Year 2100
An island near the ruins of what was once called Spain
The world hadn't ended.
It had rotted.
Fifty years ago, humanity tore itself apart in a war so vast that even its purpose was forgotten. Nations collapsed. Governments vanished. What remained were factions—clawing at each other for land, resources, and control.
On a forgotten island, far from the eyes of rulers and tyrants, stood a training camp.
A place where children were taught to kill.
Where the able were forged into soldiers.
Where the broken were reduced to labor.
A place where despair was law.
The iron gates creaked open.
Hundreds of children poured out—some as young as ten, others already young adults. Their steps were uneven, their bodies worn.
Bruises darkened their skin.
Cuts traced their arms.
Exhaustion clung to them like a shadow.
No one spoke.
They simply walked—scattering across the island toward what little they had left to call home.
At the edge of the outer sector stood a crumbling house of brick and straw.
Its rusted gate groaned as it opened.
Two figures stepped inside.
"We're back!" the girl called out brightly.
From the kitchen emerged a woman—her beauty dimmed not by age, but by hardship. Still, there was warmth in her eyes.
"Welcome back, Lucy… Sera," she said gently. "How was your day?"
"The same as always," the girl replied with a grin. "Lucy's still the best in drills."
"Will you stop calling me that?" Lucien muttered.
"No," his mother said instantly.
He turned to the girl. "At least you—Sera?"
She tilted her head, a teasing smile forming.
"Nope, dear Lucy."
Lucien sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"I'm not hungry. I'm going to sleep."
Without waiting for a response, he walked into his room and shut the door.
Amyra watched his back, worry clouding her expression.
"What's wrong with him?" she asked softly. "He didn't even eat…"
Seraphina's smile faded slightly.
"I don't know," she admitted. "He was quiet today… not normal quiet. Something felt off."
Amyra nodded, concern deepening.
"I hope he's alright…"
She forced a small smile.
"Come, Sera. Let me serve you."
Sera brightened again.
"Okay, Mom."
Lucien lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The room was silent.
Too silent.
He turned to his side and pulled the blanket over himself, shutting his eyes.
Sleep, he told himself.
Forget everything.
Midnight.
A sharp chill ran down his spine.
Lucien's eyes snapped open.
Something's wrong.
"Don't worry, kid."
The voice came from the shadows.
In an instant, Lucien's hand shot toward the knife beside his bed. He rolled to his feet, eyes scanning the darkness.
Then—
He froze.
A figure stood near the wall.
Not human.
Not entirely.
Black, obsidian-like horns curved from its head. Its skin was pale where it showed, but the rest of its body was covered in dark, scaled armor. Purple veins pulsed beneath the surface like living serpents.
Its eyes—
White and black reversed.
Lucien tightened his grip on the knife.
"What do you want?" he asked coldly.
The being chuckled.
"Straight to the point," it said. "Not even curious about who I am?"
Lucien's gaze hardened.
"I'd rather deal with trouble than get acquainted with it."
The man smiled faintly.
"Fair enough."
He took a step forward.
"But the real question isn't what I want…"
His voice dropped.
"It's what you want."
"What do you mean?" Lucien asked.
"I mean exactly what I said."
Lucien's mind raced.
Don't attack.
You can't win.
He could feel it.
This being could erase him at any moment.
Not kill.
Erase.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
"I want to be free," he said. "And I want my family to be happy."
"Your mother?" the man asked.
"…And the girl."
A knowing smirk crossed the man's face.
"And how do you plan to achieve that?"
"I'll earn merits," Lucien said. "Rise through the ranks. Become a general in the Retribution Army… and live safely in the mainland."
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
"I thought you were different," the man said. "The son of a warrior. A killer at twenty. A ruler in the making…"
His eyes darkened.
"But you're just a coward."
Something inside Lucien snapped.
"How can you live under someone?" the man continued.
"How can you call yourself free… when you're beneath another?"
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME?!" Lucien roared.
His voice trembled.
"I just want to protect my family! Even if I have to bow… even if I have to serve… I don't care!"
The man didn't flinch.
"So you'll live as a slave… and call it freedom?"
Lucien froze.
"You think those above you won't use you?" the man pressed on.
"That they won't take what you love?"
Silence filled the room.
Heavy. Suffocating.
Lucien's legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the bed.
"I… don't have a choice," he whispered.
"I can't watch my mother suffer… I can't see Sera get hurt…"
The man's expression softened—just slightly.
"I wanted the same thing."
Lucien looked up.
"I wanted to make your mother a queen," the man said quietly.
"To give you everything."
A pause.
"But I was weak."
"I chose peace… over power."
"And I paid the price."
Lucien's breath caught.
"I was betrayed," the man continued.
"By angels. By demons. By those beneath me."
He stepped closer.
"In this world, protecting what you love isn't a right."
"It's a privilege."
"And only the strong can afford it."
Lucien clenched his fists.
"Then what should I do?" he asked.
"How do I become strong enough… without ending up like you?"
The man smiled.
"Simple."
He extended his hand.
"Become the strongest."
Lucien's voice trembled.
"…Is that even possible?"
"No."
The answer came without hesitation.
"No one becomes the strongest alone."
"This universe is the living proof. No single person rules this universe."
His gaze sharpened.
"But you can build something greater."
"An empire."
"One that makes the world bow."
"One that no one dares to oppose."
His voice turned cold.
"Become the sovereign."
"Reach the Apex."
Lucien stared at him.
"…Who are you?"
The man's smile widened.
"Your father."
Silence.
The world seemed to stop.
"I left you a little gift," he said, as he extended his hand toward Lucien.
"Now tell me…"
"Are you ready to rise, my son?"
Lucien hesitated.
Then—
He reached out and took his hand.
In that moment, something shifted.
The weight dragging him into the abyss—
Vanished.
No…
It didn't vanish.
It bowed.