Note:-
The story from now is about how Idris after defeating a transgressor and merging with him along with his future self, inheriting both their memories fights against Edwyn in a race against the ending of the world.
In the pristine room, devoid of all amenities except for a bed, laid a wounded figure. His frail form contrasted sharply with the sterile surroundings. Jagged scars crisscrossed his weathered skin.
By his side were 2 priests, dressed in holy robes.It could be seen from the wafting smell of medicine and the light exuding from the priests that they were there to heal the wounded man.
Priest 1: "His injuries are too severe. There's little chance of recovery."
Priest 2: "Agreed. But have you seen the extent of his scars? Isn't the person he fought his fiance?..."
Priest 1: "We can't ignore his suffering. Yet, keeping him alive prolongs his pain."
Priest 2: " we are under orders from the pope that regardless of any complication, we cannot allow Idris leviathan to die, lest we suffer the wrath of the sword of destruction, Sygnus Leviathan."
The two sweat dropped, but soon left the room as they needed more medicine to continue and try to treat the patient.
While the wounded body of Idris was on the bed, a sparkle of light entered his being, soon coursing through his palms up into his mind, soon reaching the soul.
The orb of light descended, seamlessly merging with the intricate folds of the brain. The orb defiantly dispersed into the neural network, its luminous essence intertwining with the consciousness it sought to illuminate.
However, a gargantuan hand materialized, striking at the merging entity. With the destruction of the sphere, the light within merged into the brain.
A sudden flux of memories and a stream of healing powers eased Idris's pain momentarily, allowing for the clarification of his thoughts.
Idris, son of the legendary Sygnus Leviathan, inherited the weight of a formidable legacy. As the scion of the renowned Sword of Destruction, he bore the burden of expectation.
Despite his lineage and the prestige it carried, Idris found himself lacking in strength, a mere shadow of his father's prowess.
While Sygnus ascended to the peak of tier 8 as an ascendant class warrior, Idris was barely a tier 3 warrior, a stark difference to his father's immense talent.
The journey begins with Tier 0 to Tier 3, where rookies awaken to their elemental affinities and basic abilities, honing their skills under the guidance of mentors.
Between Tier 4 and Tier 6, mastery is achieved, with individuals specializing as master swordsmen, knights, or wizards. Their prowess in combat and magic becomes legendary, shaping the course of battles and defining the fate of kingdoms.
Beyond Tier 7, the hierarchy shifts dramatically. Each tier represents a leap in strength, with individuals becoming akin to human monsters, wielding powers that defy comprehension. They manipulate reality itself, bending it to their will with ease. These transcendent beings are revered and feared, their actions capable of reshaping the very fabric of existence.
Yet, even among these divine entities, there exists a hierarchy, with Tier 10 beings standing as the true manifestation of the heavenly laws. They are the apex of power, wielding unimaginable might and wisdom, guiding the world towards its destined path.
Just like all admirers of power and wealth, Idris was determined to be different from the common mob, but much to his chargrin, he wasn't as talented as he taught he'd be.
While his father was the epitome of strength, a Duke as well as a tier 8 warrior, he was nothing but a useless heir.
Yes, his parents loved him dearly, opting to not have other children after him, as he was the second one, the first being his elder sister.
But recently, his fiance had gravely wounded him to unite with that peasant no good Edwyn.
As he tried to move his body, now almost healed of all its life threatening wounds, he came to terms with the fact that Luna didn't love him.
She just loved the emotions and drama she'd receive, the admiration from her friends, the gifts from him. She didn't like him.
Especially when she was willing to almost kill him by using a tier 5 artifact in a duel sanctioned by the god of omens and death, Thanatos, all for a guy she met for a month.
However, Idris suddenly noticed the presence of scattered memories, filled with unique and alien concepts of varying proportions. These memories were from a transgressor named Alan, an avid anime and manga fan and a professional weaboo.
With the memories, however, came intense blood curdling screams. Idris could feel his very essense being ripped and mended in a cycle of merging the bits of knowledge in his mind.
The pain soon ended, nevertheless, before
all of this mind bending information about parallel realities could be digested, he saw the existence of a inconspicuous book, mentally turning it's pages, he started mentally turning the pages, first reading to see what it was.
But soon he turned each page with increasing aggression, the book about to tear in his mind under the force exerted by his turning.
Time skip: three days later
Idris Leviathan sat alone in his dimly lit room, the weight of the revelation he had just discovered bore down on him like an anchor dragging him into the depths of despair. He had always felt like an outsider, like his life was a puzzle with missing pieces, but nothing could have prepared him for what he had unearthed.
As he flipped through the pages of the tattered manuscript he had found in his mind, the truth unfolded before his eyes like a cruel joke. Every detail of his life, every joy, every sorrow, every triumph, and every failure was meticulously scripted within the pages of a novel titled "The Chronicles of Fate." But what chilled him to the bone was the realization that he was not the hero of this story; he was the villain.
Idris's hands trembled as he read the passages describing his darkest moments, his cruelest deeds. The friends he had trusted, the family he had loved, Rachel, the woman he had so dearly cherished—they were all pawns in someone else's narrative, unwitting players in a twisted game of fate. And he, Idris Leviathan, was nothing more than a puppet dancing to the whims of an unseen author.
"How could this be?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "Is this my purpose? To be the antagonist in someone third rate story?"
The revelation shattered his sense of self, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. For years, he had struggled to find meaning in his life, to forge his own path in a world that seemed determined to cast him aside. But now, faced with the crushing weight of destiny, he couldn't help but wonder if his efforts had been in vain.
While he was contemplating his next steps, a wild vortex entered in his room, through which a flash of white graced him. He could sense the presence of another set of memories, however, this time it was more like immediate fusion instead of the agonizing, bloodcurdling pain from before.
He could feel the emotions he had gone through in the next 5 years in just a moment, rendering him temporarily useless.
Laying on the ground in cold sweat, Idris realized that the only way to live now was to fight against the bastard. he knew it would come with pain that would make his previous experiences seem like a small pinch on the ear, but he must do what he can to save his family and those dear.
But before he could plan the intricacies of the plan, he was interrupted by the knock on his huge, girthy, thick wooden door.