Heaven tilts.
Earth falls.
The singularity of time and destiny falls here, plunging into deeper space-time and dimensions. Amid overlapping layers of destiny, the observer who shatters uncertain states and barriers falls into the anchor point—
Caliban.
According to normal temporal logic, Caliban in the main destiny line long since ceased to exist; it already became floating meteorite fragments in the void back in 261.M31.
In Imperial official history, Caliban was blasted apart in 261.M31 due to the Dark Angels Legion civil strife.
Yet at this very moment—Caliban is right here. The forests across the planet's surface are lush and green, a gentle breeze rustles through, and the roars of monstrous creatures echo deep within the woods. In human settlements, factories forged by the Adeptus Mechanicus roar. Everything is just as it was in the beginning, everything as normal—except for the falling heaven and earth, and the Ouroboros inhabiting the deep underground of Caliban.
No, the Ouroboros has perhaps already changed. It is the only entity undergoing change here. The artifact left by the Old Ones is not something that can be observed or described with the naked eye; this bizarre creation is far more abstract. It inhabits a higher, more multi-dimensional space. It is Caliban itself, or perhaps the spatial dimension inhabited by Caliban.
Now, the serpent is awakened.
It writhes slowly, devouring its tail, writhing ceaselessly through space-time.
Multiple destinies and space-times fall here, descending into the brilliant scales upon the giant serpent. Each scale flashes with gorgeous colors amidst flowing light—vibrant, colorful, and kaleidoscopic. Each scale is a destiny, each scale is a truth.
Every single one is reality.
Yet reality will only have one—only a single one.
A future won by a gamble.
At least Neos firmly believes this.
Even if he is long no longer