The Endless Abyss did not welcome Rayon.
It recognized him.
There was no up or down here—no sky, no ground, no horizon. Only depth layered upon depth, darkness folded into itself like an infinite thought that never finished forming. And at its deepest point, where even concepts lost their meaning, Rayon Veynar sat.
Cross-legged.
Back straight.
Hands resting lightly on his knees.
His eyes were closed.
The abyss was absolute black, yet around him it curved, as if reality itself bowed inward. Darkness did not touch him—it originated from him. Every shadow, every absence of light, every forgotten corner of existence was merely remembering its source.
A throne could have existed here.
He chose not to summon it.
Because this was not about ruling.
This was about becoming.
Rayon breathed in.
The act had no biological need behind it, no lungs demanding air—but rhythm mattered. Intent mattered. His breathing technique, Monarch's Breath, slowed until even time seemed uncertain whether it should continue.
With each breath, memories rose.
Not dreams.
Not visions.
Lived lives.
Timelines stacked atop one another like transparent pages—some pristine, some burned, some torn out entirely.
He saw himself as a tyrant god drowning worlds in night.
He saw himself as a silent executioner who ended universes with a glance.
He saw himself as a ruler who sat upon a throne of skulls, crowned in stars that screamed when they died.
He saw himself as a wanderer who never claimed dominion, yet erased civilizations simply by passing through them.
He saw versions of himself who had mastered techniques beyond reason.
Techniques that could:
Collapse multiverses into singularities. Rewrite the logic of causality. Devour concepts so completely they were never conceived again. End wars before they began by erasing the idea of conflict.
One by one, they surfaced.
And one by one—
Rayon refused them.
"No," he said softly, voice carrying without sound.
"Not you."
"Not that."
"Not this way."
The abyss listened.
Because this life mattered.
This life had weight.
He was not the sum of infinite tyrants.
He was Rayon Veynar.
A man abandoned as a child.
A survivor.
A brother.
A student.
A lover.
A future father.
A being who learned what restraint meant not because he had to—but because he chose to.
He let the memories pass through him like water through shadow. Not rejecting their knowledge, but discarding their arrogance.
"I won't borrow my own endings," he murmured.
"I'll write a better one."
The abyss shifted.
Not violently.
Reverently.
For a full month within the abyss—time folding around him like a suggestion—Rayon did nothing but remember.
Not techniques.
Authority.
The feeling of being Darkness before it had a name.
The moment before light ever existed.
The loneliness of being first.
The reason Resonance was born.
The reason Forsakens came before awakeners.
The sorrow that led Darkness to fragment itself, to hide a piece of its will in a universe called Zarak, on a planet called Averis, inside a child who would be abandoned.
Him.
Understanding settled not like a revelation—but like returning home.
When he finally opened his eyes, the abyss reacted instantly.
Not in fear.
In anticipation.
Rayon stood.
The motion alone sent invisible waves through the Endless Abyss. Entire sub-layers folded. Forgotten hells trembled. The Sea of Death grew still, its beasts instinctively lowering their heads.
"Let's see," Rayon said quietly, rolling his shoulders once, as if loosening old tension.
"What I can do."
He lifted a hand.
No chant.
No declaration.
The darkness around his palm condensed—not into power, but into intent.
"Endless Night."
This was not the old technique.
This was his version.
The abyss projected outward—not as an attack, but as a simulation. A world formed in miniature, stars burning, a sun rising.
Rayon closed his fingers.
Night fell.
Not like darkness descending.
Like light being forgiven for existing.
The sun did not explode.
It did not die.
It simply… ceased to matter.
Rayon nodded once.
"Better."
He stepped forward—and vanished.
Not teleportation.
Non-presence.
Absolute Concealment activated not as a technique, but as a state of being. There was nothing to detect. No void, no absence—just nothing worth noticing.
He reappeared behind himself.
Smiled faintly.
"Good."
He lifted both hands this time.
From the abyss rose weapons—not swords, not spears—but ideas given form. Blades of pure shadow-logic, shifting, adaptive, each one capable of becoming whatever its wielder required.
He let them disperse.
Then he moved.
FTL meant nothing here.
He crossed infinite distance without transition. The abyss did not register movement—it simply accepted he was elsewhere now.
Rayon exhaled.
"Still clumsy," he admitted. "But it'll do."
He felt satisfied.
Grounded.
And then—
Something pulled at him.
Not danger.
Not threat.
A signal.
A resonance he had not felt before.
Weak.
Fragile.
Terrifyingly important.
Rayon froze.
His expression changed instantly.
"Nexus…"
Isola Krein -
Sunlight filtered gently through the open courtyard of the mansion Azelar had reshaped—a place where gravity behaved because Azelar allowed it to, where the land itself acknowledged its caretaker.
Nexus sat beneath a wide umbrella of woven light-cloth, one hand resting on her swollen belly, the other holding a cup of warm tea Christine had brewed for her.
She looked radiant.
Not just because she was a Dragon God.
But because life was about to happen.
Nyk paced nearby, arms crossed, pretending not to be nervous while failing spectacularly.
"She's gonna be fine," he muttered. "Obviously. She's a dragon god. Probably gonna give birth like it's nothing."
Christine shot him a look.
"Say that again and I'll shoot you. Lovingly."
Azelar sat calmly, tea in hand, eyes half-lidded—but alert.
"She will be fine," he said softly. "But even gods feel pain. Do not belittle it."
Nyk swallowed and nodded.
"…Yeah. My bad."
Nexus chuckled weakly. "You're sweet, Nyk. In your own… destructive way."
Then—
Her expression changed.
The smile faded.
Her breath hitched.
She stiffened.
Christine noticed instantly. "Nexus?"
Nexus inhaled sharply.
Then gasped.
"…Ah."
The cup slipped from her hand, shattering harmlessly before it touched the ground.
Azelar was on his feet in an instant.
"It's time," he said calmly.
Nexus closed her eyes.
Her water broke.
The Endless Abyss -
Rayon's head snapped up.
The abyss reacted violently.
Not out of chaos—but urgency.
Every shadow turned toward him.
Every beast of darkness froze mid-motion.
Rayon's aura flared—not outward, but inward, collapsing perfectly into control.
His voice was quiet.
But the Endless Abyss heard it as law.
"…I'm coming."
Darkness folded.
Reality bent.
And somewhere between worlds, the first darkness moved, no longer training, no longer remembering—
But returning home.
To his family.
To his child.
To the moment that would change everything.