Aetheron stood amidst the fallen.
The air was thick with dust and the fading echoes of battle. Broken stone, shattered weapons, and bodies lay scattered around him. Some groaned in pain, others lay still.
The leader of the Sovereign's Hunters sat against a cracked pillar, catching his breath. His armor was dented, his halberd lay at his side, but his gaze was steady.
"Satisfied?" Aetheron asked, rolling his shoulders. His body ached, but the new power inside him still pulsed strong, like a second heartbeat.
The hunter smirked. "For now."
Aetheron exhaled. "So, what happens next?"
The hunter tilted his head, looking at the sky. "That depends."
Aetheron frowned. "On what?"
The hunter met his gaze. "On whether you're as strong as you think you are."
Aetheron sighed. "Always cryptic."
But before the hunter could respond—
Aetheron felt it.
A shift in the air.
A pulse of power, distant but unmistakable.
Something was coming.
The Approaching Storm
Aetheron turned his head toward the horizon. The sky was darker there, like a storm brewing in the distance. But this wasn't just any storm.
He could feel it.
A presence. A force. Something unnatural.
The hunter noticed his expression and chuckled. "Ah. You feel it too, don't you?"
Aetheron's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
The hunter exhaled, pushing himself to his feet. "Something... old. Something waiting for you."
Aetheron clenched his fists.
This power—it wasn't just some stray energy. It was calling to him.
And for some reason, that unsettled him.
A Choice to Make
Aetheron glanced at the fallen hunters. He could leave them here. They weren't dead. They'd recover.
But if he hesitated now—
That thing on the horizon would reach him before he was ready.
He turned to the leader. "Are you going to stand in my way again?"
The hunter shook his head. "No. Our fight's over. Whether you survive what's coming next… that's your problem."
Aetheron smirked. "Fair enough."
Then, without another word—
He vanished into the shadows.
The Road to the Unknown
Aetheron moved fast, his body barely touching the ground as he traveled through the ruins. Each step carried him closer to the source of that energy.
The air grew colder.
The sky darkened.
And then—he saw it.
A massive obsidian gate, half-buried in the ruins of what looked like an ancient city.
It pulsed with dark energy, veins of crimson light running through its surface like it was alive.
And standing before it—
A figure cloaked in shadows.
Aetheron stopped a few steps away. "You waiting for me?"
The figure turned, revealing a mask with a single glowing eye.
"You came faster than I expected," the voice was smooth, but unnatural, like it echoed from multiple places at once.
Aetheron crossed his arms. "And you are?"
The masked figure tilted its head. "A gatekeeper."
Aetheron raised a brow. "Gatekeeper of what?"
The figure gestured to the massive gate behind them. "Of the past. Of the truth. Of the thing you've been running from."
Aetheron frowned. "I don't run from anything."
The figure chuckled. "No? Then step through and prove it."
Aetheron's eyes narrowed.
Something about this felt off.
Too easy. Too… planned.
But at the same time—
He had to know.
What was behind that gate?
Why did it feel like it was meant for him?
Crossing the Threshold
Aetheron exhaled. "Fine."
He stepped forward—
And the moment he did—
The world shifted.
The ruins, the gate, the masked figure—all dissolved into nothingness.
And then—
He was somewhere else.
The Forgotten Realm
Aetheron found himself standing in a vast, endless hall.
The walls were lined with towering statues—each one depicting a figure wreathed in power. Some looked like warriors, others like kings, but all of them shared something in common.
Their eyes.
Empty. Hollow. Like they had been devoured.
Aetheron took a slow breath. "What is this place…?"
A voice echoed through the hall.
"A graveyard."
Aetheron turned—but no one was there.
"A graveyard of those who sought power but could not control it."
Aetheron frowned. "And I suppose you're going to tell me I'll end up like them?"
A pause.
Then—
"That depends on you."
Aetheron narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
The voice chuckled.
And then—
The statues began to move.
Trial of the Forgotten
One by one, the stone figures stepped down from their pedestals.
Their hollow eyes locked onto Aetheron.
And then—
They attacked.
Aetheron reacted instantly, dodging the first strike—a massive stone sword cleaving the ground where he had just been standing.
He countered—shadows lashing out.
The attack landed—but the statue didn't even flinch.
Aetheron clicked his tongue. "Tough bastards."
Another came at him—this one faster, its stone fists moving with terrifying precision.
Aetheron weaved between the blows, but he could feel it—
They weren't just mindless constructs.
They were learning.
Adapting.
Testing him.
Aetheron exhaled. "Alright, then."
No holding back.
His Dominion flared—the shadows twisting, expanding.
And then—
He struck.
One blow—a statue shattered.
Another—a second fell.
The others hesitated.
And in that moment—Aetheron saw it.
At the far end of the hall—
A door.
And behind it—something waiting.
Something watching.
Aetheron smirked.
"Guess I better not keep it waiting."
And then—
He charged forward.