rastq12

A world ruled by Sovereigns, beings of absolute power bound by an eternal cycle. Every 1,000 years, reality resets, and history is rewritten. The strong ascend, the weak are erased, and none remember what came before.

Except for one.

When he awakens in a shattered battlefield, marked as “Forsaken,” he knows something is wrong. Fragments of past cycles burn in his mind. He remembers dying—again and again—fighting against a fate he could never escape. But this time, something is different.

His power is corrupted, broken beyond recognition. His existence is an anomaly, rejected by the world itself. The cycle should have erased him, but he remains.

Now, hunted by immortals who do not remember their crimes, he must uncover the truth behind the Pantheon of Sovereigns, the Architect who designed this prison, and the lost history of those who defied fate before him.

For the first time in eternity, the cycle is fracturing.

And he is the one breaking it.

Sovereign of the Forsaken Realm

His steps were uneven, his body barely holding together as he ran. Every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. Every movement sent jolts of searing pain through his limbs.

It didn't move like a living thing. It didn't run. It didn't chase.

And with every step, reality itself bent to its will. The ground fractured. The air shook. The space between them was an illusion—the Hunter could erase it at any moment.

His mind screamed at him to keep moving, but his body was failing. The power he had used before—the pulse of corrupted energy—had left him unstable. His edges flickered, his vision warping between the present and glimpses of something else.

—A hand reaching toward him through the abyss.

The past? The future? He couldn't tell anymore.

A single thought anchored him: Survive.

Ahead, the ruins stretched into the horizon. Jagged spires of crumbling stone loomed like broken teeth. The shadowed figure—the unknown presence—was somewhere inside.

The sky darkened. The battlefield groaned as an invisible weight pressed down upon it. The very fabric of reality was collapsing.

One step. Another. His legs threatened to give out, his body fighting against itself. The ruins were close—so close.

But the moment he reached the threshold—

A surge of ancient, golden light erupted from the ruins, carving a shimmering line between him and the Hunter. The pressure around him vanished.

A ripple of static flickered across its form. It did not step forward. It did not attack.

And then, as if acknowledging something unseen, it slowly lowered its hand.

Its voice resonated across the battlefield. Cold. Absolute. But there was a sliver of something else.

Then, without another word, the Hunter vanished.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The world spun as his body finally gave out, his vision fading to black.

A pair of golden eyes staring down at him from the ruins.

Chapter 5: A Fading Light