Copyright ? 2025 Crimson Bean

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First Edition: 03/2025

  Cover Art by Crimson Bean

  Written by Crimson Bean

  ---

  Chapter 1 - Hero of Solmara

  The twin suns hung high above Veydran, casting a golden glow over the crimson city of Solmara. The people bustled through the streets, merchants called out their wares, and children laughed as they ran between the towering stone buildings.

  At the center of it all, walking casually through the streets with a red scarf draped over his shoulders, was Zeydris. No armor. No weapons. Yet every warrior in the city respected him.

  "Zeydris!" a small boy, Riko, ran up to him, grinning. "Are you training again? Can I come?"

  Zeydris smiled, ruffling the kid’s hair.

  "If you can carry a boulder up a mountain, sure."

  Riko groaned. "That’s impossible! You can do it because you’re strong!"

  Zeydris knelt down, meeting the boy’s eyes. "Strength isn’t about muscles, kid. It’s about what you’re willing to bear."

  Before Riko could respond

  A wave of silence fell over Solmara. The air felt heavy, like an invisible force was pressing down on everything.

  At the heart of it stood Vaelthor, the Mind Reaper—a warrior feared across the country for his telekinetic mastery and psionic dominance. His presence alone made people collapse.

  Zeydris walked through the chaos, unshaken.

  "Finally," Vaelthor smirked. "A boy strong enough to amuse me."

  He raised a single hand—Zeydris' body froze.

  The ground beneath him shattered as an immense telekinetic force tried to crush him into dust.

  But Zeydris grinned through the pain.

  "You think a little pressure is gonna break me?"

  Vaelthor’s eyes gleamed—and suddenly, Zeydris was pulled into a world of pure darkness.

  "Void Requiem."

  An illusion. A mind trap.

  Zeydris saw Solmara in ruins. His people reduced to lifeless husks, their eyes hollow, their minds consumed. And in the center of it all, his own burning corpse, kneeling before Vaelthor.

  "You’ve already lost," Vaelthor’s voice echoed. "You just don’t realize it yet."

  Zeydris' body trembled. Not from fear—but from rage.

  He clenched his fists.

  And then—he set fire to the illusion itself.

  A twisted grin spread across Vaelthor’s face. "You’re slowing down, Zeydris. How disappointing."

  Zeydris clenched his fists, flames flickering from his fingertips. "You talk too much."

  Vaelthor vanished.

  Vaelthor reappeared behind Zeydris in a flicker of violet energy.

  "Spectral Rend!"

  A crescent-shaped slash of void energy carved through the air. Zeydris barely reacted in time, twisting his body mid-air to dodge—but the shockwave still sent him skidding back.

  Vaelthor didn’t let up.

  He blurred forward again—a storm of rapid, dagger-like strikes. Each one left behind a violet afterimage.

  Zeydris raised his arms—deflecting, dodging, countering. But he was already feeling it. His reflexes weren’t as sharp.

  "Abyssal Echo."

  Vaelthor snapped his fingers—and suddenly, every afterimage of his past movements solidified.

  Zeydris’ eyes widened.

  Dozens of Vaelthors attacked him at once.

  BOOM!

  Zeydris was sent crashing through a mountain.

  For a moment, everything was silent. Dust settled. Vaelthor smirked.

  Then—an eruption of fire.

  Zeydris shot forward, his body wreathed in blazing gold.

  "Infernal Requiem!"

  A massive firestorm engulfed Vaelthor’s position. The heat distorted reality, melting everything in its path.

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  But Vaelthor didn’t burn.

  Instead—he stepped through the flames like a ghost. His body shimmered, untouched.

  Zeydris cursed. "Damn it—"

  "Phantom Veil."

  Vaelthor phased back into reality—and drove his knee into Zeydris’ ribs.

  CRACK.

  Zeydris coughed blood, his vision darkening for a split second.

  Vaelthor followed up—a palm strike to the chest, sending Zeydris flying.

  But this time—Zeydris refused to fall.

  He flipped mid-air, fire coiling around his arms. His breathing was ragged. His muscles screamed.

  But he had to end this. Now.

  The Final Strike

  Vaelthor smirked. "Still standing? You’re already broken."

  Zeydris wiped blood from his mouth. "Not yet."

  He raised his hands—his flames darkening.

  Not red. Not orange.

  Black.

  "Pyrocataclysm."

  The sky itself split open. Black fire rained down, forming a swirling vortex of destruction.

  Vaelthor’s smirk finally faded. "Tch—"

  The flames hit.

  The ground ruptured, the air ignited. Vaelthor’s entire form was consumed in the inferno.

  For the first time—he screamed.

  When the firestorm finally settled, Vaelthor lay on the ground, barely breathing. His body was charred, his armor cracked, his once-arrogant expression twisted in agony.

  Zeydris stood over him, swaying. His body was failing him.

  After defeating Vaelthor, the Mind Reaper, Zeydris became a symbol of hope for Solmara. He was celebrated as a hero, the protector of the Void Nexus, and the man who defied overwhelming power with sheer will.

  The people of Solmara cheered his name, celebrating their savior. Zeydris had defied the impossible, proving once again why he was the strongest warrior of their planet.

  But then—everything changed.

  But peace was short-lived.

  For Vaelthor was never the true threat. He was merely a pawn in a much greater plan.

  At the edge of Solmara’s atmosphere, beyond what the people could see, a far more terrifying figure had been watching.

  A crack formed in the sky.

  The air grew unnaturally still, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

  As the sky darkened and an unnatural silence fell over the battlefield, a lone figure descended like a god of death.

  A being of cold, calculating malice—stood above the ruins, his long silver hair flowing like a river of moonlight, his piercing violet eyes radiating an eerie glow.

  His black and silver robes, embroidered with ancient sigils, shimmered under the dying light of Solmara’s twin suns.

  Then, without a single word spoken, his voice echoed directly into the minds of every living soul on the planet.

  "Kneel."

  In that instant, a crushing force—Kyōratsu—engulfed Solmara.

  The very air turned heavy, as if the planet itself bowed before his presence.

  Warriors trembled, their weapons slipping from their hands.

  Civilians collapsed to their knees, their minds drowning in a bottomless abyss of fear.

  Even the strongest among them, the elite psionic masters, felt their thoughts waver. Their bodies refused to move. Their souls screamed in silence.

  For the first time in Solmara’s history—true despair had arrived.

  Xelther.

  He floated high above the battlefield, his futuristic armour glowing in the sky, his violet eyes unreadable as he stared down at the scene.

  Zeydris felt it immediately—a fear far beyond Vaelthor. A power so overwhelming that the very planet groaned in fear.

  Then, Xelther spoke.

  "I expected better from you, Vaelthor."

  Vaelthor, barely alive, lifted his head, his voice weak.

  "M-Master… I… I failed…"

  Xelther gave no response. He simply raised a single finger.

  And with just that small motion—Vaelthor’s body collapsed inward.

  His very existence was erased, crushed into nothingness by an invisible force.

  The battlefield fell into absolute silence.

  Zeydris’ flames flared violently. His fists clenched.

  "You killed your own disciple?" he muttered, stepping forward.

  Xelther’s eyes finally locked onto him.

  "Failures don’t deserve to live."

  The words were spoken with no emotion. No hatred, no anger—just absolute certainty.

  Zeydris knows

  This fight… he would not survive it.

  –

  The battlefield was in ruins. The ground was torn apart, mountains reduced to dust, and the air thick with heat and energy.

  Zeydris stood, barely able to keep himself upright.

  Zeydris lunged at Xelther, his flames roaring as he struck with everything he had. The battlefield trembled beneath their clash. But Xelther barely flinched. With a flick of his wrist, he shattered Zeydris’ attack like it was nothing.

  Then—he felt them.

  A sudden rush of energy behind him.

  "You didn’t think we’d let you fight alone, did you?"

  Toshiro,Takeshil, and Raizo burst into the fight, their eyes burning with defiance.

  Toshiro dashed forward, his fists reinforced with telekinetic force, striking at Xelther with inhuman speed. "We’re ending this bastard here!"

  Takeshil followed, his electric aura crackling violently as he unleashed a thunderous blast. "Together!"

  Raizo soared above, winds twisting around him as he formed razor-sharp gales, slicing through the air.

  For a moment—it almost seemed like they had a chance.

  Then Xelther smiled.

  "How pathetic."

  In an instant, reality warped. Xelther moved too fast, his hand piercing through Toshiro’s chest like it was paper. Blood erupted from his mouth as his body convulsed.

  Before Zeydris could react, Xelther turned, grabbing Takeshi by the throat. "You insects are nothing." He crushed Takeshil’s windpipe effortlessly before twisting his neck with a sickening snap. His body dropped lifelessly.

  "NO!" Raizo screamed, rage fueling his attacks. He unleashed everything—tornadoes, shockwaves, cutting gales—but Xelther walked through it. Unharmed. Unstoppable.

  With a single motion, he tore Sora’s body in half. The sky was painted red.

  Zeydris' flames froze. His breath trembled. His vision blurred from the sheer rage boiling inside him.

  His friends. Dead.

  Xelther looked at him, unfazed, standing among the mangled corpses of those who fought beside him.

  "Now, where were we?"

  The Last Stand

  Zeydris stood frozen, his breath shallow.

  Toshiro, Takeshi, Raizo—gone.

  Their lifeless bodies lay in the ruins of the battlefield, blood pooling beneath them. The air reeked of death, and their last, desperate screams echoed in his head.

  His fingers twitched. His chest ached.

  Xelther stood a few feet away, wiping blood off his hands. "Pathetic." His voice was calm, unaffected.

  Zeydris’ breathing grew heavier. His body trembled—not from pain, but from something far deeper. A storm was brewing inside him.

  His vision blurred.

  His flames crackled violently around him, darker, wilder, untamed.

  And then—

  He screamed.

  A roar of pure, unrelenting rage.

  BOOM.

  A shockwave exploded outward. The ground beneath him split apart, debris and fire erupting into the sky. His entire body ignited, his flames roaring higher than ever before. The battlefield turned into a living inferno.

  Xelther raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

  Zeydris vanished.

  Then—he was right in front of him.

  His fist, glowing white-hot, rocketed toward Xelther’s face.

  BAM!

  The impact sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Xelther's head snapped sideways, his feet skidding back.

  Zeydris didn’t stop.

  he vanished.

  A second strike slammed into his ribs, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Xelther staggered back, coughing, but Zeydris was already airborne—

  "Hellfire Crescent!"

  A flaming roundhouse kick carved a burning arc toward Xelther’s skull—

  Xelther raised one hand.

  "Graviton Crush."

  The very space around Zeydris twisted, yanking him backward with an unseen force. He was flung like a ragdoll, smashing through the battlefield. Before he could react—

  A colossal boulder lifted from the ground.

  With a flick of his wrist, Xelther sent it hurtling toward Zeydris at supersonic speed.

  "NOT TODAY!"

  Zeydris’ fist ignited in blue flames. With a single punch, he vaporized the rock into dust. His flames erupted like a volcano.

  He blitzed forward, closing the gap in an instant—

  CRACK!

  An elbow to Xelther’s jaw—

  A knee to the ribs—

  A brutal hammer-fist descending like a meteor—

  But Xelther vanished.

  Then Zeydris' own body froze.

  "Chrono Rift."

  The world slowed to a crawl. His flames flickered in slow motion, distorting like a shattered mirror.

  Xelther walked forward, untouched by time itself.

  Fist to the gut.

  Another.

  Another.

  Zeydris could barely move. Xelther grabbed his head—SLAMMED it into the ground.

  "I told you." Xelther’s voice was cold. "This fight was over before it started."

  Zeydris’ body twitched. His vision blurred. His ears rang.

  He couldn't win.

  He had failed.

  Then—he heard it.

  The Voice.

  "Weak."

  "Pathetic."

  "They are dead because you held back."

  "Let me in."

  "Let me show him what true fire is."

  Zeydris’ fingers clawed into the ground. His flames turned black. His breathing became ragged. His body spasmed violently—

  And then—

  He stopped breathing.

  For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

  Xelther frowned. "Hmph. That’s more like it."

  Then—

  BOOM.

  A shockwave tore through the battlefield.

  The ground split apart.

  The flames around Zeydris’ body turned into a roaring inferno, warping the very air. His charred skin cracked, revealing something beneath—something monstrous.

  He lifted his head—

  And Xelther froze.

  His eyes.

  They were not human anymore.

  Zeydris’ voice rumbled, but it was not his own.

  "You think you’ve won?"

  He vanished.

  Xelther barely had time to react—

  A punch caved his ribs in.

  Xelther choked, his entire body bending from the impact—

  But Zeydris was already behind him.

  A kick to the spine.

  A fist to the throat.

  Xelther couldn’t process it. He was being torn apart.

  And then—for the first time—he bled.

  A single drop of blood dripped from his lip.

  Zeydris’ twisted grin widened.

  "I see it now…" His voice was a deep, distorted growl."Hmph. So this is what they fear?"

  Xelther’s expression darkened.

  BOOM!

  Zeydris’ next attack was stopped mid-air.

  Xelther’s hand gripped his fist.

  Tightly.

  The air itself became heavy. The battlefield quaked.

  Xelther snapped his fingers.

  Time shattered back into normal speed—but only for him.

  "Enough."

  Before Zeydris could react—

  A single strike to the chest.

  His ribs cracked.

  A second strike to the jaw.

  His vision blurred.

  A final, devastating blow to the stomach.

  The black flames flickered—then vanished.

  The monster’s control was gone.

  Zeydris collapsed to one knee, coughing blood.

  Xelther dusted off his sleeve. "That was mildly entertaining."

  Zeydris gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. His vision blurred. His fingers twitched.

  And then—he did the only thing left.

  He used every last ember of his remaining strength, channeling the final flickers of his power into one desperate act. With a fierce roar, he launched the Void Nexus into the vast expanse of space, his flames acting as a final burst of propulsion. The energy surged, accelerating its trajectory beyond reach.

  "NO!" Xelther's eyes widened in rage.

  The relic shot through the sky, disappearing into the abyss.

  Zeydris swayed, his body breaking apart. He looked up, his lips curling into a weak smile.

  "I couldn't protect you… but I won’t let your power be used for destruction."

  His body convulsed.

  A final ember flickered

  BOOM.

  His head exploded.

  His body collapsed.

  Xelther stood there. He had won.

  But it didn’t feel like victory.

  ---

  To Be Continued…