Supreme Monarch: VoidBorn

Master Gap

... When there was order, life flourished. A balance which kept our world on the scale.

.... But, when Chaos broke loose of this order, balance became uttered; it changed all. Life, death, everything itself was upturned, like an hourglass set to start from the last minute before it marks an hour.

... However, nothing would be seen as worse than we know of anything, than the Heavenly realm Divine Retribution which lasted for a hundred days.

.... A hundred catastrophic days, when Chaos set heights against the gods.

... Only those who had witness the war with their naked eyes, would understand the death of a thousand gods; a god requiem.

... All caused from a dark force, who, if had conquered the heavens, would've devoured our realm next...

..... Our dimension, its Creator key, the balance, The Universe itself.

.... Leaving behind Void loops, setting the time back before the Universe ever existed.

... Before the Ancient god, before the drop of water.

.... Before the beginning.

---

"M-M-M-MY STALLLL!" The trader dropped to his knees, eyes trembling, trying to make up what had occured. "My beautiful stall!"

His gaze darted toward the wrecked structure, searching for any surviving fruit.

That's when his eyes landed on someone. "Hey!" he called out, before getting on his feet. "By chance, did you know what—"

The trader paused, blinking in disbelief.

A teenage boy stood before him, holding an entire crate of apples—with one already in his mouth, completely chewed.

Valtor blinked back at the man's stunned expression.

"Thief?" The trader murmured in disbelief, watching as Valtor's eyes shifted—then, without hesitation, he turned and ran.

Immediately, the trader raised the alarm.

"THIEF! SOMEBODY STOP THE APPLE THIEF!"

Nearby were two guards who snapped into action, their boots marching against the ground as they launched into a hot pursuit.

"Stop there! Drop the crate of apples!"

"Have you no shame stealing from a poor trader?!"

Valtor barely heard them over his own breathing. But dropping the apples? That was never happening.

This was his breakfast—he would tear through anything in his path to get away with it.

He jumped over wine barrels, brushed past startled passerbys, ducked beneath vendor canopies—his movements quick and reckless, while the guards took the chase personally.

Blobby had been picked up alongside the crate, already in its original form, jiggling on his shoulder, shouting directions.

"Mama! They're closing in!"

Valtor, panting hard, managed to spit out a reply between breaths, "D-Don't I... D-Don't I know?!"

Seeing the chase would be endless, One of the guards pulled out a gun, aiming directly at Valtor.

Blobby immediately warned. "You're going to be struck with a shockwave if you stay on a straight path! Move to the side!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?" He asked.

"I have existed knowing some weapons are created from Gates leading to the shattered dimensions! Now, MOVE!."

Valtor listened without hesitation—throwing himself to the left just as a blast surged past his arm, striking a nearby stall, splintering wood and crates into the air.

He barely dodged it.

The guard who fired the shot scowled. "How did he—"

His companion dismissed it. "Keep your eyes on him! It was just a fluke! Probably instinct!"

But the frustrated guard didn't believe it. His finger tightened on the trigger, and he fired multiple shockwave bullets.

Every single one missed Valtor.

"Ahhh!" The guard yelled in frustration. "Instincts my ass!"

Valtor risked a glance over his shoulder.

Those two guards. They weren't far behind.

A grin spread across his face, 'Looks like I beat—'

He barely finished his thought before colliding into someone standing ahead.

The impact sent the crate of apples flying into the air, tumbling in slow motion, before his body hit the ground, Hard.

Groaning from the pain before quickly scrambling to his feet, "Out of my way! You Sh—," His words froze in his throat when his gaze landed on the man in front of him.

Standing perfectly still, the man had caught the crate mid-air—without a single apple falling.

A bead of sweat rolled down Valtor's face. He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling his breath caught deep without any motive of exhaling.

The old man's presence alone was enough to make a million hungry wolves retreat in fear.

Standing with an air of authority, and a commanding voice, The Old man drawled, "Val-tor!"

The name ringing in his ears.

Valtor gulped. "Master Gap."

---

The Divine Academy of the Northern Nation's Capital had earned its reputation for being one of the hardest institutions to master, as well as giving the gods chosen a Rank.

Though it had branches in the Southern, Western, and Eastern territories, the Northern Academy stood above all, regarded with unshakable prestige.

After those reputations, some recognition came from two major reasons:

First, the Academy trained the gods' chosen, using a ranking system that started at E-rank, and climbed up to the legendary S-rank (which currently held by only four individuals.)

Second, its tutor system was unmatched.

The Academy housed Masters of the highest standards, each with decades of experience. Among them, the most revered title belonged to the High GrandMasters, individuals whose strength rivaled the S-ranked warriors.

Each High GrandMaster was entitled to mentor an S-ranked individual—four were already assigned.

Yet, there was a fifth High GrandMaster, one who had rejected the tradition.

Master Gap.

Unlike the others, he refused to train a ranked disciple, keeping the reason to himself. Rumors spread like wildfire—some said he was simply too powerful to bother, others claimed he had secret motives.

But none of them knew the truth.

Gap hadn't trained a ranked warrior because he had been waiting for one boy—the Fifth Monarch, Valtor.

The one student he had vowed to Burnwood, to teach personally.

The very same boy who, at this moment, was stealing a crate of apples.

---

"Master Gap—"

"SILENCE!"

The sound of his walking cane slamming against the ground sent a cloud of snow into the air. He stared deep into Valtor's deep blue eyes, seeing the darkness hasn't grown to any point, yet.

Nearby, the guards finally caught up, gasping for breath. But the second they recognized Master Gap, their exhaustion disappeared instantly, replaced with rigid discipline.

They straightened.

"GREETINGS! HIGH GRANDMASTER GAP!" they greeted in unison, at the same time giving Valtor a dirty look.

Gap glanced at the crate, then handed it over. The guards blinked at its unexpected weight* .

"Take this," Gap ordered. "Leave the boy to me."

Without hesitation, they nodded. "UNDERSTOOD, HIGH GRANDMASTER!"

And with that, they left.

Blobby who hid beside Valtor, from the guards, jiggled excitedly, bouncing from his side onto Gap's, settling comfortably. "You have obtained a reasonable title at a hundred and nineteen years old! I wonder what's next?"

Gap frowned at the blob before turning to Valtor, "Are you already using the Divine Blob for mischievous acts?"

Valtor shook his head quickly. "No!—"

Gap shifted his gaze to Blobby, "And you allowed him use your powers?"

Blobby tried to explain, "MaMa needed it! I—"

Gap sighed, rubbing his temples, "I know, I know… It's all about protecting the boy," Then, his tone hardened, "Valtor, follow me. You have a lot to learn about yourself—"

With a sharpened gave, Gap added, "And about why Burnwood died."

Valtor straightened up, dusting some snow particles from his trousers, eyes fixed on the old man before him.

Gap, with his backward spiked white hair, a long beard brushing against his neckline, stood wrapped in a cloak similar to a magician's robe, supported by a crooked cane. His presence was overwhelming, like a force that commanded the very air around him. Then there was the Old man's gaze, Those brown eyes; a death stare of a thousand eyes.

Valtor swallowed a lump of air, looking at the old man, trying to find the real statement, "How do you know my grandfather is dead?"

Gap met his stare, "You wouldn't be here—looking like a wayward grandson, stealing apples—if Burnwood were still alive. Number two," he continued, turning to lead the way. "The Divine Blob would not be with you."