Chapter 10: The Forgotten Legacy of the Blackthorne Clan

Lucian Blackthorne floated high above the surface of Earth.

Far below him, the continents were swallowed beneath an endless blanket of clouds, their white expanse illuminated by the pale light of the moon.

From this height, the world looked peaceful.

Beautiful, even.

A blue sphere surrounded by darkness.

A place filled with billions of lives.

Cities.

Kingdoms.

Families.

Children sleeping beneath warm roofs, unaware that something incomprehensible had entered their sky.

Lucian stared down for a moment.

His golden-red eyes reflected the curve of the planet.

Then his gaze slowly rose.

The obsidian blade in his hand pulsed.

Thrum.

A deep vibration traveled through the weapon.

Thrum.

Black-red energy crawled along its edge like veins of living darkness.

Lucian tightened his grip.

The air around him was already becoming unstable.

Clouds several kilometers beneath him were being pushed away in enormous circular patterns, creating a vast opening in Earth's atmosphere.

Lightning flickered inside the distant storm systems.

Yet there was no thunder.

The sound had been swallowed by the overwhelming pressure hanging above the planet.

Lucian's expression hardened.

He could feel it.

Something was watching him.

Not from behind.

Not from above.

Everywhere.

Then he looked forward.

And saw the creature.

It floated motionlessly against the darkness of space.

Lucian had fought countless monsters throughout his life.

He had seen dragons large enough to blot out cities.

He had faced ancient beings whose bodies had been forged through centuries of mana.

He had stood before creatures that made armies tremble.

But none of them had ever made reality itself feel wrong.

This thing did.

Its body possessed no clear shape.

It appeared vaguely humanoid, but the longer Lucian looked at it, the less certain he became.

Its limbs seemed too long.

Its shoulders too narrow.

Its silhouette constantly shifted beneath a layer of darkness that seemed to absorb the stars behind it.

There was no armor.

No weapon.

No aura that resembled mana.

Nothing.

And somehow, that was the most terrifying part.

Lucian narrowed his eyes.

“What are you?”

The creature remained silent.

Lucian waited.

Nothing.

He exhaled through his nose.

“You've crossed half the world without making a sound.”

His voice carried through the thin atmosphere.

“You've appeared above my territory.”

His sword slowly rose.

“And you've been staring at me as though I'm something you've already decided to kill.”

The darkness surrounding the creature moved.

Barely.

Like something breathing.

Lucian's expression became colder.

“So I'll ask one more time.”

His golden-red eyes burned.

“What are you?”

A pause.

Then—

A voice answered.

It did not come from the creature's mouth.

It came from the air.

From the clouds.

From the empty space between the stars.

A voice that sounded as though several voices were speaking at once from impossibly far away.

“You are afraid.”

Lucian's pupils contracted.

For the briefest moment, he said nothing.

Then he smiled.

It wasn't a happy smile.

It was the smile of someone who had just been reminded of an old wound.

“Of course I am.”

His fingers tightened around the sword.

“I'd be an idiot if I wasn't.”

The creature tilted its head.

Lucian continued.

“But fear isn't permission to surrender.”

His blade began to glow.

“And I've surrendered enough in my life.”

The atmosphere exploded.

Black-red energy erupted from Lucian's body.

The clouds beneath him were violently pushed away.

A massive circular opening appeared in the atmosphere, revealing the blue surface of Earth thousands of kilometers below.

The creature remained motionless.

Lucian's eyes sharpened.

“Let's see how much you can endure.”

He raised his blade.

“Abyssal Exile.”

The world went dark.

A beam of black-red devastation erupted from the obsidian sword.

It crossed the sky faster than sound.

Faster than lightning.

Faster than anything a mortal eye could comprehend.

The beam tore through the clouds, turning entire storm systems into vapor.

The pressure wave spread outward.

Across the planet below, millions of people looked toward the heavens as the night sky briefly turned black-red.

Then the attack reached the creature.

And stopped.

Lucian's eyes widened.

The creature hadn't dodged.

It hadn't blocked the attack.

It had simply raised one hand.

One finger extended from the darkness.

The tip of that finger touched the beam.

And the Abyssal Exile began to disappear.

Not explode.

Not break.

Disappear.

Piece by piece.

The devastating energy that could annihilate a National Hunter was reduced to drifting sparks.

The creature slowly moved its finger.

Flick.

The remaining energy vanished.

Lucian's body froze.

His heartbeat hammered against his ribs.

“No…”

His voice was barely audible.

He stared at his sword.

Then at the creature.

“That…”

His jaw tightened.

“That attack should have killed a National Hunter instantly.”

The creature stared at him.

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“Didn't it?”

Silence.

Then the voice returned.

“You measure power by what it destroys.”

Lucian's expression darkened.

The creature's head tilted slightly.

“I measure power by what it cannot.”

Lucian felt something cold settle inside his chest.

It's intelligent.

That realization was worse than its strength.

It understood him.

It understood what he was doing.

And worse—

it wasn't even trying.

Lucian's breathing slowed.

His instincts were screaming at him.

This thing hasn't shown its strength.

He swallowed.

Everything he had thrown at it so far had been treated like an inconvenience.

Not a threat.

Not even worthy of defense.

Lucian's grip tightened.

Then he disappeared.

The sky detonated behind him.

His body became a black-red streak across the heavens.

The distance between them vanished.

His sword came down.

“Obsidian Genesis!”

A colossal crescent of void-light erupted from the blade.

It twisted through the atmosphere, dragging clouds and fragments of lightning into its wake.

The attack was so dense that space itself distorted around its edge.

Lucian poured everything he had into it.

Move.

The creature didn't.

Move!

Two fingers rose.

CLANG.

The blade stopped.

Lucian's eyes widened.

The creature had caught the edge of his sword between two fingers.

For several seconds, neither moved.

The clouds below them churned violently.

Lightning flashed beneath their feet.

The curve of Earth remained visible in the distance.

Lucian pushed harder.

Mana surged through his arms.

His muscles trembled.

Veins rose along his forearms.

“Move.”

The creature remained still.

Lucian gritted his teeth.

“I said—”

He pushed with everything he had.

“MOVE!”

Nothing.

The creature looked at him.

For the first time, Lucian noticed something in its eyes.

Not anger.

Not hatred.

Curiosity.

It was studying him.

Like a scientist examining an unfamiliar insect.

Lucian's breathing became ragged.

Then the creature spoke.

“You carry grief.”

Lucian froze.

The creature continued.

“So much of it.”

Lucian's eyes sharpened.

“Don't.”

“You have buried the dead.”

“Shut up.”

“You have failed to save those you loved.”

Lucian's expression changed.

The air around him trembled.

“I said…”

His voice dropped.

“…shut up.”

“You fear repeating their deaths.”

Something inside Lucian snapped.

He violently tore his sword free and launched himself backward.

The creature didn't pursue.

Lucian hovered several dozen meters away.

His chest rose and fell.

His thoughts were no longer on the battle.

They were somewhere else.

Years ago.

Blood.

Smoke.

The Dragon Gate.

The Blackthorne name collapsing beneath an enemy that had been too powerful to stop.

His parents.

Their final moments.

The faces of those who had trusted him.

The people who had screamed for help while he could do nothing.

Lucian closed his eyes.

For a moment, he heard them again.

Not clearly.

Just fragments.

Voices.

Names.

Promises he had made.

Promises he had broken.

His fingers began trembling.

Then he opened his eyes.

The trembling stopped.

“Selene.”

A pulse of mana passed through the communication link.

Her voice immediately answered.

“Lucian.”

“Prepare the citadel.”

There was a pause.

“What happened?”

Lucian looked at the creature.

His voice became quieter.

“I'm drawing it away.”

“No.”

“Selene—”

“I said no.”

Her voice was firm.

“You're not fighting that thing alone.”

Lucian's expression softened.

For a moment, the terrifying battlefield disappeared.

There was only her voice.

Someone who still believed he could return.

Someone who still expected him to come home.

“Selene…”

His voice was almost a whisper.

“If you come here, who protects everyone else?”

Silence.

Lucian looked down at Earth.

Billions of lives.

People who didn't even know his name.

People who would never understand what was happening above them.

“But you—”

“I won't let history repeat itself.”

Selene's voice cracked slightly.

“Lucian…”

He closed his eyes.

“I've already lost one family.”

His hand tightened around the sword.

“I won't lose another.”

For several seconds, there was nothing but static.

Then Selene whispered—

“Come back.”

Lucian opened his eyes.

A faint smile touched his face.

“I intend to.”

The connection ended.

Lucian turned toward the creature.

His smile disappeared.

The Nyxveil Relic activated.

Reality twisted.

The sky folded inward.

Silver and black spirals appeared around the creature.

The atmosphere screamed.

Space fractured like glass.

The creature finally moved.

Its head snapped toward Lucian.

For the first time—

something resembling surprise appeared within its expression.

Lucian raised his hand.

“Too late.”

The rift opened.

The creature was dragged into it.

The sky tore apart.

For one impossible instant, Lucian saw countless fragments of space beyond the rift.

Stars.

Planets.

Dead worlds.

Ancient ruins.

Places that shouldn't exist.

Then the creature disappeared.

Lucian followed.

The rift collapsed behind them.

And the sky became silent again.

Lucian didn’t hesitate.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.

For everything that had happened since the creature had dragged him beyond the limits of Earth, one truth had remained painfully clear—

He was outmatched.

But that had never stopped him before.

Lucian drew a slow breath.

Then his aura erupted.

Black and crimson energy spiraled around his body, twisting through the empty darkness like a storm with nowhere to go. The obsidian blade in his hand trembled beneath the pressure of the power gathering within it.

He lowered his stance.

And vanished.

Sovereign’s Finale.

The tenth and final form of the Blackthrone Tenfold.

Lucian appeared before the creature in an instant.

His sword descended.

The strike did not merely cut through the space before him.

It seemed to split the darkness itself.

A tremendous shockwave erupted from the blade, racing across the barren landscape. The ground beneath Lucian fractured in a widening circle, pale dust rising into the air and drifting through the darkness without falling.

There was no wind to carry it.

No atmosphere to stir it.

Only the force of his attack.

For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then—

The creature raised one hand.

Two fingers touched the edge of the descending blade.

The attack stopped.

Not blocked.

Not resisted.

Stopped.

The enormous force behind Sovereign’s Finale simply ceased to exist.

The energy around Lucian's sword unraveled into faint particles of light and darkness.

Lucian's eyes widened.

Impossible.

The creature lowered his hand.

For the first time since their battle began, his expression changed.

Not anger.

Not hostility.

Recognition.

His gaze shifted toward Lucian's sword.

Then to the pendant hanging around Lucian's neck.

The Nyxveil Relic.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“That technique…”

His voice was quieter now.

“And that pendant.”

Lucian didn't lower his sword.

The creature stared at him for several seconds.

“I have seen them before.”

Lucian's grip tightened.

“Where?”

The question came immediately.

The creature didn't answer.

Instead, he studied Lucian's face.

The longer he looked, the stranger his expression became.

It was almost as though he were searching through memories buried beneath ages of existence.

Then he asked:

“Who are you?”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“You first.”

A faint silence followed.

The creature actually smiled.

Not mockingly.

Almost approvingly.

“You challenge someone you believe could kill you.”

“I don't need to believe it.”

Lucian slowly raised his blade again.

“You already tried.”

The creature's smile faded.

Something about Lucian's answer seemed to amuse him.

“Interesting.”

Then he lifted his hand.

Lucian's body suddenly stopped moving.

His eyes widened.

An invisible force seized him from every direction.

His feet left the ground.

His arms were forced slightly away from his body, his sword still clenched in his hand.

Lucian immediately tried to break free.

Nothing happened.

His muscles strained.

His aura exploded outward.

The invisible pressure didn't even shift.

It wasn't merely strength.

It felt as though the laws surrounding him had decided that movement was no longer permitted.

Lucian looked directly at the creature.

The being stepped closer.

“Now,” he said calmly, “tell me who you are.”

Lucian's expression hardened.

“Lucian Blackthorne.”

The moment the name left his mouth—

Everything changed.

The creature stopped.

His eyes widened.

For the first time, something resembling genuine shock crossed his ancient face.

“Blackthorne…”

He repeated the name quietly.

As though he had not heard it spoken in an eternity.

The pressure holding Lucian loosened.

His feet touched the ground again.

The creature stared at him.

“You said…”

His voice had lost its previous amusement.

“Blackthorne?”

Lucian frowned.

“Yes.”

The creature looked away.

For several moments, he said nothing.

Then he whispered:

“They survived.”

Lucian's expression changed.

“What did you say?”

The creature turned back toward him.

“How many generations?”

Lucian didn't understand.

“What?”

“How many generations has it been?”

Lucian hesitated.

“Twenty-one.”

The creature went completely still.

Twenty-one.

Something ancient passed through his eyes.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Grief.

“Then they truly survived.”

Lucian's suspicion deepened.

“You know my family.”

The creature didn't answer immediately.

Lucian stepped forward.

“You know the Blackthornes.”

“I knew them.”

The correction was subtle.

But Lucian noticed it.

“Knew?”

His voice hardened.

“What happened to them?”

The creature looked at him.

“You want the truth?”

Lucian's eyes sharpened.

“I didn't come here for a bedtime story.”

For the first time, the creature gave a faint smile.

“Good.”

He turned away.

“Because the truth is considerably uglier.”

Lucian watched him carefully.

The creature looked toward the endless darkness surrounding them.

“You call yourself the twenty-first Patriarch.”

“Yes.”

“And you have records of the previous patriarchs?”

“All except one.”

The creature's eyes shifted toward him.

“The tenth.”

Lucian's breath caught.

The creature noticed.

“You know of him.”

“I've seen every patriarch's portrait.”

Lucian paused.

“Except the tenth.”

The creature's expression became distant.

“You were never meant to see him.”

Lucian frowned.

“What does that mean?”

The creature didn't answer.

Instead, he raised one hand.

The world disappeared.

There was no explosion.

No transition.

One moment Lucian stood upon barren ground beneath an unfamiliar sky.

The next—

He stood in the middle of a war.

Not a battlefield.

A war.

The difference was incomprehensible.

The darkness around him was filled with enormous armies stretching farther than his eyes could comprehend. Weapons clashed between beings whose movements distorted space itself. Mountains of celestial bodies burned in the distance.

Galaxies appeared like distant lanterns.

Constellations shifted.

Stars vanished beneath waves of energy.

Lucian stood motionless.

His mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

This wasn't history as written in books.

This was history on a scale humanity had never possessed the words to describe.

The creature's voice came from beside him.

“Do not fear.”

Lucian looked toward him.

“This is a memory.”

Lucian stared ahead.

“A memory?”

“A fragment.”

The creature's gaze settled on the battlefield.

“Of what once was.”

Then Lucian saw him.

A man stood at the forefront of the Blackthorne forces.

Black armor.

Crimson markings.

A sword in his hand.

His presence alone seemed to bend the battlefield around him.

Lucian's heart stopped for half a second.

He knew that face.

Not personally.

But from the portraits.

“The tenth…”

The creature nodded.

“The tenth Patriarch of the Blackthorne Clan.”

Lucian stared.

“That can't be possible.”

“You said you had no record of him.”

“We don't.”

“Exactly.”

Lucian turned toward him.

“What happened?”

The creature's expression darkened.

“The Blackthornes were never simply a clan.”

Lucian remained silent.

“They were my people.”

That answer surprised him.

The creature continued.

“They were not related to me by blood. Yet blood is not the only thing that creates family.”

His gaze returned to the battlefield.

“They stood beside me when entire civilizations turned against me. They were my generals, my warriors, my protectors…”

A pause.

“My most trusted people.”

Lucian looked back toward the battlefield.

“How many?”

The creature's answer came quietly.

“More than a hundred thousand.”

Lucian's eyes widened.

He looked again.

Suddenly, the army he had thought was simply one faction became something else entirely.

An empire.

The Blackthorne Clan had once been an empire.

“What happened?”

The creature's voice lowered.

“We lost.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“You?”

“Yes.”

“You lost?”

The creature looked at him.

“I was not invincible.”

There was no shame in his voice.

Only fact.

“The war consumed almost everything.”

He looked toward the tenth Patriarch.

“Half of my forces were destroyed.”

Lucian's fists tightened.

“And the Blackthornes?”

The creature was silent for a long moment.

“Ten survived.”

Lucian's expression froze.

“Ten?”

“I used the last of my strength to send them away.”

“Where?”

“Another dimension.”

Lucian stared at him.

“And then?”

“I lost.”

The memory began to fade.

Lucian's voice followed him.

“Wait.”

The battlefield disappeared.

The two of them were once again standing in darkness.

Lucian's breathing was heavier now.

His mind raced.

“If ten survived…”

He looked at the creature.

“Then my entire clan came from them?”

The creature shook his head.

For several seconds, neither did the creature.

Then Lucian looked away.

“No.”

The word came quietly.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I expect nothing from you.”

“Then why show me?”

“Because you demanded to know.”

Lucian looked back at him.

“You could have lied.”

“Yes.”

“You could be manipulating me.”

“Yes.”

Lucian's expression hardened.

“Then why should I trust you?”

The creature's eyes narrowed slightly.

“You shouldn't.”

Lucian paused.

The answer was not what he expected.

The creature continued.

“I have lived long enough to know that blind trust is a weakness.”

He turned away.

“Especially when the person standing before you is a god.”

Lucian's eyes sharpened.

“A god.”

The creature finally gave him a name.

“Rhaziel.”

He looked toward the distant darkness.

“God of Darkness.”

The words carried no pride.

No demand for worship.

Only an ancient fact.

Lucian studied him.

“You're saying you're the God of Darkness.”

“Yes.”

“And you expect me to accept that?”

Rhaziel glanced at him.

“You are standing on the moon.”

Lucian's expression changed.

Rhaziel continued calmly.

“You have been fighting me without breathing.”

Lucian froze.

His chest rose instinctively.

Nothing happened.

He stopped.

He wasn't breathing.

He hadn't been breathing since they arrived.

Yet he was alive.

Lucian slowly looked around.

The barren silver landscape.

The endless black sky.

No wind.

No clouds.

No sound.

Then his gaze moved upward.

Earth hung in the distance.

Blue.

Beautiful.

Small.

Lucian stared at it.

The realization settled slowly.

“We're…”

“The moon.”

Lucian said nothing.

Rhaziel watched him.

“You are beginning to understand.”

Lucian looked back at him.

“You knew I'd react like this.”

“I have existed since the Era of Beginning.”

A faint smile touched Rhaziel's face.

“To me, twenty-one generations is still a remarkably short amount of time.”

Lucian frowned.

“You're calling me young.”

“I am calling you a child.”

Lucian's expression darkened.

“I don't care how old you are.”

Rhaziel raised an eyebrow.

Lucian continued.

“Don't mistake age for authority.”

For a moment, Rhaziel simply stared at him.

Then he laughed.

Quietly.

Genuinely.

“You really are one of them.”

Lucian didn't smile.

“One of who?”

“The Blackthornes.”

The laughter disappeared.

“That arrogance survived too.”

Lucian ignored the remark.

“You said my bloodline once rivaled the High Gods.”

Rhaziel's expression became serious.

“Yes.”

“What are High Gods?”

“Not something you need to worry about yet.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“That's not an answer.”

“It is the answer you need.”

Rhaziel looked toward Earth.

“There are levels to power beyond what your world understands. Gods. High Gods. Beings who have existed long enough to shape galaxies, influence fate, and interfere with the structure of reality itself.”

His gaze returned to Lucian.

“Your ancestors once stood close enough to that level that the distinction between warrior and god became meaningless.”

Lucian remained silent.

He looked down at his own hands.

Twenty-one generations.

A family he had believed was slowly rebuilding itself.

And now—

He was being told that its roots reached far beyond Earth.

Far beyond human history.

“Then why does nobody know?”

Rhaziel's expression changed.

“Because history belongs to whoever survives.”

Lucian looked at him.

“The victors decide what is remembered.”

A pause.

“And your ancestors had very powerful enemies.”

Lucian's eyes hardened.

“Who?”

Rhaziel didn't answer.

Instead, he asked:

“Do you know what created the Gates?”

Lucian frowned.

“Natural mana fluctuations.”

“That is what your people believe.”

Lucian's expression became colder.

“You're saying that's false.”

“I am saying the Gates were introduced.”

“By whom?”

Rhaziel looked toward Earth.

“Gods.”

Silence.

Lucian's jaw tightened.

“Why?”

“Because Earth produces something unusual.”

“Mana.”

“Refined mana.”

Rhaziel's gaze remained fixed upon the planet.

“Your world produces it in quantities that attracted attention long ago. The Gate System increased that production.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“You're telling me the Gates were created to increase human potential.”

“Partly.”

Lucian immediately noticed the word.

“Partly?”

Rhaziel looked at him.

“And partly because watching mortals struggle against death amused those who created them.”

Lucian's face went still.

The words settled between them.

Then—

“Entertainment.”

Rhaziel said nothing.

Lucian's voice lowered.

“All those Gates.”

His fingers slowly curled into fists.

“All those people.”

He remembered faces.

Names.

Families.

Hunters who had entered Gates and never returned.

People who had died believing they were protecting their homes.

His own family.

His own blood.

Centuries of sacrifice.

For a moment, Lucian's anger became almost impossible to contain.

“They're entertainment?”

Rhaziel's expression was solemn.

“I opposed the system.”

Lucian looked at him.

“And you lost.”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

Rhaziel was silent.

Lucian stepped closer.

“Who created it?”

The darkness around Rhaziel seemed to grow heavier.

“The God of Light.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“And?”

“The God of Time.”

A pause.

“The God of Space.”

Lucian's expression hardened.

“They're responsible for this?”

“They were among those who pushed it forward.”

“Among?”

Rhaziel's answer came slowly.

“Do not make the mistake of thinking the gods are one united family.”

Lucian remained silent.

“They disagree. They fight. They manipulate one another. Some seek order. Some seek freedom. Some seek power.”

Rhaziel looked toward the Earth.

“And some simply believe mortals exist for their amusement.”

Lucian's gaze remained fixed on him.

“Then you fought them.”

“Yes.”

“And lost.”

Rhaziel smiled faintly.

“Perhaps.”

Lucian frowned.

“Perhaps?”

“There were too many variables.”

“What variables?”

“Some I understood.”

Rhaziel looked away.

“Some I didn't.”

Lucian waited.

“And some…”

Rhaziel's expression darkened.

“…I still don't.”

That answer affected Lucian more than certainty would have.

For the first time, he understood something.

Rhaziel wasn't telling him the story of an all-knowing god.

He was telling him the story of someone who had survived something even he didn't fully understand.

“So what did you accomplish?”

Rhaziel looked at him.

“One thing.”

“What?”

“Balance.”

Lucian frowned.

“The natural law of this cosmos demands equilibrium.”

Rhaziel raised one hand.

A tiny sphere of darkness appeared above his palm.

A second sphere of light formed beside it.

“They oppose each other.”

The two forces pushed against one another.

“Darkness and Light.”

The spheres disappeared.

“The universe was born from three primordial forces.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“Three?”

“Darkness.”

Rhaziel's voice became distant.

“Light.”

He paused.

“And the Third.”

Lucian waited.

“What is the Third?”

Rhaziel's eyes shifted toward him.

“That is a question you are not ready to ask.”

Lucian's expression tightened.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep asking questions whose answers could get you killed.”

Lucian stared at him.

Rhaziel continued.

“The misuse of those primordial powers shattered their balance.”

“By the God of Light?”

“Among others.”

The answer was deliberately incomplete.

“And from that fracture…”

Rhaziel looked toward the endless stars.

“…the Multiverse began.”

Lucian's eyes widened slightly.

He had expected another explanation.

Instead, Rhaziel stopped.

No grand lecture.

No complete history.

Just another door.

Another impossible question.

Lucian finally understood.

There were things even Rhaziel wasn't willing to explain.

Or perhaps couldn't.

He looked toward Earth again.

Then back at Rhaziel.

“How many Blackthornes are left?”

The question seemed to surprise Rhaziel.

Lucian answered before he could speak.

“Six.”

Rhaziel froze.

Only for a moment.

But Lucian saw it.

“Six?”

“Yes.”

The ancient god's expression changed.

For the first time since they had met, Rhaziel looked genuinely shaken.

“Only six…”

His voice was barely audible.

“The Blackthornes once numbered more than a hundred thousand.”

Lucian looked away.

“That era is gone.”

“Why?”

“We don't know.”

Rhaziel's gaze sharpened.

Lucian continued.

“The records are incomplete. Whatever happened before the modern clan…”

He paused.

“Someone made sure we wouldn't find it.”

Rhaziel said nothing.

“They didn't leave us anything that could lead back to you.”

Lucian looked at him.

“Maybe the survivors didn't want another war.”

Rhaziel lowered his head.

“That would be like them.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“You knew them that well?”

“I watched them die.”

Silence.

Rhaziel's voice became quieter.

“And I watched them disappear.”

He closed his eyes.

“I thought they were gone forever.”

When he opened them again, something had changed.

Not rage.

Not desperation.

Resolve.

“You are not responsible for their war.”

Lucian remained silent.

“You are not responsible for my failure.”

Rhaziel stepped toward him.

“But you are responsible for what you do with what remains.”

Lucian looked at him.

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.”

Lucian frowned.

“Nothing?”

“Not yet.”

Rhaziel's gaze was steady.

“If you challenged the High Gods today, you would not become their greatest enemy.”

He paused.

“You would become a footnote.”

Lucian's jaw tightened.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Survive.”

Rhaziel's answer came immediately.

“Grow.”

He stepped closer.

“Learn.”

“Learn what?”

“Why your ancestors were hunted.”

Lucian's expression sharpened.

“Find what they left behind.”

“Why?”

“Because your family did not survive for twenty-one generations by accident.”

Rhaziel raised his hand.

Darkness gathered in his palm.

But this darkness was different.

It did not feel like ordinary energy.

It felt ancient.

Primal.

Something deeper than mana.

Lucian's eyes widened.

Rhaziel looked at it.

“This is what remains of me.”

The darkness pulsed.

“My divinity.”

Lucian's expression changed.

Rhaziel extended his hand.

“I cannot carry it any longer.”

Lucian stared at the energy.

“What happens if I take it?”

“You may die.”

Lucian looked at him.

“That doesn't sound reassuring.”

“It wasn't meant to.”

For the first time, Lucian almost smiled.

Almost.

Rhaziel continued.

“The power will not obey you simply because I give it to you.”

The darkness began moving toward Lucian.

“It will test you.”

The energy touched his chest.

Lucian's entire body tensed.

Darkness surged through his veins.

His vision blurred.

His heart pounded once—

Twice—

Then something inside him answered.

The darkness stopped resisting.

It recognized him.

Not as a master.

Not as a chosen one.

As an heir.

Lucian's eyes opened.

Golden-red.

A black aura erupted around him.

Rhaziel watched in silence.

Then he spoke.

“The Origin of Darkness.”

The words echoed across the moon.

“It is yours now.”

Lucian looked at his hands.

Power surged through him.

Not limitless.

Not complete.

But vast enough to make his previous understanding of strength feel painfully small.

Rhaziel's voice remained calm.

“You have stepped into the realm of a Low-Level God.”

Lucian slowly raised his eyes.

“Godhood.”

“Yes.”

“And what happens now?”

Rhaziel looked at him.

“Now you train.”

Lucian frowned.

“That simple?”

“No.”

Rhaziel's expression hardened.

“Now you discover how much you don't know.”

He reached toward Lucian.

“The Nyxveil Relic.”

Lucian hesitated before removing the pendant and handing it over.

Rhaziel turned it over in his palm.

For the first time, genuine reverence appeared in his eyes.

“This relic is older than your world.”

He traced a finger across its surface.

Symbols appeared.

One after another.

Coordinates.

Paths.

Locations that seemed to exist beyond ordinary space.

Lucian watched carefully.

“What are those?”

“Places you may need to visit.”

“For what?”

“Artifacts.”

Rhaziel returned the pendant.

“Things left behind by your bloodline.”

Lucian looked at the newly formed markings.

“And if I find them?”

“You may approach the realm of a Mid-Level God.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“May?”

“Power is not guaranteed.”

Rhaziel looked directly at him.

“Neither is survival.”

Lucian closed his fingers around the pendant.

Rhaziel's form began to fade.

Lucian immediately noticed.

“Wait.”

Rhaziel looked at him.

“You said the relic can cross dimensions.”

“Yes.”

“And time?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the gods cannot easily track its passage.”

Lucian looked down at it.

“So I can use it to travel safely.”

“For most places.”

Lucian noticed the qualification.

“Most?”

Rhaziel's expression became serious.

“There is one method you must never use.”

Lucian waited.

“Dark Teleportation.”

Lucian frowned.

“Why?”

Rhaziel's fading form became almost transparent.

“Because that movement does not hide you.”

He looked directly into Lucian's eyes.

“It announces you.”

Lucian's expression hardened.

“To whom?”

Rhaziel's voice grew distant.

“The Soldiers of Light.”

Lucian's grip tightened around the pendant.

“Who are they?”

Rhaziel gave him one final look.

“Those who were created to make sure beings like you never become strong enough to question the order of the gods.”

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

“And if they find me?”

Rhaziel's expression became solemn.

“They will come for your life.”

Then the ancient god vanished.

No explosion.

No divine light.

No final declaration.

He simply disappeared into the darkness.

Lucian remained alone.

The moon was silent.

Earth hung above the horizon.

He looked at it for a long time.

For twenty-one generations, the Blackthorne name had been his inheritance.

He had thought he understood where it came from.

He hadn't.

His family had once numbered more than a hundred thousand.

Ten had survived the ancient war.

Somehow, those ten had built a bloodline that lasted twenty-one generations.

And now only six remained.

Lucian lowered his gaze to the Nyxveil Relic.

The strange coordinates still shimmered faintly across its surface.

He thought about Rhaziel.

About the tenth Patriarch.

About the war.

About the Gates.

About the gods who had turned human suffering into entertainment.

He thought about everyone who had died without ever knowing why they had been forced to fight.

His hand slowly tightened around the pendant.

Rhaziel had not given him a destiny.

He had given him a truth.

The choice belonged to Lucian.

He looked toward Earth.

For the first time, the planet beneath him no longer looked like the entire world.

It looked like the beginning.

Lucian turned away from it.

He had no intention of challenging the gods yet.

He wasn't strong enough.

He wasn't ready.

But now he knew something he hadn't known before.

There was a history buried beneath the Blackthorne name.

There were survivors.

There were artifacts.

There were gods.

There were enemies.

And somewhere beyond the world he had known his entire life was the answer to one question that refused to leave his mind—

Why had the Blackthornes been erased?

Lucian sheathed his sword.

Then he began to walk.

Not toward a prophecy.

Not toward a throne.

Toward the truth.

And somewhere beyond the stars, forces far older than humanity had already begun to notice that the darkness had returned.