The crypt was cold, its still air heavy with the weight of centuries. Shadows danced across the walls, thrown by the dim light of flickering crimson runes. The chamber was vast, carved from obsidian stone that absorbed sound and light alike. At the center of this forgotten tomb lay a sarcophagus, towering and oppressive, its surface etched with sigils that pulsed weakly, like the dying heartbeat of some ancient beast.
For centuries, the world above had moved on, forgetting this place and the figure entombed within. But tonight, the silence of the crypt was broken. The runes began to glow brighter, their light crawling along the walls and converging at the base of the sarcophagus. A low hum filled the air, growing into a deep, resonant vibration.
The first crack appeared—small but sharp, like the sound of ice breaking underfoot. Then came another, and another, until the surface of the sarcophagus was veined with fractures. A surge of energy burst forth, dark and violent, throwing shards of stone into the air. Shadows coalesced at the center of the room, swirling like a storm.
From within the shattered tomb, a figure rose.
Awakening the Sovereign
His body was tall and imposing, wrapped in an aura of shifting darkness. Shadowy metallic skin caught the faint light of the runes, and lines of glowing red etched across his form pulsed rhythmically, as if they carried the lifeblood of some ancient force. His eyes opened slowly, glowing a deep crimson, filled with sorrow and anger.
The Eternal Sovereign stepped forward, the weight of his presence making the air grow colder. His voice broke the silence, low and commanding, yet tinged with weariness. "How long... has it been?"
He scanned the chamber, his gaze lingering on the faintly glowing runes that once thrummed with unimaginable power. Now, they flickered like dying embers. Fragments of memory stirred in his mind—memories of towering spires, of disciples kneeling in reverence, of a name spoken in fear and awe: The Netherborn Dominion.
But those memories were fragments, scattered and incomplete. What remained was the sharp, searing pain of betrayal.
"They... destroyed us," he murmured, his voice a quiet growl. He clenched his fists, and the glowing lines across his body flared in response. "Sealed me away. Scattered our power to the winds."
He turned his gaze to the center of the room, where a faint glow emanated from a pedestal. Resting upon it was a small orb, cracked and dim. He approached it slowly, each step echoing in the empty chamber. The orb pulsed faintly as he reached out to touch it, and a whisper filled the air.
"Master... you have returned."
The Abyssal Codex
The orb, known as the Abyssal Codex, had been a cornerstone of the Dominion. It held the knowledge of their arts, their techniques, and the secrets of their power. Now, it was little more than a fragment of what it had once been. Its voice was faint, as if it too had been weathered by time.
"The Dominion..." the Codex whispered, its light flickering with each word. "Fallen. Destroyed. Betrayed by those who feared our strength."
The Sovereign held the orb in his hands, his expression unreadable. "How far has the rot spread? What remains of our legacy?"
"Ruins," the Codex replied. "Remnants of power scattered across the world. The Abyss itself... severed from this realm."
For a moment, the Sovereign said nothing. The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, but the fire in his eyes only grew brighter. "Then we begin again. Guide me, Codex. Where do I start?"
The Codex pulsed faintly, its energy pointing toward the horizon. "The Obsidian Altar... the heart of our power... it still holds the spark of the Dominion."
The Sovereign nodded, his resolve firm. "Then that is where I shall go."
A Barren World
The chamber doors creaked open, groaning with the weight of centuries. Beyond the crypt lay a desolate landscape. The sky was a muted gray, choked with ash and clouds that swirled like restless spirits. The earth was cracked and barren, its lifeless surface stretching into the horizon.
The Sovereign stepped out into this ruined world, his presence making the air grow unnaturally still. He knelt and pressed a hand to the ground, sending a pulse of energy rippling outward. What he found was disheartening: the once-vast power of the Abyss had been reduced to a faint whisper, and the strongholds of the Dominion were nothing but ruins.
"This world has grown cold," he muttered, rising to his feet. "But it will burn again."
The Codex pulsed faintly in his hand. "Be wary, Master. The balance of power has shifted. The sects that conspired against us have grown fat in your absence."
The Sovereign's lips curled into a faint smile. "Let them. Their arrogance will be their undoing."
A New Disciple
As the Sovereign journeyed toward the Obsidian Altar, he passed through a small village on the outskirts of the wasteland. Its wooden structures were dilapidated, leaning precariously against one another. The people here were hollow-eyed and gaunt, their faces marked by fear and despair.
In the village square, a commotion drew his attention. A group of bandits had cornered a young boy, their laughter echoing harshly in the still air. The boy, no older than sixteen, held a broken sword, his hands trembling but his gaze defiant.
"Hand over your Qi stones," one of the bandits sneered, raising a club. "You're lucky we're even letting you live."
The boy spat blood but stood his ground. "If you want them," he said, his voice shaking, "you'll have to take them."
The Sovereign watched silently, his crimson eyes narrowing. He could feel the boy's Qi—it was raw and chaotic, but brimming with potential. Without a word, he extended his hand, and shadows rippled across the ground. The bandits froze as dark tendrils erupted from the earth, binding them in place.
The Sovereign stepped forward, his presence suffocating. "Is this the strength of this era?" he said coldly. "Pathetic."
He turned his gaze to the boy, who stared at him in awe. "What is your name?"
"K-Kael," the boy stammered. "They call me cursed... because my Qi is dark."
The Sovereign's lips curled into a faint smile. "Then you are perfect."
A Spark Rekindled
Kael knelt before the Sovereign, his head bowed. "You saved me... what do you want from me?"
The Sovereign placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, his voice calm but firm. "Swear yourself to me, and I will show you the path to true power. Together, we will rebuild the Netherborn Dominion."
Kael hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "I swear."
The Sovereign rose, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The faint glow of the Obsidian Altar beckoned in the distance, a spark waiting to ignite. With his first disciple at his side, he took the first step on the path to restoring the Dominion.
The world would remember his name.
End of Chapter 1