The golden orchard parted slowly, like the world itself was peeling open.
Aiden stepped forward.
His legs were still weak from the surge that tore the Oblivion Maw apart. His breathing was steady but shallow — the shock of Astraxion's voice still clung to his ribs like a bruise on the soul.
Yet the path before him hummed with purpose.
Seris walked beside him, her silver staff tapping lightly against the crystalline roots beneath their feet. Despite the casual rhythm, she kept glancing at Aiden like she was studying a puzzle only half-solved.
"Aiden," she said softly, "you should know… most who witness Astraxion's true form don't wake again."
"Well… I'm not most people."
"That is precisely what concerns me."
He managed a tired smile. "Is that your way of saying I worry you?"
"It is my way of saying the universe is behaving… unpredictably."
They walked deeper.
◆ ◆ ◆
The orchard subtly transformed as the light dimmed overhead. The soft golden dusk shifted into a deep twilight, revealing massive stone structures half-merged with the trees. Ruins. Archways. Fragments of a civilization woven into nature.
Aiden stopped.
"What is this place?"
Seris's expression softened. "Your ancestors called it The First Archive. The birthplace of the Archivist line — the throne you must reclaim."
She lifted her hand.
Light spread across the ruins, illuminating ancient sigils carved into each stone.
Aiden approached one near a broken pillar, brushing dust from engraved symbols.
"They look familiar," he murmured.
"They should," Seris said gently. "They're etched in your blood."
The words hit harder than he expected.
"My blood?"
"Yes. The Solaryn line was not merely royal — it was the only lineage able to withstand the Archivist Core without being annihilated."
Aiden blinked. "Core? You mean the thing I'm supposed to find?"
"Not find," Seris corrected. "Claim."
She pointed forward.
And Aiden finally saw it.
◆ ◆ ◆
A colossal tower stood at the heart of the ruins — spiraling upward like a frozen storm, built from luminous stone and metallic veins pulsing with ancient light. At its apex, a sphere of pure energy floated, rotating slowly like a miniature sun.
"The Archivist Throne," Seris whispered.
Aiden felt something deep inside him resonate — a magnetic pull, a heartbeat syncing with his.
"Why does it feel like it's… calling me?"
"Because it recognizes you," Seris said. "Even every erased world remembers its king."
The title hung heavy in the air.
King.
Aiden had been a student. A nobody. Someone struggling to make rent. Someone whose biggest fear used to be failing exams.
Now—
He was a king of a world that no longer existed.
He exhaled slowly. "So what do I have to do?"
Seris took a step back. "You ascend."
"And if I fail?"
"Then your consciousness dissolves into the void, the Throne collapses, and the Erased Worlds fall into permanent nonexistence."
Aiden stared at her.
"…You could've said that gently."
"I did."
She wasn't joking.
◆ ◆ ◆
Aiden approached the base of the tower.
It was breathtaking up close — the architecture felt both organic and impossibly engineered. The surface shimmered as though woven from star-metal.
When he reached out and placed his hand on the stone—
The tower awakened.
Light surged.
Sigils erupted across its surface.
The ground trembled beneath his feet.
Seris raised her staff, shielding her eyes. "It's responding too quickly—!"
Aiden tried to pull his hand away — but the tower held him.
The stone rippled like liquid, climbing up his arm, swallowing him to the elbow.
"What the— Seris!?"
She shouted, "Don't fight it! It's reading your essence—!"
"It feels like it's burning—!"
"That means your bloodline is real!"
"That shouldn't be reassuring!"
The tower pulsed — once, twice, then blasted Aiden with light.
He vanished.
◆ ◆ ◆
He reappeared in a vast chamber.
A throne room.
But not physical — he floated within a universe of shifting memories, stars, broken worlds, and threads of time. The "floor" was a glass-like surface reflecting infinite realities. The "ceiling" was the void between them.
And at the center—
A throne forged from spiraling constellations.
Aiden approached it slowly.
Each step brought images swirling to life beneath him:
—A child crowned beneath a sky of three suns.
—A palace collapsing under a wave of crimson flame.
—The dragon Astraxion devouring the horizon.
—A lone boy carried away by light, erased from his world.
Aiden felt his throat tighten.
"Is this… my past?"
A figure appeared beside the throne.
A silhouette made of light.
Tall. Regal. Eyes glowing the same intense blue as Aiden's during the Maw battle.
"You've come home," the figure said.
Aiden stepped back. "Who— who are you?"
The figure smiled softly.
"I am Valerius Solaryn. Your father."
Aiden's heart stopped.
"No. My father died when I was a kid—"
"That was a memory graft," Valerius said gently. "Placed to protect you. You were sent to another world after Astraxion destroyed ours."
Aiden's breath shuddered.
"Why? Why me?"
"Because you were the only heir left."
Valerius placed a hand on the throne.
"And now you must choose."
Aiden swallowed hard. "Choose what?"
Valerius spread his arms — and the throne glowed brighter.
"Sit… and reclaim your power.
Or walk away, and remain the memory of a king who never rose."
Aiden stared at the throne — its constellation-like structure pulsing with unreadable meaning.
"I… don't know if I can do this."
Valerius smiled.
"No king ever does. But they try anyway. That is what makes them kings."
Silence filled the chamber.
Then—
Aiden took a breath.
And stepped toward the throne.
Astraxion's voice slithered into the chamber like poison.
"Sit, little heir.
Let me see how brightly you burn before I extinguish you."
Aiden froze.
Valerius's face hardened. "You have no place here, dragon."
"I have a place anywhere there is an end."
Valerius turned to Aiden.
"You must sit before it forces you back into nothing. Now!"
The chamber shook.
The throne flared.
Aiden sprinted the last steps—
And sat.
Instantly—
The universe split open.
Light swallowed everything.
◆ ◆ ◆
Outside, Seris watched the tower burst with radiant energy.
"He did it," she whispered, eyes wide.
Then the sky cracked.
A massive shadow unfolded from a tear in the heavens — wings blotted out the orchard's twilight.
A voice, deep and thunderous, shook the air.
"THE HEIR HAS AWAKENED.
THE HUNT BEGINS."
Seris looked up at the monstrous silhouette.
"Astraxion…"
And somewhere far above the tower's spire, two blazing red-gold eyes opened.