The Voideater Prime dragged itself across the ruined valley floor.
Every step erased sound.
Every breath erased light.
Its hollow face turned toward Aren like a predator recognizing the scent of inevitability.
Aren steadied his stance.
His lungs burned.
His ribs ached.
His arms trembled from exhaustion.
But his eyes—
his will—
did not waver.
The Remnant loomed behind him, silent, watchful.
"Voidscar bearer."
Aren kept his gaze locked on the Prime.
"I know."
"Lesson eleven requires completion."
Aren drew the Voidscar Bow.
"Finish it."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The Prime staggered toward him.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Just… inevitable.
Every step bent the fog inward.
The ground compressed beneath it.
The air thinned.
Aren swallowed hard.
How do you kill something that devours existence?
The Remnant answered his unspoken fear:
"Prime consumes presence.
It cannot consume what does not exist."
Aren frowned.
"…Meaning?"
The Remnant bowed its head.
"You must make an arrow that does not exist."
Aren froze.
"What kind of riddle is—"
"Voidborn bound by this world can be struck only by an impossibility."
Aren exhaled shakily.
"…An arrow that shouldn't exist."
He looked at his bow.
The void flickered along its shape—not violently, but like restrained lightning.
Aren whispered:
"How do I make something impossible?"
The Remnant answered simply:
"Will it."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The Prime's maw opened, a soundless scream bending the stone around Aren's feet.
His instincts screamed back.
But he ignored instinct.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Not back.
Forward.
He whispered:
"…If you want me—come get me."
The Prime lunged.
Aren drew the bow—
Void surged through the string—
not wild—
not chaotic—
but aligned.
His thoughts sharpened.
Not an arrow of power.
Not an arrow of destruction.
An arrow of intent that defied the rules the Prime relied on.
Aren whispered:
"I want an arrow…
with no presence."
The void hesitated.
Aren pushed harder.
"No presence."
"No weight."
"No anchor."
"Nothing for a Voideater to devour."
The void trembled—
resisted—
pulsed—
And then—
Went silent.
Aren felt it.
A flicker.
A ripple.
A shape in his hand that wasn't touching him.
An arrow that cast no light.
No shadow.
No sound.
An arrow that didn't exist.
Aren almost collapsed.
The Remnant's voice rumbled:
"Impossible arrow."
Aren raised the bow.
The Prime lunged.
Aren whispered:
"…Be real only when I tell you to."
And he fired.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The arrow left the bow without sound.
Without light.
Without presence.
The Prime didn't react.
It didn't move.
Didn't dodge.
Didn't devour.
Because there was nothing for it to sense.
Nothing for it to consume.
The arrow struck its chest—
And became real.
For one instant.
One impossible instant.
BOOOOOOOOM—!!!
The Prime convulsed—
Its body twisted inward—
imploding—
collapsing—
cracking—
A thousand fractures spread across its form.
The valley shook.
Fog ripped apart.
The Prime disintegrated—
not into dust—
not into void—
into absence.
Aren collapsed to one knee, panting violently.
He had done it.
He had fired an arrow that shouldn't exist.
The Remnant stepped beside him quietly.
"Lesson eleven complete."
Aren gasped.
"That…
hurt…"
"Of course."
Aren wiped sweat from his forehead.
"So… what now?"
The Remnant paused.
Its runes dimmed slightly.
"Lesson twelve will wait."
Aren looked up.
"…Why?"
The Remnant turned toward the horizon.
Fog peeled away.
The sky dimmed unnaturally.
A vibration rolled through the valley—
deep, ancient, hateful.
Not from a creature.
Not from a Remnant.
Not from a Voideater.
Aren's blood froze.
The Remnant stepped protectively in front of him.
"The king has awakened."
Aren's breath caught.
The Remnant continued:
"He feels what you have done."
A second vibration rolled through the ground—
stronger—
sharper—
directed.
Toward Aren.
Aren whispered:
"…He's coming."
The Remnant nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Aren tightened his grip on the bow.
He was no longer a conduit.
No longer a puppet.
No longer a broken evolution.
For the first time—
He had real power.
And the void king knew it.
The Remnant's final words were quiet.
"Prepare yourself."
Aren stood.
He wasn't ready.
But he would be.