For one long year, Kazimir honed a technique that had no name—no comparison.
He called it Perpetual Absolute.
A manifestation of compressed lightning and spatial distortion, focused into a singularity and released at a velocity beyond perception. Even Kazimir, prodigy of the Vrasnai, struggled to tame its scope.
When he told his mother, Karah, the Zasia Vandor of Lightning, her curiosity turned to urgency. "Show me," she said, her tone unreadable.
They left the capital and journeyed deep into the outer fields, where nothing but grass and sky stood witness. Karah stood with arms crossed, wind curling her white and gold robes around her ankles. "Let me see it," she said again, this time with a spark of challenge in her eyes.
Kazimir nodded, stepping away, breathing slowly.
"Stand back," he warned her.
Karah gave him distance. Enough to be safe—or so she thought.
Kazimir closed his eyes. The world around him silenced. Then, all at once, he focused every ounce of energy into a single pulse point in his palm—elemental lightning twisted with his spatial gift, condensing into a compact star of devastation.
And he released it.
The earth split. The sky roared. An enormous explosion of electrical force burst in all directions, a dome of sheer annihilation flattening the field. Karah's eyes widened, and for the first time in decades, she shielded herself. The impact sent her hair streaming, her cape torn, and the very clouds above fragmented.
When the smoke cleared, she walked forward slowly, her face unreadable.
"…That," she said softly, "was breathtaking."
Kazimir's heart swelled, until she added with a smirk, "But next time, try not to vaporize the training field. You're grounded."
"What?!"
"900 laps," she declared. "Around the nation. Now move before I make it 1000."
When he finished, exhausted but alive, Karah met him again. She handed him a towel, and a quiet smile.
"I've decided," she said. "You're going to the Astral Legion Academy."
Kazimir blinked. "What?"
"Your sister's there. Jessie. She's grown more than I expected, more than she even knows. It's time you joined her. Learn. Meet people. Stop training like the world's already ended."
Kazimir hesitated—he had always been sheltered, trained, feared—but he nodded. "…Alright."
She smiled again. "Good. I've already sent the application."
But fate would not wait for that year to pass.
One month later, Karah left on a mission alone. There were rumors—a dynasty abomination had been sensed nearby. As the Zasia Vandor, she bore the burden of defense. But before she left, she entrusted a message to her commander:
"If I don't return… send Kazimir to Astral Legion. And tell him… tell him I'm proud."
She never came back.
Instead came the abominations.
Twisted, corrupted Vrasnai—once noble—now reduced to screaming monsters under the dynasty's influence. They turned on each other. They turned on their people.
And Kazimir, immune to the corruption, stood alone in the chaos, watching as the blood of his own kind painted the streets.
"Why is this happening…?" he whispered.
But there was no time for answers. With his katana drawn, Kazimir became lightning incarnate. He struck with fury, slashing through corrupted kin, his heart splitting with every familiar face he was forced to kill. Two thousand Vrasnai… fell by his hand.
The cries. The screams. The blood. It soaked the soil beneath his boots, and for four hours, he fought through a garden of death.
Then it came.
The Dynasty Abomination itself stepped from the mist of corpses.
And in its clawed hand… it held something.
"Kazimir," it said in a distorted voice, "a reward."
It tossed the object forward.
It was her head.
Karah.
The Zasia Vandor of Lightning. His mother. His world.
Her long black and blue hair—now soaked in crimson—lay tangled over her face. Her eyes, once so fierce and warm, were forever closed. And yet… her expression held no fear.
Only peace.
"…No," Kazimir whispered, breathless.
A storm cracked inside his soul. His sword slipped from his fingers. The world around him began to fade.
Then he screamed.
A scream that tore through the skies.
And with it, the seal his mother had placed—the only thing keeping him stable—shattered.
His lightning twisted into something deeper, darker. His hair turned a storm-washed blue. His skin drained of warmth, pale and glowing with dark blue markings. His right eye ignited, overflowing with power. With grief.
And from his rage, a singularity formed—
Primal Catastrophe.
A black hole.
It consumed the battlefield, ripping the abominations from existence. Trees. Buildings. Even the clouds above vanished into nothingness. The Dynasty Abomination ran, fleeing in terror.
But Kazimir didn't care.
He held her head in his arms. Cradled it like a child.
The body count meant nothing. The destruction meant nothing.
He had failed her.
The only one who ever believed in him. The one who sealed his power to protect him. The one who raised him to be more than just a weapon.
Hours later, when search parties arrived, they found a field of corpses.
And Kazimir… still kneeling in the middle.
Tears silently falling. His blindfold stained with blood.
Holding the black-and-blue strands of her hair like it was all he had left.