Chapter Thirty-Three: Echo of Dimensions – The Covenant of the Ancients

As the circle of symbols encircling the First Gate completed its pattern, a thunderous pulse rang out—unlike anything in this world. A surge of violet flames, laced with silver flashes, shot into the sky, as if time itself had split apart. The air trembled, the light shattered, and all that was familiar seemed to be torn asunder beneath the weight of an ancient call.

Sajibro stood at the head of the hall, surrounded by the Shadow Commanders, all silent beneath the weight of reverence. Their eyes were fixed on the gate, which had opened to a realm that could not be measured by space or time. No beast emerged—only a voice.

An ancient, abyssal voice. It touched the throat like a whisper from beneath the earth and shook the heart like the roar of a storm:

"Those who departed... have returned."

From within the thickening mist, the first of them stepped forward.

A towering man, his skin etched with metallic cracks as though time had carved its curses upon him. His eyes burned with the color of the last sunset before the world ends. Behind him appeared a woman with human-like features blended with danger and stillness; her long hair was the black of oblivion, her arms inscribed with glyphs that belonged to no known tongue.

They approached and stood before Sajibro's throne… and knelt.

The man spoke with a voice like the echo of an ancient bell:

"I am Nazareem, Keeper of the First Gate."

And the woman followed, her voice a dream given speech:

"And I am Seraline, Guardian of the Dimensional Keys."

No silence lingered for long, as a third woman appeared behind them. Her features were ageless, her cloak shimmered with changing colors every time she blinked, and her eyes held no anchor.

"My name is Alyra… and I shall seal this covenant."

Sajibro looked at them calmly, then gestured toward the round table at the center of the hall.

The three stood in line, awaiting the word.

Sajibro spoke, his tone steady, as if completing a sentence that began centuries ago:

"I will not revive what has perished… but I will forge what deserves to endure. You want land to rebuild your strength, and I want an army that crosses dimensions like a blade through flesh."

Alyra stepped forward and said:

"The land adjacent to the Shadow Realm… shall be ours. We will dwell under your banner and fight under your terms."

Sajibro nodded. Then Leon Azur rose from his place, speaking with stern authority:

"But if anyone betrays this pact… no gate shall ever open for them again."

Seraline smiled and said:

"We are the makers of gates… and the ones who bury them."

Then, the ground beneath them began to beat—like a heart waking from a coma. The armies of the Ancients emerged from the dimensional fissure, moving silently from the ashes of the past toward the construction of a new stronghold—suspended between what was… and what is to come.

Amid this solemn moment, Sajibro suddenly asked:

"Where is Jinro?"

A shadow stepped from between the pillars—only the aura of authority could be seen, walking soundlessly.

Sajibro approached him, his voice as firm as a verdict:

"Enter the Demon Realm. We know who stands with us… but who stands against us? Learn who leads them, when they will strike, and why no messenger has come."

Then he extended his hand and placed a small, black-glowing stone into Jinro's palm.

"When you hear the third whistle… break it. We'll know then who the traitor is—before the betrayal happens."

Jinro didn't speak. Did he smile? Perhaps. Then he melted into the shadows like light dissolving into the heart of night.

He left behind a silence on edge… a silence like the calm before the storm. But it wasn't peace—it was the beginning of the end.

End of Chapter Thirty-Three.