The Grand Hall of Aethelgard was an architectural testament to human arrogance. Its vaulted ceilings were plated in 24-karat gold, etched with the soaring images of Valkyries and Dragon-Slayers who had built the Empire on a foundation of crushed bone and conquered mana. Thousands of floating candles flickered, cast in silver holders that drifted like lazy fireflies above the heads of three thousand initiates.
Ren Thorne stood in the center of this opulence, feeling like a stain on a silk sheet. His boots, worn thin at the soles and caked with the grey dust of the Outer Districts, felt heavy. Around him, the sons and daughters of High Lords smelled of expensive oils and jasmine. They carried themselves with the effortless grace of those who had never known a hungry winter.
"Look at him," a voice hissed from the left. It was Kaelen, the third son of Duke Vane. Kaelen's hair was a shock of manicured silver, and his uniform was crisp, devoid of a single wrinkle. "The son of the 'Traitor General' actually showed up. Does he think a peasant's blood can manifest a High-Tier Armament?"
Ren didn't turn his head. He kept his gaze fixed on the Sun-Forge Stone at the far end of the hall. It was a monolithic slab of pulsating amber, vibrating with a frequency that made the very marrow in Ren's bones hum. It was said the stone was a fragment of a fallen star, capable of pulling the ethereal essence from a human soul and forging it into a physical weapon—a Soul Armament.
"Silence!" The High Priest's voice boomed, amplified by a wind-attuned mana stone.
The Priest, clad in robes of iridescent white, stepped onto the dais. Beside him stood the Imperial Examiners, their quills hovering over parchment, ready to record the birth of the next generation of protectors. Or, in most cases, the next generation of disappointment.
"The Awakening determines your destiny," the Priest continued, his eyes sweeping over the nervous youths. "A blade to strike, a shield to guard, or a staff to weave. The Heavens do not give equally. They give what is deserved."
One by one, the initiates were called.
"Lia of House Thorne! Step forward!"
A girl with fiery red hair approached the stone. As her palm touched the amber surface, the hall erupted in a blinding flash of crimson light. Above her head, a slender, elegant rapier materialized, its blade wreathed in actual flickering flames.
"Grade: A-Rank! Fire-Attuned Soul Blade!" the Examiner shouted. The crowd roared in approval. Lia bowed, her face flushed with pride, and moved to the elite seating area.
The line moved with agonizing slowness. Ren felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't nervousness. It was a cold, hollow ache. It felt as if there were a literal hole inside his chest, a vacuum that was slowly expanding, pulling at his very breath. Every time the Sun-Forge Stone flared with light, the hole in Ren's chest pulsed in response, not with resonance, but with a predatory hunger.
"Ren Thorne!"
The whispers turned into a low roar of mockery. Ren walked down the central aisle. His every step seemed to echo louder than the ones before. He could feel the eyes of the Emperor's observers on the balcony—sharp, judgmental, and cold. They remembered his father. They remembered the "General of Ash" who had supposedly betrayed the border fortresses.
Ren reached the dais. The High Priest looked down at him with blatant disgust. "Touch the stone, boy. Let us see if your soul is as black as your father's reputation."
Ren reached out. His hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the "void" within him. The moment his skin made contact with the Sun-Forge Stone, the world didn't explode in light.
It turned silent.
The humming of the stone stopped instantly. The flickering candles above froze in mid-air. The heat of the hall vanished, replaced by a vacuum-like chill that sucked the warmth from everyone's skin.
Inside Ren's mind, a screen of obsidian glass shattered.
[WARNING: PRIMORDIAL PROTOCOL ACTIVATED]
[HOST SOUL TYPE: SINGULARITY (VOID-CLASS)]
[STATUS: CRITICALLY STARVED]
The Sun-Forge Stone, which had glowed for three thousand years, began to dim. The amber turned to grey, then to a sickly, translucent charcoal. Ren felt a rush of power—not the warm, flowing mana the teachers talked about, but a raw, jagged energy that felt like drinking liquid stars.
"What... what are you doing?" the High Priest gasped, his hand reaching for his ceremonial staff. "Release the stone!"
Ren couldn't. His hand was fused to the relic by an invisible, gravitational tether.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: FIRST FEEDING IN PROGRESS]
[ABSORBING: SOLAR ESSENCE (ANCIENT GRADE)]
[CONVERTING TO: VOID POINTS (VP)]
A dark sphere, no larger than a marble, began to manifest above Ren's head. It wasn't a sword. It wasn't a shield. It was a hole in reality. It didn't reflect the light of the hall; it ate it. The edges of the sphere blurred the air around it, warping the dimensions of the room.
"He's destroying the relic!" an Examiner screamed. "Guards! Subdue him!"
The Imperial Knights, armored in heavy plate, charged down the dais. But as they entered a ten-foot radius around Ren, their movements slowed. The gravity in the area had increased tenfold. Their heavy boots cracked the marble floor as they were forced to their knees by an unseen weight.
Ren looked up. His eyes, normally a dull brown, had turned into twin abysses of swirling dark matter. He could see the flows of mana in the air—the golden threads of the Empire's protection spells, the blue currents of the air—and he saw how fragile they were.
"I'm not destroying it," Ren whispered, his voice sounding as if it were coming from the bottom of a deep well. "I'm taking back what was stolen."
The Sun-Forge Stone let out a final, agonizing crack. A massive fissure split the ancient relic from top to bottom. The light within it was sucked into the tiny black sphere above Ren's head.
With a deafening THOOM, the pressure released. The knights were thrown backward. The High Priest fell off the dais. Total darkness engulfed the hall as every single magical light source was extinguished simultaneously.
In the dark, only the System's voice remained clear in Ren's head.
[FEEDING COMPLETE]
[LEVEL: 1 -> 5]
[SOUL ARMAMENT EVOLVED: THE EATER OF HEAVENS (PHASE 1)]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: GRAVATIC COLLAPSE]
[URGENT: HOSTILE INTENT DETECTED. 500 ROYAL GUARDS ARE CONVERGING ON YOUR POSITION. SURVIVAL CHANCE: 0.04%.]
Ren stood alone in the pitch-black hall. He could hear the heavy clank of armor in the distance and the shouting of mages preparing their spells. He was a teenager with no training, standing over the ruins of a national treasure, surrounded by enemies who had hated him before he even breathed.
He felt the Void Orb pulse against his palm, now small enough to hide in his grip, but heavy enough to crush a mountain.
"Zero point zero four percent?" Ren chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. "I've had worse odds on a Tuesday."
He closed his eyes and felt the new power swirling in his veins. He didn't know where this path led, but for the first time in his life, the hunger felt... satisfied.
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO ALLOCATE STAT POINTS BEFORE COMBAT?]
The doors of the Great Hall burst open. Golden light flooded in from the courtyard, silhouetting a phalanx of elite soldiers. At their head was Duke Vane himself, his hand on a massive claymore that glowed with the power of a hundred suns.
"Ren Thorne!" the Duke bellowed. "For the crime of high treason and the destruction of the Sacred Stone, you are sentenced to immediate execution!"
Ren didn't run. He raised his left hand, and the tiny black marble began to spin, faster and faster, until the air itself began to scream.