Prologue: The Sovereign’s Silence
​The rain in New Seattle had a habit of burying secrets, but it could never wash away the smell of copper—the scent of blood and cheap coins.
​Five years ago, a boy stood in a gutter outside the Lumina Grand Hotel. His ribs were a mosaic of shattered bone, his lungs were filling with fluid, and his heart was breaking in a way that medicine couldn't fix. He had watched the woman he loved—the woman he had starved himself to provide for—laugh as she leaned into the arms of the man who had just robbed him.
​He had been a ghost. A "Ghost-Washer." A nobody whose life was worth exactly ten units of currency.
​"I’m sorry," he had whispered into the rain that night. But he wasn't apologizing to them. He was apologizing to the version of himself that still believed in mercy.
​Present Day. The 99th Floor of the Zenith Spire.
​Carson McCain sat in a chair made of liquid-carbon silk, looking at a city that didn't realize it had a new owner. In his hand was a glass of wine older than the city itself. On the table lay a single, rusted coin—the one he had carried through the fires of the Icelandic volcanoes and the crushing depths of the Mariana Trench.
​A soft beep broke the silence.
​"Sovereign," a voice resonated through the room—Aura, the world’s most advanced AI. "The Solaris Hegemony has entered the atmosphere. They are demanding the 'rat' who interfered with their operations to surrender."
​Carson didn't blink. He didn't even look up. He watched as a drop of condensation slid down his wine glass.
​"Surrender?" Carson’s voice was a low, melodic hum that made the very air in the penthouse vibrate. "Aura, activate the Global ORB. I don't want the commoners to get soot on their laundry when I delete their fleet."
​"Authorization confirmed. Shifting New Seattle to Sub-Space."
​Outside the window, the sky didn't turn dark; it turned violet. A massive, shimmering grid of energy swallowed the horizon, a cage for a fight that the world wasn't ready to see.
​Carson stood up. He wasn't wearing armor. He didn't have glowing cybernetics. He was dressed in a simple, perfectly tailored black suit. He reached into the void, and the air screamed as the Star-Shedder Saber manifested in his grip.
​30 strands of Saber-Qi began to rotate around his wrist, humming a song of absolute destruction.
​"Five years ago, I died in this rain," Carson whispered, stepping off the balcony into the open air, his feet finding invisible steps in the sky. "Today, I think I’ll let the stars die instead."
​High above, a Hegemony Dreadnought fired a shot that could level a continent.
​Carson McCain simply raised his blade.
​"Combine," he commanded.
​The night didn't end. It just met its master.
​[Saber Sovereign: The Low-Key Legend]
​A story of betrayal, ancient alchemy, and a man who returned from the gutter to own the sky.

​A young man stepped out from behind a stone lantern. He looked to be the same age as Carson, dressed in a traditional white martial robe that glowed with a faint, protective light. In his hand was a Tier-8 Rapier encrusted with blue gems.


​"Who are you?" Carson asked, not standing up.


​"I am Liang Chen," the youth said, a mocking smile on his lips. "My master is the Sovereign of the Frozen Tundra, an old 'friend' of your Master Hobs. He heard Hobs finally took a disciple and sent me to see if you were worth the effort of a greeting."


​Liang Chen raised his rapier. The air around him dropped twenty degrees. "I am also at the Peak of the Astral Core. But I have 15 strands of Frost-Qi. Let's see how your 'Saber-Qi' holds up."


​"I don't fight for sport," Carson said.


​"You don't have a choice," Liang replied. He didn't wait. He flicked his wrist, and five strands of Frost-Qi shot forward like ice-needles.


Chapter 13 - Chapter 13: The Disciple of the North