PRIMORDIAL FURY

Lunaria's voice echoed softly through the glowing dreamscape, her gaze distant yet clear.

"When a planet evolves beyond Type 1 civilization, it is no longer left to govern itself. It becomes… noticed."

"Noticed?" Klaus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied. "Handled, by Supreme Beings."

Klaus tilted his head. "Handled? Wait—wasn't Elaris our planet to begin with?"

Lunaria nodded gently. "It was… but every world that crosses into higher evolutionary stages attracts attention. The Supreme Beings... they are ancient entities who oversee planets like Elaris. And one of them—he—is the one who brought upon the Alpha-Omega to our world."

Klaus blinked in disbelief. "Hold on. So we went from a regular civilization to Type 4, with this weapon gifted to us by a so-called cosmic landlord… and yet when we were invaded, when we nearly got wiped out… he didn't step in?"

"If he owns the planet," Klaus said with rising tension, "wasn't it his job to protect it too?"

Lunaria sighed. "That was what we believed at first. But…"

Klaus leaned forward. "But?"

She turned away for a moment, then looked back with solemn eyes.

"These beings treat planets like games. They pit one world's potential against another. Watching, testing… seeing who survives. It's… a cosmic playground."

Klaus's fists clenched. "That's blasphemous."

He stood abruptly, face tensed with anger and disbelief. "So we're just pieces on some celestial chessboard?! Our lives—our history—controlled by some degenerate star-god?!"

Lunaria stepped forward, reaching up to gently pat Klaus's head like a mother would calm a troubled son."Child… I'm sorry you have to carry this weight. Truly."

Klaus looked down, eyes storming with emotion."Then… why was I sent to Earth? How did I even get there?"

Lunaria's expression softened with regret.

"I don't know. I cannot interact with the outside world. My reach… ends here."

"Tch…" Klaus looked up, thoughts racing—Sofie, Mom, Dad, Grandfather…

But Lunaria waved her hand and smiled. "No need to trouble your heart for now. Come, child."

With a flick of her fingers, the realm around them shifted again.

The white horizon dissolved into a landscape painted in cosmic color—lush land under a starlit sky swirling with auroras. A massive tree stretched its branches like a guardian in the center of this dreamlike world.

It was like something from an ancient tale—home, yet not.

Klaus blinked. "Whoa…"

There were others here—Aetherions. Dozens of them, glowing faintly with divine auras, chatting, laughing, sparring, meditating in the grass under the great tree.

One tall, lanky man with sharp cheekbones and a mischief-filled grin noticed Klaus and shouted with mock grandeur,"WELL WELL WELL! If it isn't the legendary node-awakening late bloomer!"

Klaus blinked, confused. "Huh?"

Before he could react, Lunaria smacked the man lightly on the back of the head with a glow of cosmic irritation.

"Rhaziel," she muttered. "Behave."

"Ow—fine, fine!" Rhaziel rubbed his head with a pout. "I'm just saying—15 years to awaken a node? My pet wyvern learned to fly faster than that!"

Another man approached, far more composed. He bowed to Klaus politely. "Apologies for that idiot. He's been here too long."

He placed a hand to his chest. "I am Elvaron, the 9th King of the Aetherions. A pleasure, young heir."

A few others followed—each introducing themselves with flair, pride, or sarcasm. One even tripped mid-introduction and blamed it on the gravitational harmony of the realm.

Klaus chuckled awkwardly. I'm a bit late to the family reunion.

But something hit him. If all these past kings were here…His voice shifted. "Wait… Lunaria. If this is the Ancestral Realm… where's my father?"

She shook her head softly. "He is not here."

Klaus's heart thudded. That meant…

"He's still alive?"

Lunaria smiled gently. "Likely."

Relief washed over Klaus—heavy, but warm. He exhaled deeply.

Then Lunaria placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression knowing. "Why not catch up on what you missed back on Earth?"

Klaus blinked, then gave a small grin.

"Training, huh?"

She winked. "Training."

She raised her hand, and the space shimmered. "Lets begin."

Klaus's eyes narrowed.

Lunaria continued, her voice calm.

"There are three nodes that the Aetherions possess. But they are not merely steps of strength. They are thresholds—transformations of existence itself. What truly sets us apart from all others… are the Nigh Powers."

She paused, letting the words settle like falling stardust.

"These are not just evolutions in energy. They are awakenings that bend the very rules of reality."

"The first is called the Nigh-Complete Arsenal."

She turned to Klaus.

"This is what defines our foundation. At this stage, an Aetherion can wield almost all elemental and energy-based abilities to near-limitless capacity. Not just mastery of flame, lightning, or wind—but spatial distortion, raw force manipulation, energy redirection… even localized time dilation in advanced cases."

Klaus leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "So we can just… use everything?"

Lunaria nodded, "Yes. But not without cost."

She raised a finger.

"The Nigh Arsenal spreads your consciousness thin. You may hold countless abilities—but your focus is finite. If you overextend, the backlash can overload your core or fracture your mind."

"Each element or force you wield draws from a part of your Node Conduit. The stronger you are mentally, emotionally, spiritually—the more threads you can maintain. But if your resolve cracks…"

She flicked her wrist.

One of the projected strands snapped violently in the air and fizzled into nothing.

"You break. And once broken, regaining harmony is… rare."

Klaus stayed silent, absorbing every word.

She asked, "Do you understand?"

He nodded slowly. "So that's why I was able to use two elements… and manipulate energy. Even the wind listened to me without fully unlocking it."

"Exactly." Lunaria smiled. "Your node had begun to awaken. You had barely scratched the Arsenal."

Klaus's voice dropped in tone, "What about the second stage?"

Lunaria's face grew somber. "The Astral Plane Lordship. This… is no simple power spike. It is a reformation of your soul."

A ripple of light flared across the chamber.

"To reach this stage is to anchor your existence to the astral layer—beyond time, beyond matter. You become one with your thoughts, one with your vision of reality. It's… transcendence. Through this, you may bend the rules that bind others. Rewrite causality in limited zones. But…"

She paused. Her gaze wandered to one of the older kings—an ethereal man cloaked in obsidian mist. His expression twisted in contempt at the conversation.

Before Klaus could ask, the king stood sharply, his voice low and bitter. "You speak of power like it's inheritance. Godhood is not your birthright."

Klaus blinked. "What—?"

Lunaria raised a hand without looking. "Ignore him. It's a… sensitive topic. He failed his ascension."

The king growled low but sat back, shadows curling around him.

Lunaria continued, unbothered. "Now… the third stage."

She faced Klaus, her tone reverent now.

"Absolute Psionics. This is the final node. It transcends mortal, even astral limitations. Here, the Aetherion no longer commands forces—they become them. Thought becomes law. Will becomes reality."

Klaus's eyes widened. "So we can just… be gods? Like that? Just by evolving?"

"No." Her voice was colder now. "No one 'just' becomes a god."

Lunaria's eyes shimmered with a faint glow, the weight of millennia behind them. She stepped closer to Klaus.

"In the entire history of our bloodline," she said, "only two have transcended. Two Aetherions reached the final node—Absolute Psionics. One was the First King Norellion Aetherion, the origin of our line. The other…"

She paused.

"…was your grandfather. Warlord Zarathul Aetherion."

Klaus's breath caught.

She continued, solemn. "He was the last of us to taste true divinity. Not by accident. Not by fate. But through war, sacrifice… and a will so monstrous it bent the laws of reality around him."

"Zarathul's ascension came at a cost," Lunaria added, gaze hardening. "He severed himself from time. From identity. From everything that once made him mortal. And though he reached godhood… it wasn't peace he found at the end. It was purpose."

Klaus's mind was racing—questions and images flaring like sparks.

"So that's… my lineage," he muttered. "My bloodline carries that potential."

Lunaria nodded slowly. "It does. But potential is not destiny. And power without purpose becomes ruin."

Her gaze narrowed. "That is why we train. Not just to awaken nodes—but to survive them."

Klaus's thoughts swirled like a storm.

Two in all of history.

The First King.

And his grandfather—Zarathul, the Warlord who bent reality to his will.

Could he truly follow that path?

His chest tightened. Doubt crept in.

Will I ever reach that stage…?

But then—he closed his eyes.

The doubt didn't vanish. He crushed it.

His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

His voice was low, resolute, like a promise carved into stone.

"No," he whispered. "It's not if I reach it."

His eyes snapped open, blazing with defiance.

"I'll make damn sure I do."