The silence stretched.
Aetheron stood over the Sovereign's blade, his fingers tightening around the hilt. The weight of it pressed against his palm—not just physical, but something deeper.
A presence. A will.
The sword still carried the echoes of its last wielder.
Aetheron exhaled and lifted the weapon. The moment he did, a pulse ran through the air.
The battlefield trembled. The sky above seemed to darken, the clouds twisting unnaturally.
The hooded figure behind him didn't move, but their voice was calm. "You've awakened it."
Aetheron glanced at them. "What happens now?"
The figure turned, walking away. "You see what it wants to show you."
And then—
The world shifted.
The Sovereign's Throne
Aetheron was no longer standing on the battlefield.
He was in a throne room.
But it wasn't grand. It wasn't golden or shining. It was in ruins.
The massive hall stretched endlessly, its walls cracked, pillars broken. The once-proud banners of the Sovereign hung in tatters.
And at the center—
A throne.
Carved from dark stone, worn and chipped. But still standing.
Aetheron's breath was slow. He wasn't alone.
There was someone sitting in that throne.
At first, it was just a shadow—a figure draped in a heavy cloak, face hidden.
But then—they moved.
The air grew heavy.
Aetheron's hand clenched around the blade instinctively.
The figure leaned forward. Their voice was deep, steady, but layered with something ancient.
"You finally came."
Aetheron didn't answer immediately. His eyes sharpened. "…Who are you?"
The figure let out a small, almost amused breath.
Then, they stood.
The moment they did, the weight in the room increased tenfold.
Aetheron barely kept his footing.
The figure stepped forward. The shadows peeled away—revealing golden eyes.
Eyes that burned with power.
Eyes that looked just like his.
Bloodlines and Fate
Aetheron's mind clicked into place. This wasn't just anyone.
It was him.
The Sovereign.
His voice was quieter now, but it carried through the room. "You are my blood. My successor."
Aetheron's pulse pounded. He had expected pieces of the past, echoes of the battle. Not this. Not him.
"…Why now?" Aetheron asked, his voice even.
The Sovereign tilted his head slightly, as if considering. "Because you're finally strong enough to hear the truth."
Aetheron didn't react. He just waited.
The Sovereign slowly walked down the steps of the throne. His golden eyes never left Aetheron's. "You are not meant to follow my path." His voice held something strange—regret.
Aetheron's grip on the sword relaxed slightly. "Then why did you give me your power?"
The Sovereign stopped in front of him.
For the first time, he looked… tired.
"Because I failed."
Aetheron said nothing.
The Sovereign continued, his voice lower now. "I was strong. I was feared. But I was not enough."
He glanced toward the ruined throne. "The Entity… it was beyond anything I had ever faced. I fought it, again and again. And in the end…"
His eyes returned to Aetheron.
"…I lost."
The Unfinished War
The air was still.
Aetheron's heartbeat was steady, but his mind was racing.
The Sovereign lost.
That meant—the Entity was still out there.
Waiting.
Aetheron exhaled through his nose. "So this power… this was never about me."
The Sovereign's gaze sharpened. "No. It is about what comes next."
Aetheron frowned slightly. He didn't like it. Didn't like being handed a burden from a man who had already failed.
But before he could speak, the Sovereign lifted his hand.
And the world changed again.
The Warning
They weren't in the throne room anymore.
They were standing above a world in flames.
The sky was black. Not from night, but from smoke and destruction.
The land below was torn apart, massive craters swallowing entire cities. The oceans boiled, their waters turning red.
And in the distance—
A figure stood in the wreckage.
It wasn't just darkness.
It was emptiness.
Aetheron's breath hitched. His Dominion pulsed violently, warning him. Even just the vision of it was overwhelming.
The Sovereign's voice was quiet beside him. "This is what will happen."
Aetheron didn't look away. "…When?"
The Sovereign exhaled. "Soon."
Aetheron finally turned toward him. "And if I don't fight?"
The Sovereign met his gaze, calm and unwavering.
"Then everything ends."
The Weight of Choice
The vision faded.
Aetheron was back in the ruined throne room, his breath even, his hands steady.
The Sovereign watched him carefully.
For the first time, Aetheron felt it—the weight of what was coming.
He wasn't ready.
Not yet.
But he would be.
The Sovereign's golden eyes burned as he spoke his final words.
"Surpass me."
"Or fall like I did."
Aetheron closed his eyes for a brief second.
When he opened them, they gleamed with something cold and sharp.
"We'll see."