BlackStone

The world was vast, yet Asura knew it was only a fragment of something greater. The universe, the multiverse, the very concept of reality he refused to believe they were untouchable.



Power. Knowledge. Influence. These were not just words to him; they were the foundation of his ambition, the tools that would carve his name into existence itself. The weak accepted their place, but Asura? He would tear through the fabric of destiny with his own hands.



But fate was cruel. Born into the gutters of a crumbling city, surrounded by filth and forgotten dreams, he had nothing. No wealth, no status, no legacy to inherit. Only hunger. A hunger so deep it burned in his veins, gnawed at his bones, and whispered in his mind.



Will he make it?

Yes?

No



But power had a price.



And Asura had no intention of paying

He wanted to claw his way out of the dirt, rise above kings and deities, and reshape reality itself. The strong ruled, the weak perished he would be neither.



He would be more.



And this was only the beginning.