Twenty years had passed since the fall of the Sovereign, Yaowang Ming—a name that once dominated the heavens themselves, now buried beneath time, spoken only in whispers that faded before they could take shape. In the Human Kingdom of Aetheleon, life had moved forward, as it always did. Empires rose, bloodlines expanded, and power continued to decide the worth of every living soul.
But some things refused to be forgotten.
Jai awoke with a violent gasp, his body jerking upright as if he had been pulled from the depths of something far darker than a dream. His chest heaved, each breath sharp and uneven, while a thin layer of cold sweat clung to his skin. For a few moments, he couldn't move. The sensation of the dream lingered—too vivid, too real—like frost that had seeped into his bones.
It was happening again.
Not a normal dream.
Never just a dream.
In that world, he was not Jai Chenwongo—the golden-haired heir of one of the most powerful families in Aetheleon. He was someone else entirely. His body felt different. Lighter, yet infinitely more dangerous. His thoughts were calm, devoid of hesitation or doubt, as if morality itself had been carved out of him.
He stood upon a battlefield that looked like the aftermath of a god's wrath. The frozen ground was buried beneath corpses, their lifeless forms twisted into unnatural shapes. Blood painted the snow in colors that did not belong to this world—green, black, purple—and yet none of it drew his attention.
Because standing before him…
Was a man.
White hair flowing like a storm of snow. Crimson eyes that burned with an intensity that felt like it could tear reality itself apart. Even in the dream, even without understanding why, Jai knew that this was no ordinary being.
Yaowang Ming.
The name surfaced in his mind without permission.
His body moved.
Not by choice.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of a black blade—heavy, ancient, and filled with a presence that felt alive. Step by step, he approached the white-haired Sovereign, his movements steady, controlled, inevitable. It felt less like walking… and more like being pulled forward by something unseen.
Then—
The blade fell.
There was resistance.
Flesh.
Bone.
And then something gave way.
Warm liquid splashed across his hand.
Gold.
The severed limb fell into the snow, fingers twitching faintly as if refusing to accept the reality of its separation. The golden blood spread across the frozen ground, hissing softly as it made contact with the ice.
For a single moment, the world seemed to stop.
Yaowang Ming turned.
Their eyes met.
And in those eyes, there was no fear.
Only something far worse.
A warning.
A promise that felt like it had already been fulfilled.
Jai's vision shattered.
He gasped, his eyes snapping open as reality came crashing back. His hands clenched tightly against the silk sheets beneath him, his body trembling despite himself.
"…Just a dream," he whispered hoarsely, though the words felt hollow even to him. "Just a dream…"
But it didn't feel like one.
The sensation of that strike—the weight of the blade, the warmth of the blood—still lingered in his body like a memory he wasn't supposed to have.
Unable to remain still, he forced himself out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, his bare feet pressing against the cold marble floor. The chill grounded him slightly, pulling him further away from whatever that dream had been.
He pressed the rune embedded into the wall.
At once, the artifact activated with a soft hum. Streams of water emerged, but they did not flow normally. Instead, they took the form of translucent crimson fish, swimming through the air in graceful arcs before dissolving into liquid within the basin. It was an unnecessary display of luxury—something meant to showcase wealth and refinement.
Jai barely noticed.
He splashed the cold water onto his face repeatedly, his breathing slowly stabilizing. When he finally lifted his head, his reflection stared back at him—golden hair slightly disheveled, blue eyes unsettled, as if something within them had shifted.
"…Why does it feel real?" he murmured.
Before he could dwell on it further, a sharp knock echoed through the room.
"Come in," Jai said, his voice steadier now.
The door opened, and Mable Chenwongo stepped inside. She carried herself with effortless authority, her deep blue dress woven from spirit-thread silk that shimmered faintly with each step. Her eyes, cold and precise, scanned Jai in an instant—not just as a mother, but as someone evaluating an investment.
She placed a cup of coffee on the table before pulling him into a brief embrace.
"Happy Birthday, Jai."
"Thank you, Mother."
She stepped back, her gaze narrowing slightly.
"You look exhausted."
"Didn't sleep well."
"Hm." She dismissed it instantly. "Irrelevant. What matters is what comes next."
Her tone sharpened, cutting cleanly through the air.
"The Awakening Ceremony is near. You will not fail."
Jai didn't argue.
He simply nodded.
Because in this family, failure was not something that could be tolerated.
It was something that was erased.
The dining hall of the Chenwongo estate was less a place to eat and more a declaration of dominance.
Massive pillars forged from Spirit-Iron alloy rose toward the ceiling, each one engraved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with dormant energy. The floor beneath their feet was crafted from polished Obsidian Marble, reflecting the golden glow of the chandeliers above like a dark mirror.
At the center of the hall stretched an enormous table carved from Black Starwood—a material so dense and rare that even high-level cultivators would struggle to leave a mark upon it. Intricate inlays of gold, silver, and crystalline mana threads ran along its surface, forming patterns that told stories of conquest, bloodshed, and legacy.
Everything in this room spoke of power.
And everything in this room demanded it.
Jai stepped inside, immediately feeling the weight of countless gazes fall upon him.
"Jai, finally decided to join us?" Mable called, her voice light, though her eyes remained sharp.
He took his seat beside his father.
Edward Chenwongo didn't smile.
"Eighteen," Edward said calmly. "The age where talent becomes destiny."
Jai inclined his head. "Yes, Father."
Edward's gaze lingered for a moment longer.
"If your awakening is weak," he continued, "you will not remain where you are."
No anger.
No raised voice.
Just truth.
Because in Aetheleon, power was not something you desired.
It was something you needed to exist.
The atmosphere shifted the moment she entered.
Rena.
Her presence clashed violently with the perfection of the hall. Her clothes were plain, her hair unkempt, her posture hesitant. She looked like someone who did not belong—and in the eyes of everyone present, she didn't.
A maid immediately turned, her expression twisting in disgust.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" she snapped. "Stay in your quarters. Food will be brought to you."
Rena lowered her gaze.
"…I didn't receive anything yesterday," she said quietly.
No one reacted.
Jai's grip tightened slightly beneath the table.
The maid scoffed and shoved a plate into her hands.
"Then take this and leave."
Before Rena could move—
Silence fell.
Beatrice had arrived.
She did not need to release her aura. Her presence alone was enough to suppress the entire hall. Six hundred years of cultivated strength rested within her, not displayed—but contained.
"Good morning, Mother," Rena whispered.
Beatrice didn't look at her.
Not even once.
She walked past and took her seat at the head of the table.
Only then did her gaze shift—slowly, deliberately—toward Jai and James.
For a brief moment, it felt as if the weight of the entire hall had settled onto their shoulders.
"Jai. James."
Her voice was calm, controlled, yet carried absolute authority.
"Happy birthday."
There was no warmth.
No softness.
"And congratulations on your graduation."
A pause followed.
"Enjoy this moment while you can."
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"Because by the end of the week, your worth will be decided."
The words settled into the room like a verdict.
Jai nodded.
Because there was nothing else he could do.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of celebration and expectation. Jai attended his graduation alongside James, surrounded by nobles who laughed freely, their confidence built on the assumption that strength was inevitable.
But Jai knew better.
Strength was never guaranteed.
It was taken.
That night, back in his room, the silence felt heavier than before.
The artifact gifted to him—the Floater—hovered gently in the air, glowing faintly with contained energy. It was a tool meant to stabilize power, to guide its user toward greater heights.
But only for those who possessed power.
Jai's gaze shifted toward the door.
Somewhere beyond it—
Rena existed.
Forgotten.
Discarded.
"…Power decides everything," he murmured.
His reflection stared back at him.
Different.
Colder.
"I won't end up like her."
His voice dropped further.
"I don't just want power…"
A faint smile formed.
"I need it."
Deep within him, something stirred.
A fragment of that dream.
A shadow of a man with blue hair.
A blade falling.
Golden blood.
Jai's eyes hardened.
"I will make this world mine."
And this time—
There was no doubt in his mind.