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 next morning, Kael'tan felt even heavier.

The air was thicker. The sky darker.

Alan knew it wasn't just the atmosphere—it was the awakening of the seals across the world. Each new bearer stirred the ancient magic deeper into motion.

As they prepared to leave the ruined city, a single arrow struck the stone before them.

It was black, feathered with raven wings, and wrapped with a bloodstained scroll.

Kraevok grabbed it cautiously. His nose wrinkled. "Fresh blood."

Alan took the scroll and unwrapped it.

The message inside was burned into the paper itself.

"We know you have awakened, Sovereign of the Thirteenth. The hunt has begun. You may walk, but you will never run fast enough."

At the bottom was a symbol:A broken crown bleeding onto thirteen shards.

Seris muttered, "Someone's not exactly subtle."

Alan crushed the scroll in his hand.

Meanwhile, across the war-torn Eastern Valleys…

The first seal bearers began to march.

The crimson-eyed boy from the wasteland—his name whispered as Ashren—raised a militia of outcasts, murderers, and madmen. His power grew with each village he burned, each survivor he twisted into a loyal fanatic.

The Seal of Ruin shielded him in hatred and madness.

In the Northern Ice Realms…

The frost-haired girl—Elvynne—walked alone, yet the blizzards themselves protected her. Her steps erased armies from the earth without her lifting a finger.

The Seal of Stillness she bore turned even thoughts to ice.

Back at Kael'tan…

Alan, Seris, and Kraevok set out toward the south, heading for the last known location of the Eleventh Seal—the one that Kael's warning spoke of.

They crossed broken bridges and dead forests, passing silent ruins where no birds sang and no insects crawled.

It was here, among the ruins, that they first saw it.

A symbol painted on shattered walls: the same bleeding crown.

Kraevok touched it, frowning. "They're marking their territory."

Alan's gaze hardened. "Or laying a trap."

That night, as they camped near a dry riverbed, Seris sharpened her daggers while Kraevok kept watch.

And then, once again, the voice of Sovereign Kael echoed faintly in his mind.

"Power does not unite. It divides. Beware those who call you brother."

Because he wasn't afraid of enemies.

He was more concerned about those who smiled before stabbing.

Then the world would soon burn in sealfire and betrayal.

Chapter 21: The Watcher and the Warpath