The night sky over Valmyria was painted in fire.
Screams rose from the streets below, clashing with the endless ringing of steel. The city, once proud and untouchable, was tearing itself apart.
Adrian Kaelthorne stood in the high balcony of his family's manor, staring at the chaos. His black hair whipped in the wind, his sharp eyes reflecting the burning streets. The banners of noble houses that once promised unity now fueled only war.
Inside the manor, his younger sister, Serenya, clung to his arm. "Brother… will we die too?"
Adrian's chest tightened. She was only fourteen. Too young to see the empire crumble.
"No," he whispered, forcing calm into his voice. "I'll protect you. No matter what happens."
The great doors behind them burst open. A bloodied knight staggered inside—Sir Varin, their family's retainer. His armor was cracked, his face pale.
"Lord Adrian—your father…!" he gasped.
Adrian's breath caught. "What about him?"
Varin lowered his gaze. "Lord Darius fell… cut down by the emperor's guard. The Kaelthorne name has been marked for death."
Serenya gasped, clutching Adrian tighter. The words stabbed into him like a blade. His father—dead. His house—hunted. His family—ruined.
For a moment, Adrian felt nothing. Then the storm inside him broke loose.
The soldiers came quickly. Crimson-clad men of the emperor's legion, faces hidden behind helmets, blades drawn.
They cut down the manor's guards and pushed through the halls. The clash of steel grew nearer, echoing against marble walls.
"Adrian," Varin said hoarsely, drawing his sword. "Take your sister and run. I will hold them back."
"No!" Serenya cried, tears streaming down her face.
Adrian's fists trembled. Run? Hide? That was all he had ever been told to do—stay quiet, obey, play the noble son. But tonight, as his home burned, something inside him screamed louder than fear.
The doors of the chamber shattered. Soldiers poured in, blades dripping red.
The world slowed.
Adrian stepped forward.
"Don't touch her."
The first soldier sneered. "The whelp dares speak?" He raised his sword high.
And then—something broke.
Adrian's vision darkened, as if the light itself bent away from him. A cold silence spread in his chest. He felt the soldier's strength, his certainty, his very will—
—snuff out.
The man froze mid-swing. His blade dulled, turning into a worthless hunk of steel. His eyes went wide with terror before he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
The room fell silent.
Every soldier felt it then—an emptiness, a void pressing against their souls. Their courage, their power, their purpose—erased.
Adrian stood there, his black eyes now glowing faintly with a pale violet hue. His voice was calm, almost too calm.
"Leave," he said. "Or I will erase you all."
The men staggered back. Fear. Real fear. Against a boy who should have been helpless.
Serenya's trembling hand slipped into his. "Brother… what did you…?"
Adrian's heart pounded. He didn't know. All he knew was this: something had awakened inside him. Something that unmade the world itself.
And from this night on, nothing would ever be the same.
The soldiers hesitated, fear dripping from their every movement. None of them dared step closer.
One of them finally shouted, trying to steady his trembling voice.
"D-don't falter! He's just a boy!"
But his words rang hollow.
Adrian stepped forward slowly, the shadows of the burning hall stretching unnaturally around him. His presence pressed down on them, like an invisible weight crushing their lungs.
"Didn't you hear me?" Adrian's voice was cold, unshaken. "Leave."
A soldier snarled and charged. His blade aimed straight for Adrian's chest.
"Adrian!" Serenya screamed.
But before the strike landed, the man's arm went limp. His sword clattered uselessly to the ground. His knees buckled, eyes wide with despair as his strength bled away like water from a cracked jar. He collapsed without even touching Adrian.
The others panicked.
"Demon!"
"Monster!"
"Fall back!"
Within seconds, the proud imperial soldiers were gone, scrambling over one another to escape the boy they had come to kill.
The silence that followed was deafening. The crackling of distant fire and Serenya's uneven breaths were all that filled the room.
Adrian stared at his trembling hands. His heart thundered, but his body felt cold—unnaturally so. That wasn't swordsmanship. That wasn't luck. That was something else.
Something terrifying.
"Adrian…" Serenya whispered, eyes glistening with both fear and awe. "What… what did you do?"
"I don't know," he admitted. His voice wavered for the first time.
Varin placed a steady hand on Adrian's shoulder. The old knight's expression was grim, but there was no fear in his eyes. Only resolve.
"Whatever it is, my lord… it saved us."
Adrian met his gaze, searching for any sign of disgust or doubt. But Varin's loyalty was unshaken.
"Come. We must leave this place," Varin said firmly. "The emperor's men won't stop until every Kaelthorne is erased."
Adrian clenched his fists. His father was dead. His home was gone. And now he was the only shield left for Serenya.
There was no choice. They had to run.
They slipped out through the manor's hidden passages, a route only retainers and heirs knew. The once-proud halls of House Kaelthorne were littered with bodies—servants, guards, even children. Adrian forced Serenya to keep her eyes forward, shielding her whenever they passed something too gruesome.
The further they went, the more the weight of reality pressed down on him. His father's voice echoed in his mind: "A Kaelthorne must never bend. We rule, or we perish."
But what good was that legacy now? His father was ashes. His house burned.
When they emerged into the streets of Ardentis, Adrian finally saw it: the empire's heart bleeding.
Fires raged across the capital. The people wailed as soldiers dragged nobles into the open square. Banners of houses that once stood tall now burned on pikes. Commoners cheered and cursed their lords in the same breath, blind to the fact that they too would soon be crushed under the emperor's new order.
Serenya gripped Adrian's hand tightly. Her small fingers trembled.
"Brother… why are they doing this? We… we never hurt them…"
Adrian had no answer. His throat tightened.
Varin's jaw clenched. "The emperor fears rebellion. He thinks slaughter will buy loyalty." His eyes narrowed. "But this… this is not loyalty. This is fear."
As they moved through shadowed alleys, Adrian caught sight of a mother shielding her child from soldiers, only to be cut down. He froze, rage boiling in his veins.
For a moment, he wanted to step out, to erase those soldiers just like he did before. The power inside him stirred, begging to be unleashed again.
But Varin pulled him back. "Not now," the knight whispered. "If you reveal yourself, Serenya dies too."
Adrian's fists shook, but he forced himself to nod. He couldn't risk her. Not yet.
Hours later, they found a crumbling chapel on the edge of the city. Abandoned, half-burned, but quiet. There, finally, they rested.
Serenya curled up against him, exhausted from crying. Her soft breaths steadied Adrian's heart.
Varin kept watch, sword across his lap, eyes sharp even in the dark.
Adrian stared into the faint light filtering through broken windows. His mind was a storm. His father's death. His family's ruin. That power… the void that erased all before it.
He didn't understand it. But one truth burned clearer than fire.
The empire had taken everything from him.
And he would take everything from the empire.
Adrian's hand tightened over Serenya's. He would protect her. He would protect what remained. And if the world itself stood in his way—he would erase it.
That night, under the ashes of Valmyria, Adrian Kaelthorne was reborn.
Not as a noble.
Not as a fugitive.
But as the beginning of the void.