In a world where cruelty reigned supreme—Earth, once teeming with life but now ravaged by endless wars—Grey Fozard, at the tender age of three, witnessed the unthinkable.
The air reeked of charred flesh and metallic blood as his parents fell to the blades of marauders, their screams echoing through the war-torn ruins of what was once a bustling city, now a battlefield of crumbled skyscrapers and scorched earth.
The ground shook with the constant march of armies, skies darkened by smoke from nuclear blasts and qi-like energy clashes, and the scent of death clung to everything—bitter ash on the tongue, sticky gore underfoot, deafening roars of clashing weapons and dying cries piercing the ears.
This cruel Earth knew no mercy; nations and factions slaughtered each other for resources and power, their advanced weapons exploding in chaotic bursts of crimson and black, leaving craters that swallowed entire cities.
Grey, self-aware even in his youth, thought, 'Why do they kill? Is this all there is—endless pain? I have to survive, for them. Hiding in shadows,' he fled to a cave in the wilderness, his tiny heart pounding with fear and determination.
For two years, Grey endured the forest's dangerous embrace, now five years old but hardened like a tempered spirit sword. The cave's damp, musty air filled his lungs with moldy chill, walls slick with moisture that dripped like tears.
He hunted animals with makeshift traps and stones, the thrill of the chase mixing with terror—deer hooves thundering on leaf-strewn ground, their warm blood spraying hot and coppery when he struck, the crunch of bones under his desperate blows echoing in the silence.
Self-reflection came in quiet moments 'I'm alone, but I learn. Each kill makes me stronger. Earth wants me dead, but I'll balance it—survive.'
Dangerous beasts lurked, their roars ear-shattering, claws raking air in flashes of silver, but Grey's wits and growing instincts kept him alive, his body bruised and scarred from close calls.
The next day, afternoon sun cast a bloody hue over the dead Earth—everyone gone, slain in the endless wars, leaving silence broken only by wind howling through skeletal ruins.
Suddenly, the ground quaked violently, rocks tumbling in avalanches of dust and debris, the sky drying to a deep, viscous blood red that dripped like paint, scents of iron and decay overwhelming nostrils.
Grey peeked from his cave, self-aware of the shift
'This isn't war… it's something bigger. Am I the last? What now?'
A man materialized amid the chaos—the Ruler of Balances (RoB), his presence crushing like heavenly pressure, robes flowing in ethereal gold, eyes glowing with ancient light that pierced souls.
The ground stabilized under his will, but the air vibrated with power, tasting of ozone and divine essence. RoB scanned the desolate landscape, surprised by the young boy in the forest. "A survivor on this dead Earth?" he muttered, self-reflecting 'The Dao spares none, yet this child endures. Perfect for my successor.'
Casting a spell, RoB summoned Grey before him in a whirl of qi winds that whipped hair and clothes, scents of ancient incense filling the air. Grey trembled, pressure forcing him to his knees, self-aware fear mixing with curiosity
'Who is this god? He could crush me, but his eyes… they're kind?' He felt fear but feeling comfortable and trusting this godalike..
"Very interesting! You survived this cruel Earth!" RoB's voice boomed like primordial thunder, ancient and resonant, little gold light glowing in his eyes. "I will take you as my successor to rule over eternal balances of vast worlds. Surpass me in the future—don't disappoint me, little mortal!"
Grey, afraid but defiant, stared up.
"Might who are you? I was all alone on that dead Earth!" he said, voice quavering but steady, self-aware of his vulnerability.
'He's powerful, but I survived alone. I can learn from him.' He's terrified and cautiously thought.
"I forgot my name a long time ago, but you can call me Ruler of Balances! I'm ruling over eternal worlds', heaven's balances, and no one dares disobey me because I will destroy their balance—even their galaxies!" RoB said, his tone pissed off at imagined defiance, eyes flashing gold that blinded momentarily.
"So you will take me as your successor?" Grey asked, frowning, self-reflecting
'Successor? Me, a kid from dead Earth? But if it means power to end cruelty… yes.' He's confused but thinking.
"Yes, I will grant you the Book of Balance that will grant you control over balances—even no one would dare touch you if you grow stronger than them, even our foreign enemies!" RoB declared.
"I will not make you disappointed, so who are our enemies, Master?" Grey said, kneeling fully, self-aware of the weight: Enemies… like the killers who took my parents? I'll destroy them.
"Evil who devour our galaxies' essence but disrupt our balance, but if they keep devouring our essence, we will be in danger—even the eternal worlds," RoB said, his voice laced with fury, fists clenching with qi that cracked the air.
"If we eliminate them, even all of them, we will solve the biggest crisis, Master?" Grey said, frowning deeper, self-aware logic cutting through fear:
'Devourers… like the wars that ate Earth. Balance means ending them.'
"That's right. Let me bring you to my palace to train you to become a supreme god which belongs to the middle of heaven," RoB said.
"Yes, Master," Grey replied, bowing deeply, self-aware resolve hardening 'A new life… I'll grow strong, for dead Earth.'
RoB raised a hand, qi exploding in a golden storm that shattered the dead Earth—ground crumbling in seismic roars, sky tearing in blood-red rips, scents of destruction overwhelming in ash and sulfur. Teleporting them, they arrived at the palace—a colossal structure of jade towers piercing clouds, air crisp with divine incense and essence mist tasting sweet on tongues, halls echoing with heavenly chimes, colors of gold and azure immersing senses in awe.
Grey's eyes widened, self-aware shock
'This is power… bigger than Earth's ruins.' He thoughts.
RoB guided him to the cultivation room—a chamber of glowing spirit crystals, air humming with pure qi that tingled skin like electric whispers, scents of lotus and elixir filling lungs. "Sit in the middle," RoB commanded.
Grey obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the smooth jade floor that warmed like living essence. RoB explained cultivation: "Draw qi from heaven and earth into your dantian. Balance yin and yang—cold and hot, defense and attack. Circulate through meridians like rivers; bottlenecks are tests of will. Fail, and inner demons devour you. Succeed, and ascend realms."
Grey nodded, self-aware understanding dawning: Like surviving Earth's forests—balance or die. He closed his eyes, beginning the process, qi flooding in with immersive intensity, visions of eternal worlds unfolding.
The chapter culminated in Grey's first qi gathering, his dantian forming under RoB's watchful eye, the path to supreme godhood begun.
RoB smiled faintly: "You have the spirit of a survivor from that dead Earth. Use it well."
Grey replied, "I will, Master. For the balance you guard." Their conversation deepened the bond, Grey's self-awareness growing with each word.