The night Lucian Arkan was born, the world drowned in blood—
and yet, a single cry shattered the abyss itself.
The air reeked of iron and rot. Shadows prowled through broken streets, their teeth flashing crimson, claws dripping with flesh. Each step pressed despair deeper into the sky.
A man staggered forward, clutching a broken sword. Behind him, his wife writhed on the ground, body torn by pain, breath shallow, life hanging by a thread.
A child was about to be born.
But so was death.
"Just a little longer! Hold on!" the man roared, splitting a monster in half. His hands trembled, his knees buckled, his whole body drenched in blood.
Hope was fading.
His wife's scream tore through the night, blood staining the stones as though her soul itself was being ripped apart. His heart shattered.
This road would be their grave.
And then—light.
The infant's first cry burst forth, and with it an otherworldly brilliance. It surged like a tidal wave, devouring the abyss, reducing monsters to ash, annihilating shadows as though the world itself denied their existence.
Silence.
Only the cry of a newborn—fragile, trembling, eternal.
The mother lived. Tears streamed down her face as she pressed the glowing child to her chest.
The father collapsed to his knees, face streaked with blood and grief, yet shining with awe.
With a broken voice, he raised the infant toward the heavens.
"Born in despair, yet your cry shattered the abyss. You are Lucian—the light no darkness can swallow. You are Arkan—the unbroken pillar, even if I fall. My son… you are the miracle we were never worthy of."
The mother kissed the child's brow.
That night was remembered not as a massacre, but as the night Lucian Arkan—the child of abyssal light—was born.
Sixteen Years Later
An endless plain stretched to the horizon. Thousands of eyes fixed upon the towering Soul Obelisk.
Hundreds of youths, all sixteen, stood in its shadow. Today, their fates would be unveiled. Some would remain ordinary. Some would become warriors. And one… would rise as a Pillar.
From the crowd stepped a girl. Her gaze calm, her clothing simple—yet her presence cut through the masses like a blade of will.
She laid her hand upon the Obelisk.
The world shuddered. The monument roared. Lightning split the heavens. Fire scorched the air.
A colossal winged beast unfolded in the sky—the body of an eagle, its back wreathed in flames, lightning crackling along its wings. Its eyes blazed with storm and destruction.
The heavens inscribed in burning script:
S-Level Dark Soul: Thunderfire Eagle Phoenix
Speed — swifter than light.
Dominion — fire and lightning.
The plain froze. Students, parents, teachers, generals—every breath caught in their throats.
Then—eruption. Cheers, tears, screams of joy thundered across the land. History had gained another Pillar.
But Elara Veyra lowered her head. In her eyes flickered disbelief.
Her previous life's Dark Soul had only been an A-level Phoenix. Now fate had twisted. Everything had changed.
Fragments of memory seared through her mind—
A battlefield drowned in corpses. A monstrous figure grinning with contempt.
Its voice shook the heavens:
"A race this weak should have vanished eons ago. For forty million years the Heavenly Dao sheltered you. Yet never once did you birth a true sovereign. You are not worthy of this world."
It spoke to her—Elara Veyra, humanity's last defender. She had stood alone against annihilation. She had fallen—broken, forgotten, humanity's final hope extinguished.
But in that instant, time itself froze.
A voice, vast and cold, rose from the void:
"I will grant you one last chance…"
Her soul had been hurled into the past. A new fate began.
And the whisper lingered:
"The Pillar you seek… stands beside you."
Elara's vision blurred, fading back into reality. Her gaze fell upon a boy. Around them, cheers turned into whispers, venom lacing every word.
"Isn't that the traitors' son?"
"Why is he still alive? His parents betrayed the nation."
"If he gains power, he'll follow their path. Better he die now."
The boy heard them all. His eyes remained steady. He had long grown used to poison. Within him burned a single truth—his parents were no traitors. One day, he would uncover the real betrayal.
Elara frowned. In her past life, neither this boy nor his parents had existed. A ripple in destiny.
But before she could dwell, Lucian Arkan stepped forward.
He placed his hand upon the Soul Obelisk.
At first, nothing. Silence thickened.
Then—his reflection appeared in the sky. Another Lucian, standing tall, eyes sharp.
The inscription burned into the firmament:
S-Level Dark Soul: Human.
Power: Wisdom alone.
Silence.
Then the first laugh cracked the stillness.
Another followed.
Soon, the plain thundered with cruelty.
"A Human Soul? Worthless!"
"Even beasts are better. What can wisdom do against claws and fire?"
"His parents were traitors. Of course the son is trash too."
The words stabbed deeper than blades. Each sneer was acid poured into old wounds.
Lucian's fists clenched. His nails cut skin, but he didn't flinch. Since childhood, stones had been thrown at him, whispers followed him, doors slammed in his face.
He had begged the heavens for one chance to prove himself.
And now—this.
A Human Soul. The weakest, the most mocked. A curse dressed as destiny.
For a moment, his vision blurred. His chest heaved, as though every insult of his life carved itself into this moment. His knees nearly gave out.
But then—
In the depths of his soul, Lucian was pulled into a place shrouded in mystery. Before him floated a book—its cover black as the void, speckled with countless stars. Across its surface blazed a silver scale.
The title burned with divine light:
Book of Heavenly Judgment.
Lucian's breath caught. He reached for it.
A voice resounded in his mind, cold and vast:
"Humanity is weak. Instead of striving for growth, they drown in selfishness. What they lack… is a Judge. One who delivers consequence for their deeds.
You were born as light. Your talent is wisdom. You may walk the path of the Judge. Do you accept?"
Lucian froze. His mind spun. But his hand moved on its own, clutching the book.
"Since you have taken the book, your answer is yes."
The tome opened. Pages blazed, floating before him.
Find the true guilty. Deliver rightful punishment. Each judgment grants you a reward—your cultivation talent will grow.
But beware: if you condemn the innocent, you will die. If you give the wrong punishment, you will die.
The words carved themselves into his soul.
A low laugh escaped Lucian's lips—dark, heroic, echoing in the void.
"So this is the power that fell into my hands… A power to change the fate of humanity. Hahaha!"
Somewhere beyond, a mysterious being chuckled—as though the greatest game had just begun.
Lucian opened his eyes. He stood once again before the Soul Obelisk, expression calm, as though nothing had happened.
To the world, he was still the boy mocked for bearing a worthless Human Soul.
But within him, the abyss stirred.
The crowd's jeers washed over him like acid, but his eyes no longer saw them. Deep inside, the Book of Heavenly Judgment pulsed.
A whisper slithered into his thoughts:
"A sin has been marked. Judgment awaits."
Lucian stiffened. No one else heard it. No one else saw the faint shadow of black scales rising behind him before dissolving into the void.
Elara's heart lurched. She knew that presence—from the day humanity perished. Her lips trembled as the truth clawed at her:
Why… why does he carry the scent of the Abyssal Judge?
Lucian raised his head. A thin smile curved his lips—cold, merciless. His gaze swept across the people who mocked him, lingering for a breath too long.
And in that instant, every person who met his eyes felt a chill crawl down their spine…
as if their sins were being weighed one by one.
The laughter died. The plain fell silent.
Only Elara dared whisper, voice cracking under the weight of fate:
"Lucian Arkan… what are you?"
The Book pulsed in his soul.
And from the void, a whisper answered:
"The first sin awaits judgment."