Chapter 1: The Fallen
Vabos Plain
Dax awoke to the stench of blood—thick, metallic, and cloying, clinging to the back of his throat like a living thing.
The world around him was a slaughterhouse tableau: torn flesh scattered across churned earth, viscera smeared in grotesque patterns, bones jutting from the dirt like broken accusations. A warm, fetid breeze brushed his skin, carrying the faint rot of death. He lifted a trembling hand to his forehead. His fingers came away slick and crimson—fresh blood, still warm.
"…Blood?"
His eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead.
Ugh.
Then the storm hit.
A torrent of memories—raw, violent, utterly foreign—surged into his skull like shattered glass:
Hooded figures sprinting through a rain-soaked, night-shrouded forest.
A young man with his face gasping in exhaustion, lungs burning.
Guards struggling to match the pace, their armor clanking desperately.
And behind them—
An unstoppable tide of monstrous beasts crashing through the trees, jaws snapping, claws rending.
When the horde overtook them, the world dissolved into pure carnage: screams cut short, limbs torn free, blood arcing in crimson fountains.
These memories rooted deep, weaving into his own consciousness. The original owner's emotions flooded in alongside—rage that scorched like acid, a longing that ached in the bones, humiliation that twisted the gut, yearning that clawed at the heart, despair that drowned everything… and beneath it all, a towering ambition.
But one emotion eclipsed them all:
Hatred.
Scorching. Molten. Vast enough to swallow oceans.
Hatred for a world that had stripped everything away.
Hatred for the injustice etched into his very birth.
Hatred for the helplessness of those final, choking moments.
Dax's breath came in ragged shudders. His fingers clawed into the blood-soaked soil.
"What… is this?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "How is this possible?"
Then understanding pierced the chaos like a blade.
"I died."
He exhaled slowly, the words tasting like ash.
"I've been… reborn."
Yet no elation followed. Only revulsion. Only fury that coiled tighter in his chest.
"This is ridiculous."
He slammed his fist into the ground. Pain exploded up his arm—sharp, human, weak.
"Dammit—!"
The truth struck harder than any blow.
All his power—everything forged across four centuries of relentless pursuit—
gone. Stripped away.
"Ha… hahaha…"
The laugh that escaped him was hollow, bitter, edged with madness.
"I really am the greatest joke in the universe."
Then a voice—familiar, almost comforting—echoed inside his mind.
Welcome to Epoch.
He froze.
"…Inerous?"
A faint, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips for the first time.
"So I didn't lose everything."
Epoch System Booting…
1%… 10%… 30%… 70%… 99%… 100%
Name: Dax Godfall
Race: Human
Bloodline: None
Realm: Trait Emperor
Rank: 0
Title: The Mad Scientist
Traits: Synthesis, Insatiable Hunger
Attributes: None
Skills: Telekinesis
Strength: 30
Agility: 6
Physique: 3
Mana: 0
Aura: 0
Luck: -1
Dax stared at the ethereal display hovering in his vision, speechless for a long moment.
"So these pitiful numbers… this is what they left him with after stealing his talent? They even took his luck?"
A soft voice answered from the air itself.
"Yes."
Dax whirled around.
An identical version of himself stood there—calm, composed, almost translucent, radiating a quiet serenity that felt alien on his own features.
"You…"
"My talent was stolen at birth," the soul-double said gently, his voice carrying a faint, sorrowful warmth. "You have not inherited all my memories yet. They will come in time—piece by piece, when you are ready."
Dax studied him intently. A soul should be formless, intangible. It should not stand with poise, should not speak with such clarity.
Yet something deep within him recognized this presence—pulled toward it, as if his very flesh knew this was part of him.
The double smiled faintly, a sad but accepting curve.
"I am a gentle flame. My soul was that flame. This body was merely the wood that fed it… and I allowed the wood to burn away. Do not fear me."
Dax exhaled, tension easing slightly from his shoulders.
"So you're the original owner."
He paused, searching the double's translucent eyes.
"How did you end up like this?"
"I do not know," the soul replied, voice dimming with genuine confusion. "I have existed in this state since the moment of my death."
This world… it was far stranger, far crueler than he had anticipated.
The soul-double flickered like candlelight in wind, then collapsed inward, condensing into a small, glowing orb that drifted forward. It hovered before settling against Dax's chest, sinking seamlessly into his body.
Before Dax could react, a new vision bloomed in his mind:
A beautiful black-haired woman cradling a newborn, her smile tender and full of exhausted love.
His throat tightened painfully.
"…Mother."
A single tear traced a hot path down his blood-streaked cheek.
"She's still… so beautiful. Even in memory."
Then another scene overlaid it: red-and-black robed cultists encircling the woman and her child, their faces twisted in ritualistic fervor.
Dax's entire body trembled with barely contained rage.
"So that's how they stole your talent." His voice dropped to a frozen whisper. "A crime committed before you even drew your first breath. A world that never pretended to care about fairness."
He memorized every cultist's face—etched them into his mind like brands on flesh.
"We are one now," he murmured, voice steadying as the soul fully merged. "Your rage, your sorrow, your unfulfilled desire… all of it lives in me."
A profound weight lifted. The body no longer felt borrowed—it felt right. Complete.
System Restoring…
10%… 30%… 70%… 100%
Gene Palace: Restored
Mutant Soul: Acquired
Personal World: Gene Palace (Sealed)
Epoch Storage: Restored
+1 Cil
+1 Annihilation Horn
Star Farm: Restored (Sealed)
A slow, predatory grin spread across Dax's face.
"So tell me…" He spread his arms wide, gazing at the gore-strewn plain as if it were his kingdom. "What exactly did I lose?"
His traits remained. His realm endured. His artifacts—sealed or not—were still his.
A low, rumbling laugh built in his chest and spilled out.
"Hahaha… hahahahaha! How utterly maddening. How wonderful."
Even stripped of raw power, he felt more alive than he had in centuries.
"Predecessor…" he whispered, tilting his head toward the blood-red sky. "Your dream is not far from reach."
Rustling—sharp, deliberate—cut through the silence.
Dax's eyes narrowed to slits.
"Danger."
A sword flashed toward his throat, faster than sound, trailing a deadly arc.
Killing Series: Second Form — Blood Flow.
Muscle memory surged unbidden. His body loosened instinctively. Killing intent poured from his pores like black mist, thick and suffocating.
He widened his stance, pivoting with lethal grace—
Cough! Boom! Stab!
The blade missed by mere inches, burying itself deep into the earth as the swordsman overcommitted, slamming his free hand down to halt his momentum.
A priest in blood-red robes materialized behind Dax, body twisted at an unnatural angle, blocking every retreat.
"This brat…" the swordsman snarled through gritted teeth. "He dodged a Rank Two strike?"
"Kikikiki!" The priest cackled, spine arching impossibly. "Vos! Vos! Vos!"
Dax's gaze remained ice-cold, unflinching.
One driven by impulse.
One lost to madness.
Which meant—
"There's a third," Dax sighed, almost bored. "Come out."
From the shadows stepped a handsome, long-haired man in flowing red robes, his smile polite and poisonous.
"Interesting," he said, eyes narrowing with genuine curiosity. "The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. How did you counter that?"
"Who are you?" Dax asked flatly.
"How rude of me." The man inclined his head in a mocking bow. "I am Vabon, of the Blood River. The swordsman is Mike. The howling priest behind you is Kakarai."
His smile widened, revealing perfect teeth.
"We have come to kill you. Don't worry—it won't hurt long. Unless, of course, pain is something you enjoy."
Blood River.
Dax's eyes darkened to abyssal voids.
"So… you finally show yourselves."
"This boy's broken," Vabon chuckled, though unease flickered behind his eyes. "How adorable."
Dax's voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
"Kneel."
Raw power pulsed outward.
Mike and Kakarai dropped instantly—their knees shattering against the ground, blood bursting from ruptured joints.
"What—what is this humiliation?!" Mike screamed, face contorted in agony and disbelief.
"Vos! Vos! Vos!" Kakarai writhed, trembling between torment and ecstatic delirium.
Vabon's polite mask cracked.
This is bad.
Instinct overrode pride. Without a word, he melted into the earth like liquid shadow, fleeing without honor.
"You were abandoned," Dax murmured to the two left behind.
He raised one hand.
Telekinesis seized Mike, hurling him skyward—then slammed him down with bone-crushing force. A crater formed, dust billowing, yet the man still drew ragged breaths.
Dax grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him across the dirt toward the priest.
"Vos!"
Kakarai lunged—no longer human in movement. Eyes feral, muscles bulging grotesquely like twisted iron.
Crack! Boom! Cough!
The impact drove Dax backward into a boulder. Blood sprayed from his mouth, hot and coppery.