THE ZERO KING: SOLARYS, BURIED LIGHT
The ruins of the Old Empire slept beneath the sands like the bones of a forgotten god.
Zero stood at the edge of a vast desert, his cloak flapping in the dry wind. Towering dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, golden and sun-scorched. Somewhere beneath them, if Krel Vos's memories were to be trusted, lay the entrance to the Labyrinth of Solarys—an ancient prison-temple built to house a weapon no king had dared to wield.
Most would've turned back at the sight.
Zero stepped forward.
The Desert's Secret
He moved at night, when the cold crept in and the sand whispered with the movement of unseen creatures. The days were too harsh, and he had no need for the sun's cruelty—he already carried enough of his own.
Krel's memories had given him more than coordinates. They had shown him a path through illusion, a trick of angles and glyphs that would reveal what the desert tried to hide. On the third night, after crossing a dune shaped like a clawed hand, he found it.
A black obelisk.
Half-buried, covered in ancient runes, humming faintly with power. The entrance was beneath it—a staircase of obsidian descending into darkness. Zero didn't hesitate. He descended, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade, the other tracing the wall for hidden glyphs.
The air changed instantly.
Magic. Old and alive. It hung thick in the tunnels like dust and static, clinging to his skin.
Torches lit themselves as he passed. Shadows writhed unnaturally in the corners. Somewhere far ahead, stone groaned as if remembering ancient pain.
Zero's expression remained calm. Fear was a resource. One he refused to spend.
The Labyrinth's Test
The Labyrinth was not just a prison. It was a test. Built by an emperor so paranoid, he had enchanted the walls with illusions, curses, and memory-eating specters. The deeper Zero went, the less real the world became.
He saw visions.
A younger version of himself—laughing, warm, human—surrounded by a family that had never existed.
An older one—draped in gold, surrounded by corpses of those he had once trusted.
He ignored both.
They weren't threats. Just distractions.
Hours passed. Maybe days. Time bent strangely here.
Eventually, he reached a vast chamber lined with statues—armored figures kneeling, heads bowed to a central dais. And there it sat.
Solarys.
A golden glaive suspended above the dais by chains of light, its blade etched with constellations that shimmered as if alive. It pulsed with a quiet rhythm, like a heartbeat waiting to sync with someone else's.
Zero approached carefully. Runes flickered to life beneath his feet. The walls began to shift—the statues moving subtly, as if turning to look.
A voice rang out, low and cold:
"Only the worthy may wield Solarys."
Zero chuckled softly. "Then I suppose I'll have to lie."
The Guardian's Challenge
The challenge came fast.
A spectral form surged from the dais—a guardian of light forged from memory and flame. It spoke with many voices, echoing fragments of the heroes and villains buried here.
"You are nothing," it said. "No title. No honor."
"I am Zero," he replied. "I am the sum of what I've killed."
Then the duel began.
The guardian struck with speed and fury, wielding replicas of blades Zero had never seen. Every slash was a memory weapon—conjured from the minds of fallen warriors. But Zero was ready. He moved with surgical precision, dodging, parrying, analyzing.
He let it fight like a hero.
He fought like a survivor.
Midway through the clash, Zero threw a dustbomb—a tactic from a rogue whose mind he'd absorbed weeks ago. The guardian faltered. Zero didn't.
He used the hesitation to leap forward, slid beneath its guard, and drove his dagger into its chest.
The spirit screamed, its body flickering like a dying flame.
The Final Memory
But before it could fade completely, Zero pressed his hand to its head.
One more memory.
Pain lanced through his skull—older than anything he'd taken before. He saw the ancient empire at its peak. He saw Solarys used to blind an army of ten thousand. He saw the madness that followed.
And he understood.
Solarys wasn't just a weapon.
It was a truth engine—feeding on energy, time, and probability itself. It could bend fate for moments, letting the wielder act in a future that hadn't happened yet.
Zero's lips curved into a rare smile.
Perfect.
The chains shattered as he stepped onto the dais.
Solarys fell into his grasp, warm and humming, eager to be used again after centuries of silence. The moment he touched it, the blade responded—glowing brighter, syncing to his breath, his thoughts.
Visions exploded in his mind.
Paths. Possibilities. Strategies unfolding five steps ahead.
It didn't just show him futures—it let him choose the one that ended in victory.
Zero exhaled, steady.
With Solarys in hand, his enemies wouldn't see him coming. Not because he was invisible—but because he would always be one step out of time, out of reach, out of their luck.
The Game Changes
As he left the Labyrinth, the statues crumbled behind him. The desert wind howled with approval.
Zero looked to the horizon.
Heroes. Villains. Kingdoms.
Let them gather.
He now had the mind, the memories... and the weapon.
The game had changed.