"How did it all end up this way?"

Xuirong thought as he watched his brother being mercilessly overpowered and killed. The whole mansion was on fire. Ordinary civilians scampered for safety while Hunters battled each other — the ones belonging to the First Pavilion against the unknown attackers.

Xuiyang’s final words echoed in Xuirong’s mind as the world he knew fell apart in an instant. The grand hallways they had walked through just hours before were now consumed by raging, hungry flames, the elegant marble cracking under the intense heat. The bright, inspiring future his brother had just promised humanity was reduced to ash and thick, choking smoke.

Through the curtain of fire, Xuirong stood frozen, his silver eyes wide with horror as he watched the absolute collapse of the First Pavilion’s strongest defense. The fearsome red armor of the teenage guardian lay shattered across the burning floor, and Xuiyang, humanity’s first hero, was brutally brought to his knees by a force that didn’t care about order, peace, or the survival of mankind.

The brilliant red aura that usually radiated from Xuiyang flickered weakly against the dark shadows of his attackers before extinguishing completely.

"Xuirong... run..."

The final, strained whisper was barely audible over the roaring inferno. As Xuiyang’s body slumped forward into the debris, the pink butterflies, the blue lilies, and the secure reality of the garden vanished forever, replaced by the harsh, cold truth of a world that swallowed the weak without hesitation.

The weight of his brother’s moral lesson slammed into Xuirong’s chest with the force of a physical blow. To protect anything, to survive the betrayal of the very world they tried to save, hands could not stay clean.

Left entirely alone amidst the burning ruins of the mansion, the cheerful light in Xuirong’s silver eyes died out, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity that would guide him through the dark years to come.

....

"And where did that lead me to?" Xuirong asked himself.

He was much older now, his long black hair much longer and his skin much paler.

Currently, he wore dented black armor which was meant to cover his whole body but was torn in most places, revealing half of his face and his left eye. Blood trickled out of his mouth.

A long odachi pierced through his chest, protruding from his back.

He was surrounded by seven Hunters — four women and three men — all wearing different armor and wielding fearsome weapons. They also looked tired and injured, signaling they had engaged in a tough brawl with Xuirong before being able to bring him down to his knees.

All around them was a thick forest in the middle of an absolute wasteland. Shattered earth, uprooted ancient trees, and deep craters scarred the landscape for miles, a grim testament to the devastating battle that had just taken place.

"It’s over, Xuirong," one of the male Hunters said, leaning heavily on a glowing claymore. His chest rose and fell in ragged gasps, his golden armor cracked and leaking pure energy. "The Epochs do not belong to you. You’ve terrorized the Frontier Realm long enough."

"All your Bonders are dead. You were strong, but you sure wasted it. In the end, Xuiyang fooled you; there are different ways to save humanity."

Xuirong let out a low, wet laugh, the sound catching in his throat as more blood spilled over his pale lips. The silver in his left eye didn’t hold a fraction of warmth. It was entirely cold, sharp, and mocking.

He looked down at the massive odachi pinning him to the stone floor of the fractured clearing. The weapon thrummed with a heavy, sealing enchantment, actively suppressing his remaining strength, but he barely seemed to feel the pain. His mind was clear.

’So this is the end of the path Xuiyang set me on,’ Xuirong thought, his gaze drifting past the seven legendary Hunters to the gray, turbulent sky above. ’I became the ceiling. I became the force that dictated their fear. I did exactly what was necessary.’

One of the women, an archer whose silver bow still crackled with latent lightning, stepped forward, her expression a mix of exhaustion and deep caution. She didn’t dare lower her weapon, even with a sword through his chest. "Why did you do it? You had the ability to evolve humanity. You could have been the vanguard for humanity’s golden age. Instead, you hunted us down, slaughtered the high guilds, and hoarded the world’s core elements for yourself."

Xuirong didn’t answer her. They wouldn’t understand. To these naive heroes, clearing gates and saving cities was still a noble game. They hadn’t seen beyond that. They hadn’t watched humanity turn on its first savior the moment a bigger threat loomed.

He closed his eye, his breathing slowing down as the coldness of death began to creep up from his fingertips. His hand, covered in a torn gauntlet, loosely gripped the dirt beneath him.

’They think they’ve won,’ he thought, a faint ghost of a grin touching his bloodied lips. ’They think killing my current frame ends it.’

Deep within his soul, far beyond the reach of the sealing odachi, the boundless ocean of midnight blue remained perfectly still. The silver threads of light shifted, waiting for the connection to fully sever so they could pull his consciousness back to the very beginning of a new life.

"Finish it," the archer commanded softly.

The Hunter holding the odachi gripped the hilt with both hands and twisted, channeling a final burst of destructive energy directly into Xuirong’s core.

The world went entirely black.

....

"What should I call him?"

Xuirong heard murmurs. He slowly opened his eyes and saw two large, old faces looking at him with love while deciding on a name.

He had truly been reborn into another being.

After landing his hands on Arkhani’s Class called Shadow Emperor and another that was an ability that allowed him to be reborn in a new body immediately after death. He was reborn and would now have to wait for Shadow Emperor to reactivate when he reawakened in this new body.

"Let’s name him Rohan," the gentle voice murmured again, the sound anchoring his drifting consciousness to the waking world.

The immediate transition of the Arkhani fragment had worked seamlessly, transferring his memories and soul into this new infancy without the erasure of his past. He was no longer the supreme tyrant Xuirong, but a blank slate, hidden in plain sight from the very heroes who had just celebrated his demise.

Xuirong sighed internally. Back then, he had been reckless, immediately establishing himself as a morally gray force in front of the entire world. He should have operated from the shadows from the very beginning.

Now, he realized the strategic advantage of his defeat: because his execution had taken place in a secluded wasteland, far from the public eye, the high guilds would undoubtedly cover it up. They would announce his death with carefully fabricated lies to maintain public morale. He was entirely off the grid.

Maybe.. just maybe he should be the nice guy they wanted.

One of the old women stared at him and smiled, then alerted the other woman.

"Look, he’s smiling. Such a cute boy. Rohan Effiel, you’ll become great."

The other woman carried a second child. "I think I figured out a name for this little girl also.. Mia. Mia Effiel."