Lucian Blackthorne's obsidian blade pulsed with dark energy, its hum low and steady, echoing faintly through the stillness of the moon. Each breath he took seemed heavier here, as though the very air had thickened with anticipation — cold, thin, and distant. Silver dust stirred beneath his boots, lifting and falling like fleeting stars, as he stared across the cratered plain.
There, suspended against the infinite darkness of space, stood the God.
A presence of silence and shadow. A living wound in the sky. Its form was wrapped in void so deep it seemed to devour light itself, each movement bending the stars around it. The very fabric of reality shivered in its presence.
Lucian's grip on his sword tightened, fingers pressing into the hilt until the metal groaned. His voice rang across the empty plain, calm, unflinching.
"Abyssal Exile."
From the blade erupted a beam of black-red devastation, carving through the void like a scar across creation itself. The sky above split in response, the ground beneath cracking under the sheer weight of energy. The sound of raw power rolled like thunder across the heavens, vibrating in Lucian's bones.
And yet, the God moved not an inch.
A single dark-clawed finger lifted. And with the lightest flick, the beam shattered — disintegrating into fading embers, swallowed whole by the infinite void.
Lucian staggered back, heart hammering, disbelief flickering in his golden-red eyes.
"That… should've killed a National Hunter in an instant…" he muttered.
There was no hesitation. With a surge that shattered rock beneath him, Lucian dashed forward. His blade glowed brighter, a black-red comet in motion.
"Obsidian Genesis!"
A crescent slash of void-light twisted through the clouds, coiling with mana, carved toward the God's chest like a blade of living darkness.
The God didn't move.
Two fingers extended. The tip of Lucian's blade collided midair with effortless force. Metal groaned under the divine pressure, sparks of energy bursting outward in a silent explosion that cracked the very vacuum around them.
Lucian's breath caught.
"He's… beyond my level."
No matter how much strength he poured into his strike, it was not enough. But not the end.
He backstepped, voice stretching across the desolate plain. "Selene — brace the citadel. I'm drawing him away."
A pulse of mana answered. Selene's voice crackled in the conjured link.
"Not alone, Lucian."
He softened, voice quieter. "If you come, who will protect what we've built? I won't let history repeat."
A memory returned. Blood-soaked ground, the Dragon Gate's ruin, the fall of his family. The screams of those long dead echoed across galaxies, fresh as if they had just been carved into the air. Pain and loss surged through him, grounding his resolve in the human heart he still bore.
Without a second thought, Lucian activated the Nyxveil Relic.
Reality warped. Space twisted. Time stuttered, splintering in spirals of silver and black. The God was pulled through the rift, dragged across light-years in an instant, and then released upon a desolate silver land that stretched beyond imagination.
Lucian didn't hesitate. With a roar of willpower, he unleashed his most powerful technique — Sovereign's Finale, the tenth form of the Blackthrone Tenfold sword art.
The impact cracked the crust of the land, shockwaves rippling outward through the void, stirring celestial dust into blinding spirals. Stars themselves seemed to tremble under the force of his strike.
The God merely stepped back, raising a hand. The attack disintegrated before it could reach him, deflected with an effortless grace that defied comprehension.
For the first time, he spoke — not with anger, but curiosity.
"That technique… and that pendant on your neck… I have seen them somewhere. Who are you, mortal?"
Lucian's grip tightened. Voice steady. "I am Lucian Blackthorne."
At the utterance, the God's form shifted subtly. With a flick of his fingers, Lucian was lifted into the air, bound by an invisible force, suspended as though reality itself had paused to examine him.
He studied the being, narrowing his eyes. Recognition sparked deep in the God's expression, a memory older than the creation of stars.
"Ah… Blackthorne. Why do you stand against me?"
Lucian's gaze sharpened. "Is there a reason that I cannot?"
The God chuckled softly, low, amused — the sound echoing across the vacuum, yet seeming too vast to be merely sound.
"You do not understand. Judging by your confusion… you've forgotten your legacy."
Lucian sheathed his sword in instinctive confusion. There was no murderous aura now, yet he felt an incomprehensible weight pressing into him. He did not know this man — even the histories carried no record of a being like him.
The God's voice, calm and inexorable: "By your expression, you know nothing. Then let me remind you."
The world shattered like glass around him.
In the blink of an eye, everything around vanished.
Lucian now stood on a battlefield that spanned the stars themselves. Constellations shifted like titans in motion; galaxies trembled under the weight of war. The vastness of the cosmos pressed down, dizzying and infinite.
The God's voice echoed beside him. "Do not fear. This is only a part of memory — a fragment of what once was. This… was the war between Darkness and Light."
Lucian's gaze locked on a figure clad in black and crimson, standing at the forefront. His aura suffocated everything around him, divine and unshakeable.
"That man…" Lucian breathed.
The God nodded slowly. "He was the 10th generation Patriarch of the Blackthorne Clan."
Lucian's chest tightened. "The tenth? But that's impossible…"
The fact is Lucian in the twenty-first patriarch, and he had seen every patriarch except the one he sees in the memory.
Rhaziel exhaled, voice heavy with sorrow. "The Blackthornes were more than warriors… they were family even have they are not related to me by blood. My most trusted. But during the war, we were overwhelmed. Half our forces were lost. Of the Blackthornes, only ten survived. I used the last of my strength to cast them into another dimension… and the war was lost."
Lucian's fists clenched. "And I'm supposed to believe this? Do I look like a madman?"
Rhaziel smirked faintly, then glanced at the void surrounding them. "Look around, Child. We stand on the moon, and yet you still breathe. Humans have not evolved that far."
For Rhaziel who live from the Era of beginning, Lucian is just a child who had yet completed even a century.
Lucian's breath caught — he realized he wasn't breathing, yet life surged within him.
"You are a Blackthorne. Descended from a bloodline that once rivalled the High Gods."
Lucian's voice dropped. "High Gods?"
Rhaziel's gaze deepened. "There is a hierarchy. At the top stand the High Gods — beings who shaped galaxies, fate, and the very weave of reality. Your bloodline once stood among them."
Lucian's gaze hardened. "Then what are you?"
Rhaziel looked toward Earth. "I am Rhaziel, the God of Darkness. After the war, I fell into endless slumber in the void. Only now have I awakened — drawn by the immense surge of mana from your world."
Lucian's brow darkened. "Every planet emits mana. Why come here?"
"They may, but none equal Earth. The Gate system here produces mana of unmatched quality, refined enough to nourish the divine."
Lucian's face hardened. "The Gate system…"
"Yes. Their emergence of the gate was no accident. Many of the Earth around various universes, the gate system is introduced by abiding the natural law."
Lucian bristled. "What does it mean by introduced?"
Rhaziel's tone turned grave. "It's mean that the gate system was specially used on Earth's by the various God's to increase the potential of Humans or in simple words you can just say a source of entertainment."
Lucian in deep voice "Entertainment" he remembers every sacrifice of his family member for centuries "… What they take life for, countless people die in a day for a fucking piece of entertainment."
Rhaziel's tone was sorrowful. "I opposed it, but they have convinced all the God's for the pass of this system."
Lucian's eyes burned. "Who are they?"
Rhaziel sign "They are the cause of every thing, they created this system, they misused there power, they are the reason for the dead of billions of humans for centuries, they are the God of Light, God of time and God of space."
Lucian "So... you try to fight against them but in the end it was a defeat".
Rhaziel "Well I may have been victory but at that time there were many variable present that leads to our end, and in the end I can only able to define the natural law upon this system."
Lucian "What is this natural law?"
"Balance," Rhaziel said simply. "The laws of the cosmos demand equilibrium. Just like Light and Darkness must always oppose each other. This was set in motion by the Three Almighty Forces."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "The Three?"
Rhaziel's expression grew distant. "The universe was born from three primordial powers—Darkness, Light, and the Third. But due to the misused of power by God of light the power in combine shattered and that was the starting of Multiverse."
Lucian's heart pounded. "That imbalance… was the war with the God of Light?"
Rhaziel nodded. "You begin to understand. But tell me, Child… where is the rest of your clan?"
Lucian hesitated before answering. "There are only six of us left."
For the first time, true shock crossed Rhaziel's face. "Only six? The Blackthorne Clan once held over a hundred thousand warriors… They were the heart of my empire. Even if they were just ten they still should be able to regain its power"
Lucian looked away. "That era is over. Look like they don't left any piece of history to us that may lead to you, they don't want to continue that horrific wars maybe"
Rhaziel sighed, heavy with the weight of centuries. "Then you must bring it back. There are no choice but to regain the peace we have lost. I may have lose but in the future you will not."
Before Lucian could react, he raised his hand once more, and a swirling mass of pure darkness formed in his palm—ancient, primal, vast.
"This power… is what remains of my divinity. The Origin of Darkness itself," he said solemnly. "From this moment on, it is no longer mine."
Lucian's eyes widened as the mass of divine energy surged forward, engulfing him. It did not burn, but resonated — recognizing him as its heir.
"I name you the new bearer of Darkness. Wield it wisely, or it will consume you," Rhaziel said.
"With this you have achieve the power of Low-Level God," Rhaziel said calmly. "But you must train. Grow stronger. Restore what we lost to them, the peace, our peoples, and lastly that era which every one believes... Heaven . "
Lucian staggered as the power settled within him, overwhelming yet strangely familiar.
Rhaziel extended a hand. "Give me the Nyxveil Relic."
Lucian handed it over without hesitation.
Rhaziel traced glowing runes across the pendant, etching coordinates that shimmered with Multiversal promise.
"This is not just an a common pendant, it the only thing in the multiverse which cross dimension and time without getting caught by the God's. I have set your paths. Seek the ancient Artifacts tied to your bloodline and to me, after completing it you may have become near to mid Gods. Use this relic to travel safely. But remember—never use Dark Teleportation."
Lucian frowned. "What happens if I do?"
Rhaziel's form began to dissolve into the void.
"If you use Dark Teleportation," his voice echoed one final time, "you will alert the Soldiers of Light… and they will come for your life."
And with that, the God of Darkness vanished—his legacy passed on, his power inherited.
Lucian stood alone beneath the stars—reborn as the new Wielder of Darkness, with a purpose rekindled and a legacy to reclaim.