The air inside the temple was thick with silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that felt like it was listening.
Kairo stepped cautiously over the threshold. The heavy black stone doors had shut behind him the moment he crossed the boundary, cutting off the outside world. All that remained was darkness—and the faint, pulsing glow of red light seeping from the cracks in the walls like veins.
His boots scraped against dust that hadn't been disturbed in centuries. The ruins groaned faintly, as if recognizing him.
The further he went, the stronger the pull became. It was like something under his skin was responding to the heartbeat of this place. The crimson light called to the mark on his chest—the mark he had tried to destroy.
Kairo reached a chamber at the center. There it was.
A stone altar stood in the heart of the room.
Simple. Ancient. Ominous.
Black as night, ringed with red veins that pulsed like the heartbeat of something alive. Symbols lined its edges, swirling slowly, too smooth to be carved, too deep to be just surface marks. They shifted when he looked at them—forming language, then dissolving again.
His mouth was dry. His fingers trembled.
He didn't know why he was here. Not really.
He only knew that something—something in the blood—had brought him.
He stepped forward. Slowly. His hand stretched out of its own accord.
The moment his palm brushed the cold stone surface, the air screamed.
A blinding red flash erupted from the altar, throwing him back, but his hand wouldn't let go. His palm was fused to the altar like it had become part of it. Blood ran from the tips of his fingers into the grooves of the stone.
And the altar drank.
Symbols ignited across its surface.
[Blood Recognized.]
The voice wasn't spoken aloud. It vibrated inside his bones.
[Ashmarked. Sovereign Thread Confirmed.]
Kairo gasped. The pain in his chest flared—the birthmark burned hot, glowing through his shirt. The red light from the altar crawled into his veins, lighting them like fire under glass.
[Sovereign Core initializing…]
Then it spoke again.
A question.
Simple. Terrible.
[Do you accept the Reign?]
Kairo's eyes rolled back. His knees hit the stone. His blood was on fire. Lightning surged through his nerves—red lightning, arcing through his body, burning him from the inside.
Visions tore into his mind.
A battlefield drenched in blood.
A throne made of bones.
A figure in crimson armor, face hidden behind a cracked helm, holding a sword that dripped with stars.
Planets bleeding. Skies ripped open.
Worship. War. Madness. Power.
[Do you accept the Reign?] the voice repeated, louder now, layered with a thousand echoes.
Kairo's lips cracked open. The words weren't his—but they came from somewhere deeper.
"…I accept."
The world exploded.
The altar cracked.
Red lightning poured into him like a tidal wave of molten rage. He screamed—but the sound vanished. The temple seemed to collapse inward—then explode outward—then reform all at once.
He couldn't see. Couldn't hear.
Only the voice remained.
[Reign Accepted.]
[Sovereign Core Activated.]
[Blood Memory Transfer Commencing…]
Then came the memories.
But they weren't his.
He stood as a god-emperor on a dying world, his blade raised to the heavens as entire continents shattered.
He drowned nations in blood, not for hatred—but for purpose.
He was loved. Feared. Worshipped.
And killed.
Over and over, he died in a thousand lives.
And every time, the crown passed on. The Reign survived.
Until now.
Until him.
His body convulsed. Blood dripped from his nose, ears, eyes. Every cell screamed. And then—
Silence.
He collapsed to the ground.
The red light faded.
The altar went dark.
And the voice was gone.