Tophat of the Rift Dominion P1

The sky split like a rotting rind.

From the tear rose the Sinister Divine Pumpkin, vast and crowned in thorned vine. His grin burned across worlds as he carved reality into shards. Each fracture became a realm in his Rift Dominion- deserts frozen mid-scream, the forests hanging in broken air, oceans pouring into nothing.

Where the rifts opened, a colossal pumpkins rooted into soil and stone. Through them, he watched. Through them, he whispered. Seeds of him pulsed in every dimension, binding them to his will.

He did not conquer. He cultivated.

Worlds were crops. Civilizations were burnt.

And when the harvest moon bled across the shattered sky, he began to reap.