The Void Citadel hung in the void like a dark monolith, its jagged spires slicing through the twisted clouds of the Outer Realms. A faint hum of energy vibrated through the air, bending light and shadow alike. For ordinary mortals, the Citadel was invisible, lost to myth and fear. For Soren Arclight, it was home, his prison, and the arena where his destiny would take shape.
He stood before the colossal gates, the black blade of Eclipse Aethernis strapped across his back. The sword pulsed faintly, resonating with the law threads flowing through the Citadel. It was not merely a weapon; it was a fragment of his parents' combined legacy. Aedric Arclight, the multiversal ruler, and Nythera Solveil, the forbidden Voidcaller, had left this sword as a beacon, a key, and a challenge all in one. To wield it properly, Soren would have to master himself before mastering the blade.
A soft vibration ran through the air. A form coalesced behind him, light refracting into impossibly complex geometries until it settled into the humanoid shape of The Chronicler, his sentient AI guide. Its voice was neither male nor female, young nor old, yet each word resonated in Soren's mind.
"Welcome, Soren Arclight."
Soren's hand instinctively brushed the hilt of Eclipse Aethernis. "I'm ready," he said, though the tightness in his chest betrayed his nerves. The Citadel had a way of showing every flaw in one's control.
"Ready is irrelevant. Mastery is forged through understanding, through observation, and through the relentless pursuit of one's will."
The central hall of the Citadel expanded impossibly, walls stretching into infinity. Floating before him were countless nodes, glowing anchors of realm energy, each pulsing like a heartbeat. Beyond them, simulations of realms flickered: towering cities, forests torn asunder, oceans boiling under unnatural suns.
Soren's eyes followed one projection: gods and rulers moving through civilizations, treating the mortals below like insects. One realm's skies burned as deities clashed, their powers tearing cities apart. Another saw rulers siphoning energy from the weak, reshaping the very land to serve their whims.
He did not cry. He did not rage. But in the depths of his mind, a thought crystallized:
"They treat mortals like insects. I do not care for them… yet I cannot watch them die so carelessly. If no one else will, I must take the reins. Every realm, every node… all under my dominion."
The Chronicler's form shimmered. "Correct. Motivation is the first law of mastery. Without it, even your Absolute Dominion class will remain dormant, your potential squandered."
Soren knelt, fingertips tracing the shimmering law threads flowing from a nearby node. They twisted and writhed, chaotic as living serpents. As he concentrated, Eclipse Aethernis pulsed in response, its resonance attuned to his nascent control over reality.
"Now you will meet your first Dominion Summon."
From the void, shadows coalesced into a humanoid form. Its eyes glowed violet, teeth sharp, aura suffocating. The SSS-tier Dominion Summon bowed slightly.
"I am Kaelith, Warden of the Obsidian Nodes," it intoned. "I serve only the one who can command law threads and respect the rules of summoning. Prove your worth."
Soren's hand rested on the hilt of Eclipse Aethernis. He could feel Kaelith's power, overwhelming yet structured. Summoning was not mere force—it required precision, understanding, and synchronization with the being's essence.
"Very well," Soren said, his voice calm, eyes narrowed. "Show me your strength—but obey my commands."
The Citadel transformed into a training arena. Floating nodes hovered midair, each pulsing with realm energy. Kaelith struck them with inhuman speed, shadows tearing through reality. Each movement forced Soren to adjust his law-resonance alignment, channeling threads to guide Kaelith's strikes. Every misstep sent recoil surging through him, bending reality around the nodes.
Hours passed, though in the Citadel, time was a fluid concept. Sweat dripped down Soren's back, muscles screaming, yet his mind sharpened. Each strike, alignment, and synchronization taught him the delicate balance of Absolute Dominion mastery.
He faltered, misaligning threads, feeling the backlash ripple through Eclipse Aethernis. But The Chronicler's voice was patient:
"Every failure is a lesson. Every mistake is a thread connecting mastery to destiny. Understand them, and you will bend reality itself."
Finally, Kaelith stepped back, its violet eyes glowing with approval. "You possess potential. Your control is raw, yet it is yours. Others will bow. Others will resist. But none will ignore you."
Soren nodded, sheathing Eclipse Aethernis. He felt the threads of the Citadel pulse in acknowledgment—a subtle recognition from the multiverse itself.
"Remember," The Chronicler intoned, voice echoing in the vast hall, "these nodes are only the beginning. The realms beyond will challenge you. The Dominion Summons will test you. And the Absolute Dominion class will demand more than power—it will demand strategy, intellect, and ruthlessness."
Soren's eyes narrowed, thoughts cold and calculating. He did not think of mercy. He did not think of attachment. He thought of order, of strategy, and of the inevitable conquest of every realm, every node, every fragment of existence.
The shadows of the Citadel seemed to pulse in harmony with him. Deep within, he felt the faintest echo of his parents' power, a guiding whisper leading him toward a future that only he could shape.
"If the gods will not protect the worlds, I will. If the rulers will not uphold balance, I will. All will bend to me—or be crushed."
And with that, Soren Arclight's journey began.
TBC...