Brown stood at the edge of the storming abyss, his long cloak billowing in the void between dimensions. Around him swirled echoes of forgotten battles and ancient roars of creatures long extinct. The realm he now wandered was neither heaven nor hell, but a crucible between realms—where broken souls were forged into warriors of legend.He clenched his fists. The scars across his knuckles shimmered faintly, reacting to the ancient energy pulsing from the leyline stone embedded in the fractured altar before him. This was the fourth realm he had conquered, each more brutal than the last. Yet he still had three more to endure before the ritual would be complete—before he could return as the one true King of War.His eyes, burning a pale gold, blinked slowly as Clara's face swam through his memory. Her tears. Her trembling lips when she said, “Promise me you’ll come back.”But he had broken that promise.They had torn him away—Clara’s family—just days after their marriage, forcing him into

The sky cracked.Not with lightning——but with destiny.Brown was a blur of motion, blade in hand, cutting down two of the Shadow Unit with a single sweep. Their bodies evaporated into dust, remnants of necromantic engineering gone wrong. But five remained—faster, deadlier, and synchronized like a hive mind.Reyes stood back, arms crossed, watching with cold amusement.“You’re bleeding, Brown,” he said mockingly, as a red streak carved down the side of Brown’s ribcage.Brown didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Every muscle in his body burned, his bones reverberating with the strain of godhood clashing with mortal limits. He hadn’t yet completed the re-ascension. His body was fighting to catch up with the power screaming within him.Then——a hum cut through the battlefield.Reyes’s smile faltered. The assassins paused.The rift behind them glowed, surging with radiant silver and gold. And then—Clara emerged.But she was not alone.A translucent aura surrounded her, forming the outline of an an

The first of the Dragon-Sworn.“She lives inside me still,” Vhorran said, tapping his chest where a shimmer of gold flickered under his skin. “And sometimes… she dreams of finishing the war.”Clara didn’t speak for a moment.Then: “Can she still hear the child?”Vhorran paused. His gaze sharpened.“Yes. And she’s afraid.”Lysandros stood, suddenly tense. “Why?”Vhorran’s voice dropped to a whisper.“Because something older than her... older than all of us... is whispering through him.”Meanwhile, beneath the SanctuaryAetherion stood before a cracked mirror.But his reflection was smiling before he was.“You’re not me,” he whispered.“No,” the reflection said, eyes like liquid night. “I’m what’s been left behind.”It reached toward the glass.And the mirror shattered.The shards of the broken mirror glistened on the floor like ice, each one humming with a low, hungry sound. Aetherion didn’t move. He simply stared at the space where his reflection had stood — where it had spoken back.

Brown and Clara arrived at the mansion just as the tension between Jeremy and Dann was thick enough to slice with a blade. The sound of their hurried footsteps echoed in the grand hallway before they appeared at the doorway—Brown, his soldier’s posture rigid, and Clara, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk.“Dave,” Brown’s voice was deep, commanding attention without trying. “What’s going on here?”Jeremy’s smirk twitched, but he didn’t look away from Dave. “Ah, perfect timing,” he said with false cheer. “Looks like the cavalry’s here. Or maybe… the audience.”Clara crossed her arms, unimpressed. “We heard enough from the hallway to know you’re trying to stir trouble again, Jeremy.” Her tone was sharp, protective of Dave.Jeremy chuckled low. “Protective little friends you have here, Dave. Cute.”Brown stepped forward, closing the distance between them with deliberate slowness. “You don’t want to test my patience, Jeremy. I’ve heard the rumors. I know you’ve been poking around place