A Stranger with No Shadow
The boy moved with quiet purpose, weaving through collapsed buildings and rusted overpasses. He didn't know where he was going—only that he had to stay moving.
The system's interface flickered faintly in his vision, tracking nearby mana surges and life signals. Most were distant. A few... were circling.
"Threat proximity: 400 meters. Mana signature: irregular. Tracking active."
He gritted his teeth. His legs still ached, and he hadn't eaten in what felt like days. But he couldn't stop.
Not here. Not while they were looking for him.
The memory of the gang—their fear as his flame surged—still echoed in his mind. That had bought him time. But time was a luxury Iron Wastes rarely offered twice.
He turned a corner into an alleyway lined with shattered vending machines and mechanical limbs, when—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A soft sound behind him.
He froze.
Someone was following him. But he hadn't heard them approach.No footsteps. No breathing. Just… presence.
Slowly, he turned around.
And there she was again.
The girl from before.
She stood at the alley's end, pale white cloak flowing in the windless air. Her skin was porcelain-pale, her eyes glowing faint violet—not natural. Not human.
More unnerving than that...
She cast no shadow.
The boy blinked.
"You're not real," he said flatly.
She tilted her head, amused. "Neither are you. Not anymore."
That voice. Calm. Cold. Ageless.
"Why are you following me?"
"I'm not following you," she replied, stepping closer. "I'm guarding you."
He frowned. "From what?"
A pause. Then her smile faded.
"From yourself."
His breath caught.The air between them felt heavier suddenly, like reality had thinned.
"You know what I am," he whispered.
"I know what you were," she corrected. "And what you might become again—if you survive long enough."
Her hand lifted. A sigil pulsed across her wrist. Ancient, spiraling, incomplete.
The boy's eyes widened. He recognized it.He had created that mark… long ago… for his royal guards.
"You... you served me."
"I still do."
Behind them, a sound—like glass cracking inside steel.
Both turned sharply.
From the rooftops, a figure dropped down. Not a man. Not fully.
Clad in patchwork armor, its face a smooth mirror, and a black spear thrumming with dark mana.
A Reaper Unit. Illegal artificial hunters programmed to retrieve or destroy awakened vessels.
It raised its weapon.
"Target confirmed: Origin Fragment. Lethal force authorized."
The girl stepped in front of the boy.
"I'll hold him. Run."
But the boy didn't move.
Because something had awakened in his chest again.
A burning. A memory. A whisper from another lifetime.
"Let the world forget me…""...but I will never run again."
___
: The Flame That Shouldn't Burn
The Reaper Unit didn't speak again.
It lunged forward, spear humming with compressed void energy. A single strike from that weapon was enough to disintegrate a lesser soul.
The girl moved fast—inhumanly fast—her cloak swirling as she threw a shimmering dagger toward its core. But the Reaper twisted mid-air, deflecting the blade with its forearm, landing in a crouch only meters from the boy.
"Target: Vaelith-class anomaly.""Authorization: Total erase."
The boy didn't flinch. Not this time.
He could feel it again. The EMBER SEED pulsing inside his chest—angry, unstable, but alive.
"Emergency Combat Protocol active.""Warning: Host body integrity below threshold. Risk of internal damage: 89%."
He stepped forward.
"I said I won't run."
The Reaper slashed—once, clean, a silver arc tearing through the air—
And was met with a burst of searing red flame.
The impact shook the alley.
The Reaper was thrown back, smoking, its arm half-melted from the sudden ignition. It recalibrated, systems hissing with steam, optics flickering.
The boy panted, his eyes glowing gold-red. His hands were scorched, but he stood tall.
"I don't remember who I was… but I remember this feeling."He raised his hand, flames dancing across his fingertips."It's power... not meant for this world."
The girl was watching—quietly impressed.
But she didn't interrupt.
The Reaper recalculated. Then it shifted tactics—its legs folding inward, torso reshaping. Within seconds, it transformed into a sleek, quadruped hunter-form. Faster. Lethal.
It sprinted.
This time, it moved too quickly. The boy couldn't react.
But she did.
A flash of white energy slammed into the Reaper mid-charge, sending it crashing into the wall with a guttural synthetic screech.
She stepped forward, her palm glowing with a different kind of magic—one that didn't burn, but unraveled.
"Enough," she said calmly. "You're not ready to fight alone yet."
The Reaper staggered up, glitching. And before it could attack again, she traced a sigil in the air—ancient and forbidden.
"Seal: Ash-to-Glass."
A pillar of pale light enveloped the Reaper—and with a sickening crackle, it shattered into thousands of glimmering shards.
Silence returned to the alley.
The boy dropped to his knees, coughing hard. His body smoked faintly, the backlash from using unstable power overwhelming his child-form.
She knelt beside him.
"You held your ground. That matters."
He looked up at her, eyes heavy. "Who… are you?"
She paused. Then finally spoke:
"My name is Elyra.In your first life, I was your sword.Now, I am your shadow."Her gaze turned sharp. "And time is running out, Sovereign."
___
The First Law of the Broken Realms
They hid inside the remnants of a maintenance shaft, deep beneath the ruins of Iron Wastes. Broken pipes hissed with ancient steam, and walls were covered with graffiti of forgotten gods and collapsing empires.
The boy lay wrapped in a discarded thermal sheet. His hands were burned, and his system flickered in and out, occasionally displaying corrupted text across his vision.
Across from him sat Elyra, sharpening a blade that shimmered like moonlight.
She watched him in silence for a while, then finally spoke.
"You shouldn't be awake yet."
"I don't have time to sleep," he muttered.
His voice was rough. Tired. But steady.
Elyra exhaled through her nose. "Then we begin."
She reached into her cloak and tossed something onto the ground between them—a holographic shard. It flickered, then projected a rotating model of a fractured planet, surrounded by rings of broken debris.
He blinked. "What is that?"
"Not what—where. That's this world: Valemir."
She pointed to a red zone blinking near the southern hemisphere.
"We are here, in the Iron Wastes. A sovereign-forbidden territory. Lawless. Outcast zone. No guilds. No realm authorities. The only law here is power."
He stared at the map. "And the rest of the world?"
"Ruled by four High Realms. Each aligned to an Elemental Crown. They hunt anomalies like you. And they will come."
The boy tilted his head. "What exactly… am I?"
She looked at him, and her voice dropped.
"You are a Sovereign Fragment. A soul that should've been erased after the collapse of the First Flame. But somehow… your Origin survived."
He felt a chill run down his spine.
"The Reapers… they were after that."
She nodded. "Created by the realm-lords to purge anything linked to the old sovereign line. They thought they succeeded a thousand cycles ago. Until now."
He clenched his fists. "So this world fears me."
"No."She leaned forward.
"This world remembers you."
The flame in his chest pulsed once—like it heard the truth.
"Then what do I do?" he asked quietly.
Elyra stood up, sliding her blade back into its sheath.
"You master the system. Regain what you've lost. Awaken the Flame Core. And survive until the next Alignment."
He looked up. "What's the Alignment?"
She turned away, eyes narrowing.
"When the four Realms open their gates and battle for ascension.""And this time, Sovereign… you'll be caught in the center."
The boy looked down at his trembling hands.
No crown. No name. No army.
But deep within him, the fire stirred.
___
Shadows Know His Name
Sleep was fleeting.
Even in the cold silence beneath the Iron Wastes, the boy couldn't rest. Every time his eyes closed, he saw flashes—visions from lives he'd never lived, or perhaps... had forgotten.
A throne of flames.A world drowned in red light.A sword breaking the sky.His own scream—echoing across a thousand realms.
He sat up slowly.
Elyra was gone, likely scouting ahead. He was alone. Just him... and the whispers inside his soul.
"System status: Recovery mode - 12% Core Stability.""Warning: Sovereign signature partially exposed."
He winced. "What does that mean?"
"Your presence... is no longer hidden."
A chill crept up his spine.
Aboveground, under the smog-choked sky, they had already begun to gather.
Far from the Wastes, in the citadel of Realm Aetheris, a hooded figure stood before a circular scrying mirror. Within it, an image flickered: a boy with glowing eyes and marks of the First Flame.
"It has begun," the figure whispered."The last Sovereign has awakened."
Behind him, six armored knights knelt.
"Shall we deploy the First Ascension squad, my lord?"
A pause.
"No. Not yet.""Let him bleed. Let him struggle.""The seed must burn before the tree can grow."The figure turned."Send only the hounds."
Back in the ruins, the boy stood now, watching the flickering system screen in his vision.
He had no idea that across cities, kingdoms, and even shattered realms, his existence had reawakened ancient contracts, prophecies, and vendettas.
His breath hitched.
"I don't know who I used to be…"
He clenched his fists.
"But if I was once a monster—this time, I'll choose what kind."
The flame in his chest pulsed—warmer, steadier.
And in the distance, just beyond the veil of dust and smoke...
Footsteps approached.
Not Elyra's.
Something else.
Something hunting.
___