Ruler of Beyonders

The time passed. One day the vines in the Black Bloom forest grew quieter.

Ren knelt in the soft dirt, surrounded by twisted trees with dark leaves and ash-coated roots. His arms trembled. His breath came slow. But this time, it was not from pain. It was focus. He no longer reacted. He moved with the Bloom, not against it.

He reached out. The mist didn't retreat. It shifted with him.

The Bloom had accepted him.

The door opened behind him with a quiet hiss.

Imvar Sol stood there. His tall shadow stretched over the field. His ink-stained robes hung loose, as if untouched by the wind.

"You are ready for the first true step," he said.

Ren stood and followed him without a word.

The next months passed in layers. Each mage took turns shaping him, burning away his old weaknesses, planting new strength.

Imvar taught him first.

The Abyss wasn't just a force. It was a language. A rhythm.

Imvar showed him how to open his Echo Core a dark seed of power that lived beneath his ribs. Ren learned to call its presence without drowning in it.

"You don't command it," Imvar told him. "You invite it. You had to form it."

He spent hours standing still while black mist curled around his fingers. Each time he lost control, Imvar snapped his fingers and the mist vanished.

"Again."

Ren shaped the mist into blades, chains, shields. Each shape tested his focus. Each shape pushed his mind.

Veyra Quell trained him in silence.

Her chamber was always cold. A wide black room filled with mirrors.

She sat in the center, legs crossed, eyes open but unfocused.

Ren entered the mirror field, and the illusions began.

Fake enemies. Twisting images of people he loved. Versions of himself that whispered lies.

"Do not believe anything," Veyra said calmly. "Not even your own voice."

He screamed. He fought. He failed.

He learned.

Eventually, the mirrors stopped showing illusions.

They only showed him.

A boy who refused to break.

Korrin Bast didn't speak much. His body did the talking.

He trained Ren in the Stone Yard a brutal place lined with heavy blocks, moving floors, and weighted spears.

Korrin tied chains to Ren's arms and made him run uphill.

He broke Ren's stance with bare hands.

He showed Ren how to move even when every bone screamed to stop.

"No one cares if you're tired," he said. "The abyss doesn't rest. So why should you?"

They sparred daily.

Every day, Ren lost.

Until one day, he didn't.

Nyxa spoke rarely. But her presence never left.

At night, when Ren closed his eyes, he heard her voice like a pulse behind his thoughts.

"Stronger. Keep walking."

And so time passed.

One year. Two. Three.

Ren stopped counting.

He became sharper. Faster. Colder.

He no longer flinched at pain. He no longer dreamed of running.

Many years passed.

★★★

The battlefield burned.

Below the valley was full of flame. Buildings were torn in half. Magic tore the skies. Awakened squads fought along crumbling trenches.

In the distance, someone called.

"Commander !"

A soldier ran toward One person. Young. Face Covered. Blood on his gloves.

"Orders, sir? They breached the second gate! We can't hold it!"

Man turned.

His Echo Form appeared behind him. A shape of black flame and shifting armor. It floated silently.

He pointed toward the second ridge.

"We don't hold. We reclaim."

The soldier saluted.

Behind him, mages gathered. Some were old friends. Others, strangers who knew only his rank. His name.

And somewhere across the battlefield, past smoke and screams...

★★★

Smoke filled the valley. Broken armor clattered across the rocks. Blades bent. Shields cracked. Screams echoed from behind fallen walls, fading into the dry wind.

The battlefield stretched wide between two jagged cliffs. A sea of ruined tents and shattered wagons lay scattered across blackened dirt. Fires crackled in the wreckage. Blood soaked into the stone.

The defenders were few now.

A dozen left, maybe less. Backed against the last ridge. One of them a young mage in a torn blue robe raised his trembling staff. The rune at its tip flickered, barely lit. The man who was unknown for us but evryone know him as " Commander ! "

Across the field stood their enemies.

Not beasts. Not monsters.

People.

But changed.

Twisted.

Eyes glowing. Skin pale with mana exposure. Their limbs moved too fast. Their voices had stopped sounding human. These were not simple soldiers. They were what the world now called "Born From Ether" awakened souls who had lost their core. Or gave it up willingly.

They didn't speak. They only attacked.

And they were winning.

The defenders fell one by one. A blade pierced the mage's chest. He dropped, eyes wide. The rune faded.

And still, the enemies advanced.

Then… everything stopped.

High above the battlefield, on the very edge of the cliff overlooking the valley, someone stood.

One man.

Alone.

He wore a long black coat. His hands were bare. His face was hidden by a hood. The wind caught the edges of his sleeves, but he didn't move.

He watched.

Silently.

His eyes saw everything.

He did not speak to the soldiers. He did not move to help.

He simply looked down at the valley filled with flame and blood.

And then he spoke. His voice was quiet. Calm. Not angry. Not cold. Just tired.

"So this is what the world became."

The wind carried his words, but no one heard them.

"This place… is not the same anymore. Not the world I once knew."

His eyes followed the falling bodies below. Each movement. Each mistake. Each death.

" So long time passed. That's all it took."

He closed his eyes for a moment.

"Back then, the world still followed its rules. Still believed in order. Science. Technology. Cities made from steel. Wars fought with guns. People feared awakenings. Feared the unknown."

A pause.

"But then mana came."

His fingers twitched once.

"It poured in like rain. Quiet at first. Then storms. Then floods. The sky changed color. The oceans grew silent. New mountains rose from the ground, like they had always been waiting underneath."

He opened his eyes.

"And people changed with it."

He turned his head slightly. Somewhere in the ruins below, a tower cracked and fell. The noise echoed across the stone.

"No more satellites. No more data. No more countries. The old map burned itself. In its place… only strongholds. Factions. Bloodlines. Magic. Monsters. All of them chasing something they don't understand."

He tilted his head to the side.

"Even Arkenhall is no longer what it once was. The council broke into pieces. Old Masters died. Some betrayed. Others vanished. The balance tipped."

"With the rise of mana across the planet, human lifespans had shifted. All beings were affected by that and their aging became slow."

A pause again.

"And the world… shifted."

He raised his hand slowly. Not high. Just enough for the wind to catch on his palm.

Below, the twisted soldiers looked up.

Their heads turned at the same time.

Something in them recognized him.

Or feared him.

Or both.

And still, he said nothing.

Only one word.

"Erase."

The valley fell silent.

No sound.

No cry.

No fire.

Just a breath.

And then…

The enemies vanished.

Not turned to ash.

Not shattered.

Just gone.

Only the cliff remained. Only the wind. Only the man.

He lowered his hand.

And turned away.

No one saw his face.

No one followed.

The survivors on the battlefield blinked, confused. The enemies were gone. Just like they never existed.

They didn't understand.

They never would.

But far away, deep beneath Arkenhall, a monitor blinked. And in quiet rooms guarded by silence, a name returned to the top of every list.

Ren Calder.