He walked out of the Labyrinth.
It was already dark. When he emerged, he couldn't even eat—his body just gave
out, and he fell asleep in the bushes. He woke up the next day refreshed and
famished. He opened the system window.
"System interface."
SYSTEM WINDOW
NAME: GREY LUCAS,
RANKED A
LEVEL: 59
POINTS: 4,500 GOLD
TITLES: MONSTER
SLAYER, THE BLACK KNIGHT
CLASSES: SWORDSMAN
(D), NINJA (E), WARRIOR (A), MAGE (D)
AURA: MENTAL PLANE
EKRIN: 2ND CORE
STATS: STR: 70–90,
VIT: 66–82, AGI: 58–78, SPE: 85–100, INT: 62–88, STA: 67–80, DUR: 77–95
ELEMENTS: WIND,
FIRE-LIGHTNING, SPARKS, WATER-ICE, EARTH-GRAVITY
AUTHORITIES: ART'S
WORKS, RULER'S TOUCH, VOID GATE
SKILLS: EMPEROR'S
CHAINS, FIRE HEART, INSTANT MOVEMENT, LUMINOUS SHIELD, AURORA'S HEART, SOLAR
BLESSING, LIGHT SPEED, PRISMATIC AURA, HEALING RADIANCE, DAZZLING DISPLAY—ALL
OTHERS HAVE BEEN UNLOCKED
CONTROLS: VOID
SHOP/INVENTORY
TRAINING REGIMEN
WORLDS: SYSTEM REALM
STATES: ZONE: BLACK
ZONE
COSMIC FORM
ELFRIAN 150G
DIVINE BURST 1000G
SUPER NOVA 500G
BLACK KNIGHT
He opened the inventory and
brought out some meat he had collected while fighting monsters. Cutting down a
tree, he grilled the meat and had a feast.
"I'm not going to go to any
more Labyrinths—or even better, fight any stupid bosses—until I'm well
prepared," he said, rolling around like a child.
"Okay then, let's get
started."
He opened the training regimen.
"Ha, it's been a while since I've done a perfect workout."
TRAINING REGIMEN:
100 PUSH-UPS WITH A DUMBBELL
100 SIT-UPS WITH A DUMBBELL
100 PULL-UPS WITH A DUMBBELL
100 SQUATS WITH A DUMBBELL
50KM RUN WITH A DUMBBELL
EVERY DAY FOR THE NEXT THIRTY DAYS.
"With dumbbells, huh?"
"I don't see anything I can
use as dumbbells around here. Ha!" he said, his eyes widening as he had an
idea.
"Maybe with my current
strength I can pull something up."
He walked straight up to a
mountain. Using wind, he sliced through the bottom, and the mountain lifted up
with a gust of wind. Walking into the empty spot beneath it, he laid down at
the center in a surprising stance.
"Now let's see if an A-rank
player can pull this off."
The mountain came falling back
down. Using wind, he dropped it on himself diligently. The wind spaced as it
landed on him.
He groaned, roaring in pain. The
ground beneath him gave way, his palms crashing through the ground. He lifted
himself, then started doing the workout—sweat beads rushed down his face, his
wrists snapped, cracked, and bled out. His toes and knees shook as they
dislocated. Immediately, his hair blinked bright black, accompanied by a red
surge of energy. He became focused as he completed the training; his body
healed and broke.
He yelled out, and a raging wind
came out of his back, sending the mountain upwards again. Within the blink of
an eye, he dashed out from the crater. He knelt down, coughing as he turned off
his Zone state.
"That was close, but from
now on I'm going to do them all without any forms."
He went to a place where two
hills met each other with a space at their midst. He cut down a long tree—using
it as leverage, he chained a huge boulder to his waist using his skill. He
jumped up, gripped the tree, and then started pulling himself up along with the
boulder. After he finished with that, he moved on to the next exercise. He tied
rocks to himself and used gravitational pull. He restrained himself while he
squatted and ran throughout the forest. He gravitated a rock on top of himself
as he did a hundred sit-ups.
After he was done with all the
system regimen, he started his own training—creating a field of gravity, he
brought out Ieva and started training his sword. Moving around the field, he
used both Ekrin and Aura. Infusing water into his blade, he slashed and created
a powerful flood breaking through rocks. Then he used wind, cutting through the
air. He did the same with fire.
Then he trained with his aura,
creating swords of aura. Using gravity, he moved them swiftly as he meditated
in their midst.
Night came. Grey went to sleep.
He laid down in the crater he had left behind during his training. His eyes
opened. He walked through a passageway.
"Law, are you there?"
A strange voice sent jolts through his body.
"Who's there?" Grey
said.
A strange teenage figure
appeared in front of him. Light lingered around his body. Not knowing who it
was, Grey stepped back.
"Come on, Law... Let's
spar, okay?"
In shock, Grey's eyes snapped
open—for real this time.
"W-what... was that?"
he asked, confused.
"Was that Law's memories?
What the... I can't do this now; I'll figure it out later."
He said that, then went back to
sleep, for the night was still young. But he couldn't get any sleep, as he fell
back into the same dream—or perhaps nightmare. The clang of swords rang out
over a field drenched in blood and divine power. Smoke choked the air as sparks
of flame flew through an unyielding war. Cries of men in pain, injured and
dying, pierced through the roar of chaos. In the heart of it all stood a
figure, blade in hand, eyes furious with solidified aura. He fought through the
war. He wasn't himself; he was someone else. The memories felt lively and
natural, as if they'd always been his. He yelled and woke up.
All drenched in sweat, his heart
still galloping like hooves on a battlefield. He stood up, walked about to the
secluded area where he did his training. He trained as if it was natural to
him, as if his body had always been a temple of that sort of training. He
trained for several days, lifting boulders, mountains, and sprinting all over
the place with his sword, using both Ekrin and Aura.
He looked at himself. His body
was firm and strong enough to withstand the battle he was about to go for. He
bought a map from his system store—and the map could scan the environment and
show routes to places and hidden locations. He saw the five Labyrinths: the
Dark Woods—cleared, Drizzly Cliffs, Oceanic Abyss, Beast Canyons, Lone-Man's
Haze.
After deciding on where to go,
he headed towards the Drizzly Cliffs. The void gate opened, and then he stepped
in, seeing hordes of monsters. They charged at him, lunging forward hungrily
and covered in dirt. He sighed, raised his sword. Fire, wind, ice, and gravity
enveloped the blade as he brought forth damnation on the monsters. Stepping
through the destruction casually, he walked towards the inner wave. He saw
them—some highly advanced monsters. Their eyes lingered on him as he was caught
in darkness, as if he had stepped into a trap. They all jumped towards him, but
his eyes glowed with flames as he slowed down time and cut through all of them,
ripping them apart.
After he was finished with them,
he went through to the next wave. A colossal eagle descended from the turbulent
skies above, a living tempest of power and majesty. Lightning danced across its
body in crackling arcs, not just surrounding it but seeming to be *born* from
within—as if the storm was merely an extension of its will. Each golden feather
shimmered with divine radiance, edged with razor-like blades that glinted
dangerously, ready to destroy air, armor, or flesh with a single beat of its
wings.
Its eyes blazed with a golden
aura, seething with raw, elemental energy. They glowed not with wrath, but with
exhilarating anticipation—as if it had been watching Grey since he came to the
Labyrinth. It had the look of a creature that *thrives* on challenge, that
*celebrates* the clash of power. There was joy in its hunger for battle, an
almost sacred eagerness to test its might.
The talons, vast and
immaculately honed, looked as if they had been forged in the heart of a star.
Each claw gleamed with unnatural sharpness, curved and precise, able to tear
through steel or crush stone with the ease of a god swatting an insect. They flexed
with rhythmic tension, eager to taste conflict.
But it was the wings—immense,
divine instruments of destruction—that truly defied belief. Each flap cleaved
through the sky like a blade, parting clouds and stirring cyclones. When they
spread wide, the heavens themselves seemed to pause, as though space held its
breath before the inevitable collision. The system flashed its name: Skywreth,
the Sky Queen.
He stared back at the eagle with
a weird smile. A monster that was above him like a dragon, looking down at
him—but he just smiled. His eyes glowed red. Lightning erupted from his body,
excitement etched on his face, his blade clad in lightning. The moment his
black and red lightning met with the eagle's golden lightning, a flurry of
slashes scattered the entire zone as they stood still. In an instant, they
vanished as if they had never been there. The mighty eagle used its bladed
golden wings and talons, tossing about slashes while following him—who in turn
retaliated with his own barrage of slashes. The sound of chaos echoed through
the field.
The eagle flew into the air with
its enormous wings, leaving a storm behind as it ascended. Without much time,
Grey cut through the storm, chasing after the eagle, maneuvering sky-born in
order to keep up. They clashed blades in the sky several times, but at a point
they knew—this was just the beginning of their fatal battle.
The winds howled as the sky
split open. Grey Lucas stood atop the jagged plateau, his cloak whipping
violently behind him, his sword humming with anticipation. The first crack of
thunder didn't come from above—it erupted from the eagle's chest as it descended
in a bolt of divine fury, trailing light and shadow in its wake.
Grey narrowed his eyes. The
eagle screeched—not in rage, but in *welcome*—the sound a clarion call to
warriors past and future. Its golden eyes locked with Grey's, both combatants
understanding this was no mere duel. It was history, a tale of two legends
about to clash, an honorable battle that neither of them could back away from.
As the beast soared around him,
wings slicing gales into the battlefield, Grey launched skyward with the force
of his obsidian gauntlets—that transformed his arms black, inscribed with
etheric glow. Meeting the eagle head-on, steel clashed with lightning. Feathers
shattered into gleaming shrapnel. The sky itself quaked as man and beast
collided, again and again, each exchange more ferocious than the last.
This was not just a fight.
It was a myth in the making.
THE LAST LIGHT OF SKYWRATH
The sky was in ruin.
Ash and light rained from above
as Grey Lucas landed hard on the scorched summit, boots carving into the earth,
chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. His sword crackled with residual
energy, its edge glowing faintly from contact with divine light.
Above him, the eagle faltered in
flight, feathers trailing like comet tails. Her once-vast wings buckled, and
the storm that followed her for centuries began to disperse. With one final,
graceful arc through the broken sky, she descended like a falling star—majestic
even in her collapse.
Grey braced, but no attack came.
Instead, the eagle—this goddess
of storm and sky—landed before him, a wing shattered, blood like molten gold
dripping into the earth. Her luminous eyes still glowed, dimmed but unyielding.
And then, in that solemn moment... it happened.
From the depths of her body, her
light gathered, focused... split. A surge of golden radiance curved outward,
forming a glowing sigil in the air. A rift of living light opened beside her,
and from within it emerged a large, radiant egg—its shell a swirling pattern of
storm clouds, light, and stardust.
Grey's breath caught in his
throat.
The eagle looked down at the
egg, then up at Grey. Her voice, not of sound but spirit, echoed into his
mind—soft, feminine, and ancient beyond reckoning.
"Warrior... you have proven
your will is stronger than the sky itself..."
She paused. The wind stilled.
"I am Skywreth, last of the
Stormborns. My time ends... but my blood must not. This is my final egg... my
child."
Grey stepped forward, stunned,
unsure.
"I fought you," he
said softly, sword now lowered. "I nearly—"
"And I thank you." Her
voice was both sad and at peace. "We do not fear death. We fear being
forgotten. I fear for you and her safety, because she doesn't just carry the
blood of the Stormborns, but also that of a mythical deity. The Stormborns were
an ancient race of divine beings, born from the very essence of the cosmos.
They were not merely creatures of flesh, but beings of the divinium—the
primordial energy that bound the universe together, that brings forth the use
of divinity, divine powers. Their forms were ever-changing, shaped by the
forces of light and storm, embodying the raw, untamable powers of the sky and
the elements. They were the children of the stars, the storm, and the ancient
winds. Their golden markings, glowing with the power of lightning, were woven
into the fabric of their essence, and their wings were capable of splitting the
heavens themselves. The Stormborns were the guardians of balance, arbiters of
fate, and symbols of the eternal struggle between order and chaos.
SKYWRETH'S BACKSTORY
Skywreth was one of the last
Stormborns, a revered and powerful figure in her realm. The Stormborns hailed
from Sentoris, a hidden, mythic plane nestled between the mortal world and the
realms of gods. Sentoris was a land where mythical creatures thrived—where
dragons, phoenixes, griffins, and beings of pure magic resided in harmony, each
with their own divine purpose. It was a realm of pristine beauty, where the
winds howled with ancient songs, and the skies shimmered with ever-changing
colors, like an eternal aurora.
Skywreth had been born as a
protector of the skies, a being whose wings spread wider than the horizon
itself. She had fought countless battles against forces that sought to disrupt
the delicate balance of Sentoris. Her lightning was the manifestation of the
storms that balanced the tides of fate, and her golden feathers were imbued
with the very essence of creation itself. Her role was not only to protect
Sentoris but to keep the cosmic equilibrium intact.
Her heart, however, had always
yearned for something more than her celestial duties. And it was during one of
her many flights through the realms that she met Fynoc, a mighty phoenix of
fire and rebirth. Fynoc, the Eternal Flame, was a creature of life and flames,
a cycle of rising from ashes. He was everything Skywreth wasn't—wild,
passionate, and unbound by the laws of keeping the realm intact. Together, they
formed an unbreakable bond, a union of storm and flame, light and fire. Their
love was a powerful force, as timeless as the stars themselves.
Together, they watched over
Sentoris and all of the mythical lands, but the time came when the realm itself
began to shift, due to the war of gods against men. The Monarch God and his
army—the Holy Gods and Honor Gods—fought against the Burst Gods and their human
allies. As the balance of the universe teetered, the Stormborns knew that their
role would soon come to an end. With the birth of Skywreth's egg—a child forged
from both her divine essence and Fynoc's eternal flame—the prophecy had begun
to unfold.
Fynoc, knowing that he could
fall and rise back with the cycles of fire, left behind his flame as a gift for
their child. His final gift to Skywreth was the knowledge that their offspring
would become a godly creature, its own kind—true to itself and the last of
their kind—a being who would inherit the strength of both fire and lightning.
But before he went up to support the Burst Gods and join in the fight against
the God King, and died and ascended with fiery light, he made Skywreth promise
to protect their daughter. Raise her in the world of mortals, where she
wouldn't be easily discovered, for she has the power to find the Master
Comets—she is the key, the bridge, the last factor that could find the Master
Comets and restore and bring peace to all realms. But if she falls into the
wrong hands, she could be used to destroy everything, rule and enslave all of
the realms.
Her head bowed slightly, talons
gently curling around the egg as it pulsed with life. "Take her. Raise
her. Teach her the balance of power and restraint... as you showed me
today."
With his final words echoing in
her heart, Skywreth knew the time had come to face her own fate. She escaped
the mythical realm with other monsters and mythical creatures who fled the
scene, but most of them, along with Skywreth, were caught in a void field. She
took that to her advantage and nestled her egg, for years keeping it from
hatching, fueling it with divinium, using it as sustenance for herself so she
could survive in hiding. For that time, she fought not just to protect her
legacy, but to ensure her child would have a future. So she fought Grey to
ensure a good future for her child in the hands of someone worthy. She knew
Grey could take her out of the void field, and even though he wasn't as strong
as her now, his will far surpassed hers. She was happy.
Grey could see past memories due
to her authority, Starfalls—a fragment that can trap time, space, and reality,
allowing her to show memories or implant them in someone. It causes causality
to reform into her light as she sees events that haven't occurred, or are
supposed to happen but are taking another time trail into the wrong outcome.
She can shift it back, causing outcomes that are not supposed to happen in
time. She can create a field of light; in that said field, she can reform
light, shaping it into any form she desires. It grants her uncomprehendable
speed with light and lightning.
SKYWRETH
The storm was quiet now.
As my body lay broken beneath
the open sky, my vision turned upward, past the clouds I once ruled, to the
stars I had known since birth.
Lightning no longer surged
through my feathers. Only warmth remained. Faint, fading... but not sorrowful.
"So this... is the
end," my voice shaking but not tattered with pain, a slow breath flowing
from my beak. It shimmered gold, dissipating into the wind like a prayer
returning to the heavens.
I remembered soaring above
Sentoris for the first time, wings slicing through newborn constellations. The
wind had sung to me then. The world had been untouched—vast, eternal.
I remembered Fynoc, his laugh
like fire cracking through the cold, his wings of flame dancing around my
lightning. Love had come quickly. Deeply. Eternally. He was chaos; I was
storm—and together, we had made something pure. Something worth dying for.
Ah... my talons curled
instinctively, remembering the weight of the egg. My daughter. My little
princess. The only piece of both our souls left to rise again.
I've flown with the gods... I've
fought monsters that split mountains... I've tasted starlight and sung the
storm into being...
...and still, the only thing
that mattered... was that he smiled. That I lived.
My heart ached—not from pain,
but release. I saw Grey—the boy, the man, the warrior—and felt no fear. Only
hope.
He'll protect her. He has my
fire now. My spark. My will.
My eyes closed without my
control one final time, and in my last whisper of thought:
I have lived. And I was not
forgotten. That is enough. I have no regrets. I don't even regret that I don't
get the chance to see my daughter's face, because I've always known what she
looked like. I've already seen how beautiful she'd become, thanks to Starfalls.
Now I can rest, and hopefully go see him again. My beautiful beak smiled
faintly, my face brightened.
Then, with her final breath,
Skywreth's body ignited into pure golden essence—not in violence, but in
transcendence. The light surged into Grey's chest like a tidal wave, and the
air exploded with divine resonance. As she fell, knowing she had passed her
power onto Grey, she saw in his eyes a promise: a promise that her child would
not be forgotten.
Grey roared as his body arced
with lightning. His Zone Form—once raw and kinetic—now surged with holy fury.
His armor glowed with veins of light. His eyes shimmered with the same golden
aura Skywreth once bore. Wings of radiant energy flared behind him briefly,
echoes of her power merging with his.
And as her light faded into
Grey's chest, he felt it—not with his mind, but with his soul. Images flashed
in him: skies aflame with glory, love between titans, the tender cradle of a
golden egg.
And without knowing why, a
single tear slipped down his cheek. Then another—silent. Pure.
The storm wept with him. The
clouds changed, roared, a mighty pour.
The egg, now warm in his arms,
pulsed with quiet, innocent life.
The storm was over.
But a legacy had just begun.
Skywreth's story is one of love,
duty, and sacrifice. Her union with Fynoc created a child whose destiny was not
to remain in the mythical lands of Sentoris but to shape the future of the
mortal world. Now, as Grey Lucas cradles her egg, the flame and lightning
within the unborn creature pulse with the power of the divine—and with it, the
weight of the prophecy Skywreth and Fynoc left behind.
THE LAST WYVERN OF THE UPPER LABYRINTH
Grey pressed onward through the
fractured peaks of the Upper Labyrinth, where the clouds hung low and the winds
carried the whispers of creatures long thought extinct. The air was different
here—thicker, laced with ozone and the scent of molten stone. His
newly-empowered Zone Form pulsed quietly beneath his skin, the golden energy of
Skywreth humming like a sleeping thunderstorm in his veins.
Then he saw it.
Perched on a high spire of
jagged rock was a wyvern—vast, obsidian-scaled, with wings like torn sails
stretched against the sky. Its long tail was barbed and coiled, and twin horns
curled back from its skull like obsidian blades. Its slitted eyes burned not
with rage, but disbelief.
"A human?" the wyvern
rumbled, voice rough and ancient. "You made it... through the Storm
Gate?" It leaned forward, sniffing the air. Then its gaze dropped—and
locked onto the egg cradled in Grey's arm.
Its nostrils flared. "Is
that... is that her egg?" The disbelief cracked into something darker.
"No. Skywreth could not have been bested by a mortal. Not a boy. Not one
so young."
Grey said nothing. His grip on
the egg tightened.
The wyvern's great wings
twitched, scattering loose stones. "So... that is the Little Queen,"
he whispered, nodding at the egg. "The stormchild of Skywreth and
Fynoc..."
Grey, without breaking eye
contact, quickly stored the egg into his inventory with a whisper and a flicker
of light. The wyvern blinked—too slow.
Grey was already moving.
The battle was short, brutal,
efficient. The wyvern lunged, but he was no Skywreth. Grey's blade danced like
lightning now, each strike laced with lightning-quick fury. The wyvern's scales
cracked under the radiant edge, its wings torn by pure kinetic surges. In mere
moments, the beast lay scattered across the stones, blood steaming in the cold
air.
As life slipped from its body,
the wyvern raised his head one last time. His voice was rasping, no longer
proud—just... curious.
"Boy... tell me... what is
your name?"
Grey paused, lowering his sword.
A gust of wind stirred his coat. He looked down at the dying beast, his face
calm but fierce, eyes glowing with purpose.
"Why does everyone keep
calling me boy?" he said, voice echoing with quiet thunder.
Then he stepped forward, raising
his voice so the heavens might hear.
"I'm not just a boy. Not
anymore. I'm the one who stood against the storm. I'm the keeper of the last
Stormborn flame. I am the will of two worlds—the old and the new."
A final breath.
"My name is Lawson Lucas.
But to the world that comes next..." He turned, walking away as the
wyvern's eyes faded.
"...you can call me
Law."
The wyvern collapsed with a last
exhale—a sigh of awe, or fear, no one could tell.
Grey didn't look back.