Nobody sent him.

Nobody called him.

He simply arrived — from above, at the exact coordinate that made the most visual sense — and introduced himself to a city that had been waiting, without knowing it, for exactly this.

His name is Veto. The one who judges all, and brings all to an end.

He workshopped that line for three weeks.

The city decided he was divine. The Twelve God Descendants who run Solspire from their tower at the center of everything are paying attention now. A criminal organization older than most nations is repositioning quietly. Six extraordinary women have pledged their lives to something they believe is cosmic.

They're not entirely wrong. That's the part he didn't plan for.

The shoulder points are level. They always are.

Everything else is still being decided.