The moon hovered over Asteros Academy like a silent eye, shedding silver light over the towering spires and ancient libraries. Within the stone-clad dormitory, Geal Elish sat cross-legged on his bed, the residual tremors of power still humming through his soul. The Title of Sword Emperor had changed something — no, everything.
His veins shimmered faintly with threads of divine intent. Each breath he took felt like he was inhaling starlight. His perception had sharpened to the point where he could hear the faint ticking of time as it dripped into the infinite.
Yet amid the awe and the weight of power, a nagging echo surfaced in his mind — a forgotten whisper.
He dove into his consciousness.
What greeted him was not the serene garden of the soul he expected, but a black chasm filled with endless darkness. There, cocooned in a storm of void lightning, was a figure — bound, shrouded, yet familiar.
"So... you've come," the being said. Its voice echoed from every direction.
Geal instinctively took a step back, though in this realm of the mind, such a thing was meaningless.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"A shard. A scar. A shadow. I am what you lost, what they stole. What you must become."
The pressure was suffocating. The darkness pulsed with raw, chaotic energy. Geal staggered.
"You will know me in time," the entity said. "Until then, beware the light that blinds."
Then silence.
Geal woke with a gasp, sweat soaking through his nightshirt. The stars outside had dimmed. It was not yet dawn.
He tried to push the encounter aside. There was too much to think about.
The academy. The world. The timelines.
Fragments of jumbled memories began to align. He was a freshman at Asteros Academy, one of the Seven Pillar Institutions spread across the First Heaven — a vast world of humans and monsters locked in a quiet balance.
In this life, he had always been invisible. Long hair, glasses, plain robes — he had adopted a persona so average it was forgettable.
And he liked it that way.
There were many protagonists in the novel he had read — the real plot's luminaries — reborn, transmigrated, chosen by fate. He wanted no part in it.
"A background extra," he whispered to himself. "Let them chase glory. I will chase peace."
He stood, drawing the heavy drapes open. The landscape outside stretched with elegance — manicured courtyards, distant towers. Yet beyond that, far beyond, was a multiversal truth.
This universe comprised three major worlds:
First Heaven — where he now lived. Dominated by humans and monsters.
Primitive Heaven — home to elves, dragons, fairies, and the ancient spirits.
Desolate Heaven — a rugged world shared by beast kings, ancient tribes, and primordial dragons.
Floating beside these heavens was the ominous, shadow-drenched realm of The Abyss Plane — a confluence of darkness and chaos where Abyss Demons, Vampires, and other creatures of night held dominion.
Beyond all these floated the Underworld, not a hell, but a repository of death and forgotten fate.
What kept these worlds in check?
A power none could truly grasp — the Mother River.
The river flowed not with water, but with pure spiritual force, wrapping all creation in its embrace. Every world was but an island drifting in this cosmic torrent. And above all, the laws decreed:
No being above Emperor may remain in the main worlds.
They would be ejected — cast into the Sea Beyond Stars, forced into exile by the World Will.
Geal let out a slow breath. This world was far more immense than any mortal imagination. A single main world was so vast, so layered, that even a god might never uncover all its truths.
And now… he had returned to it.
Memories from childhood surfaced next — painful, raw.
He had once saved a noble's daughter. Not for reward, but from a pure heart.
Instead of gratitude, the noble house repaid him with betrayal.
They stripped him of his latent talent — forcefully siphoning his innate gifts using forbidden spiritual extraction.
That talent was then implanted into the girl he had saved.
He was left to die, discarded like a tool.
But fate was not done.
By cruel irony, that same noble house later 'rescued' him again — memory-wiped, spirit-locked — and allowed him to serve under them, unaware of his past.
And the girl?
Now known as the Star Sovereign of First Heaven, she stood at the apex of the human world, her name echoing across continents: Estiel Nova.
She had even been declared… his fiancée.
He felt no hate.
Only irony.
That fragment of talent she now wielded… it was a mere splinter of his soul.
A secret even she did not know.
Yet.
He chuckled bitterly. "What a comedy the heavens have written."
But he did not dwell.
Instead, he turned inward. Power was not for revenge. It was a ladder — one he would climb alone.
He lay down upon the bed, the silk covers oddly comforting, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he would play the part of the quiet student once more.
Let the world turn. Let heroes rise and villains fall.
He had no place in the script.
Not yet.
And beyond the veil of sleep, something stirred.
Waiting.