Kael's boots pressed into familiar stone, yet every step felt foreign. The village had grown into a small township, ringed with stone walls marked by runic engravings. Banners of the royal crest snapped in the wind, guarded by armored patrols whose polished helms reflected the torchlight. Ten years ago, there had been only wooden fences and tired sentries.
He pulled his cloak tighter, hiding the abyssal scars that ran across his skin. His summons remained hidden in the Summon Space, their presence muffled, their loyalty silent. Not yet, he thought. The world does not need to see what I've brought back from the Abyss.
The path wound up a slope where an old stone house clung to the hillside. His house. Cracked walls patched with mortar, the wooden door repaired again and again, its frame sagging from age. A place that smelled of warmth and loss.
Kael stopped at the threshold, his hand trembling. The world had stolen ten years from him. What would he find beyond this door?
He knocked.
The door opened slowly, revealing a woman with streaks of silver in her once-dark hair. Lines carved her face, but her eyes—the same as his—widened in disbelief.
The ladle slipped from her hand. "...Kael?"
The word tore from her throat like a prayer she had long abandoned.
Kael swallowed, his voice raw. "Mother."
For a moment, time shattered. She stumbled forward, clutching his face, his shoulders, tracing the scars as tears filled her eyes. Then she collapsed against him, sobbing.
"They said you were gone," she whispered, choking. "Arlen came… he told us you fell. That nothing survived. The Prince himself honored your memory."
Kael's chest ached, but he forced the fury down. Arlen. You will answer for this.
Footsteps rushed down the hall.
"Mother, what's—" The voice faltered.
Kael turned. A young woman stood in the doorway, candlelight catching her auburn hair. Taller now, her features sharper, but her eyes wide with shock.
"…Reina?"
The candle dropped, sputtering out on the floor. She ran to him, crashing into his chest. "Brother! You—you're alive!"
Kael held her tightly, his throat burning. The little sister he had left behind was now nearly grown, her arms strong, her stance steady. When she pulled back, a faint shimmer glowed around her—a class sigil etched faintly against her skin.
"Reina," he murmured, recognizing it instantly. "Archivist."
She nodded, wiping her eyes. "I record war reports, supply ledgers, and history for the Crown. Mother wanted me safe, away from the frontlines. I… wanted to fight, but…" Her lips trembled. "We thought you were dead. I trained for years to stand where you once did, but it wasn't enough."
Kael's heart twisted. She had taken a path of knowledge and service, not battle, yet she carried the same fire.
They sat at the table, lanterns casting warm light across cracked wood. His mother set stew before him with shaking hands, as though afraid he might vanish if she looked away.
Kael listened as they spoke of the world he had missed.
"When the news of your death came," his mother said, voice trembling, "everything changed. The Prince gave Arlen command. He rose quickly, preaching fear of the Abyss, rallying men. People called him a hero."
Kael kept his expression calm, though his knuckles whitened.
Reina added, "We struggled, Brother. Mother worked the looms, mended clothes, anything to keep food on the table. I took on scribe work for the archive to ease her burden. We survived, but…" Her voice broke. "…we mourned you every day."
His mother's eyes glistened. "We lit candles each year on the day Arlen said you fell. I prayed for your soul. But in my heart… I never let go of hope."
Kael lowered his gaze. He had fought in endless darkness, clawed through the Abyss with only his summons by his side. Yet their fight had been no less real—ten years of scraping by, of pain carved into every breath.
At last, he pulled down his hood.
Gasps filled the room. Black abyssal scars traced across his neck and arms, glowing faintly like cracks in molten stone. His left shoulder bore the jagged mark of dragon fire.
Reina reached out, hesitating before touching one of the lines. "Does it… hurt?"
Kael shook his head. "No. They're part of me now."
Neither mother nor sister pressed further. They had already endured enough.
But as Kael stepped out into the cold night, his fists clenched.
Arlen stole my life. He made them suffer in my absence. Ten years gone—ten years they lived believing I was dust in the Abyss.
He raised his eyes to the stars, the same constellations that had watched him descend into darkness.
"No more lies," he whispered. "No more stolen time. I will reclaim everything."
The stars gleamed faintly, as if acknowledging the vow of their returned Sovereign.
The night clung to the town like a cloak, silent but heavy with the weight of change. Kael walked the cobblestone streets, every step carrying him deeper into a world that had moved on without him. Torches burned in iron sconces along the new walls that circled the settlement, a far cry from the open, unguarded village he remembered.
The people bustled despite the late hour. Merchants spoke in low tones about taxes. Farmers complained of conscription. Everywhere, Kael saw the shadow of a greater authority.
In the tavern, Kael kept to the corner, hood drawn low. He listened.
"Another levy's due," one man muttered. "The Prince's coffers bleed us dry."
"The Prince?" another spat. "It's Arlen's hand that squeezes us. He rides with the armies, speaks in the capital, inspects the towns. He's become the face of the throne."
The name hit Kael like a dagger twisting into old scars. Arlen. My so-called brother. The one who left me for dead.
A third man leaned closer to his companions. "Greyspire. That's where Arlen's headed. A rally in three days. Maybe more blood tax."
Kael's pulse slowed, then steadied with cold precision. Greyspire. Close enough to walk.
When he returned to the hilltop house, he lingered outside. The laughter of Reina drifted through the shutters, her voice brighter, older—sixteen years had changed the little girl into someone new. His mother's voice followed, tired but warm. They had survived, even while the Empire declared him dead.
Arlen had delivered the false news himself, Kael had learned. He stood in front of them and declared me gone, while climbing into power on my bones.
Kael's jaw tightened, but he kept the rage buried. His family needed him whole, not burning with vengeance.
At the edge of the fields, Kael drew a long breath and opened his status. The abyssal runes flared to life before him, far brighter than ever before.
[Status: Kael — Sovereign Summoner]
Level: 75
Summon Capacity: 32,768
Titles: Abyss Dragon Successor, First Abyss Conqueror, Sovereign of Shadows
HP: 320,000 / 320,000Mana: 770,000 / 770,000
Stats:
Strength: 16,250
Endurance: 14,100
Agility: 12,980
Intelligence: 19,500
Spirit: 18,000
Command: 20,000
Charisma: 3,700
Unique Skills:
Necromancy (Mythic): Raise fallen foes and allies as permanent summons.
Skill Sharing (A-rank): Grant chosen skills to summons permanently.
Summon Space (A-rank): A pocket dimension for summoning storage and rest.
Inventory (A-rank): Store limitless physical items.
Sovereign's Command (Passive, Mythic): Summons automatically understand and obey large-scale strategic orders.
Summons Active: 16,472 / 32,768
Kael stared at the window, the numbers so far beyond mortal comprehension they almost felt alien. The Abyss Dragon's heart pulsed within him still, its gift not only power but legacy.
No wonder the world thought him dead. He had become something else entirely.
He closed the glowing runes with a clenched fist.
The wind stirred the wheat fields, carrying whispers of what was to come.
"Arlen," Kael whispered into the night. "You stole ten years of my family's life. You betrayed me. In Greyspire, I'll see what you've become—then I'll decide how you end."
The stars overhead bore silent witness as the Sovereign Summoner set his gaze on the horizon.