*Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, violence, blood, and morally dark actions. Reader discretion advised.*
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Moonlight poured like pale silver into the great Imperial Hall, painting sharp shadows across the floor. Every emperor—rulers of the world's most powerful empires—was present, each hunched in their seat, faces barely concealing the hatred simmering beneath diplomatic masks.
Emperor Kaelen Stromspire, tall and gaunt in his shimmering storm-blue robes, leaned forward, knuckles pressing white against the table. He muttered—too low for the others to hear, but loud enough for venom to flavor his words.
"If only that bastard demon hadn't caused me this much trouble, I wouldn't be stuck begging for this damn alliance. After I rip that demon apart, I've heard he has a disciple. I'll kill that brat too—and make sure to feed him to the dogs. Hahaha… just you wait, you damned demon."
Many around the table shared the sentiment. They nodded with stiff, untrusting faces. The alliance was a bitter pill, swallowed with the knowledge that each would gladly betray the other to be rid of Void.
Meanwhile, miles away, Void sat in his home, surrounded by silence and shadow. Outside, the wind howled against the ancient wood, rattling windowpanes as if Nature itself sensed the coming bloodshed. But Void merely gazed at the sky, unmoved by the gathering storm. His eyes, deep pools of black with cosmic blue glimmering at the edges, reflected neither hope nor concern.
Suddenly, a glowing window materialized before him—a system prompt, flickering in the air like spectral circuitry.
"Host, if I may not be presumptuous," the system said with an odd formality, "could I ask you something?"
Void reclined in his seat, lips twisting into a lazy grin. The jest in his voice was thin, bordering on mockery.
"Yes, yes, go ahead—ask. Too many secrets floating in the air tonight."
The system's tone turned grave, the border around its window pulsing a faint red.
"Host, why don't you drop the act? Aren't you tired of this charade?"
The question, though simple, sliced through the silence like a blade. Void's expression changed with barely a flicker—his smile died, replaced by a hard, emotionless stare.
"What do you mean? And first of all, how did you know?" His voice dropped, cold, brittle as winter glass.
The system hesitated but pressed on.
"Forgive me, Host, for speaking out of turn. But the system is tethered to you—I feel what you feel. Since your arrival in this world, you have never once acted without purpose. If I try to read your thoughts, all I see is utter darkness—motives and ideas beyond my ability to interpret. And those gestures of kindness, the anger in Black Fire Town, and especially toward Leon… Was all of it just an act?"
Void's face twisted; his patience snapped. He shot a deadly glare at the floating screen.
"Shut the hell up. Know your place. Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? Who gave you permission?"
The system's aura flickered, its interface shrinking somewhat, almost as if recoiling in fear.
"Ah—y-yes, Host, I apologize."
Void snorted. "You should apologize. Now, give me a reason not to erase you right here. Why should I trust a tool that questions me?"
Eager to redeem itself, the system spoke quickly.
"What must I do, Host, to earn your trust? Name it."
Void sat back, the shadows around him flickering as he weighed the system's desperation.
"If you want my trust, spill a secret. Something truly important—something you've withheld."
The system paused, internal code cycling before it returned an answer.
"Here's the truth, Host. Even if you die, the system is bound to your soul. We cannot be separated, no matter the world, no matter the fate. Also—the system never chose you."
Void's eyes narrowed with intrigue. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Then who did?"
"You did, Host," the system said. "From the moment I gained awareness, my sole purpose was designed for you, and only for you. Your powers—the ability to create skills, to mold reality itself—were yours even before you entered this world. Do you believe me?"
Void's thoughts churned—flashes of memory, of battles lost, of victories won. The pain of weakness. The thrill of power. He had always wanted more, always craved dominance and control.
"I always knew I was different. Never satisfied. I once thought I hated myself for lacking power. But maybe I hated myself for not being… absolute. Tell me, how was it that I held the power of creation even back then?"
The system answered, window flickering.
"Host, you were born too strong. Someone—no power I know—sealed the essence of Void deep inside you. Their reason remains a mystery even I am not permitted to know. I am sorry, Host."
Void nodded slowly—the lines on his face drawn taut by tension and memory.
"Fine. After everything you've told me, maybe—just maybe—I'll trust you. For now."
The system pulsed green, relieved. "Thank you, Host. Perhaps, now that you trust me, I could ask you a question?"
Void raised an eyebrow, voice mocking. "So the tool wants to know something? How bold."
The system seemed to steel itself. "Yes, Host, I want to know how—"
The ground shivered beneath Void's feet, sending a glass of water rippling across the wooden tabletop. The system's curiosity was lost, replaced by urgency.
Void glanced up calmly, as if he'd expected the interruption. "Save your question. The empires are moving."
The system, recalibrating, asked, "What is your next plan, Host?"
Void's mind began to race, gears turning faster than any normal mind could fathom. Images of empires assembling, armies surging, assassins drawing blades in shadow flashed before his mental eye.
"If the empires are on the move, it means they'll send their elite assassins and warriors. They view me as the greatest threat, and so they'll send their finest. If the Heavenly God Sect exists, then surely other sects of equal power lurk unseen. Strong cultivators, ancient monsters. I need to move—now."
The system was silent, awed by Void's calculating speed.
"How does your mind juggle so many plans, Host?"
Void's lips curled into a wicked grin, teeth bared like a wolf scenting blood.
"Kahahaha! These empires have their precious Crown Princes—their cherished heirs, tucked away and protected. What if I take them? Every one. Lock them up in my own den, slice off a single finger from each. The screams—their royal begging—will be music to my ears. Piece by piece, limb by limb, nail by nail… until they know what it means to face true despair. But no matter how fun, I'll keep my games quiet. The gods can't know—not yet."
The system said nothing, its virtual presence shrinking into uneasy silence as Void laughed, the sound echoing through his dark home.
Void stretched, finally rising from the chair, his gaze turning as sharp and endless as the night sky.
"From now on, system—don't show yourself unless I call for you, or unless it's truly urgent. Understand?"
"Yes, Host. I understand," the system responded, its voice soft and respectful.
Void stared out the window, where the moon was now barely visible behind storm clouds. The winds were howling—perhaps with anticipation, perhaps with fear.
"I suppose it's time. The empire will come for me soon, with their so-called greatest warriors. Let them come. I'm leaving home now, but only to let the hunt begin."
He packed his last possessions—a sheath for his blades, a single book left open on his desk, ancient secrets scrawled in languages only he and the system understood. His footsteps echoed through empty halls and out into the wild night.
In the shadows, Void's eyes glimmered—a mixture of anticipation, hunger, and pure, chilling joy. Plans unfolded in his mind, dark and boundless as the cosmos. He would face mountains, gods, and demons if he had to. But tonight, his only rivals were a handful of trembling emperors and their precious, soon-to-be ruined heirs.
He walked away from the house, wind trailing behind him, ready to turn every alliance against itself—and make sure that no one, human or god, would ever forget the name Void.
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