The morning suns of Aetheleon—one a brilliant, scorching gold and the other a soft, ethereal violet—hung like twin eyes over the Human Capital. For two days, the city had been a playground of wonders for the "Company of Heroes." Under the guidance of Jai and James, the group moved through the floating markets and jade-paved avenues, a sight that turned heads and sparked whispers among the populace.
Brokk and Winston, though leaders in their own right within the Dwarf Kingdom's Linston Town, were wide-eyed. Even the stoic Zayn, the Prince of the Dwarves, found himself momentarily distracted by the sheer elegance of the human architecture—spires that seemed to be woven from white silk and starlight, gardens where the flowers sang in the presence of Qi, and bridges of solid light that spanned the gaps between floating islands.
"It is... overwhelming," Winston muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his axe. "The Dwarf Kingdom is built on the strength of the mountain, but this place... it is built on the dreams of the sky."
Little Arthur and Morisa skipped ahead, their laughter echoing through the plaza. But as they reached the Plaza of Eternal Remembrance, a silence fell over the group. In the center of the plaza stood a statue of a weeping mother holding a shattered sword—a memorial to those lost in the Great Wars.
Zayn stopped in his tracks. His eyes fixed on the statue, and the festive mood he had tried to maintain shattered like glass. The memory of his biological mother, long lost to time, and the recent, agonizing sacrifice of his step-mother, Queen Morlin, surged within him. He stood there, a prince of a fallen lineage, and the weight of being an orphan in two worlds finally broke his spirit.
Tears, hot and uncontrollable, began to stream down his face. He didn't sob loudly; it was the quiet, trembling grief of a warrior who had run out of strength.
Seeing their "big brother" in pain, Arthur and Morisa stopped playing. Their small faces crumpled. Morisa ran to Zayn, clutching his leg. "Big Brother Zayn, please don't cry," she whined, her own voice breaking. "If you cry like that, I... I'm going to cry forever too!"
The rest of the team—Jai, James, Brokk, and Winston—stood back, their hearts heavy. They knew that no words of theirs could bring back the dead. In this world of magic and monsters, mothers were often the first price paid for peace.
Suddenly, Rayn moved.
He didn't walk with the arrogance of a billionaire or the coldness of a stranger. He approached Zayn and slowly kneeled, bringing himself down to the level of the grieving prince. His face was still like an ice mountain, but his eyes held a depth of understanding that surprised even Jai.
"Zayn," Rayn said, his voice level and resonant. "I am not a man of this world, and perhaps I have no right to counsel a prince. But I know the weight of an empty chair at the dinner table."
Zayn looked up, his eyes red.
"When I was born on Earth," Rayn continued, his gaze drifting toward the horizon as if seeing the skyscrapers of Shanghai. "I had no father. I had no mother. I was a leaf in a storm, discarded by fate. But a woman named Valerie found me. She wasn't my blood. She didn't have to love me. But she raised me. She built the foundation of the man I am today. She taught me that the world does not give you what you deserve; it gives you what you take."
Rayn placed a firm hand on Zayn's shoulder. "I grew up thinking I was a ghost. I built a billion-dollar empire because I wanted to prove to the void that I existed. Valerie showed me that while we cannot change how we start, we decide how we finish."
The crowd of onlookers slowed, drawn to the intensity of Rayn's presence.
"The past is a chain if you let it be," Rayn said, his voice growing sharper, more commanding. "But it is a foundation if you use it. Your mothers did not die so you could weep in a plaza. They died so you could become an obstacle that the enemies of this world cannot overcome. Stand up, Prince. Move forward. Crush the things that try to stop you, and become a man that makes the heavens—and your mothers—proud."
Jai stood frozen, a shiver running down his spine. He isn't just a businessman, Jai realized. He is a leader of souls.
The motivation was infectious. Zayn wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his grip on his resolve tightening. "Thank you... Brother Rayn."
The mood shifted. The "Company of Heroes" surrounded Rayn, their eyes filled with a new level of respect. "Don't worry, Rayn," James said with a grin. "You've got a family now. We're all brothers here."
Later that day, as the purple sun began to dip below the clouds, Jai led Rayn to a place of profound spiritual power: The Synod of the Veil.
"This is where our history begins," Jai whispered as they approached the ancient temple. It was carved from a single block of obsidian, polished until it reflected the flickering stars. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged sandalwood and raw Qi.
In the center of the sanctum stood the statue of Emperor Dominatrix. She was depicted as a warrior-queen of unparalleled grace, her stone eyes seemingly tracing the movements of everyone in the room.
Rayn felt a strange pulse in his neck—the crimson marks of the twin swords were throbbing. He looked at the statue in confusion. Back on Earth, Valerie had raised him to be a strict rationalist. "God is a concept for those who are afraid of hard work," she would say. But looking at the statue, Rayn felt a presence that defied logic.
"We kneel here," Jai said, dropping to his knees with practiced ease. "To ask for the blessing of the progenitor before the Awakening."
Rayn followed suit, feeling awkward. He closed his eyes, mimicking Jai. beside him, a brilliant golden light began to erupt from Jai's body. It was warm, radiant, and peaceful—the light of a blessed scion.
If there is a god in this world, Rayn thought, his internal monologue echoing in the silence of his mind, help me. Give me the power to protect my mother, Rena. Give me the strength to maintain the status Beatrice has fought for. I don't care about being a king. I care about being a son.
Suddenly, the world around Rayn vanished.
The scent of sandalwood was replaced by the smell of rusted iron and ancient rot. He was no longer in the temple. He was standing in a Crimson Land. The sky was a bruised, bleeding red, and the ground was a muddy slush of blood and ash.
As far as the eye could see, there were bodies. Not just humans, but mountain-sized monsters, winged demons, and creatures of nightmare, all slaughtered in a heap. It was a battlefield of a scale that made the World Wars of Earth look like a playground scuffle.
In the center of this carnage stood a massive cage. It was forged from black-and-red metal that seemed to be made of frozen screams. Inside the cage, a black creature—a silhouette of pure, primordial darkness—paced back and forth. Its eyes were two burning pits of crimson fire. When it saw Rayn, it let out a sound that wasn't a roar, but a vibration that threatened to tear Rayn's soul apart.
In the physical world, Jai's eyes snapped open. He gasped.
Rayn was no longer praying. A terrifying aura of black and red light was spiraling around him, forming the faint, flickering shape of a monstrous entity. The light was being sucked into the mark on Rayn's neck like water into a whirlpool.
But what terrified Jai the most was the statue. The immovable obsidian statue of Emperor Dominatrix... was trembling. A hairline fracture appeared on its base, and the head of the statue seemed to tilt away from Rayn, as if the spirit of the Great Emperor herself was trying to flee from what was inside the man from Earth.
The vision snapped. Rayn fell forward, gasping for air, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"Rayn! Are you okay?" Jai asked, his voice shaking. He decided, in that moment, to hide what he had seen. He wouldn't tell Rayn about the monster or the statue's fear. It was too much.
"I'm fine," Rayn wheezed, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just... a vivid dream."
The two days passed with the speed of a falling star. The morning of the Awakening Ceremony arrived, and the Great Arena of Aetheleon was a sea of people. Thousands of citizens, from the lowest laborers to the highest ministers, packed the stands. The atmosphere was thick with tension—this wasn't just a ritual; it was the moment the fate of the Chenwongo bloodline would be decided.
Beatrice sat on her throne of gold and iron, her presence like a mountain. Beside her sat Rena, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes fixed on her son.
The Arena Host, a man with a voice reinforced by sound-amplifying Qi, stepped forward. "Today, we witness the birth of new legends! We have many who seek to awaken their roots!"
Beatrice turned to Rayn, who stood at the edge of the arena floor. "Hey, son. Are you ready? Do you wish to take the test first and show them the strength of my blood?"
Rayn looked at the crowd. He saw the ministers—the ones who had called for his death days ago—watching him with sneers and folded arms. They were waiting for him to fail. They were waiting for the "man from Earth" to be proven a fraud.
"No," Rayn said, his voice carrying through the silence. "I will go last."
Beatrice arched an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because," Rayn said, a cold, calculating smile playing on his lips, "everyone is here to see me. They are curious. They are anxious. Let them wait. Let them watch the others and build their expectations. I want their eyes to be tired and their hearts to be heavy before I show them who I am. I will take the final spot."
The Host announced Rayn's decision, and a wave of disappointment and murmuring rolled through the stands.
"He's afraid!" a minister whispered. "He's delaying the inevitable."
Rayn ignored them. He stood beside Jai, watching the ceremony begin. "Show me how it's done, Jai," Rayn whispered.
"Watch closely," Jai replied. "Last year, I awakened the shadow of Dominatrix. This year, we see the next generation."
The Host called the first name. "First candidate: Maksood Chenwongo!"
Maksood, a young boy with sharp black eyes and hair like a raven's wing, stepped forward. He was James' younger brother and Jai's small cousin. He looked nervous but determined. He walked to the center of the arena where the Awakening Crystal sat—a massive, multi-faceted gem held in the stone hands of another Dominatrix statue.
Maksood placed his hands on the crystal. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a low hum vibrated through the floor. The crystal began to glow—first a deep, tranquil blue for Water, then a fierce, crackling orange for Fire, and finally a sharp, gleaming silver for Metal.
"A Triple-Elemental Awakening!" the Host roared. "The Chenwongo blood remains strong!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Maksood bowed, his face flushed with pride, and returned to his seat.
For the next several hours, dozens of youths stepped forward. Some awakened single elements, some awakened physical enhancements, and many—painfully many—awakened nothing at all. The arena was a rollercoaster of laughter and "sad tears" as families were either elevated or crushed by the crystal's judgment.
Finally, the suns began to set, casting long, dramatic shadows across the arena floor. The Host stepped forward, his expression turning grave and respectful.
"The time has come. The final candidate of the year. The grandson of the Goddess of War, Lord Beatrice. The man who returned from the Void. Rayn Chenwongo!"
The silence that fell over the arena was absolute. It was as if the wind itself had stopped blowing. Every eye, every soul, every hidden spy in the rafters was fixed on the man in the midnight-blue robes.
Rayn stood up. He didn't look at the crowd. He looked only at the crystal.
If I fail, Rayn thought, his heart cold as ice, my mother falls with me. If I succeed, I change the world.
He walked down the stone steps, his footsteps echoing like the ticking of a doomsday clock. He reached the statue and the crystal. The gem was dark now, waiting for a new soul to ignite it.
Rayn reached out. His fingers brushed the cold surface of the crystal.
The moment Rayn's palms made full contact with the Awakening Crystal, the world didn't just light up—it shuddered.
Initially, the crystal remained dark. A second passed. Two. The ministers began to snicker. "A dud," one whispered. "The Earth-man has no root."