The first thing he felt was weight.
Not on his body—on his existence.
Like a mountain had been placed on his soul and left there for so long that the pressure felt almost normal.
Then, slowly, awareness seeped in.
Darkness.
Cold stone pressing close on all sides.
No sound, no light—no sense of time.
…What is this?
He tried to move his fingers.
They responded sluggishly, as if the command had to cross a great distance before reaching them. His hand brushed against something hard, rough, and very close.
A wall.
Instinct flared before memory.
Power stirred inside him—dull, heavy, but still there. It surged through his body like a slow-moving storm, and the stone in front of him cracked with a dry, brittle sound.
Light slipped in through the first fracture.
Tiny at first.
Then more.
Cracks spread like a spiderweb. With a grinding roar, the slab in front of him shattered outward, chunks of stone exploding into dust and fragments.
Stale air rushed in.
He drew a breath that felt like his first in centuries.
He stepped forward out of the stone coffin, boots scraping against the uneven floor. His knees threatened to buckle, but he caught himself with one hand, fingers digging into the ancient ground.
"…Hah…"
His own voice sounded rough. Old. Like it hadn't been used in a very long time.
He stayed still for a moment, listening.
No guards. No chanting. No screams.
Just the quiet hum of a long-dead place.
His eyes adjusted gradually to the dimness. Broken pillars ringed the chamber, their tops snapped or buried under roots that had wormed their way through cracks overhead. Faded symbols covered the floor beneath layers of dust.
A grave.
For a person who hadn't planned to die.
He lifted his hand, looking at it. Not frail. Not young. Calloused, steady, familiar—and yet, when he reached inward—
The warmth he expected wasn't there.
He felt power, yes. Coiled somewhere in his core. But it was choked, tightly compressed, as if someone had taken a vast river and forced it into a narrow bottle.
This isn't right…
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice.
Clear, composed, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once.
[Great Master, it appears only a small percentage of your power is currently accessible.]
He froze.
His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as he scanned the empty chamber.
"…What?" His voice was low, hoarse. "Who's there?"
Silence answered him outwardly.
The presence wasn't in the room. It was inside his mind, sitting somewhere behind his thoughts, separate yet connected.
His brows drew together.
"And who are you," he said carefully, "and how are you talking inside my head?"
A faint, chiming note rang in his awareness.
[I apologize for startling you, Great Master.]
[I am your humble servant—System Arios.]
[My purpose is to assist you in regaining your strength and uncovering the truth behind your fall.]
"System…?"
The word was unfamiliar, but the tone wasn't. Obedient. Respectful. Controlled.
"Assist me?" he repeated. "'Fall'?"
Fragments flickered at the edge of his memory.
A sky tearing open.
A throne room drenched in light and shadow.
Voices shouting.
A feeling of falling—
then nothing.
He swallowed down the hollow sensation in his chest.
"How long," he asked quietly, "have I been asleep?"
There was a heartbeat of silence. Then:
[Approximately one thousand and four years have passed since your sealing, Great Master.]
"…What."
One second.
Two.
"…"
"WHAT—!?"
His shout slammed into the stone around him like a wave. Dust shook loose from the cracked ceiling. Faint lines of old magic etched in the walls flickered once, reacting to the sudden flare of his presence.
His chest rose and fell as he forced his expression back under control.
"A thousand years," he murmured. "You're telling me… a thousand years since—"
Since what? Since who he was. Since everything he ruled. Since everything he lost.
His hand tightened at his side.
"Explain," he said.
[You once stood at the apex of this world, Great Master.] Arios replied, tone steady.
[Your existence surpassed even the strongest Ascendants of your era. Certain events, however, led to your downfall and subsequent sealing.]
[My records of those final moments are incomplete and partially restricted.]
"Restricted," he echoed. "By who?"
[Unknown. The authority signature is beyond my access.]
He clicked his tongue softly.
First, he was told he'd slept through a thousand years.
Now, that even his servant couldn't access those memories.
"And my power?" he asked, lifting his hand again. "What did you mean by 'small percentage'?"
[Current accessible output is estimated at approximately eight percent of your original strength, Great Master.]
He stared at his own fingers.
"…Eight."
[Yes.]
The chamber felt smaller.
"Whoever sealed me," he said evenly, "didn't do it halfway."
[Your remaining power, even at eight percent, is sufficient to exceed most recorded benchmarks in this era.]
"That's not the point," he muttered.
He exhaled slowly, letting the irritation roll away for now.
"Fine," he said. "One thing at a time."
He closed his eyes and tried to reach back—past the seals, past the numbness, to the last clear thing he could remember.
A throne.
A hall.
Voices kneeling, voices shouting.
A name being spoken—
My name is…
Pain.
It slammed into him like a spike driven directly through his skull. His thoughts burst into a flicker of white static. Every time he tried to shape the sound of that name, that familiar weight—
██████████████
He staggered and caught himself on a nearby broken pillar, teeth gritted.
"G—h…"
The agony cut off as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind a sharp afterimage and the taste of iron at the back of his mouth.
He took a moment. Two. Straightened slowly.
"…What was that," he asked, voice quiet and flat.
Arios' answer came a little softer than before.
[That was the seal on your true name reacting, Great Master.]
[I apologize. I should have warned you.]
"You think?"
He rubbed his temple with two fingers.
"So I can't use my full power. I can't remember my own fall. And if I try to recall my name, my head feels like it's being stabbed from the inside."
[That is an accurate summary.]
He let his hand drop.
"All right," he said. "Tell me how bad it is. Can you say it?"
[…No, Great Master.]
[Any attempt to vocalize or display your true name causes my functions to partially shut down. The data is censored before it can reach your perception.]
He remembered the blank line from somewhere in his awareness, half-formed:
[Bound User: ————]
"So even my name is just dashes now," he muttered.
[Your name exists, Great Master. It is merely sealed beyond our current reach.]
"That's the problem." His voice stayed calm, but there was a slow heat building beneath it. "Someone didn't just want me gone. They wanted the world to act like I never existed."
Arios was silent for a heartbeat.
[That appears to be the case.]
He stood there, in the middle of the forgotten chamber, dust still swirling faintly in the air.
Power gone.
Name gone.
Era gone.
And yet—
He flexed his hand again.
Even this strangled, reduced power still answered him. Begrudgingly. Like a chained beast in a too-small cage.
You're still here, he thought. And so am I.
"Fine," he said at last, quiet. "We'll fix it later. All of it."
[As you wish, Great Master.]
He opened his eyes fully.
"First," he said, "tell me what kind of world I've woken up in."
A chime sounded in his head. A translucent panel formed at the edge of his vision, lines of text arranging themselves neatly.
[—World Summary—]
[Time elapsed since sealing: ~1000 years.]
[Global structure: City-states and large urban alliances.]
[Dominant population: Individuals with innate supernatural abilities, referred to as "Ascendants" (approx. 90%).]
[Non-ability population: "Mundanes" (approx. 10%)—commonly discriminated against.]
He read quietly.
"Ascendants," he murmured. "Mundanes. Power deciding status. That part hasn't changed."
[In this era, abilities are more common and more systematized than in your time, Great Master.] Arios elaborated.
[Society revolves around power tiers and classifications.]
"Tiers?"
[Ascendants are divided into ranks from Tier 6 to Tier 1. Tier 6 is the lowest; Tier 1 is the highest officially recognized level.]
"And me?" he asked.
[At full power, beyond the scale.]
[At eight percent… difficult to classify accurately, but at minimum, Tier 1 exceeds your current reading.]
He snorted softly.
"No place on the chart. That sounds familiar."
[It is also a problem, Great Master.]
[Being unmeasurable tends to attract unwanted attention.]
He rolled his shoulders, feeling out his body again. The limiters on his power made everything feel strangely light and heavy at the same time.
"Then we'll find a way to move without standing out too much," he said. "Later."
He looked around the chamber one last time.
"This place… How far underground are we?"
[Not far, Great Master.]
[There is a collapsed passage to the surface behind you, slightly to the left.]
He turned.
Half-buried in rubble, a cracked archway marked an old doorway. Light seeped faintly through gaps between the fallen stones—pale, cold, more artificial than sunlight.
He walked toward it.
A single large slab blocked most of the exit. Roots twisted around it like old restraints. He placed his palm against the stone.
"Eight percent," he murmured. "Let's see."
He called for power.
It rose, low and dense, like something long asleep forced to open one eye. The air around his hand shivered faintly.
He pushed.
The slab groaned. Cracks spread under his fingers. With a deep grinding sound, the rock scraped across the floor, slowly shifting out of the way.
It wasn't effortless. But it wasn't hard.
[Output stable,] Arios observed quietly. [Within safe limits for now.]
"Good."
He stepped through the narrow gap he'd created and entered a low, root-tangled passage that led upward. The faint light ahead grew brighter with each step.
"Arios," he said as he climbed the rough stone steps. "You called me 'Great Master.' But if no one remembers me, and my name breaks my mind, what am I supposed to call myself up there?"
[You require a functional alias for this era, Great Master.] Arios replied.
[Legal systems, identification networks, and social structures expect a name. Moving without one invites suspicion.]
"You can't give me my real one," he said. "Can you give me a new one?"
[If you permit it, I will select one suitable for your position and current circumstances.]
He walked a few more steps in silence.
"Go on," he said. "Choose."
Arios did not answer immediately. For a moment, the only sound was the soft echo of his footsteps.
Then:
[Suggested alias: "Shinra".]
He repeated it under his breath.
"Shinra…"
The syllables settled easily on his tongue. Familiar enough. New enough.
"Meaning?" he asked.
[In one of the old tongues, "Shinra" was used poetically to refer to 'all things that exist in the world'.]
[Once, you ruled over everything that existed. Now, stripped of name and power, you stand outside the world's order while still being tied to it.]
[I judged it appropriate, Great Master.]
He stopped on the stairs for half a beat.
"…That's dramatic for a 'system'," he said.
[You were never simple, Great Master. It would be strange to choose a simple name.]
He exhaled a quiet breath that was almost a laugh.
"Fine," he said. "I'll borrow it, then."
The panel in his vision shifted.
[Binding temporary alias…]
[Alias registered: Shinra.]
The blank line updated.
[Bound User: Shinra]
"Don't get used to it," he said calmly. "Once we tear down whatever's on my real name, I'm taking that back."
[Understood, Great Master.]
[Objective added: Recover True Name.]
A small notification appeared, then faded from his awareness.
He resumed climbing.
The narrow stairs ended at a rusted metal door, bent and cracked at the edges. Light poured through the gaps—no longer faint, but bright, mixed with the flicker of moving color.
He placed his hand against the door and pushed.
The metal protested with a loud screech and finally gave way, folding outward under the force.
Cold air rushed in.
He stepped out into a world that had moved on without him.
Towers of glass and metal rose on all sides, their surfaces reflecting strips of neon light. Signs floated as projections in the air, changing images and text faster than any painter could dream of. Vehicles drifted along elevated lanes, their undersides glowing with contained energy.
Crowds flowed through wide walkways and narrow streets. Some people sparkled faintly at the edges, the aura of their power curling around them like colored mist.
He inhaled slowly.
The air was different—thinner, flavored with metal, fuel, and something electric.
[Current location: Lower edge of Neon District, Central City.] Arios reported.
[Ascendant presence: high. Mundane presence: moderate.]
His gaze passed over faces in the crowd.
Here and there, he saw people with no aura at all—tired eyes, calloused hands, moving quickly to avoid bumping into those who did carry power.
Mundanes.
He watched as a boy crackling faintly with energy bumped a man with no aura and glared at him like it was a crime.
The man bowed his head and apologized.
His jaw tightened a fraction.
"Power decides worth," he murmured.
[In this age, very openly.]
He took a step forward.
Then another.
He blended into the flow of the street with practiced ease, letting the movement swallow him without letting it sweep him away.
[What will you do first, Great Master?]
Arios asked.
He looked up at the towering city, at the glowing advertisements, at the sky half-hidden behind metal and light.
"…See," he said. "Learn. Understand how this era works. Who rules it. Who breaks it. And then—"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"—we find out who thought they could erase me."
The crowd moved around him, unaware. Just another figure in dark clothes, walking beneath the lights.
He had no name the world remembered.
He had only eight percent of what he once carried.
He had no throne, no banner, no face in any book.
But he was here.
And that was enough for now.
[Welcome back to the world, Great Master.] Arios said.
He stepped off the cracked concrete of the old structure and onto the main street of the new era, merging with the flow of people.
The lost sovereign of a forgotten age
took his first quiet steps as Shinra—
and the era that had tried so hard to forget him
kept moving, unaware that it had just run out of time.