A stillness blanketed the Akashic Records.
Despite being a place beyond time, space, and form—a realm untouched by causality—there was something deeply human in the silence that surrounded Jin Shang. The infinite rows of radiant tomes extended in all directions, some floating, some orbiting concepts not meant for mortal minds. Every book contained truths that could unravel galaxies, rewrite pantheons, or destroy entire timelines.
Jin stood at the heart of it all, changed.
His once-human eyes now shimmered with the reflections of forgotten epochs. His soul had brushed against knowledge forbidden to even gods. He had learned of civilizations that rose before existence, of horror beasts that slithered between realities, and of Monarchs—those who fed on the collapse of creation.
But there was one book he had not yet opened. One question he had not yet asked.
Then, the veil beside him rippled like silk dipped in starlight. From the shimmering folds stepped Nyreth—robed in living silver, his presence as calm as it was unsettling.
"You've absorbed enough to fracture the sanity of Primordial Lords," Nyreth said with a quiet smirk. "Yet here you are, still standing."
Jin turned slowly. "Is there anything else I need to know?"
His voice was steady, but Nyreth could see the tremble—not from fear, but from the burden of truth.
Without a word, Nyreth offered him a final tome. This one was different.
Forged from silver flame, bound by cosmic chains, and bearing the symbol of a thousand suns. The air around it warped slightly, like the book was rejecting the presence of reality.
The Book of the Overlord.
"The Watchers of Light," Nyreth spoke softly. "The natural enemies of the Abyss."
Jin opened it—and for a moment, he saw.
He saw beings cloaked in human form, standing beneath a silvery moon in a realm untouched by death and time. They walked among cities made of crystal light, their mere presence purifying the very concept of decay.
The Lunar World.
Home of the Overlords—entities equal in power to the Monarchs, yet born of the opposite essence.
Where Monarchs embodied Entropy, Despair, and Death, the Overlords represented Rebirth, Order, and Purification.
They were High Outerversal Entities, formed in the dawnlight. When the Monarchs tried to devour the Tree of All Futures, it was the Overlords who fought them in the First Primordial War—a war that shattered twelve versions of reality and collapsed the timelines.
Jin felt his breath catch.
"If they're the enemy of the Monarchs," he asked, "then can they help us now?"
Nyreth nodded. "Yes. They can. But you—won't allow them."
Jin's brows furrowed. "Why not?"
"Read carefully," Nyreth said, pointing to a line glowing faintly in divine ink.
Jin did.
His soul froze.
"No… no way…"
There, in impossibly clear language, the Overlords had recorded their vow: If the Heir of Aurevian awakens, she must be judged. Whether light or dark, vessel or victim, she shall not walk free—lest the seals fall.
Nyreth stepped closer. "Lillian… is the Heir of Aurevian. She carries the seed of Monarchhood. If she awakens completely and remains pure, the Monarchs will stay sealed. But if she falters, the Overlords will end her… or cast her into the Nothingness beyond all things."
"And if she turns evil?"
Nyreth's voice dropped to a whisper. "She'll shatter the seals. The Monarchs will rise. Even Solmiras will return."
The name made Jin's chest tighten. Solmiras—the Monarch of Sleeping Star, The Demonic God Sultan, the one who devoured narratives themselves. The one who even the Akashic Records avoid recording fully.
"There's more," Nyreth said. "The Monarchs cannot descend in full. Their true bodies annihilate everything they touch, even conceptually. So they act through vessels—successors born of fate. Every Monarch has one. And each successor… is as powerful as you."
Jin stood still. Thoughts raced. Memories of Lia's smile, her voice, her pain. Everything.
"I can't let this happen," he muttered.
Nyreth stepped in front of him. "Then what will you do, Jin? What if she awakens as the Monarch of Balance? What if she becomes evil?"
Jin's eyes flared with light. "Then I'll protect her—even if she becomes a Monarch. Even if she turns evil… I'll bring her back."
Nyreth stared at him—long and quiet.
Then, slowly, he released a breath and raised his hand. "Then your path is clear."
A celestial portal formed beneath them—etched with radiant runes, bound by fate, and glowing with the power of a thousand lifetimes. It pulsed like a heartbeat calling Jin forward.
Jin turned toward the light—then paused.
"…Why are you helping me?" he asked.
Nyreth's face changed. For the first time, sadness.
"Because I made a promise… to my master."
Jin's eyes widened. "Who—"
"You'll know… when the time comes."
The portal roared to life. Light engulfed him, swallowing his form.
As the Akashic Records blurred behind him, Nyreth whispered to the empty chamber:
"Jin… do you know what it really means to be a True King?"
And the Records, ever ancient, ever watching, spoke back with a single name:
Jin Shang—The Successor of Monarch.