The night was deep and windless, the kind of silence that wrapped the world in velvet stillness. Serenil stood alone in the secluded shrine garden behind the palace, far from guards and curious eyes. His hand hovered above the patch of earth where he had drawn a magic circle with ash and powdered silver.
This was the spot—where the stars were lowest, where moonlight kissed the ground like a lover's breath.
His heart beat steadily as he spoke the words Aeliatlonia had engraved into his soul in the divine realm.
> "O sword of void, O edge of silence, awaken and sever the lie of this world."
Black mist erupted from the circle. The air twisted, shimmering like glass cracking under pressure. And then—
It appeared.
A sleek, black blade with a rippling, shifting edge. The very air around it warped like a mirage. Its hilt pulsed with crimson veins, and the runes along the fuller glowed softly like stars swallowed in night.
Voidrender: Mugen no Kurayami.
It hovered in the air before him, as if weighing his worth.
Then came the voice—calm, ageless, and impossibly deep.
"You who are forged of sword and soul... I know you."
Serenil didn't flinch. "You were waiting for me."
"I was born from your will. Your hatred. Your clarity. The one who severed kings and defied gods—now reborn in flesh weaker than your name."
He took the blade into his hand.
At once, an anti-magic field pulsed outward, and every trace of ambient mana fled the space around him. Even the grass beneath his feet withered slightly.
"Can you cut this world for me again?" Serenil asked softly.
"Yes. But you must be ready to pay the price of truth."
Voidrender shimmered with quiet promise. Its edge wasn't just sharp—it could erase.
He sheathed it into a false dimensional pocket with a flick of thought, hiding it from the world once more.
He wasn't ready yet.
But soon, they would meet the real Serenil Aetheryn.