The Eye Of The Void

Chapter Seven

"So… I'm dead now."

That was Conner's first thought as his consciousness drifted through what felt like an endless abyss. An infinite sea of darkness. Silent. Cold. Still.

What a twisted irony. All his life, he'd craved peace—avoiding conflict, keeping his head down, staying out of trouble. And yet, in the end, he had been the one to blow himself up, taking a pack of murderous bastards with him.

"Well… at least I took them out with me," he muttered to himself, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips—if he even still had lips in this void.

But as the seconds—minutes—hours?—stretched on, Conner grew restless.

"Wait… this is the afterlife? Just floating in darkness forever? This really sucks."

Just as boredom started to outweigh relief, something changed. In the distance—far ahead—an eerie violet glow shimmered into view. It flickered like a sun, yet colder… more ancient… and far more dangerous. Then another shimmered beside it. Two now. Twin suns glowing deep purple in the void.

Conner's curiosity peaked. He drifted toward the light, drawn in despite every warning instinct. As he approached, a deep discomfort bloomed in his chest. It felt like… eyes were on him. Watching. Studying. Judging.

A presence.

A voice followed.

Distorted. Ethereal. Hollow and massive.

> "You are the one."

Conner blinked. "Huh? The one what?"

He looked around, trying to locate the speaker, but the darkness gave nothing.

"Hello?" he called out. "Anyone here? Or am I going insane in death too?"

> "You must succeed in your mission."

Conner's face twitched. "Mission? What mission? You got the wrong guy. I'm dead, remember?"

But then a familiar face flashed through his mind—Sir Vitraz.

A wave of fury surged through him.

He clenched his ghostly fists. "Wait a damn second… are you some kind of god? Or are you death itself? Maybe some cosmic judge?"

The twin violet suns pulsed, brighter now. Still silent.

"I want another chance," Conner said. "Reincarnation, resurrection, whatever it takes. I have someone to settle the score with… someone who needs to pay."

Silence. Then:

> "You must not fail."

That again. No answer. Just more cryptic nonsense.

"What is this? A broken divine answering machine? I said—what mission?!"

But it was clear now—whoever, whatever this was—it wasn't fully present. It felt less like a conscious being and more like… a programmed voice, playing a message.

> "Preparation complete. Standby. You will now be sent to your destination."

Conner was just about to ask another question when it hit him—a wave of pain so sudden and overwhelming that it felt like his entire being, body or soul, was being torn apart.

A guttural, heart-wrenching scream tore from his throat as his soul convulsed violently. He writhed in the void, the agony too immense to process, too raw to escape. It wasn't just pain—it was transformation, invasion, evolution. Something ancient and unnatural was happening to him.

Above him, the twin violet eyes glowed brighter—so bright that it felt as if the void itself trembled in response. And then, the space around him shifted.

Scenes flickered into existence—dozens, maybe hundreds—like a shattered mirror of reality. One moment showed laughter, life, warmth—a wedding, a family, a newborn child. The next, unthinkable horrors: cities engulfed in fire, skies torn open by war, entire worlds crumbling into dust. A clash of beauty and madness. Of paradise and apocalypse.

He was caught in the middle of it all, floating between what looked like heaven and hell merged into one surreal, cosmic vision.

And he screamed.

His soul-body had begun to glow, a dim violet light building with every passing second. But that wasn't the only thing changing.

Something was forming within him.

Just below his chest, a shape began to materialize—a sphere of pure, pulsing violet energy. A core.

It wasn't merely appearing—it was being forged. Drawn together piece by agonizing piece, each shard of energy stabbing into him with searing intensity. As the core formed, it radiated outward with blinding force, burning a mark into his very essence.

His screams rose into a crescendo. Conner had once thought that death was the worst thing imaginable.

He had been so very wrong.

This… this was something else entirely.

Something far worse.

And just when it felt like he couldn't take another second—when he thought he might be erased entirely—the pain stopped.

Gone.

Just like that.

The violet core stabilized, now glowing quietly within him. His body sagged. His eyes fluttered.

He collapsed into unconsciousness, drifting like dust.

His soul-body shimmered for a moment… and then vanished, whisked away from the void entirely.

But the twin glowing eyes remained—calm, still, and watching.

_ _ _ _

Meanwhile, within the Shadow Legion's Inner Hall…

Charlotte stood before Sir Vitraz, her posture straight, but her heartbeat betrayed her tension. Normally calm and composed, today she felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her shoulders like stone.

It wasn't just Vitraz.

She was standing before all Five Founders of the Shadow Legion—figures cloaked in myth, power, and fear. Only Vitraz had ever been seen in action, and his strength alone was said to defy logic. Yet among the Five, he was regarded as the weakest.

If he was the weakest... what were the other four?

That very thought sent shivers down her spine.

She tried to focus as she gave her report—details relayed from the surviving members of the Steele Squad. Her voice was steady, but her mind raced with unease. The mission had been a success at first, until they were intercepted by a Red Cosmic Army cruiser. A confrontation followed—intense and deadly. An high-ranking Cosmo Wielders appeared out of nowhere.

In the chaos, Conner—the wild, reckless heart of the squad—chose to stay behind.

To fight.

To buy his teammates a chance to escape.

At the cost of his life.

Before she could even finish her summary, one of the Five suddenly rose from his seat, his shadow looming over the room.

"Did you just say… the Steele boy is dead?" he asked, his voice sharp with displeasure.

The weight of his aura hit Charlotte like a crashing wave. Her breath hitched for a moment, but she stood her ground, nodding solemnly.

"Yes, my lord. That's what the survivors reported. Conner held the line so the others could flee. There were... no signs of survival from the wreckage."

Silence hung heavy in the hall.

"So... that is how it ended," the same Shade Ruler murmured, this time with a trace of solemnity.

"You may leave," he added, dismissing her with a gesture.

Charlotte bowed low, turned, and walked out with careful steps.

But her mind lingered on something strange—something she couldn't explain.

Why had the Shade Ruler looked… affected? Not with anger or disappointment, but something deeper. Grief? Regret?

Conner was a troublemaker, impulsive and chaotic—but no one had understood him like she did. And she was certain—no one would miss him like she would.

Still… she couldn't wrap her mind around why one of the most powerful beings in the world would look so shaken by his death.

No matter how she turned the thought over, no answer came.

She disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

---

Back in the inner sanctum…

The third Shade Ruler turned toward the others, his tone low and resolute.

"What now?" he asked.

The center Shade Ruler, cloaked in calm authority, finally spoke.

"The power of the Steele bloodline was meant to play a key role in our plan," one of the Shade Rulers said, his voice laced with quiet frustration. "But now that the Steele boy is gone, we'll have to proceed with the next phase of our plan."

He looked around at the others.

"And the Red Cosmic Army… they grow more aggressive. They're not just a nuisance anymore. They're an obstacle."

He paused, his voice now like iron.

"They must be dealt with first. Before we move on to the next phase."

He exchanged a look with the others, a silent understanding passing between them before he vanished into the shadows.

The Third Shade Ruler remained, turning slowly to glare at Vitraz. His displeasure was clear.

"You sent him on that mission," his voice was low but sharp. "This is on you."

Vitraz raised a brow and shrugged. "How was I supposed to know how it would play out? No one could've predicted that outcome."

He began to turn away when the Third Shade Ruler's voice stopped him.

"Tell me… do you truly believe the Steele boy is dead?"

Vitraz paused. For a moment, he didn't speak. Then, with a slow breath, he answered.

"We searched everything. Every inch of the wreckage. The warship was completely obliterated—there were no signs of life, no survivors. He's gone."

The Third Shade Ruler nodded faintly. "I see…"

But Vitraz didn't walk away. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression slightly unsettled.

"…Though lately, I'm not so sure anymore," he muttered. "I asked the squad for their thoughts. Every single one of them said the same thing…"

He smirked.

> "That guy... was like a damn cockroach. No matter what you threw at him, he just wouldn't die."

---

Meanwhile, in a faraway world…

The sky cracked.

The winds howled with unnatural fury as a black rift tore open above a desolate plain. Lightning arced across the darkened clouds. A shadow shot out from the rift—violently hurled through the air—before slamming into the ground and tumbling across the dense, thorn-covered grass.

The rift closed behind him.

For a moment, all was still.

Then, the grass rustled.

The figure—dressed in dark, scorched clothing—lay motionless, his short black hair matted with dirt and blood. His sharp jawline was bruised, and his body bore the signs of a brutal impact.

Then—he moved.

His chest rose with a sharp inhale.

His fingers twitched.

And then his eyes snapped open.

Two glowing, unnatural purple eyes stared up at the storm-wracked sky.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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