Year Eleven.
Kaelen stood at the edge of the mountain peak, looking out over the realm. Cherry blossoms fell around him like snow, and the waterfall's roar was a constant backdrop—a sound that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat.
Seventeen years old in two more years.
It seemed impossible. He'd entered this realm at five years old, a child with raw power and no discipline. Now, at fifteen, he was... something else. Something more.
His body had changed completely. Lean muscle covered his frame, every line defined by years of brutal training. His silver-white hair had grown long—he kept it tied back in a warrior's tail now. Scars marked his skin—the raised ridge across his back from Fenrir's claw, smaller marks from countless sparring matches, the calluses on his hands that would never fade.
But the biggest changes were inside.
"Thinking about the outside world again?" Crust asked.
"Always," Kaelen admitted quietly. "Wondering if they're okay. If Ryker's still alive. If Lira survived. If Aria..."
He trailed off.
"She's probably married off to some upper city aristocrat by now," Crust said, not unkindly. "Twelve years is a long time for humans. People move on."
"I know. But I still wonder."
Fenrir padded over in his Battle Form and pressed his head against Kaelen's leg. The wolf was massive even in this smaller form, his fur gleaming silver-white, electricity crackling softly across his body.
"Master will see friends again soon. Two more years. Then we go home."
"Home," Kaelen repeated. "I'm not even sure what that means anymore. This place feels more like home than The Undercroft ever did."
"That's because you've spent most of your second life here," Crust observed. "You've been in this realm longer than you were outside it. Seven months versus ten years."
It was a sobering thought.
"Kaelen!" Arcturus's voice echoed from the courtyard below. "Stop brooding and get down here! We have work to do!"
Kaelen smiled faintly. Some things never changed.
"Coming, Commander!"
The Commander was waiting in the courtyard, but something was different.
He wasn't holding a practice weapon. He wasn't in training clothes.
He wore full battle armor—the same gleaming plate he'd worn the first day they met. His expression was serious. Almost grim.
"Commander?" Kaelen approached cautiously. "What's going on?"
"Your final trial," Arcturus said simply. "For ten years, I've trained you. Pushed you. Broken you down and rebuilt you. You've mastered techniques that most warriors never even see. You've endured suffering that would kill ordinary men. You've earned my respect."
He drew his sword—not a practice blade, but a real weapon of divine steel.
"But there's one thing left. One final test to prove you're truly ready to leave this realm."
Kaelen felt his pulse quicken. "What kind of test?"
"You're going to fight me. No holds barred. No divine restrictions. Full power. Everything you've learned, everything you've become—bring it all to bear." Arcturus settled into a combat stance. "If you can defeat me, you pass. If you can't... we continue training until you can."
Kaelen stared at him. "You're serious."
"Completely. I've been holding back for ten years, letting you grow at your own pace. But now I need to see what you're truly capable of." The Commander's eyes gleamed. "Show me, Kaelen. Show me you're worthy of the name 'warrior.'"
Kaelen's hand moved to the hilt of Zephrion's Legacy, strapped to his back. He drew the blade, and it blazed with golden light, recognizing the moment.
This is it. Everything I've worked for. Everything I've suffered for.
"Don't hold back," Crust said. "He certainly won't."
"I know."
Kaelen took a deep breath, centered himself, and dropped into stance.
"Ready when you are, Commander."
Arcturus smiled—a fierce, warrior's smile.
"Good. Begin!"
The fight was unlike anything Kaelen had experienced.
Arcturus moved with speed and power he'd never shown before. Every strike carried killing intent. Every technique was perfected beyond perfection.
Kaelen barely blocked the opening slash. The force of it drove him backward, his boots carving trenches in the ground.
He wasn't joking. He's trying to kill me.
Kaelen activated Phantom Step, leaving afterimages as he repositioned.
Arcturus cut through all three afterimages and found the real Kaelen anyway, his sword aimed at Kaelen's throat—
Kaelen used Perfect Counter, redirecting the blade and responding with a Soul Strike.
His golden blade passed through Arcturus's guard and struck at his spirit—
But the Commander had already shifted to the Unflinching Mountain stance.
The Soul Strike dissipated harmlessly against his absolute defense.
Damn. He can use all the sacred techniques too. Of course he can—he invented them!
They clashed again and again, the sound of steel on steel ringing across the mountain. Cherry blossoms were incinerated by the sheer pressure of their attacks. The ground cracked beneath their feet.
Kaelen flowed like the River, striking like Lightning, enduring like the Mountain—all three principles moving through him seamlessly.
But Arcturus matched him move for move.
I need more. Something he hasn't seen. Something unexpected.
Kaelen reached for his Divine Power, channeling it through Zephrion's Legacy. The blade blazed brighter, and he unleashed a devastating combination—
Phantom Step into Striking Lightning, backed by Divine Burst.
Three afterimages, all attacking simultaneously with explosive power.
Arcturus's eyes widened—the first time Kaelen had ever seen genuine surprise on his face.
The Commander blocked two strikes, dodged the third—
But Kaelen's real attack came from behind.
He'd used Phantom Step twice in succession, creating a fourth afterimage behind Arcturus that even the master warrior hadn't anticipated.
Kaelen's blade pressed against the back of Arcturus's neck.
For one frozen heartbeat, they stood like that.
Then Arcturus laughed—a deep, genuine laugh of pure joy.
"Yes! That's it! That's exactly what I wanted to see!" He lowered his sword and turned to face Kaelen properly. "You didn't just execute techniques. You innovated. You created something new in the moment, adapted to an impossible situation, and found victory where none existed."
He bowed—deeply, respectfully.
"You pass, Kaelen. Not just as a warrior. As a master. As someone worthy of standing beside the greatest fighters of the old kingdom."
Kaelen lowered his blade, breathing hard, his heart pounding.
"I... I actually did it."
"You did more than that. You surprised me. And I haven't been surprised in ten thousand years." Arcturus smiled. "Your father would be so proud."
Kaelen felt his throat tighten. "Thank you, Commander."
"Don't thank me yet. We still have work to do."
That evening, they sat on the mountain peak, watching the sun set over the realm.
It was a comfortable silence—the kind that only comes after years of shared struggle.
Finally, Arcturus spoke.
"There's something I need to show you. Something I've been waiting for the right moment to reveal."
He held out his hand, and golden light coalesced into an orb—softly glowing, pulsing with contained power.
"This is the culmination of my life's work," the Commander explained. "Every technique I've mastered. Every strategy I've learned. Every piece of tactical knowledge I've accumulated over millennia of warfare. All of it, compressed into this."
Kaelen stared at the orb. He could feel the weight of knowledge inside it.
"Commander's Soul Techniques," Arcturus continued. "A transferable skill orb. Whoever absorbs this will gain everything I know about combat, tactics, and leadership."
He held it out to Kaelen.
"It's yours."
"What?" Kaelen blinked. "But... shouldn't I absorb it? Wouldn't that make me stronger?"
"You don't need it. You've already learned directly from me. You've internalized the principles, made them your own. This would be redundant for you." Arcturus's expression was thoughtful. "But your friend—the one who fights beside you. The one you trust. He would benefit greatly."
Kaelen immediately thought of Ryker. "You mean..."
"Give it to him. Transform him from a capable fighter into a master warrior overnight. He'll have the tactical mind of a general, the combat skills of an elite soldier, and the discipline of someone who's trained for decades." Arcturus smiled slightly. "You'll need strong allies for what's coming. This is my gift to ensure you have them."
Kaelen carefully took the orb, feeling its warmth. "I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll use it wisely. Say you'll build a team worthy of challenging the corruption in your world." The Commander's voice was serious. "Because that's what you're going to do, isn't it? Go back and burn down the systems that oppress people. Destroy the upper city's stranglehold. Change everything."
Kaelen looked out at the horizon. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm going to do."
"Good. The world needs it. And you're finally ready to be the one who does it."
Two weeks later, something unexpected happened.
Kaelen was practicing sword forms in the courtyard—not because he needed to, but because the movements had become meditation for him—when he felt something shift.
Inside his soul.
Where Crust resided.
"Kaelen," the creature's voice was urgent. "Something's happening. The chains—"
Kaelen gasped as power surged through him. Divine and dark energy swirling together, no longer in conflict but in harmony.
Zephrion's Legacy, strapped to his back, blazed with light—and then darkened, wreathed in crimson flame and shadow.
The blade transformed.
The straight sword curved, elongated. The hilt extended into a long shaft. The blade became a wicked, curved edge designed not for stabbing but for reaping.
A scythe.
[Zephrion's Legacy: Soul Reaper Form - UNLOCKED]
Kaelen held the weapon in awe. It was beautiful and terrifying—crackling with dark energy, the blade seeming to hunger for souls.
"What... what just happened?" he breathed.
"You accepted it," Crust said quietly. "After ten years together. After enduring darkness and light both. You've finally accepted that you're not just Zephrion's son. You're also the one who carries the Catastrophe. Both sides of you. Complete."
Arcturus appeared, staring at the scythe with something like reverence.
"The second form," he whispered. "I'd heard legends that the blade had two aspects, but I'd never seen it. Your father only ever used the sword. He never..." The Commander trailed off. "He never accepted that sometimes, to protect what you love, you must be willing to destroy."
Kaelen felt the weight of the scythe. It was heavier than the sword, but it felt right in his hands.
"What can it do?"
"Try it. Channel Crust's power through it."
Kaelen focused, drawing on the dark energy within him—the necromancy, the gluttony, the demonic fire.
The scythe blazed with crimson light. He swung it experimentally at a nearby boulder.
The blade passed through the stone without resistance. The boulder remained standing for a moment—
Then collapsed into dust.
But something else happened.
Kaelen felt a surge of energy. The essence of the stone—its existence, its years of weathering and growth—flowed into him through the scythe.
[Soul Reaper Ability Activated: Essence Harvest]
When you slay an enemy with this blade, you absorb a portion of their power, knowledge, and life force.
"Gods," Kaelen whispered. "This weapon doesn't just kill. It consumes."
"That's why your father rarely used it," Arcturus said gravely. "It's a weapon of absolute destruction. Use it wisely. Use it only when necessary. Because the more you rely on that form, the more you risk losing yourself to the hunger."
Kaelen transformed the scythe back into a sword with a thought. The golden blade felt cleaner. Purer.
But now he knew. When the time came for darkness—when mercy wasn't an option—he had the tools to do what was necessary.
The final year passed quickly.
Arcturus taught him the last few secrets—how to command armies telepathically, how to inspire loyalty, how to make the impossible choices leaders face.
But mostly, they just... talked.
About Zephrion. About the old kingdom. About what the world had been before Kaelen destroyed it.
"Do you think I can fix it?" Kaelen asked one evening. "Really fix it? Or am I just going to make things worse again?"
Arcturus was quiet for a long moment.
"I don't know," he admitted. "You made a terrible mistake once. Destroyed everything. But you were a child then—arrogant, naive, thoughtless." He looked at Kaelen. "You're not that person anymore. You've suffered. Grown. Learned. You understand consequences now."
"But what if I fail again?"
"Then you fail. But at least you'll fail while trying to make things better. That's more than most people can say." The Commander smiled. "I believe in you, boy. I wouldn't have spent twelve years of my eternal existence training you if I didn't."
On the last day, Kaelen stood in the courtyard one final time.
Arcturus faced him, formal, standing at attention.
"Your training is complete," the Commander said. "You are a master warrior. A tactician. A leader. Everything I can teach you, you've learned. The rest... the rest you'll learn by living."
Kaelen bowed deeply—the formal bow of a student to their master.
"Thank you, Commander Arcturus. For everything. For the pain. For the discipline. For believing I could become something more than the boy who destroyed the world."
"You already were more. I just helped you see it." Arcturus placed a hand on Kaelen's shoulder. "Now go. Return to your world. Face what's waiting for you. And show them what a true warrior can do."
[Quest Complete: Seek the Commander's Legacy]
[Reward: 2000 XP, Commander's Soul Techniques (Transferable Skill Orb), Zephrion's Legacy (Complete)]
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 19!]
[Level 19: 0 / 6000 XP]
Power surged through Kaelen. His stats increased, his body adapting to the new level.
[FINAL STATS - LEVEL 19, AGE 17]
Stats:
Strength: 1,150 (+170 from level up)
Agility: 1,360 (+180 from level up)
Endurance: 1,480 (+180 from level up)
Intelligence: 2,230 (+180 from level up)
Divine Power: 970 (+250 from level up)
Total Base Stats: 7,190
Kaelen felt the difference immediately. Stronger. Faster. More controlled.
"Time to go home," he said quietly.
Arcturus gestured, and a portal opened—the same shimmering doorway Kaelen had entered twelve years ago.
"One last thing," the Commander said. "Your father left you a message. He told me to tell you this if you completed your training."
Kaelen's breath caught. "What did he say?"
Arcturus's voice softened, taking on a different tone—as if channeling Zephrion's words from across time and death.
"You made a mistake, my son. A terrible mistake. But mistakes do not define us. What we do after—how we grow, how we change, how we strive to be better—that is what matters. I cursed you because I was angry, because I was dying, because I wanted you to understand consequences. But if you're hearing this, it means you've grown. You've learned. You've become worthy."
"I'm proud of you, Aelion. No—I'm proud of you, Kaelen. Because you're not the boy who made that mistake anymore. You're someone new. Someone better. Someone who will do what I couldn't—save this world and make it whole again."
Tears streamed down Kaelen's face.
"Father..."
Arcturus squeezed his shoulder once, then stepped back.
"Go. Your friends are waiting. Your destiny is waiting."
Kaelen called Fenrir to his side. The wolf appeared in Battle Form, sensing the importance of the moment.
Together, they walked toward the portal.
At the threshold, Kaelen turned back one last time.
"Will I see you again, Commander?"
Arcturus smiled. "Perhaps. If you ever need me. But I don't think you will. You're ready."
"Goodbye, Commander Arcturus. Thank you for making me worthy."
"Goodbye, Kaelen. Thank you for giving an old warrior purpose one last time."
Kaelen stepped through the portal.
And the realm vanished behind him.
He emerged in the ruins.
The same ruins where he'd entered twelve years ago. But they looked different. Older. More weathered.
Because they were twelve years older.
The sun was setting—the real sun, not the one in Arcturus's realm. The smog hung thick in the air, turning the sky orange and sickly.
Kaelen took a deep breath of toxic air and nearly gagged. After twelve years of clean mountain air, The Undercroft's pollution felt like poison.
"Welcome home," Crust said dryly.
Kaelen stored Fenrir in the Storage Void—he'd summon him later when needed—and began walking toward the city.
His city.
The place he'd left as a five-year-old child.
I'm seventeen now. Ryker is eighteen or nineteen. Lira is seventeen or eighteen. And Aria...
He pushed the thought away. He'd find out soon enough.
As he approached the breach in the wall—the same breach he'd used a thousand times—he noticed something.
It had been repaired. Sealed.
New security measures were in place. Automated turrets. Scanning drones. A full enforcement checkpoint.
The city's changed. Of course it has. Twelve years is a long time.
Kaelen pulled his hood up and circled around, looking for another way in.
He'd been gone for twelve years.
Now it was time to see what had become of the world in his absence.
And time to start changing it.