Chapter 1 -The Weakest Prince
The Imperial Ancestral Hall was silent.
Too silent.
Prince Aariv knelt alone at the center of the hall, his forehead pressed against the cold obsidian floor. Around him stood statues of past emperors—men who had split mountains, burned seas, and commanded heaven itself.
Aariv could do none of that.
"Still kneeling?" a cold voice echoed.
His elder brother, Prince Kael, stepped forward. Golden spiritual energy wrapped his body like a second skin. Courtiers bowed instantly.
Aariv did not move.
"You were born without a spiritual root," Kael continued calmly.
"A prince with no power is worse than a servant."
Laughter rippled through the hall.
The Emperor did not defend him.
The ministers did not look at him.
His mother's name was not even mentioned.
Aariv already knew the verdict.
He was unfit for the throne.
Yet when the throne war was announced—
when all princes were allowed to compete—
Aariv stood up.
"I will participate," he said quietly.
The hall exploded in laughter.
That night, alone in the abandoned palace wing, Aariv collapsed from pain.
Something ancient awakened inside him.
Not light.
Not fire.
Not qi.
But emptiness.
A whisper echoed in his shattered consciousness:
"If Heaven rejected you… then you belong to me."
And somewhere far above—
Heaven took notice.
Chapter 2 – The Throne War Begins
The decree was announced at dawn.
Golden banners unfurled across the Imperial Capital, glowing with spiritual inscriptions that shook the sky.
"By the will of the Emperor and Heaven itself—
the Throne War shall begin."
Every prince would compete.
Every prince except one was expected to win.
Prince Aariv stood at the edge of the crowd, cloaked in plain robes, his presence barely noticed. Cultivators radiated power around him—spiritual pressure heavy enough to bend stone.
Aariv felt nothing.
No qi.
No resonance.
No blessing.
Only silence inside his body.
Whispers followed him like shadows.
"The useless one actually came."
"He has no spiritual root."
"Does he want to embarrass himself again?"
Aariv kept walking.
⚔️ The First Trial
The first trial was simple.
Survival.
The princes were thrown into the Beast Burial Arena, a sealed domain filled with spiritual beasts bred for slaughter. Only those who emerged alive would advance.
When the gates closed, killing intent flooded the air.
Prince Kael laughed openly.
"Try not to die too quickly, little brother."
Aariv did not answer.
The moment the horn sounded, chaos erupted.
Fire techniques.
Lightning blades.
Exploding talismans.
Beasts screamed. Blood sprayed.
Aariv ran—not toward glory, but toward shadow.
He dodged attacks he could not block.
Endured wounds he could not heal.
Used broken weapons discarded by others.
When a beast lunged at him, he stabbed its eye with a rusted spear—again and again—until his arms shook.
Pain burned through his body.
But something else stirred.
That emptiness again.
When he was cornered, surrounded by corpses, breath ragged—
The world slowed.
The beast's killing intent vanished into nothing.
For a heartbeat, Aariv felt it.
Not power.
Absence.
The beast collapsed, its life erased without sound.
Aariv staggered back, terrified.
What… was that?
👁️ The Watching Heavens
High above the arena, unseen by mortals, golden eyes opened.
"This one is strange," a voice murmured.
"He should not exist."
Another voice replied coldly:
"Mark him. If he grows… erase him."
🩸 End of the Trial
When the gates reopened, only half remained.
Aariv walked out last—bloodied, limping, alive.
The crowd fell silent.
The Emperor's gaze paused on him for half a second.
That was enough.
Aariv knew the truth then.
He had not gained allies.
He had gained attention.
And in the throne war—
Attention was a death sentence.
Chapter 3 – The Princes Turn Their Blades
The second trial was never announced publicly.
It never needed to be.
Everyone who mattered already understood the rule.
Only three princes would be allowed to live.
The rest would either die…
or disappear quietly.
⚔️ The Unspoken Alliance
Night fell over the Imperial Trial Grounds.
Prince Aariv sat alone beneath a broken stone arch, wrapping torn cloth around his arm. The wound throbbed, but he did not groan. Pain had become familiar.
Footsteps approached.
Three sets.
He looked up.
Prince Kael stood at the front, flanked by two other royal heirs—both smiling.
"Little brother," Kael said softly, almost kindly.
"You surprised us today."
Aariv said nothing.
"Unfortunately," Kael continued, "surprises are dangerous in a throne war."
The air shifted.
Killing intent—sharp, deliberate—locked onto Aariv from all sides.
This wasn't a duel.
This was an execution without witnesses.
🩸 Hunt of the Weak
Aariv ran.
Spells tore through the darkness behind him. Trees exploded. Stone melted. The ground cracked.
He didn't fight back.
He couldn't.
A blade sliced across his back. Another pierced his shoulder. Blood soaked into the earth.
Yet he kept moving.
Endure.
Survive.
That emptiness inside him stirred again—faint, distant, unreachable.
Kael laughed as they chased him.
"Look at him run! This is the prince Father never wanted!"
Aariv tripped.
Hands slammed him into the ground.
A boot crushed his spine.
Kael crouched beside him.
"You should've stayed invisible," he whispered.
"Now Heaven has noticed you."
⚔️ Final Betrayal
A sword was raised.
Not Kael's.
It belonged to Prince Ren, the only one who had ever spoken kindly to Aariv as a child.
"I'm sorry," Ren said, voice shaking.
"But I want to live."
The blade fell.
Pain exploded.
Then—
Nothing.
⚫ The Moment of Death
Sound vanished.
Sight vanished.
Aariv felt his soul tearing apart—fragment by fragment—ripped from fate itself.
In that endless darkness, something ancient stirred.
No voice this time.
No whisper.
Only a presence.
Cold. Vast. Empty.
You have been discarded, it conveyed.
So have I.
The world collapsed inward.
👁️ Above the Mortal Realm
Golden lightning split the heavens.
"He's dead," one divine voice declared.
"Erase his name from the records," another said.
And Heaven turned away.
Below Everything
Aariv fell.
Not into hell.
Not into reincarnation.
But into a place between existence and oblivion.
The Abyss welcomed him silently.
And for the first time—
He did not feel weak.