The storm clouds hadn't yet cleared from the sky when Valerian landed atop the war-wyrm's back. Its wings of black fire carved through the heavens, casting a jagged shadow over the dead hills that stretched for miles. The valley below lay in eerie silence, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Behind him, Lira, Seraphine, and Selene rode on skeletal wyverns—lesser summoned beasts formed from Valerian's will. All of them were silent, shaken by what had just occurred. The sheer presence of the draconic war-wyrm—Valerian's newest summon—had shaken even their hardened resolve. It was not just a beast. It was a symbol. A message to the world.
He was no longer just a rogue noble, no longer a boy reincarnated. He was a force.
But something gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.
The system had been quiet.
He called out to it.
(System. Status.)
[System initializing... Error. Reconfiguration in progress.]
Valerian frowned. That wasn't normal.
"Problem?" Selene's voice came through a mental link, carried by the enchantment woven into their contract. She was the only one who dared speak directly into his mind without permission.
"Not yet," he replied. "But I can feel something's wrong. The system is... changing."
Selene's breath caught. "Changing? As in, evolving?"
"Maybe. Or breaking."
They flew in silence for a time, the wind hissing around them as they crossed into the ancient borders of the First Empire—the territory long abandoned after the Cataclysm. It was here that the Conclave's message had told them to meet: at the Ruins of Hal'theras, once a capital city of gods and monsters.
As the ruins came into view, a cold pulse of magic struck Valerian's chest.
(Warning: Obsidian Conclave Signal Detected.)
(Your presence has been logged. Protocol: Judgment awaits.)
"Looks like they're expecting us," he muttered.
They descended into the ruins. Jagged towers and shattered temples stretched out beneath them like the bones of a giant civilization. Ghost-lights flickered along cracked stone roads, and strange symbols glowed from pillars long forgotten by men.
Waiting at the heart of it all stood three figures cloaked in black and silver robes, their faces hidden by obsidian masks. The air around them shimmered with runes and killing intent.
"You are late," the central figure said, voice distorted by a magic filter.
"I had to raise a war-wyrm," Valerian replied coolly, leaping from his mount. "It took time."
The masked figure tilted his head slightly, perhaps amused. "And yet, you bring it here, to us. Do you think intimidation will protect you from truth?"
"I think it'll remind you not to waste my time."
The figure's voice sharpened. "Then let us not waste any. You were never meant to awaken the system."
Valerian's gaze narrowed.
"The what?" Seraphine asked quietly behind him.
"The system he bears," the masked figure said, eyes now fixed on Valerian. "It is not native to this world. It was planted, seeded into the timeline by a fracture event. A foreign consciousness broke into our cycle. A parasite."
"Are you saying... he's a mistake?" Lira asked.
"No," the third figure spoke now, her voice ancient and weary. "He is a key. The final key to the Gate. And the Gate opens soon."
Valerian's heart pounded. His memories—the ones from his past life, the voice of Alex—twisted in his head. Was I always meant to do this? Or was I built for it?
The lead Conclave agent stepped forward. "You must make a choice, Valerian. Align with us. Let us guide your Ascension. Or face destruction when the Gate opens."
"I've never responded well to threats," Valerian said.
"This is not a threat. It is prophecy."
A ripple of dark energy burst from the ground beneath them. Symbols in the ruins ignited like wildfire, and a tremor shook the entire valley. From beneath the earth, a great sigil appeared—circular, filled with ancient script—and at its center, a pulsing red eye.
"What the hell is that?" Seraphine drew her blade.
"The Eye of Hal'theras," the woman said softly. "The first Gate. It awakens in seven days."
Lira stepped beside Valerian. "We should destroy it now."
"You can't," the masked man said. "The moment it was seen by you, it bound itself to your soulprint. You are its catalyst now."
Valerian stared into the burning sigil. Somewhere deep inside, something stirred. A hunger. A voice.
(I've waited for you...)
He turned away. "I don't need any of this. Not your prophecy. Not your lies."
"You think this is about your choice?" the woman asked. "The original you made the decision long ago. This self—the one that calls itself Valerian—is merely the second act."
He froze.
"What did you say?"
Selene stepped forward. "What do you mean the original?"
The man removed his mask. Beneath was a face that matched Valerian's... almost. Older. Crueler. Eyes like glass.
"I am what came before. The first iteration. The one who created the system to begin with. And I've come to reclaim what's mine."
Everyone went still.
Even the war-wyrm hissed.
"You can't be real," Valerian whispered.
"I am. And I've watched you stumble through my memories long enough. You've gotten strong, yes—but you've grown soft. Attached. You forgot our purpose."
"And what purpose is that?" Valerian asked, hand drifting toward his sword.
"To open the Gate. To cleanse this world of its corruption. And to ascend as a god."
"No," Valerian said. "I'm not you."
"You were me. And you will be again."
Lightning struck the ruins as the first blow landed. Valerian and his original self clashed in a blinding flash, powers ripping the air apart.
The others scattered, shouting his name.
But deep down, Valerian knew...
This was only the beginning.