The sky above Aetherfall's last bastion wept blood. Crimson rain lashed the shattered spires of New Elysium, mingling with the acrid smoke rising from craters where once-proud skyscrapers had stood. The air hummed with the guttural roars of Aetherborn—twisted abominations born from the dimensional gates that had torn open the fabric of reality ten years ago. They were not mere beasts; they were feeders on the soul, gorging on fear, despair, and rage until humanity's collective scream became their symphony.
Aariz Kael moved like a specter through the chaos. The Ghostblade, they called him—the apex predator among the Awakened Hunters, an assassin-class legend whose name alone had once quelled lesser hordes. His lithe frame, clad in shadow-woven armor etched with glowing runes, darted between the fray. Dual daggers, *Eclipse* and *Voidreaver*, sang through the air, each strike severing ethereal cords that bound lesser Aetherborn to their emperor.
The Abyssal Emperor loomed at the heart of the battlefield—a colossal entity of writhing void-tendrils and obsidian scales, its maw a vortex that swallowed light itself. Towering over the ruins, it was the progenitor of the gates, the architect of apocalypse. Its eyes, twin abysses, fixed on Aariz with predatory amusement.
"You persist, little blade," its voice boomed, not through sound but directly into the minds of all who remained. "Humanity's final spark. How quaint."
Aariz didn't respond with words. He never did. His body blurred, activating *Phantom Cascade*—a technique honed over a decade of blood and betrayal. Space folded around him, and he reappeared atop the Emperor's dorsal ridge, daggers plunging into a pulsing core of raw aether. Black ichor erupted, sizzling against his skin, but Aariz twisted deeper, channeling his mana into a *Soul Rend* strike.
The Emperor shrieked, a psychic wave that crumpled tanks and vaporized Hunters mid-charge. Aariz's ears bled, but he held, ripping free a chunk of the beast's essence. His Fallen Edge artifact pulsed in his chest—a forbidden relic he'd claimed from a primordial rift—amplifying his power to godlike heights. For a moment, victory flickered.
Then, agony.
A blade—familiar, traitorous—erupted from his chest, pinning his heart like a butterfly to corkboard. Aariz gasped, daggers slipping from numb fingers. He looked down, past the gore, to the hand gripping the hilt.
Ravian Voss. Guild Master of the Iron Vanguard. Aariz's mentor. Brother-in-arms. The man who'd shared campfires and caskets of fallen comrades.
"Why?" Aariz rasped, blood bubbling on his lips. The Emperor's laughter echoed, a cosmic jest.
Ravian's face, once noble and scarred from a thousand battles, twisted into a rictus of greed. His eyes gleamed with the hunger of the desperate. "The Edge is mine now, Ghostblade. Humanity's end demands a new king. Not some shadow-skulking assassin."
He yanked the blade free, and Aariz crumpled to his knees amid the Emperor's tendrils. Pain was a distant roar; regret was the true killer. Visions flashed: the friends he'd buried, the lovers lost to gates, the children he'd failed to save. Ten years of war, reduced to this betrayal.
The Emperor's massive form coiled closer, its breath a void-storm. "Foolish mortal. You fight for ashes."
As darkness clawed at his vision, the Emperor leaned in, its maw inches from Aariz's face. No malice. No triumph. Just... inevitability.
"You were never meant to die here," it whispered, voice like grinding universes. "Return."
A black explosion consumed everything.
---
Aariz jolted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat that smelled of cheap detergent and stale ramen. His heart hammered—not from a dagger wound, but from the echo of one. He clutched his chest, expecting gore, but found only smooth skin under a threadbare t-shirt.
*A dream?*
No. The memories crashed in like a gate rupture: every battle, every scream, every face twisted in death. New Elysium's fall. Ravian's sneer. The Emperor's whisper.
He bolted upright, scanning the room. Cramped apartment. Peeling wallpaper. A calendar on the wall: **November 24, 2015**. Posters of pro-gamers and half-eaten pizza boxes. His gaming rig hummed in the corner, RGB lights casting neon ghosts.
"I'm... eighteen?"
He stumbled to the mirror. Boyish face stared back—sharp jaw, messy black hair, eyes still haunted but lacking the decade's wear. No scars. No tattoos from rift brands. His hands trembled as he flexed them; the calluses of a killer were gone, replaced by the softness of a college dropout.
Ten years. Regressed. The first gate hadn't even opened yet. The world thought dimensional anomalies were conspiracy theories.
Aariz laughed—a hollow, manic sound. Fate's cruel joke? Or the Emperor's gift?
Before panic could root, blue text ignited in his vision, searing like aether burn:
**[THE FALLEN SYSTEM HAS BOUND TO YOU]**
**[Host: Aariz Kael]**
**[Class: Void Assassin (Evolving)]**
**[Level: 1 (Uncapped)]**
**[Unique Traits Unlocked: ]**
**- Abyss Absorption: Devour monster cores/abilities for permanent integration.**
**- Rift Contract: Bind high-tier beasts as summons/allies.**
**- Shadow Eclipse: Traverse hidden dimensions; erase enemy skills on contact.**
**- Infinite Ascension: No level ceiling. Power scales with kills and corruption.**
A holographic interface bloomed: stats, skills, inventory—all corrupted, veined with black aether-code unlike the pristine Human System he'd known in the future.
**Warning: Fallen System detected. Primordial lockdown engaged. Host marked as Anomaly.**
Aariz's pulse steadied. This wasn't the standard Awakener interface governments would mass-distribute post-first-gate. This was *wrong*. Alien. The Emperor's parting gift—a twisted mirror of the Aetherborn's own power hierarchy.
He dismissed the panel with a thought, mind racing. Knowledge was his weapon now. He remembered:
- Gate spawn points. The first: **Han River Bridge, Seoul. 48 hours from now.**
- Hidden dungeons: 137 pre-cataclysm, ripe for solo clears.
- Betrayers: Ravian (not Awakened yet), the Architects (shadow cabal pulling strings), countless guild leeches.
- Artifacts: *Mind-Fang Dagger* in Gate #1. *Soulreaver Cloak* in a rift under Tokyo.
No more playing hero. No guilds. He'd carve his path alone, amassing power to rewrite fate.
First: Gear up. His future self's techniques required baseline strength. He stripped, assessing his pathetic Level 1 frame:
**Strength: 12**
**Agility: 18**
**Mana: 25**
**Vitality: 10**
Pathetic. But the Fallen System pulsed invitingly.
**[Tutorial Quest: Survive the Awakening.]**
**[Objective: Clear nearest minor rift (undetected). Reward: First Absorption.]**
Aariz smirked. Rifts? Even pre-gates, micro-anomalies leaked. He knew one: abandoned warehouse district, 2km away. Urban legend "ghost lights."
He dressed in black hoodie and jeans—camouflage for an assassin. Pocketed a kitchen knife (trash, but better than bare hands). Laptop for gate trackers (future intel said first anomalies spiked online).
Out the door, night air crisp. Streets buzzed with oblivious life: salarymen stumbling from bars, couples laughing. Aariz envied their ignorance.
The warehouse loomed, chain-link fence rattling in wind. He vaulted it effortlessly—Agility already shining. Inside: rusted machinery, puddles reflecting eerie glow.
There. A hairline fracture in reality, invisible to norms: a Class E rift, leaking shadow wisps.
**[Rift Detected: Shadow Imp Nest. Estimated Threat: 5 Imps (Lv. 3-5). Enter? Y/N]**
**Y.**
Reality warped. He stepped into a pocket void: jagged obsidian floors, bioluminescent fungi, skittering noises.
Five imps—knee-high gremlins with razor claws and glowing red eyes—swarmed.
Aariz dodged the first lunge, kitchen knife flashing. Crude, but his muscle memory was flawless. *Phantom Step* prototype: a burst of speed, severing the imp's head. Black blood sprayed.
**[Kill Confirmed. +10 EXP. Shadow Essence absorbed: Minor Agility Boost.]**
The rest piled on. Aariz danced death: twist, stab, evade. One clawed his arm—pain flared, but **[Regen activated: Fallen Corruption heals wounds.]** Flesh knit mid-fight.
Last imp impaled itself on his blade. It dissolved into motes, core pulsing.
**[Quest Complete. First Absorption: Select Ability.]**
**1. Imp Claw (Bleed Proc)**
**2. Void Blink (Short Teleport)**
**3. Fear Howl (Debuff AoE)**
**Void Blink.** Teleport synergized with assassin roots.
**[Ability Integrated. Level Up: Lv. 2. New Skill: Extract.]**
He tested it: hand on imp corpse. Shadows coalesced, forming a fist-sized shade minion.
**[Shadow Extract: Minion created. Loyalty: Absolute.]**
Perfect.
Back in reality, dawn crept. Aariz wiped blood, interface updating:
**[EXP: 450/1200 to Lv.3]**
Power surged—real power, uncapped.
The first gate loomed. In 46 hours, panic. Governments scramble. Hunters born.
But Aariz would claim it first. Become myth before legend.
Ravian, Architects, Primordials—whatever lurked—they'd burn.
He was the Ghostblade reborn.
The Last Hunter.
And this time, the world would kneel.
**[End of Chapter 1]**
*To be continued in Chapter 2: First Gate, First Blood.*