The first sunrise after Adrian's return was wrong.
It wasn't gold or crimson — it was white.Blinding, endless white that stretched across the horizon like a second heaven had swallowed the first.
Paris didn't awaken to birdsong that morning. It awoke to silence — the kind that follows catastrophe.Cars stopped mid-street.People stood frozen, their faces pale as the sky burned with unnatural brilliance.The air was warm, too warm for dawn. The light wasn't comforting; it pressed against the skin like judgment.
And in the heart of it all, standing atop the shattered roof of what used to be the Grand Cathedral of Saint-Michel, was Adrian Varenne.
His cloak billowed gently in the irradiated breeze, streaks of gold and violet flowing like smoke from his body.Below him, the city stared — a million eyes reflecting a single man who no longer looked human.
He had returned.But he had not come back whole.
The Echo Realm had left its mark: his veins glowed faintly beneath his skin, and every step he took left faint traces of light that slowly faded, like footprints from another dimension.His gaze swept the horizon — distant fires, fractured clouds, the shape of towers bending under invisible weight.
He could feel it — his influence spreading like waves across the world.Wherever his aura reached, people either fell to their knees… or screamed.
Adrian's expression didn't change.He wasn't proud.He wasn't horrified.He was simply… watching.
"You see?" whispered Aurelian's voice from somewhere deep inside him. "The world remembers its creator."
"Shut up," Adrian muttered under his breath.
"You gave them light, and they love you for it. Isn't that what you wanted? Recognition?"
"I didn't ask for this."
"No one asks to be a god, Adrian. They just stop being men."
He clenched his jaw. The golden glow flared for an instant, then dimmed.
Far below, news drones hovered shakily in the air, recording everything.The headlines would call him a "Phenomenon," a "Divine Anomaly," a "Threat of Celestial Origin."But none of that mattered to him.
He wasn't here to rule.He wasn't here to save.He was here to finish what began — to destroy the false balance between Heroes and Villains that had cursed the world since its creation.
"Adrian!"
The shout cut through the heavy air.
From the nearby rooftops, Clara appeared — clothes torn, hair whipping in the hot wind. She leapt across the gap, landing beside him, panting. Her eyes widened as she took him in.
"Gods…" she whispered. "What did you become?"
Adrian turned his head slightly. "Something necessary."
She stepped closer, anger and fear battling in her voice. "The sky hasn't dimmed in three days. People can't sleep. Crops are burning. Hospitals are full. The light you brought back—it's killing them!"
"I didn't bring it," Adrian said calmly. "It followed me."
"Followed you?" she echoed, trembling. "Adrian, you're the reason it exists!"
He said nothing.
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the hum of the air and the quiet shattering of glass from buildings too close to his aura.
"Tell me you can stop it," she pleaded. "Please. Tell me you can control it."
He looked away. "Control it? No. But I can direct it."
"What does that mean?"
"It means if the world is burning anyway," Adrian said, voice low, "I'll choose what gets burned first."
Far below, a crowd had gathered — thousands of civilians, soldiers, priests, all staring up at him.Some held banners of the Heroic Council, praying for deliverance.Others knelt, whispering his name like a prayer.
"Adrien… Adrian Varenne…""The Returned One…""The Lightbringer…"
The sound carried through the streets, growing louder, wave after wave of desperate voices.
Clara stepped forward. "They're worshiping you."
Adrian closed his eyes, the words slicing deeper than he expected. "They're mistaking fear for faith."
"Then tell them the truth!"
He looked at her — and for a heartbeat, his gaze softened. "The truth, Clara, is that there's no difference anymore."
Suddenly, a sonic boom split the air.From the clouds above, Heroic aircraft descended, their engines roaring, golden insignias flashing in the white sky.
The Council had arrived.
A voice echoed from loudspeakers:
"ADRIAN VARENNE — you are charged with celestial contamination, divine-level interference, and mass destabilization. Surrender immediately."
Clara's eyes widened. "They'll kill you."
"They can try," Adrian said quietly, drawing his sword.
Its blade shimmered between light and shadow — no longer a weapon, but a reflection of everything he'd become.
The air shifted.The soldiers raised their cannons.The world held its breath.
Then — the first shot.
A beam of radiant energy streaked toward the cathedral.Adrian raised his hand — and the beam froze mid-air.The light disassembled into particles, swirling around him like dust motes before vanishing into nothing.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
"Impossible…" a soldier whispered over comms.
Adrian lowered his hand slowly. "You aim light at me?"His tone was almost amused. "You still think you own it?"
The sky answered.
Dozens of beams rained down, each one a miniature sun.Adrian didn't move.The explosions swallowed the cathedral in a roar of fire and divine energy.
Clara screamed. "ADRIAN!"
When the smoke cleared, he was still standing — untouched.
The air around him shimmered like a heat mirage. His aura had expanded, a vast halo engulfing half the city.He looked toward the fleet above — his voice soft, but heard by everyone.
"Go back to your masters. Tell them the light chose differently."
And with a single gesture, every aircraft folded into itself — imploding silently, reduced to nothing more than ripples in the air.
The crowd fell to their knees.Clara stumbled backward, eyes wide with horror.
"Adrian… what have you done?"
"Ended the illusion," he said simply. "There are no heroes left. Only survivors."
That night, the sky refused to darken.
The white sun remained, suspended like an unblinking eye.Its light turned rivers into steam and forests into ash. People gathered beneath ruins, praying — not to gods, but to him.
Somewhere in the chaos, Lucienne, the former Heroic Captain, watched the flames from afar.She held a cracked communicator, whispering into static.
"If anyone's still out there... the Council is gone. The cities are falling. The Lightbringer's influence... it's everywhere."
Her voice broke.
"He's not a man anymore. He's something else."
Meanwhile, Adrian stood on the balcony of a half-destroyed skyscraper, staring at the endless white.
The First Hero appeared beside him again — faint, almost erased by his growing power.
"This isn't balance," she said softly. "It's extinction."
Adrian's eyes glowed faintly. "Balance was a lie. There was never peace — just order hiding rot."
"And what will you replace it with?"
He turned to her, expression unreadable. "Truth."
"You call this truth?"
"I call it cleansing."
Her form flickered violently. "You're killing the world you swore to protect!"
"I'm remaking it," he said. "A world without heroes. Without villains. Without gods pretending to choose who lives and dies."
"And what about you?"
Adrian paused.The silence stretched between them until the light around him pulsed gently — sorrow, regret, anger — all tangled together.
Finally, he whispered, "Me? I just light the match."
A soft sound reached him — crying.
He turned. At the edge of the building stood a young girl, no older than twelve, clutching a burned teddy bear. Her face was streaked with soot and tears.
When she saw him, she hesitated — then slowly knelt, lowering her head."Are… are you the angel?" she asked weakly. "The one who makes the bad people disappear?"
Adrian froze.
Her voice trembled. "Please… can you bring back my mother? The light took her."
The words struck deeper than any blade.
For the first time in hours — maybe days — the glow around Adrian faltered.
He crouched down, meeting her gaze. His reflection shone in her teary eyes: a being of light and shadow, a god wearing the face of a broken man.
"I can't bring her back," he said quietly. "But I can make sure no one else has to lose someone again."
The girl sniffled. "You promise?"
Adrian forced a faint smile — the kind that hurt to make. "I promise."
She nodded, wiping her eyes, and ran off toward the rubble.
When she was gone, the First Hero appeared once more, whispering:"Do you still think you're not a god?"
Adrian didn't answer.He just stared at the horizon — at the endless, sleepless sky — and for a fleeting second, he wished for darkness.
But the light didn't leave.It waited.Patient. Unforgiving.
That night — if it could still be called night — Adrian closed his eyes and let the light flow through him.He felt every heartbeat on Earth, every prayer whispered in his name, every soul lost to the blinding sun.
And from somewhere within the chorus of voices, Aurelian's whisper returned:
"You see now, Adrian? You've become the dawn they feared.""Soon, they'll call it salvation."
Adrian opened his eyes — glowing with the brilliance of a dying star.His voice was a murmur, almost lost in the wind.
"No… they'll call it the end."