The Ashes of Kings, the Bones of Youth"
"You were born to carve thrones from stone. Not beg permission to sit on them."
— Last words of Archlord Kael Varian
He didn't dream.
He remembered.
Flames. Screams. Blood on marble floors.
The howling wind on the Obsidian Spire where gods used to kneel.
Gareth, the swordhand he molded by blood oath, hurling the death-blade into his back with wet finality. And Lirien, her spellflesh glowing gold-blue as she wept... and laughed.
A million betrayals screamed through time like broken mirrors.
Then:
Darkness.
Not the merciful veil of death.
No.
This was a hunger. A waiting. A pulse.
Then, breath surged in. Wet, ragged, mortal.
Kael Varian tore out of unconsciousness like a drowning man.
And opened his eyes.
He lay drenched in sweat on an uneven cot, surrounded by a room so achingly familiar it hurt. The cracked arcanite lamp. The uneven wooden bookshelf. The single rune-etched mirror, slightly tilted right because of a warped nail—
He shot upward.
Brittle aches screamed from long-neglected muscle. His body felt light. Small. Clumsy.
No blood tattoos carved into his arms. No soulmark from the Eternal Flame. No Rune of Execution glowing in his right palm.
What—?
He lurched to the warped mirror, catching his reflection.
Sixteen.
Thin. Pale. Unscarred.
A boy—not broken by power, not crowned by war.
"No... no no no."
The words scraped free like rot from old lungs. He stepped back and nearly tripped over his discarded school robes—burlap grade, barely one enchantment. The robes of a Class Zero initiate.
He looked around again. Bone-carved furniture. Dust-circle wards half-activated around the windows.
Arcanis Academy, Southern Dormitory, Sector IV.
The past.
Then—
in the silence, something vibrated behind his eyes.
Not a voice. Not a sound.
A presence.
Then—
[Initializing System: Soulforge Dominion Protocol... SYSTEM: OBSIDIAN OVERRIDE ROOT. Legacy Sovereign Sync Initiated.]
Kael's breath caught as thousands of fragments pressed into his mind: rituals, names, ancient seals, strategy dates, betrayals, memories—*
Himself.*
The Obsidian Archlord of the final age.
Defeated. Broken. Dead.
But not anymore.
[Temporal Anchor Confirmed. Life Timestamp — 16 Years, 02 Months, 04 Days.]
[Revenant Protocol Activated: You have one life. No further resurrections. No mercy failsafe.]
[Condition Applied: Unique Action Progression Multiplier x10.]
He was back.
Kael staggered, crashing to his knees as the full sync hit his Core.
[Memory Stream Recovery… 43%... 68%... 89%... Complete.]
[Class Affinity: Unawakened. Tier: Aspirant. Mana Reservoir: Dormant.]
[Primary Legacy: Sealed. Condition: Key Trigger Required.]
He inhaled, held it, then released it like a general about to go to war.
The silence was broken by a sharp grin.
"This..." he whispered in a whisper of laughter, "...is no dream."
He had returned.
He pushed up slowly, eyes sharpening. No longer dull with youth, but rich with lifetimes of rage and knowledge.
Kael Varian, slain sovereign, last heir to the Obsidian Throne, looked down at the student badge on the floor.
Unranked. Zero-tiered. Nearly forgotten.
He crushed it under his bare foot.
"Fate thinks it can play me?"
"I'll break its dice."
He moved to the desk and pulled open the locked trunk. Badly enchanted, easily broken. Inside: a pair of third-hand boots, one with a torn sole, worn training gloves, and a dull bronze pendant — no attunement aura left in it.
Pathetic.
He reached in and pulled the gloves on anyway. Then, with a deliberate movement, extended a hand toward the far wall.
His palm glowed faintly.
Beneath the skin, not visible to any mundane eye, was a scar—one divinelybranded into his soul in another life. The Seal of Dominion.
And it responded.
A glimmer of power traced along his bones, faint as spider-silk in moonlight—but there.
He clenched his fist.
BANG BANG BANG.
"KAEL!" a panicked voice from behind the door interrupted him. "You're late again! Instructor Gorin's almost flaming with rage!"
Kael paused. That voice...
Tovik Maar.
Lowborn. Mediocre talent. Never ascended past Bronze Core. Killed in a practice duel that went wrong.
Kael ignored the knock.
"Fade away, worm. I no longer walk among insects."
But the door handle rattled again. Bold for a nobody.
"Do you hear me?! This is your third strike. You'll lose your stipend if—"
Kael flung open the door.
Tovik flinched. "I—uh—I didn't...."
Kael stared at him. Not the boy. Through him.
One heartbeat —
two —
then Kael's lips curved.
"Tovik," he said slowly, "Do the birds here still sing on fire days?"
Tovik blinked. "What...?"
Kael tilted his head. Contemplating the boy.
"You're already dead in the timeline I came from." His tone was casual. "Died in a practice spar. Broke your neck because your left foot placement was slow."
Tovik's face paled.
Kael leaned closer, voice lowered, "Here's your only warning. Don't draw steel against Elrin Vael next week. He watches your footwork. You'll miss. He won't."
Tovik stumbled back, stammering. "H-how do you—?"
But Kael shut the door in his stunned face. Then he pressed his hand flat against the inner wood with slow reverence.
"It begins here."
He opened the System again with a thought.
▌Welcome: Kael Varian
▌Legacy Override Detected
▌Tier: Zero
▌Goal: Tier Ascension Before Selection Trials (21 Days Remaining)
▌Hidden Legacy: OBTAINABLE
▌Fated Trigger Not Yet Met
Beneath the words, a small line pulsed:
▌Danger Level of Nearby Peers: Minimal. Feel free to dominate.
Kael whispered the words like a prayer:
"Dominate, yes. Not merely win. Not persuade. Not rise. Dominate."
His door wheezed open again—a final interruption. InstructorGorin this time, a mountain of a man with ember eyes under a silver-etched helmet.
Kael stood straight.
Used to bowing.
Not anymore.
"Varian," Gorin growled. "You're nearly dismissed. One more absence and—"
Kael raised one hand.
Just a single finger, pointed upward.
Gorin jolted to a stop instinctively. The boy's aura shifted. Not mana. Not strength. Somethingdeeper.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Kael smiled.
"Instructor Gorin," he said clearly, eyes burning, "Do you remember who made the Sky Emperor kneel?"
The man blinked, confused. "What…?"
"You will."
Kael turned, not waiting to be dismissed.
He walked through the hallway of old walls and confused students. A Class Zero no one respected.
But the shadows leaned toward him. Old magic flickered beneath the surface of reality.
He didn't just return.
He'd come prepared.
Behind him, the wind caught his discarded badge.
Nobody picked it up.
Because tomorrow, he wouldn't need it.
The Academy didn't know it yet. Neither did the world.
But the Sovereign had returned.
And this time—he wasn't climbing for redemption.
He came for conquest.