Nerion opened his eyes into Darkness without end. Not night — not shadow — but absence itself, a place where even the idea of light had never been born.

  There was “ground” beneath him, though he sensed it was a lie. His balance drifted. Up dissolved into down; every step felt like walking on air and sinking into stone at the same time. His senses were scattered, as if they had forgotten how to belong to a body.

  “HELLO?” he called.

  His own voice echoed back at him, distant and thin, as if it belonged to someone else.

  With nothing else to do, Nerion began walking. Time… didn’t exist here. Every step was both instant and eternal. The void did not change whether he turned left or right.

  Suddenly. A light.

  Faint at first — like a firefly in endless night — but brighter than any star because it was the only light.

  He sprinted toward it.

  The glow resolved into a burning bush.

  The fire burned without consuming. Its movements were gentle, almost tender — fingers of light stroking each leaf. Yet beneath that softness was a fury like the heart of a volcano. Creation and destruction braided together. Stillness and violence in the same breath.

  His mind could not fit the contradiction.

  Then the fire shifted. And a voice filled the dimension.

  “Hello, Nerion.”

  Nerion flinched backwards and fell, eyes wide. The bush had spoken.

  “Wh–who are you?” he stammered.

  The answer was calm. Unshaken.

  “I Am.”

  Nerion blinked. “…That’s it? Just ‘I Am’? Normally, there’s a name after that. Like ‘I am Nerion, nice to meet you.’”

  A soft, amused chuckle rippled through the flames.

  “Hehehe… speaking to a child is refreshing. Very well. If you require a name to communicate: call me Ego Sum.”

  “It’s still a weird name,” Nerion muttered, “but better than nothing. Hello, Ego.”

  He hesitated, then asked the question that churned within him:

  “Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?”

  “No. You have not died,” Ego said. “And this is not the afterlife. Though you certainly strove to reach it.”

  The fire brightened slightly.

  “You shattered every Acupoint. Your chance of recovery is nearly nonexistent. Even if you lived, you would be crippled for life. So I ask: do you still wish to live?”

  The answer burst out of him before he could think.

  “Yes. Even if I can’t walk again… I want to live. My father and brothers would be devastated if I died. And this life — it’s the only proof that my parents lived and loved each other. I won’t throw it away.”

  The bush flared — bright, eager, pleased. Its colour shifted toward a white-blue brilliance.

  “Well said,” Ego replied. “In that case, you will not die.”

  Nerion blinked. “Can you just… decide that?”

  “I do not want you to die,” Ego said, tone now absolute. “Therefore, you will not.”

  The statement left no room for doubt.

  “Then… thank you,” Nerion whispered. “But… where am I?”

  “You are inside the Genesis Stone.”

  Nerion’s mouth fell open.

  “My parents’ stone? But no one ever activated it. Not Father Mikael, not them. Why now?”

  “The stone requires two things,” Ego replied. “Blood — for life is carried in it — and Supreme Energy. Qi and Mana together, in equal purity and measure, unified within the self.”

  Ego paused.

  “You did not truly wield Supreme Energy. But you brushed near enough that I chose to talk to you.”

  Nerion puffed out his chest slightly. “Guess I’m a genius then.”

  “No,” Ego said bluntly.

  The flame twitched — perhaps the divine equivalent of raising an eyebrow.

  “You have talent, yes. But far less than your father or mother. Your father was a prodigy of TAO. Your mother, a prodigy of TIMBER. Had they lived, both would stand among the greatest experts alive.”

  Nerion stiffened.

  “As for you,” Ego continued, “your fully opened Acupoints are a burden without guidance. Each technique you used tore your body further. The ancestral spell of Rakna-AEON granted you this trait. Without a teacher, such a gift is a curse.”

  The words crawled coldly down Nerion’s spine.

  “Who are you?” he whispered. “Are you the spirit of the Genesis Stone?”

  “I already told you. “I Am. There is nothing I do not know. As for the stone — it is a tool, the most valuable and most useless, depending on the intent. A stone cannot contain the Infinite. But it can serve as a doorway when I wish.”

  Nerion swallowed.

  “You know everything?” The child was speechless. Nerion tried to test the Flames “Then tell me who killed my parents!”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The fire flared sharply.

  “Do not test me, Nerion.”

  The words were gentle. And terrifying.

  “That knowledge would break you. You are not ready. But nothing hidden under heaven remains hidden forever. When the time comes, you will know.”

  The fire shifted towards gold.

  “As for who I am… I am the highest. The strongest. The wisest. Eternal and unchanging, yet the source of all change. Always in action and always still. Jealous and sovereign, humble and absolute.”

  Nerion stared, speechless.

  Eventually, he managed, “That sounds weird… like contradictions.”

  “Only to those who stand outside truth,” Ego said.

  Nerion lowered his head.

  “I… I truly want to know what happened to my parents. I want to protect my family. Even if I’m crippled forever, I’ll keep living. As long as I’m alive, I’ll never give up.”

  The fire whispered.

  “Hehehehe… perhaps that is why I favour you, Nerion. Then hear my offer: I would form a pact with you.”

  Nerion stiffened. “A pact? Why? What kind of pact?”

  “A simple one. You gave your blood and a glimmer of your inner energy. Enough to reach me — and enough for me to keep your spirit from dispersing. But little more. I offer a different covenant. I will give you life, purpose, and what you asked for… in exchange for one thing.”

  “What do you want?” Nerion whispered.

  “Everything!”

  The flames burst into shifting colours — hues no mortal eye had seen before.

  “I want your surrender. Your obedience to the mission I will entrust to you. If you obey, I will give you what you seek.”

  Nerion froze.

  Mikael had warned him: spirits, remnants of ancient experts, could trick mortals into contracts that stole their bodies. He should run.

  He opened his mouth carefully.

  “If you want my body… I don’t think I could stop you. I only ask that you protect my family. Help me avenge my parents. Make them proud.”

  The flames rippled with amusement.

  “Hahahaha… child, what an imagination. I have no need for your body. I only require you to complete the mission; I will reveal in time. Simple. What do you want in return?”

  Nerion almost said “power.” Almost said “strength enough to kill those who wronged us.”

  But he stopped.

  He thought for a long time. The Flames waited patiently.

  At last, Nerion spoke.

  “If you can grant me anything… I want wisdom.”

  The flames stilled — as if the universe itself held its breath.

  “Because of my ignorance and recklessness, I nearly killed my family. I rushed in without thinking. Lucca and Roxy died. Silvestre is dying. Ailan lost his leg. If I learn what happened to my parents later… I might lose myself and hurt the people I love. So I want wisdom — to choose rightly. Even if I stay crippled forever.”

  The burning bush blazed white — pure, painful, holy.

  Ego’s voice resonated with deep satisfaction.

  “Good. Very good. Since you asked not for power to crush enemies nor talent to eclipse the world, but wisdom to discern good from evil, then I shall grant it.”

  The flames rose higher than any mountain.

  “And more. I will give you what you did not ask for: the power necessary to fulfil your mission.

  I promise you pain.

  I promise tears and betrayal.

  I promise the crucible to refine you until no impurity remains.

  And when despair comes — because it will — remember you are mine.

  I will never leave you. Grace will follow you as long as you walk the path I set.

  And… at the end of the road, you will stand unmatched under heaven.”

  The light condensed, blinding.

  “This is my covenant… with you.”

  The flame roared with a word older than creation, the void thundered under its majesty.

  “??????? - BEERIT”

  The ancient word struck him like lightning.

  White fire poured into his soul, sealing the pact in blood and will. Nerion lost consciousness once more and vanished from the darkness.

  The Flames were gone.

  The space fell silent, empty, unchanged — as if everything that happened was nothing more than a long-lost dream.

  ___

  Arbak cradled Nerion’s body as though holding something impossibly fragile. His pulse was thin, his breath shallow, his Acupoints ruined beyond recognition—yet he clung to life.

  Impossible. By every law of Heaven and Earth, he should have died minutes ago.

  And still… his Acupoints were knitting themselves, faint threads of recovery flickering where only destruction should remain.

  But it wasn’t enough. His Qi and Mana were leaking away too fast.

  Arbak’s jaw tightened. She reached into Sagat’s space ring—the one he stole from her prison chamber—and rifled through its contents. Gold. Gems. Techniques. Trash. Finally—

  There.

  Fragments of the Fruit of the Mountain God.

  The half she lost to Sagat.

  Her chest tightened with fury and regret. For centuries, Magical Beasts had devoured such fruits whole, ignorant of the alchemical potential sealed within. Only when she tasted the Millennial Stone Milk from Nerion’s arm did she finally understand the truth:

  The essence within the stone was the real treasure, not the fruit itself. She hated to admit that humans were truly incredible at times.

  Had she known sooner. … she thought bitterly.

  But there was no time for regret.

  She gathered the fragments before her. Her aura compressed around them, shaping a perfect sphere of force.

  Her voice was calm.

  “Begone.”

  The bubble contracted. Light surged. Stone groaned.

  And the fragments collapsed inward with a sharp, crystalline implosion.

  When the glare cleared, forty drops of shimmering white liquid floated in the air—pure, radiant, impossibly potent.

  

  Enough to start a war.

  Without hesitation, Arbak lifted Nerion’s body with a gesture, letting him hover before her. Ten drops detached from the cluster and circled him like slow-moving stars.

  She formed rapid seals.

  “Изначальное крещение (Iznachal'noye kreshcheniye - Initial Baptism)”

  The drops ignited.

  Half of the energy flooded into Nerion’s auxiliary meridians, searing through torn muscle and shattered bone. His unconscious body convulsed violently—fists clenching, teeth grinding, sweat pouring from him despite his ruined state.

  Arbak didn’t waver.

  Beast Lords rarely performed this rite for their own children—it consumed staggering resources and left them weakened for days. But she drove the energy relentlessly, guiding it through Nerion’s broken frame.

  Bone splintered anew. Muscle unravelled. Ligaments dissolved.

  She preserved only two things: his beating heart and his awakening mind. Everything else she burned to the foundation.

  Nerion’s skin reddened, sagged, bloated—his body reduced to its rawest state. A child unmade.

  Arbak whispered the next command.

  “Реконструкция (Rekonstruktsiya - Reconstruction)”

  The remaining Energy sank into his core.

  The transformation reversed: slow at first, then cascading with unstoppable force.

  Bones reforged stronger, denser. Muscles wove together with perfect tensile balance. Organs reshaped with resilience far beyond human limits.

  Black impurities seeped from his pores, pooling at Arbak’s feet. His skin tightened, cleared, and took on an almost luminous purity—yet beneath each eye, two faint scars remained, the ones he had carved into himself earlier.

  A reminder of the boy he had been and the mistake he had made.

  Arbak exhaled.

  What stood before her now was no ordinary child. His physical foundation rivalled that of a Rank 1 beast. A human six-year-old with the frame of a monster.

  “A sturdy mountain”, she whispered… “to build a great tower.”

  Her voice softened—just slightly.

  “I’ve made a loss today,” she admitted. “You gave me two drops. I returned ten. But so be it.”

  She placed a hand over his eyes. “I’ll give you three gifts.”

  “The first gift: ten drops of Millennial Stone Milk. Keep them. Use them wisely.”

  A faint glow seeped into his eyelids.

  “The second: a blessing. I saw your eye technique. Crude, but of my lineage. I will anchor a spark of my race’s sight within you. If you grow into a Legend or Archmage, it will evolve toward the vision of my ancestor.”

  A mark of light appeared on his sternum.

  “And the third: a single strike. Should you face an enemy beyond your tier, call upon this seal. A projection of me will answer with my full current strength. The blow of an Emperor-rank beast.”

  She turned toward the children.

  “I will tend to your friends. I cannot return the dead… but I will stop the bleeding and mend what can be mended.”

  With a sweep of her hand, Silvestre’s mangled body steadied. Ailan’s stump stopped bleeding, the energy sealing vessels and soothing torn nerves. A faint blessing settled over them both.

  Arbak hesitated only once.

  “If you ever reach the Dark Forest of Bahamut… speak my name. It may be of use.”

  Her form blurred.

  “I sense humans approaching. I do not like humans. But you, little pup… You seem different. Try to keep that light. It will prove harder than any battle.”

  She took the remaining Milk, placed Sagat’s ring among Nerion’s torn clothes, and vanished.

  A heartbeat later, Elisha burst into the chamber with the Ansaran captains behind him—just a second too late to see the Beast Lord who had rewritten a boy’s destiny.

  He saw ash where Sagat had stood.

  He saw Nerion breathing.

  He saw the children broken but alive.

  And he screamed — relief and horror braided into one raw sound.