Prologue: The Betrayal
Blood soaked the marble floors of the Grand Throne Hall.
The Crimson Sovereign, once feared and revered as the strongest mage in the known realms, knelt before the obsidian spear piercing his chest. His once-proud crimson cloak lay shredded behind him, trampled by the very generals he raised from nothing.
"You bastards..." he coughed, his voice a raspy whisper carried on fading life. "I forged empires with you."
One of them stepped forward—his closest friend, his second-in-command—now a traitor. "And now, you stand in the way. You've grown too powerful… too dangerous."
The Sovereign's gaze didn't waver. His golden eyes, burning with arcane fury, pierced through the lies like searing light. "You were always weak. You feared me more than you respected me."
The spear twisted.
Pain exploded across his body. His vision dimmed.
But he smiled.
Because with his final breath, he wove a spell forbidden even in the deepest archives of the world's magic—Chronos Requiem. Time and soul intertwined, death unraveled.
"I'll return," he whispered. "I'll watch your legacy crumble… and laugh."
The hall went silent.
And then, the world forgot him.
Chapter 1: The Boy with No Name
Fifteen years later.
The sky was choked in gray, and rain drizzled softly over the broken rooftops of an orphanage on the outskirts of the Western Kingdom. Inside, a boy sat alone by the cracked window, watching the clouds with a half-smile.
He was beautiful—not in the innocent way of most children, but like a statue carved by a god with a twisted sense of humor. Sharp cheekbones. Raven-black hair. And eyes far too old for his face.
He had no name. Not officially.
The nuns called him "Ash."
"Boy!" a shrill voice snapped. Sister Gertha, plump and cruel, waddled in with a stick in hand. "You didn't scrub the floors again! Do you want dinner or not?"
Ash turned slowly.
There was something in his gaze that made the woman pause—just for a second. A flicker of something ancient. Predatory.
He smiled.
"No," he said. "Dinner is unnecessary. But you'll wish you skipped yours."
"What did you—?"
She didn't see the rat scuttle near her foot until it sank its teeth into her ankle. She screamed and stumbled backward, crashing into a pile of rusted pans. Ash stood and walked past her, calm and unbothered.
He whispered under his breath, "A simple hex. Barely worth the breath."
Outside, the city buzzed. Magic hummed in the air, subtle and unseen. Tomorrow was Selection Day—the day when the Royal Academy scouted children from every corner of the continent.
Ash wasn't on any list.
But he would be there.
Because inside this boy's heart, wrapped in shadows and fury, the Crimson Sovereig
n lived again.
And he had plans.