The battlefield was drowned in silence after the massacre of Kravon's Wind Soul. Broken bodies lay scattered across the Rifitlands, blood soaking into the shattered earth. The stench of death mixed with the fading scent of lightning and wind, painting the land in despair.
Erdi stood battered, his robes scorched and torn, lightning still flickering weakly across his body. His chest rose and fell heavily, but his eyes burned with defiance.
Kravon, in contrast, looked untouchable. The storm of his Wind Essentia swirled violently around him, feeding on the lives it had claimed. His laughter carried across the battlefield, cruel and unrestrained.
"Did you see, Erdi?" Kravon's voice echoed. "This is the gap between us. You are nothing more than a trembling insect before the might of Soul's Illumination!"
The remaining mercenaries jeered, emboldened by their master's dominance. The citizens of Aiden wept in despair, clutching at their wounds, praying for a miracle.
And in the midst of this chaos, Azren still stood unmoving. The dragon tattoo on his shoulder glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with the remnants of death scattered around him. Though small and silent, his presence gnawed at the edge of every onlooker's heart, as if something unspeakable was waiting to awaken.
The sky above darkened further, clouds gathering in a suffocating shroud. It was as if the heavens themselves were preparing to judge what had taken place in the Rifitlands.
The dark clouds above the Rifitlands churned like a storm about to consume the world. Suddenly, the heavens split—a jagged crack tore through space itself.
From within that rift stepped a woman clad in pure white, her presence radiant and overwhelming. With every step she took, the very air fractured, the space around her splintering as though reality itself could not contain her power. Waves of Essentia far beyond comprehension flowed in all directions.
Every cultivator on the battlefield froze. Their terror turned into awe. The chaos, the blood, the despair—it all fell into silence.
Erdi's weary eyes brightened with sudden joy. "She came…" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Behind her, a figure shot forth with lightning speed—a man in white robes marked with black lines. He landed beside Erdi, supporting him with steady hands.
"Master, are you alright?" the man asked anxiously.
Erdi smiled faintly, relief softening his battered face. "As my disciple promised… she came in time." His gaze shifted, and he chuckled weakly, "Commander Luo… your cultivation has grown again. Hah…"
But the brief warmth of reunion was cut short by thunderous laughter.
"Hahahahahaha!" Kravon's voice roared across the battlefield. His red robes flapped in the raging storm as he glared at the figure in white. "So it is true! I've disturbed even the Life Emperor herself. To think Asthough would appear in person… hah! Today truly is my fortune!"
But as his laughter echoed, the white figure finally lifted her head.
Her eyes, cold and unyielding, locked on Kravon. Her voice, though calm, struck like the weight of mountains:
"Kravon. A mere Soul's Illumination stage cultivator… you dare to disturb me?"
In that instant, the battlefield suffocated under her gaze. Even the air seemed to halt, refusing to move. Kravon's smile froze on his face.
His body shuddered violently as his life force began to drain away, pulled from him by the mere presence of the Emperor's image. His veins darkened, his aura shriveled, his proud Wind Soul cracked like shattered glass.
Within ten breaths, the old demon screamed in agony, his voice tearing through the silence:
"AAARGHHHH! It's… it's just an image! JUST AN IMAGE!!"
But no one dared to move. For even if it was only an image… it was still the Life Emperor, Asthough. And against her will, no Soul's Illumination could stand.
The Rifitlands had turned into a wasteland of silence. Once filled with endless stretches of jagged rocks and wild forests, it now lay scarred and broken. Cracks split the earth in every direction, and the stench of blood hung heavy in the air. The sky was still dark, churning with the remnants of chaotic Essentia, its pressure so thick that even the strongest cultivators found it hard to breathe.
Asthough's image floated above, her golden radiance pushing back the storm. Every thread of life essence from the fallen was drawn toward her, flickering like fireflies as they ascended into the heavens.
But suddenly—something shifted.
The dragon seal on Azren's shoulder pulsed, faint at first, then with a violent glow that cut through the gloom. A sinister pull spread outward, stronger than before.
Kravon, barely clinging to his strength, froze as his body convulsed. His eyes widened in horror.
"No… no, not this!"
The dragon seal dragged mercilessly at him, and with a soundless wrench, his spiritual root tore free. The Wind Root that had once roared like a storm now withered like dry leaves, dissolving into the mark. Kravon collapsed to his knees, coughing blood, his once-mighty aura vanishing into nothingness.
The seal throbbed again, brighter this time, and then something impossible happened.
For the first time, a faint light flickered deep within Azren's body. His own spiritual root—long dead and silent—stirred awake, absorbing the fragments of Kravon's shattered essence.
The awakening jolted through him like lightning. Azren's eyes snapped open, pupils glowing faintly as if reflecting the storm above. Consciousness rushed into him, filling a void that had been empty since his birth.
At the same time, the chaotic Essentia that had devoured thousands suddenly quivered. Its oppressive presence wavered, its hunger dimming, as though it too had lost all will. Slowly, strand by strand, the dark tide bent toward Azren—until the impossible happened. The chaos itself was devoured by the boy.
Gasps rang out across the Rifitlands. Mercenaries and citizens alike staggered back in disbelief.
"This child… he's consuming the chaos!"
"Not even a Soul's Illumination could survive that storm… what is he!?"
Above, Asthough's golden image narrowed her eyes. For the first time, her calm gaze trembled—not with fear, but with recognition. She watched as Azren's small body swayed, drained by the overwhelming power rushing through him.
Then—he fell.
His consciousness slipped, and his fragile figure tumbled downward through the broken air.
Before he could strike the shattered earth, a blinding flash of lightning cut across the sky. With graceful precision, Asthough's image extended a hand and caught the boy, cradling him against her white robes.
Her gaze lingered on him, and for the first time, the battlefield was utterly silent—not because of fear, but because every soul present realized: the fate of Arka had just shifted.
Asthough's golden eyes lingered on the boy in her arms. She lowered her hand, letting her divine aura seep gently into Azren's fragile body. In that moment, she peered deep within him, into the very core of his being.
Her brows furrowed.
There it was—a spiritual root. But unlike any she had ever seen, it lay in silence, its glow faint, as though long dead. And yet, at the same time, she felt a pressure from it… a maturity that no child should bear.
Her breath caught as realization struck. This was not a root of any common cultivator. The resonance of its essence far exceeded even her own cultivation—it belonged to a stage beyond the Emperor of Essentia.
But Asthough said nothing. Not a word of this truth escaped her lips. She turned her gaze away, keeping the secret locked within her heart.
Instead, she looked down at Erdi. Her expression softened, the majesty of the Emperor fading into something more personal.
"Master Erdi," she said gently, her voice carrying both command and affection. "I want to entrust another responsibility to you. Take this boy… take him as your disciple."
At those words, Azren stirred. His eyes fluttered open once more, and for the first time, he gave a small, innocent smile. His lips curved slightly, his gaze faintly unfocused, but that smile—pure and fragile—struck directly into the hearts of all who saw it.
Even the hardened Emperor felt a warmth ripple through her. And Erdi, scarred and weary, found his chest tighten with an emotion he had not felt in years.
For a long moment, he hesitated. His gaze moved from the boy, to Asthough, and then back to the battlefield torn apart by chaos. Finally, he sighed and shook his head with a bitter smile.
"Asthough… it has been two years since you ascended to the seat of Emperor," Erdi said slowly, his voice hoarse yet steady. "But even now, you still behave as though you are my disciple."
He lifted his eyes to meet hers, his tone turning stern. "On this continent, only rules matter. Respect has no place if it blinds you. Do not give me this much reverence. Else… your goodness will kill you."
For the first time, silence stretched between them. The wind carried the faint crackle of lightning as Erdi's eyes grew heavy with memory.
"Your fate will become like… your husband's," he finished in a low voice.
Asthough's expression wavered. She did not answer, nor did she show anger. But her gaze lingered on Erdi for a long moment before she looked back down at Azren, who still clung to her robe, his smile faint yet unwavering.
And in that fragile smile, both the Emperor and the Grandmaster felt something they had not in a long time—a bond, and the weight of destiny.
The storm of chaos finally ebbed, leaving only silence in its wake. For the first time since the battle began, the citizens of Aiden and the gathered cultivators drew steady breaths. The weight of death still lingered heavily in the air, but with Kravon crippled and the chaotic Essentia devoured, the battlefield no longer reeked of despair.
A collective sigh rippled across the Rifitlands. Soldiers loosened their grips on their weapons, children sobbed into their mothers' arms, and even the hardened mercenaries dared not make a sound in the presence of the radiant figure above.
It was then that a man dressed in robes strikingly similar to Commander Luo stepped forward, his stride steady despite the devastation around him. He bowed deeply before the white-clad figure of Asthough, his voice calm yet urgent.
"Your Majesty," he spoke, the authority in his tone betraying his role as one of her closest aides. "The private meeting of the Eastern Continent draws near. The Emperors from all corners are gathering already. If your presence is delayed, or if you appear with even half of your strength… the impact on your reputation will shake not only the East, but all of Arka."
A murmur spread among the cultivators. Even in their awe, they understood the weight of those words. For an Emperor, reputation was more than honor—it was the pillar that held the balance of realms together.
Asthough's golden eyes flickered slightly. She lowered her gaze to the boy resting against her arm—Azren, still unconscious, his small frame glowing faintly with the remnants of chaos he had consumed.
Her expression softened for a brief instant, but then the majesty of an Emperor returned. "I understand," she said quietly, her voice carrying across the ruined land like a divine decree. "This image is but a fragment of myself. Its purpose was only to suppress Kravon and protect my people until I could arrive in truth."
The man straightened, nodding firmly. "Then we must withdraw the image soon, Your Majesty. The council of Emperors waits, and the Eastern Continent cannot perceive weakness from the Life Emperor."
Lightning still cracked faintly in the skies, but the aura around Asthough began to dim. Her form, though radiant, wavered like a candlelight in the storm, revealing the truth—that this was indeed only a projection, connected to her real body far away.
Erdi, still battered but resolute, stepped forward and bowed. "Go, Asthough. The realm requires your strength. Leave this boy to me. I will guide him, as you entrusted."
For the first time since the chaos ended, the Life Emperor allowed herself a small smile. "Very well. Then I entrust Azren to you, Erdi. See to it that his path remains hidden… until the day comes when the world must witness his rise."
Her golden radiance flickered faintly as if she might vanish, but instead, her gaze lingered on the boy in her arms. Then, for the first time, her thoughts strayed—not toward duty, nor toward power, but toward blood.
My daughter… she whispered inwardly, unseen by anyone. She is still only an inner disciple of Aiden Hall. Innocent, unaware of the weight I carry. One day… she must be ready to face this storm as well.
Her eyes softened, but only for a heartbeat. With the composure of an Emperor, she straightened her posture and turned her gaze skyward, her aura regaining its sharpness. Then, lowering her head slightly, she gave Azren—still resting unconscious in her embrace—a stern look, one that carried both warning and promise.
"Next time," she said quietly, her voice low yet carrying the weight of a mother's vow, "your mother will come and meet with you herself."
The words hung in the shattered Rifitlands like a decree written in stone. Around her, no one dared to breathe too loudly. Erdi's expression shifted subtly, but he remained silent, only bowing in respect.
The Emperor's image remained standing tall, no longer wavering, her authority undiminished. The battlefield that had once been chaos was now stamped by her presence, and by the promise of her return.
The boy who bore no root… the boy who devoured chaos itself…
In that moment, under the shadow of an Emperor and the gaze of countless cultivators, Azren's destiny was sealed. The dragon within him coiled silentl
y, waiting. The world would not remember him that day, nor would his name spread across the continents.
But time, ever merciless, would carve his path.
And thus—fifteen years passed.