The air in the Throne Room of Astrum usually smelled of frankincense and expensive wax. Today, it smelled of copper and betrayal.
Kaelen Thorne knelt on the cold marble, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. His legendary blade, Star-Reaper, lay shattered in two pieces a few feet away. He had just returned from the Frozen Wastes, carrying the severed head of the Arch-Demon, thinking he had finally earned his ticket back to Earth.
"You look pathetic, Kaelen," Princess Elara said. She wasn't standing at his side as she usually did. She was sitting on the throne, her father's crown resting precariously on her golden hair.
"The... the seal is closed, Elara," Kaelen wheezed, clutching a jagged wound in his side. "The war is over. Please... the ritual to send me home. You promised."
A ripple of laughter erupted from the shadows behind the pillars. One by one, the "Comrades" he had bled for stepped into the light.
Marcus, the Paladin.
Soren, the High Priest.
Renata, the Thief who had once whispered that she loved him.
"Home?" Marcus stepped forward, his heavy greaves clanking against the floor. He didn't offer a hand to help Kaelen up. Instead, he ground his boot into Kaelen's shattered blade. "The Hero doesn't go home, Kaelen. The Hero dies a martyr so the survivors can write the history books."
"Why?" Kaelen's voice was a ghost of a sound.
"Because you're too strong," Renata said, her eyes cold as flint. She was tossing a small, glowing vial—the Elixir of Void—between her hands. "The people love you more than the crown. You're a variable we can't control. Besides... the King has passed away from 'natural causes' this morning. Elara needs a clean slate to begin her reign."
Soren, the man who had healed Kaelen a thousand times, stepped forward with a ritual dagger. "Do not worry, Hero. Your soul will power the kingdom's barrier for the next century. It's a noble sacrifice."
Before Kaelen could scream, Marcus's mace slammed into his temple.
The Descent
They didn't kill him instantly. That would have been too merciful. They dragged his limp, broken body to the Gorge of Despair, a bottomless rift at the edge of the world where the laws of physics and magic ceased to exist.
"Throw him in," Elara commanded, her face illuminated by the moons. "Let the void erase the memory of Kaelen Thorne."
As he tumbled into the freezing dark, Kaelen saw their faces one last time. They weren't crying. They were smiling. They were relieved.
I gave you everything, he thought as the wind whipped past his ears. I killed for you. I starved for you. I lost my world for you.
[SENSING EXTREME NEGATIVE PSYCHIC ENERGY...]
A voice, cold and mechanical, vibrated through his very marrow.
[SYNCHRONIZATION RATE: 100%]
[CRITERIA MET: BETRAYAL BY ALLIES]
[CRITERIA MET: NEAR-DEATH STATE IN THE VOID]
[AWAKENING THE 'VENGEANCE SYSTEM'...]
Kaelen's eyes snapped open. The darkness wasn't empty anymore. It was filled with floating windows of violet light.
[HOST: KAELEN THORNE]
[STATUS: DYING / REBIRTHING]
[NEW CLASS: THE VOID MONARCH]
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE: THE HERO'S LIMITERS HAVE BEEN DELETED.]
"I'll kill them," Kaelen snarled in his mind, his fingers clawing at the empty air. "I'll tear that crown from her head and feed it to her piece by piece."
[PASSIVE SKILL ACQUIRED: 'GLUTTONY OF THE FALLEN']
Description: You can now absorb the stats, memories, and skills of those you kill.
[INITIALIZING EMERGENCY RECOVERY...]
[CONSUMING THE VOID TO REBUILD PHYSICAL FORM...]
Kaelen's body stopped falling. He hung suspended in the middle of the abyss, surrounded by a swirl of black and purple mana. His broken bones didn't just heal; they turned as hard as dragon-scale. His blood, once red, now shimmered with a dark, cosmic energy.
He reached out, and the air itself cracked. A new weapon began to form in his hand—not a hero's sword, but a jagged, black scythe that hummed with the screams of the damned.
[LEVEL: 1... 10... 50... ERROR]
Kaelen looked up toward the tiny speck of light miles above him. The world thought they had buried a hero.
They had actually planted a god of ruin.
"Wait for me, Elara," Kaelen whispered, his voice echoing with a thousand overlapping shadows. "The Hero is dead. But the Monarch is coming."