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Wes Carter is dying.

A black sword pulses with corruption in his chest, his strength fading as blood seeps into the battlefield. He has no regrets—his people escaped, the war was fought, and he killed the man with void-black eyes.

But it wasn’t enough.

It never was.

As darkness claims him, two figures appear—enigmatic, powerful, and knowing. And with cruel certainty, they reveal a truth that shatters everything Wes believed:

His future was stolen.

Wes remembered that day. The day, as a child, he met the man with void-black eyes. The man who stood before him, bathed in the blood of those Wes cherished. The man who could have killed him but didn’t. Instead, he burned Wes’s soul, severing something deep within him.

That was the day everything changed.

That was the day he became a Null.

He should have been able to claim a Void Crystal, to rise like the others. Instead, he was cut off from that power, forced to forge his own way through Essence alone. And despite that, despite everything, he became peerless, a warrior standing at the edge of the Grand Stage—the universe beyond Earth’s wars.

And then, all these years later, that same man returned.

Not alone.

This time, he led an army—not just soldiers, but Fallen, beings marked by corruption, their eyes the same void-black as his own. They descended upon Wes with overwhelming force, and though he fought, though he killed his greatest enemy, it still wasn’t enough.

More questions than answers. Why had his future been stolen? Why had that man, all those years ago, chosen to cripple him instead of killing him?

Now, as Wes breathes his last, the two figures offer him something impossible:

A second chance.

They will sever the future—a phrase Wes doesn’t yet understand—but before he can question it, they shove a black seed, dark as night, into his chest.

And then—rebirth.

No longer fighting for survival in a dying world, he enters a new era—one where humanity has rebuilt, where Void Crystals, Essence, and Mana-Tech shape civilization, and where the truth of the universe is within reach.

Yet, the past is not erased. The man with void-black eyes may be dead, but the forces behind him still move. The answers he seeks are still out there. And this time, he will find them.

Monsters. Rival races. Forgotten legends. The enemies lurking beyond the void.

This time, Wes Carter will not be denied.

His rise is inevitable.

(NOTE READ AUXILLARY CHAPTER)

Void Tree Chronicles

Wes floated in the warm, rhythmic world of the womb, his twin nestled beside him. It was strange—how deeply he could feel his sister's presence when he let his soul relax. Their shared space meant every shift, every beat, every ripple of warmth or discomfort was mirrored between them. It was more than just proximity. When he wasn't blocking his soul, he could feel everything—her tiny heartbeats, the subtle pulses of her forming mana, the ebb and flow of shared nutrients. It was as if their souls brushed against each other, a quiet, constant reminder that he was not alone.

He could see why twins were often so close. In this dark, muffled world, they were each other's only company. It was an intimacy that defied words, a connection that went beyond thought. It felt right. Safe.

Of course, being a baby sucked. His body was fragile, weak, and barely formed. Stretching an arm felt like swimming through mud. His muscles were underdeveloped, his bones little more than soft cartilage. It was a humbling experience—after years of honing his body into a weapon, he now struggled just to exist. Simple things like moving or even flexing his fingers required monumental effort. But anything was better than the void. Anything.

He wasn't sure how much time remained until they were born, but his guess was a few more months. He had already siphoned a sliver of mana for himself and his sister, a small reserve to ensure their bodies developed as strong as possible. It was all he could do from here—small nudges, subtle influences. He had to be careful not to draw too much, not to disturb the delicate balance. But it felt good to do something, to prepare in the only way he could.

A sudden, terrifying pressure gripped him. The comforting warmth turned into a suffocating trap. It felt as if the walls were closing in, the rhythmic pulse of life around him stuttering. He couldn't breathe—no, it wasn't him. His mother wasn't getting air.

Panic flared. His essence snapped to attention, a spark in the darkness. He extended his soul outward, brushing against the walls of their shared cocoon. His senses were limited—he couldn't see outside his mother's body. He couldn't know what was happening beyond this fleshy, fluid-filled world. But what he felt was enough. Her throat was constricting, not from within but by an external force.

Fear twisted through him, sharp and cold. His first instinct was to act, to fight, but he was trapped—small, helpless, surrounded by amniotic fluid and flesh. His second instinct was to use his mother's strength. He reached for the tangled strands of mana he had carefully unwound over the past months. The last thread of the restriction lay coiled like a snake, ready to be severed. He could release it, and her cultivation would surge back into place, breaking through whatever held her.

But just as he moved to do it, the pressure eased. Air flooded back into her lungs. The tightness in his chest faded, leaving behind a raw, aching emptiness. His essence settled, the flare of his soul dimming back into the soft glow of waiting.

He remained vigilant. One minute. Two. An hour. A day. He stayed alert, his soul taut like a drawn bowstring, ready to act if it happened again. The womb, once a place of warmth and security, now felt like a battleground—a fragile bubble that could burst at any moment.

He exhaled—or the closest thing to it he could manage in this state. If the rebirth thing wasn't a sure thing, he wasn't eager to test it.

"Hopefully, that won't happen again," he thought, letting his awareness slip back to the edge of sleep. But even as he drifted, a sliver of his consciousness remained on guard, a silent sentinel in the dark.

Cannot Breathe