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 and the General collided, time seemed to hold its breath.

Their blades met in a shower of sparks and black flame. The impact cracked the ground, sending tremors across the Ashen Expanse. Spectral soldiers roared behind the General, their cries echoing like ghosts of the damned.

Alan twisted mid-air, flipped over the General's blade, and struck downward. The General parried with ease, his massive blade creating gusts strong enough to knock Kraevok back several steps.

"Is that all your evolution amounts to?" the General sneered. "You learned some magic tricks and fused with your blood curse?"

Alan landed lightly, his eyes glowing faintly blue-red. "I didn't evolve to impress you."

He spun, slashing out in a flurry of strikes.

The General blocked every one, but with each impact, cracks spread through his armor—not from weakness, but from the truth carried in each blow.

Alan wasn't just fighting with strength.

He was fighting with remorse. With resolve.

The ash under their feet began to lift, swirling into a cyclone as both warriors clashed again and again, faster than the eye could follow.

Seris stood frozen, unable to intervene, feeling the sheer gravity of the battle.

Kraevok observed silently. "This fight," it said softly, "is older than any kingdom."

Suddenly, the General leapt back and stabbed his sword into the ground.

The ash soldiers screamed and rushed forward.

Alan gritted his teeth and raised his katana.

"Soulstorm: Phase One!"

A burst of silver-red light exploded around him, forming a ring of magical sigils that hovered in the air. The soldiers hit the barrier and disintegrated instantly.

The General watched, frowning. "That magic... it's yours, not borrowed. Not the gods'. Not the curse's."

Alan looked up. "I stopped running from who I was. I'm not Alanus the Coward… or the Bloodstorm's puppet. I am both. And neither."

Their swords clashed again—this time, Alan pushed back. The General's eyes widened as he was forced to take a step back.

Alan slammed a punch into the General's gut, then spun and slashed across his chest. Sparks and blood flew.

"You still hold onto your hatred," Alan said. "That's why you can't move forward. That's why you're still stuck here, leading ghosts."

The General roared and unleashed a shockwave.

He stepped through it, blade drawn.

The General staggered, falling to one knee.

Alan stood over him, katana dripping ash and light.

"I didn't come to kill you," Alan said. "I came to free you."

And for the first time in centuries… he smiled.

Only his sword remained, glowing faintly.

Alan picked it up and stabbed it into the ground.

Chapter 15: Ash and Oath