even in the darkest of times.

  And Thorne—Thorne felt them all. He felt Alex’s grief, the sharpness of every loss, and the rage that followed. But more than that, he felt Zara’s cold determination, her unshakable will, and her pain hidden beneath layers of control. The vastness of their emotions overwhelmed him, and for a moment, he felt as though he might collapse under the weight of their shared memories. But instead, something in him shifted. He could feel the unspoken bond between them—something stronger than their pasts, something that tied them together in this strange place.

  They stood there, suspended in the glowing, shifting space of the Realm, not speaking, not moving, as their shared memories settled into their very bones. The cosmos themselves seemed to pause, holding still as the weight of their pasts pressed down on them.

  Alex flinched, raising his hands to shield his eyes. "What the hell is happening?!" he shouted, his voice barely audible against the rising roar of power. The space around them seemed to bend, like the air was folding in on itself, warping the world they stood in.

  Zara’s eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the swirling chaos. "This... This isn’t a normal object. It’s alive," she muttered, her voice shaking with realization. "It’s trying to do something, something more than we can control."

  Thorne gritted his teeth, his powerful frame taut with tension. "If it’s trying to connect us... then it’s too much. We have to stop it, now!" But the words were hollow. It was clear to all three of them that stopping it wasn’t an option. The pentatope’s force was too overwhelming, its power pulling at the very essence of their being.

  The light from the pentatope intensified, casting long, impossible shadows that seemed to stretch across the Realm. Each of its facets twisted more violently, spinning faster until they could barely follow its movement. The space around them began to distort, warping into shapes that made no sense, like the edges of reality itself were being torn apart.

  The pentatope began to shift, its light growing even more intense. It spun, slowly at first, then faster and faster, its sides folding and unfolding with an energy that felt both ancient and untamed. The air around them rippled as if reality itself was bending under the pentatope’s will.

  And then, without warning, everything snapped into motion.

  A pulse of energy shot from the pentatope, sending a wave through the Realm. The world around them distorted, the very fabric of the cosmos twisting and warping as the pentatope’s energy surged outward. It rose into the air, spinning furiously, sending a shockwave of light that stretched out like the first crack of thunder.

  The world held its breath for just a second longer—then, as if shattering like glass or burning paper, the pentatope exploded outward. The light fractured and fractured again, and in that moment, everything seemed to fall apart and rebuild in an instant.

  With a deafening crack, the pentatope shattered into dozens of shards that glowed like molten stars. They exploded outward, each fragment sending a brilliant trail of light across the sky as it soared toward its destination. And then—just as quickly as it had risen—everything fell still.

  The three of them stepped back instinctively, feeling the energy settle around them, their feet pressing into the ground that had suddenly returned beneath them. The air was still thick with the remnants of the pentatope’s power, but something had shifted. They could feel it—the doorways to their worlds were opening.

  But before they could fully comprehend what had happened, the space around them began to twist once more. The ground beneath their feet rippled, and the vastness of the Realm began to bend backwards. Time itself seemed to reverse, as though they were being pulled back toward their worlds, like a force too powerful to resist. Each step they took, each breath, was a fight against the inevitable pull.

  Then, like a world fracturing, a crack split open before them. It was as though the very fabric of space had split like thin glass under pressure. The world around them erupted as the portal to their worlds shot upward, spinning furiously like the last flares of a dying star.

  Thorne’s world—the smoldering ruins of a world lost to monsters and conflict—rose first, the light from the pentatope surrounding it like a protective barrier. Zara’s world—her sleek, cold future, where technology and war collided—followed, the metallic, gleaming horizon coming into view. Alex’s world—the desolate, apocalyptic wasteland ravaged by the undead—was the final to emerge, the dark clouds and eerie silence of his reality swirling into existence.

  The pentatope’s light intensified once more, and with a final, shuddering pulse, it shattered completely. The light refracted, exploded, and in an instant, each doorway locked into place, casting their respective worlds into the space ahead.

  The doorways had opened, and with it, their futures were sealed.

  Thorne, Alex, and Zara stood together, watching the worlds they came from—worlds filled with pain, loss, and endless struggle—emerge before them. They had been pulled from their pasts, thrust into this Realm for a reason they could not yet understand.

  But one thing was certain: they were no longer strangers. And now, the time had come to step forward and face what was waiting for them. Their bond forged in the depths of the Realm, would guide them through the trials ahead.

  With a final glance at each ot

  her, they stepped through the gateways to their worlds—no longer mere survivors, but warriors reborn…!