The ground beneath them trembled with the force of the explosion, sending a shockwave that rippled through the air, echoing from the direction where Blank had flown off. The cohort, already tense from the sight of the colossal gate in the sky, felt the impact deep in their bones. Talitha and Bruno, who had been frozen in place just moments before, snapped out of their fear-induced stupor and immediately took off running toward the source of the explosion.

"Come on!" Bruno shouted back at the cohort, urgency lacing his deep voice.

The group exchanged quick, anxious glances before rushing after them, their footsteps pounding against the ground in unison. The air was thick with anticipation and dread, every breath they took laden with the scent of burning debris and ozone. As they ran, another explosion rocked the air, followed quickly by a third, each one more intense than the last. The sound reverberated through the ruins, growing louder as they drew closer.

"What the hell is going on?" Chris muttered under his breath, his heart racing as they neared the site.

Finally, they arrived at the scene, and what they saw made them all come to an abrupt halt.

Blank was there, barely standing on one knee, his upper body completely exposed. His clothes were torn and singed, barely clinging to his form. His pale skin was marred by cuts, bruises, and old scars that crisscrossed his chest, back and arms, telling the story of countless battles and suffering. His breathing was ragged, each breath a struggle as his body seemed on the verge of giving out. His eyes, though weary, still held a spark of determination, a refusal to surrender despite his obvious exhaustion.

But it wasn't Blank's condition that caused the cohort to freeze in shock, it was the scene around him.

Lying a few feet away from Blank was a warrior, clad in what had once been a magnificent suit of armor, now battered and broken. The warrior was unconscious, his helmet shattered, revealing a bloodied face. Beside him lay a broken sword and a shattered shield, the remnants of a fierce battle that had just taken place.

The air around them was thick with the lingering energy of the battle, the very ground scorched and cratered by the explosions they had heard. It was clear that Blank had been at the center of it all, fighting with everything he had against a foe that none of them had seen coming.

Chris was the first to break the silence, his voice laced with disbelief and anger. "What the hell is going on here? Who is that? And why is Blank—"

"It's too late to escape," Bruno interrupted, his voice grim. He was staring at the scene with a mixture of dread and resignation, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He knew what this meant, what this place was, and the realization filled him with a deep, unshakable fear.

Talitha, who had been silent until now, clicked her tongue in frustration, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the area. Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened, but the answer was already forming in the back of her mind, something she desperately didn't want to acknowledge.

Before anyone could say another word, a whisper began to seep into their minds, filling their thoughts with an eerie, resonant voice. It was a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, speaking directly to their souls.

"As your final breath escapes, the All-Father's voice thunders through your being, resonating with the power of eternity. The Valkyries, fierce and relentless, descend upon you like a storm, their wings slicing through the veil of mortality, guiding you toward a destiny of conquest. You are called to rise beyond the mortal coil, to shatter the chains of time, and carve your name into the bones of history itself. In the Bastion of Warlords, you will march beside the fiercest of the fallen, not just as a warrior, but as a conqueror of eras. Your name will be etched into the very fabric of time, a testament to battles won and legends forged. You are destined to lead the charge through the ages, your story immortalized in the sacred annals of War. This is the path you were born to tread. Fallen Domain: Heavens Call."

The voice echoed through their minds, carrying with it a sense of power, inevitability, and an overwhelming sense of destiny. As the last word faded, the world around them seemed to shimmer, the very fabric of reality bending and twisting.

And then, in the blink of an eye, they were no longer standing in the ruins of the town. The world had changed, shifted, transformed into something both ancient and terrifyingly powerful.

_________________________________________

They found themselves inside a vast hall, its scale grander than anything they had ever witnessed before. The air was heavy with an overwhelming sense of history and the scent of war, metallic and acrid, mixed with something far older, a musty odor of age and dust. The walls were made of massive stone blocks, weathered and scarred from countless battles. Each block seemed to tell a story, etched with runes that glowed faintly, their meanings lost to time but their power unmistakable.

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Banners hung from the high ceilings, their designs depicting epic battles and scenes of warrior gods, some torn and frayed, as if they had seen the passage of centuries. The colors were faded, but the symbols were still potent, carrying the weight of ancient oaths and forgotten victories. The light in the hall was dim, coming from torches mounted on the walls, their flames flickering in a non-existent breeze, casting eerie shadows that danced across the floor.

The ceiling itself seemed impossibly high, lost in darkness, with only the occasional glint of metal hinting at the presence of ancient weapons or armor suspended in the gloom. It was as if the hall extended beyond what the eye could see, stretching into an infinite abyss where the echoes of past battles still lingered.

Massive stone pillars lined the hall, each one intricately carved with depictions of warriors, battles, and mythical creatures. Some pillars were cracked, their surfaces marred by what could only have been the impact of tremendous force, yet they still stood tall, defiant against the ravages of time.

The floor beneath their feet was not mere stone; it was a mosaic of ancient bones and shattered weapons, all fused together into a single, unyielding surface. It was as though the hall itself was forged from the remains of those who had fallen in battle, a testament to the countless lives lost in the pursuit of glory.

At the far end of the hall, a massive throne sat atop a raised Platform, carved from the same stone as the rest of the hall but adorned with the skulls of fallen kings and warlords. The skulls were arranged in a macabre display, each one staring out with empty eye sockets, as if they were still watching over the hall, judging those who entered. The throne was empty, yet it radiated a palpable sense of power, as if the very air around it was charged with the lingering presence of the warrior who once sat upon it.

Around the throne, the floor was littered with the remnants of battles, broken swords, shattered shields, and the bones of long-dead warriors. Some of the weapons still gleamed with an unnatural light, their edges sharp despite the passage of time, as if they were waiting for someone to pick them up and continue the fight.

As the cohort stood frozen, absorbing their surroundings, a sense of dread and awe settled over them like a heavy cloak. The hall was silent, but it was the kind of silence that comes after a great storm the calm before the next one. It was a place of legends, a realm where the greatest warriors of all time had come to test their mettle, and where the line between life and death was blurred beyond recognition.

Bruno's voice broke the silence, trembling with a mixture of awe and fear. "This… this is a Fallen Domain."

His words seemed to hang in the air, sinking into the minds of the cohort as they grappled with the reality of their situation. A Fallen Domain, places that had been spoken of only in whispers, ancient worlds on the brink of destruction, or long since fallen, now existing as realms that could be conquered and claimed by those who were strong enough. But to be here, to actually stand in such a place, was beyond comprehension.

Talitha's eyes were wide as she took in the vastness of the hall. "Heaven's Call… a domain where only the greatest warriors, those chosen by the Valkyries themselves, come to face their final challenge."

The words resonated with an ominous weight. Heaven's Call was no ordinary domain it was a place where the fiercest of the fallen were gathered, where warriors were tested in ways that defied mortal understanding. To be here was to stand on the precipice of something far greater than any of them had ever faced.

The cohort exchanged glances, each member's face a mirror of the fear and uncertainty that gripped their hearts. They had fought monsters, faced down impossible odds, but this… this was different. This was a place of legends, a realm where the rules of the mortal world did not apply.

As they stood there, the weight of their situation pressing down on them, they realized that they had been pulled into something far beyond their understanding. The world around them was alive with the echoes of the past, with the memories of battles fought and lives lost, and they were now a part of it.

The only way out was to conquer it, or be consumed by it.