Suraj_Sharma_0501

Alan Grey was once the strongest mage in the world—feared by kings, hunted by heroes, and cursed by the gods themselves. They called him a heretic, a traitor, a Godslayer. But in the end, it wasn't a blade or a spell that killed him. It was betrayal by the one he trusted most.

Yet the gods made one mistake.

They sent him back.

Now reborn as his younger self, Alan returns to the magical world of Aetherium, where the Arcanum Academy trains the next generation of spellcasters. Armed with knowledge from a future soaked in blood and betrayal, Alan is no longer a mere student—he is a storm waiting to rise.

But the gods are watching. Twisting fate. Interfering.

This time, Alan won’t play by their rules.

He’ll uncover the hidden truths of magic, awaken forbidden powers, and forge new alliances. And when the time comes, he’ll challenge the very heavens again.

Only this time, he won’t lose.

In a world where magic shapes destiny and gods dictate fate, one reborn mage dares to defy both.

The Godslayer’s Rebirth

The moment Alan's blade clashed with the Crimson Warden's staff, reality itself rippled.

A shockwave surged across the ruined cathedral, splintering stone and hurling debris into the air like leaves caught in a hurricane. Kraevok held Seris behind his shielded arm as crimson lightning and divine silver clashed again.

The Warden's eyes gleamed with fanatic madness. "You think brute force will change fate, Alanus? The blood of the old world runs in your veins. That blood is cursed!"

Alan didn't respond. His strikes grew faster—each slash of his katana whistled like a blade of wind, each parry etched glowing trails in the air.

His staff wasn't mere wood; it was a relic from the Age of Suffering, tipped with a fragment of a fallen star. Every block sent out shockwaves. Every counter ignited the air.

Then… the Warden twisted his palm.

A sigil activated on Alan's chest—the Second Seal pulsed violently.

A scream. A roar. A thousand voices snarling in rage.

"Feel it now?" the Warden hissed. "That's the Bloodstorm. The true core of your power."

He wasn't in the cathedral anymore.

He was standing on a battlefield of red skies and shattered moons. Corpses of gods lay around him, and a throne made of their skulls stood in the distance.

And on that throne sat a version of himself—taller, darker, armored in shadows, with eyes glowing like molten lava.

"Welcome back," it said. "Did you think sealing me would erase me?"

Back in the real world, Seris screamed, "Alan!"

He faced his inner self in the vision.

In the real world, Alan's body trembled as red-black energy burst from within him. The sky above split—storm clouds roared, and thunder screamed like dragons.

They glowed with both blue and red.

He stood up slowly. The Warden stepped back, for the first time unsure.

The Crimson Warden's staff shattered.

And as the cultist fell, eyes wide with horror, Alan whispered:

"Tell your masters... the Bloodstorm is awake."

Kraevok lowered its shield. Seris rushed to Alan's side.

"You… you looked different," she said.

He looked at his hand—flickering between silver light and blood-red energy.

"I've remembered who I used to be. But I've also chosen who I'll become."

He turned his gaze toward the distant mountains.

"The Cult has more. This was just their priest. Their general… he's next."

Chapter 13: The Bloodstorm Within