Birth of The Dragon Archon

The sky above the ruined realm burned crimson.

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Ash drifted through the air like dying snow, covering the shattered corpses of demons, great beasts, dragons, and Sovereign warriors alike. Mountains had collapsed into black oceans of molten stone, while the once-great banners of Thalyria and the other realms in the mortal world had collapsed.

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The age of sovereigns was coming to an end.

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And Emrys Valin stood at its grave.

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Blood poured from the corner of his lips as he tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade.  The silver-white hair that once carried the pride of House Valin now hung in ragged strands over tired eyes.

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Before him stood the final gate of ascension, his final trial.

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“Get ready, men!” Luther Valik roared, standing right behind Emrys, holding his scepter.

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Emrys' lips quivered, looking ahead. His eyes on the gate, his mind racking all the possibilities.

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“Luther…” he called calmly, his mind racing. “...this is the chance for you to back out and leave, you are no longer needed…!”

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Emrys ordered.

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Luther had a smile on his face; it wasn't clear how, but there was a look of dread plastered all over his face.

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“I will die with you, my Liege, this is just the beginning of our legacy!”

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A colossal celestial rift towered above the battlefield, splitting apart the heavens themselves. Ancient runes, rotated within the abyss, each one radiating enough pressure to suffocate even a Saint-Class Ascendant into dust.

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This was the final trial…

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The trial that would decide whether he would ascend beyond mortality and his current capabilities.

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Or be erased along with their broken world…

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Behind Emrys and Luther stood the last people who had remained by his side through three centuries of bloodshed.

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Warriors.

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Monsters.

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Wanderers abandoned by fate itself.

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Luther was an apprentice of the immortal mage who aided Emrys in his path of ruin and desolation.

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If not for his master…

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The man known across realms as the Phantom of Ruins would have perished long ago.

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“Lord Emrys.”

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Luther's voice was weary.

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“We do not have much time.”

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Emrys slowly raised his head towards the celestial gate.

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For over three hundred years, he had wandered through realms stained by war, slaughtering demon sovereigns, hunting catastrophic beasts, and mastering the ancient arts of House Valin.

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His name alone shook kingdoms.

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The Phantom of Ruins.

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The Heavenly Mortal Wraith.

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The Last Sovereign Fang.

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Yet none of his accomplishments mattered.

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Because his regret weighed more than his glory.

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The moment he took a step forward, the world shattered, and he was enveloped in darkness.

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Then the voices began.

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“You chose her!”

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His body froze; he was no longer standing amidst the ruins.

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He stood within the burning halls of House Valin.

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Flames devoured the pillars around him while the screams of warriors echoed endlessly through the collapsing estate.

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His father knelt in chains before countless enemies.

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The great Kane Valin.

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The Saint-Class warrior feared across Thalyria and other realms.

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Reduced to a spectacle.

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Emrys tried to move.

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But he couldn't.

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He watched helplessly as the execution axe descended.

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Blood painted the world red.

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“No…” he stretched his hand, but it was to no avail.

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The illusion shifted.

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This time, he saw his younger sister clawing desperately against the burning debris trapping her beneath the collapsing estate.

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“Brother…save me!”

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Her screams pierced through his soul.

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Emrys staggered backward.

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“No…no…Sel!”

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It vanished…but the trial did not stop.

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It took him to the Altar of Rhys…where his Grandfather had laid sacrifices for the Great Dragons and led him on the path of transcendence.

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Emrys saw himself there as he knelt down to pray to the Dragon souls.

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But they turned their backs on him.

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Not with hatred.

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But disappointment.

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“You were never worthy of the throne.”

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“Your soul will never be accepted!”

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The pressure shattered his soul.

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Then came the final memory, the last trick of the trial.

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It was a banquet, it was the Banquet where he signed over House Valin as servants to The Crofts and the notorious House Felnior.

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It was all due to his obsession with Diane Croft…and what did he get after that?

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He was thrown aside while Diane clung to her lover, Kyle Thori.

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It was at that moment that he sealed House Valin's fate.

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And then and there—

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For the first time in centuries, Emrys Valin broke.

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Outside the trial, the battlefield collapsed into chaos.

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The celestial gate trembled violently as countless abyssal demons surged forward like an endless tide.

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“Protect Lord Emrys!”

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Luther roared, his scepter erupted with powerful golden lights. Blasting the demons before they were able to run past.

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One by one, Emrys' remaining allies threw themselves into the demonic tide.

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And one by one—

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They died.

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Luther got hit on the shoulder, and a sadistic, ruthless smile crept onto his face.

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“Surge…” he roared, as demonic tendrils pierced his body. Holding his head high, maintaining his smile, and a cruel gaze.

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“...Surge, powers of my fathers and those before me…let my soul forge the weapon needed to destroy my enemies!”

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Another powerful golden blast exploded from his scepter, destroying the demons in its path.

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But they didn't stop. Then, from nowhere, a tentacle blitzed from the gate, stabbing Luther straight into the chest.

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His legs shook, hardly holding the scepter. His eyes shaking violently, blood gushed out of his mouth.

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The demons poured out of the gate, descending on him as he kept fighting back.

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“Lord Emrys,”

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He kept fighting as another took his left arm.

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“...in this life…”

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The mage smiled, his face rid of fear or rage.

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He watched as the horde of demons flooded down, about to drown him.

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“And the next…I will gladly die for you again, my Liege!”

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Another claw took off his head, and the flood of the demons then erased his body from existence.

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The celestial gate shattered…

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A monstrous claw burst through the battlefield and slammed directly into Emrys.

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The impact tore through flesh and bone alike.

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Blood flooded his mouth.

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His vision darkened.

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And for the first time in centuries…

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The Phantom of Ruins felt fear.

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Not fear of death.

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Fear of regret.

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Because after everything, all his ascension, all his wandering— he still failed to save House Valin.

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“I….failed…”

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He slowly fell to the ground as he felt himself fall into the void.

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Then—

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Music.

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Soft, pompous laughter.

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The scent of incense.

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Emrys’ eyes snapped open.

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Golden chandeliers illuminated a luxurious banquet hall overflowing with nobles dressed in ceremonial robes.

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At the center of the hall stood Diane Croft beneath the banner of House Croft, adorned in the robes of succession.

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And in his hands was the contract, a contract that would bind House Valin and House Croft.

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The beginning of his family’s destruction.

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Emrys stared at it silently.

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Then slowly…filled with rage, he clenched his fists…

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He understood that fate and the heavens had brought him back to the starting point of his tragedy.

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“House Valin…shall not fall…not this time!”

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