The cavern trembled.
Not from a beast. Not from a quake. But from Zairon—who now stood tall at the edge of his madness, clothed in black ethereal robes stitched from condensed spiritual energy, swirling with ever-shifting sigils and elemental chaos.
The Roc, now evolved into a Sovereign-class Spirit Beast, screeched from above, its feathers shimmering with molten gold and midnight blue. It felt it too—its master had returned. Not as a man. Not even as a monster. But as something that defied definition.
With a single thought, Zairon ascended, the cave behind him collapsing as if in reverence to the power that no longer needed its shelter.
When he broke through the clouds, the sky turned violet, lightning streaked without storms, and even faraway cultivators paused mid-training, their instincts screaming that something had awakened.
He looked at the world, his gaze piercing through mountains and seas, cities and shadows.
"Five years of silence," he murmured, floating mid-air with a wild grin. "I wonder if they forgot me… Good."
He turned toward the eastern continent—toward the sovereign territory he once established. His forces had expanded, disciplined, loyal. Rumors of his return spread like wildfire.
And then, Zairon descended—not to the capital, but to the heart of an SS-Rank Dungeon newly discovered near the edges of the sovereign lands. He didn't need a parade. He needed war.
The guardians of the dungeon, ancient spirits and untamed beasts, stood ready to kill any who entered.
Zairon stepped forward alone, laughter echoing like thunder, his battle aura warping space.
"Ahh… it's been so long since I've screamed in a fight," he whispered, drawing his blade, Crimson Crescent, which now pulsed with sentience and hunger.
He didn't fight carefully. He fought like a mad god, reckless, loud, smiling through the pain, drinking in blood and flame like a forgotten king reclaiming his throne.
And as the final beast fell, its head exploding under a snap of his fingers, Zairon stood in a field of corpses, chest heaving, body covered in blood—not all his own.
"I'm still not satisfied," he muttered, eyes burning like twin suns.
He sat down in the center, meditating as the energy from the dungeon flooded his veins. His presence distorted the natural laws themselves.
Somewhere in the distance, a divine entity—something from Raur—felt his awakening and paused. This... this presence wasn't natural. It wasn't supposed to exist.
And yet, it did.
Zairon meditated. Madness churned. Power rose.
The Sovereign had returned.
And the world would never be the same again.