The void was silent.
No clash of blades. No thunder of power.
Only the sound of a single breath—steady, calm, yet carrying the weight of creation itself.
The Supreme Dragon Lord lowered his gaze to the trembling god before him. His human form radiated an aura that crushed even the void into stillness. To Kael, it felt as though the world had been silenced, time itself pausing to honor the being's presence.
"Leave this place," the Dragon Lord said softly, but his voice echoed across the abyss like divine decree. "At once."
Then Gilded Steward gritted his teeth, golden blade trembling in his hand. His pride screamed at him to resist, but his body betrayed him. His arm shook uncontrollably, divine light flickering in shame.
The Supreme Dragon Lord raised a single finger. He did not roar. He did not brandish power. He simply moved his hand.
And then Steward vanished.
Space folded like parchment, reality discarding him like a mote of dust.
One moment he stood proud; the next, he was expelled from the Abyss Void, hurled back into the lower realm.
—
Gilded Steward Outside the abyss
The sudden displacement ripped through the skies of the mortal world. Then Steward staggered, boots crashing into golden soil outside the portal, his chest heaving. His divine blade shook violently, humming like a frightened creature.
The God's Messenger, who had waited patiently outside the abyssal rift, widened his eyes. The aura of the mighty Steward was in chaos. His right arm trembled so violently he had to clutch it with his left just to hide it.
"My lord…?" the Messenger asked, his voice breaking. "You told me you would signal through the mark. Why… why are you shaking like this?"
Then Steward's golden eyes flared with fury. "Silence."
"But—"
"I said shut up!" Then Steward roared, his voice cracking the sky. Then, quieter, as though speaking to himself: "Even I cannot linger in that place… Not when he has descended."
The Messenger flinched. "He…?"
Then Steward closed his eyes, regaining his composure. Slowly, the trembling of his hand ceased, though his heart still thundered.
"I have confirmed the truth," he said at last. "The Immortal Book has chosen its vessel."
The Messenger's breath caught. "So it's real. The rumors were true."
Then Steward nodded. "Yes. The boy who survived… Kael." His lips curled into a bitter sneer. "Weak, insignificant, human… and yet it chose him."
The Messenger's eyes widened in horror. "Then… then what now? If the other gods hear of this—"
"They cannot." Then Steward cut him off sharply, his voice cold. "Even the most powerful among us cannot act recklessly if they learn what I have seen." His gaze darkened. "For now, everything is settled. The Immortal Book has chosen, and the Abyss has claimed him. But mark me…" His golden aura flared with suppressed hatred. "I will return. In fifty years, when the cycle permits, I will come back for him. This, I swear."
The Messenger swallowed hard, bowing quickly. "Understood."
Together, they vanished from the mortal plane, retreating to the heavens.
---
Within the Abyss Void
Kael lay broken upon the jagged ground, his body trembling from wounds that even his hardened will could not endure. He expected death, or worse. But instead, a warm light wrapped around him.
The Supreme Dragon Lord had turned his gaze upon him.
"Rise, chosen one," the Dragon Lord said. His voice carried no anger, only certainty, as though Kael's path had already been written in the stars.
Kael's body lifted gently into the air. The wounds across his chest sealed. His bones knit together. His blood was restored. In an instant, vitality returned to him, overflowing.
Kael gasped, staring at his healed hands. "What…?"
The Dragon Lord's eyes narrowed, burning with ancient fire. "So it is true. You are the one the Immortal Book chose."
He stepped closer, reaching out a hand. His finger touched Kael's forehead lightly, and suddenly Kael's vision shattered.
Memories that were not his own flashed before him—wars that split heavens, the rise and fall of empires, dragons soaring through the void, gods kneeling before a shadow cloaked in endless light.
Then he saw himself. Not as Kael the boy, not as Kael the struggling cultivator, but as something far older. A presence vast, destructive, divine.
The Supreme Dragon Lord pulled back with a booming laugh. "So that is why…!" His laughter shook the abyss. "Your past life… no wonder the Immortal Book chose you!"
Kael's mind reeled. "Past life…? Me?!"
He turned to Dreadfang, who stood silently to the side, his human form still emanating molten power.
"You knew?!" Kael shouted, voice breaking.
Dreadfang smirked faintly. "I told you, boy. I was only… testing you."
Kael's face turned red, fists trembling. "Testing me?! You nearly killed me! That was your idea of a test?!"
Under his breath, he muttered: "Motherf—"
The Supreme Dragon Lord's laugh grew louder, shaking the entire void. "Good! Good! Even in weakness you still curse. That is the spirit of a true human. Perhaps the book did not choose wrongly."
Kael glared upward. "Why me? I don't understand any of this!"
The Dragon Lord's expression softened slightly, though his power still pressed upon everything. "The Immortal Book does not explain itself. It chooses. That is all. Why it chose you… even I do not fully know. But listen well, Kael. I can guide you. I can protect you. But the strength you seek—the power hidden within you—must be awakened by your own hand."
Kael's throat went dry. His fists clenched tighter.
"Awaken… by myself?"
The Supreme Dragon Lord nodded. "Yes. There are no shortcuts. If you force it, you will be destroyed. If you walk the path properly, you may one day rise beyond gods."
Kael's chest tightened. The words sounded impossible, yet something within him stirred—the Immortal Book's mark burned faintly on his skin, as if echoing agreement.
"Still," the Dragon Lord continued, his voice firm, "for now, you are fragile. You cannot face the heavens openly, not while the Steward and others like him hunger for your death. So I shall give you one gift."
He raised his hand.
The abyss rippled. Space folded. A pocket dimension bloomed into existence, a hidden world shielded from divine senses.
"This will be your refuge," the Dragon Lord said. "A place where the eyes of gods cannot reach you. Here, you may cultivate, heal, and prepare for what is to come."
Kael stared at the pocket dimension, his breath caught. He had been given sanctuary, but also a prison.
The Dragon Lord's expression hardened again. "Do not mistake this as safety forever. I will not walk beside you always. Your fate is yours alone. But until you awaken, this place will hide you."
He turned, his presence dimming slightly, though it still shook Kael's soul. "Dreadfang."
The molten-eyed dragon bowed his head. "Supreme One."
"Watch over him. But do not coddle him. If he cannot endure, then let him perish. The Immortal Book will find another."
Kael's heart twisted at the casual declaration of his possible death. But then he remembered every trial, every near-death, every moment where he had been underestimated—and survived.
His jaw set. "I won't perish."
The Supreme Dragon Lord looked at him one last time, eyes gleaming with both amusement and something unspoken. Then he turned and faded into light, vanishing into the abyss beyond.
The silence that followed was heavier than the battle itself.
Dreadfang smirked. "Well, boy. Welcome to your new home."
Kael clenched his fists, staring into the endless void of the pocket dimension that now awaited him.
The path ahead was unclear. The danger was greater than ever. But for the first time, Kael felt it—the weight of destiny pressing down on him.
He was the Chosen One.
And the gods themselves would tremble.