The First Flameborn's skeletal grin lingered as his chains of dead flame rattled. His hollow eyes burned with something like pity.
"Eirian... you are too weak right now. I can't say anything more."Eirian stepped forward, his voice sharp. "What do you mean? What war? What god?"
The corpse opened his mouth— Then froze. The air turned thick and sour. The whispers of the canyon died mid-scream. Even the wind held its breath.
The First Flameborn's eyes widened. "No. Not here. Not yet."
Eirian's Soulbrand seared in warning. Then something moved in the dark. The ground split not like an earthquake. Like a black mouth.
A Nebula Stalker pulled itself free from the abyss—a monstrosity of gnashing teeth and absence. Its body was a void, its edges blurring as if reality itself refused to look at it directly.
Dris choked, trembling in fear. "A Nebula Stalker... They're supposed to be extinct!"
The creature had no eyes. No face. Just a black mouth and hunger that bent the world inward. It was 2 metre tall with sharp teeth on mouth.
Where it stepped, sound vanished. Memory frayed.
The First Flameborn snarled, his chains flaring—But the beast ignored him and 'lunged' at Eirian its maw gaped, wide enough to devour a man whole.
The Stalker lunged, its jaws snapping shut with enough force to splinter reality. Eirian sidestepped, his boot grinding into the fractured earth as he countered with a slash that carved a 'scar of white fire' across the beast's snout. The creature roared—a sound like a dying galaxy—and retaliated with a whip-crack of its nebula-wreathed tail.
Eirian flipped backward, the tail missing him by inches, and landed in a crouch. Eirian raises his blade pulsed, drinking in the ambient Starflow energy.
The Stalker blurred, moving faster than sight, but Eirian anticipated it. He ducked under another bite, rolled forward, and drove his blade upward into the beast's underbelly. Black blood, thick as liquid shadow, sprayed across his face, burning like frost.
The beast convulsed, its massive body twisting in midair, and slammed a clawed limb down.
Eirian barely raised his blade in time—the impact sent him skidding back, his boots carving trenches in the earth. His arms trembled, but his grip didn't falter.
Eirian was panting heavily on the ground, blood flowing from his body, his clothes torn open. "This Nebula Stalker is so strong," his voice trembled with nervousness and excitement.
This time, he attacked the Stalker's eyes with a swift movement. "Let's see who wins in this life-and-death exchange."
The Stalker reared back, the stalker growled in a high pitch bone chilling roar, its maw opening wider, a black hole forming between its jaws. The pull of its hunger warped the battlefield, dragging stones, trees, even the very light toward it.
Eirian dug his sword into the ground, resisting the suction. His muscles screamed. His bones ached.
But he said in a provoking tone, 'Try harder, abyss-spawn!!'
With a guttural shout, he 'ripped his blade free' and charged straight into the abyss.
At the last possible second, he twisted, his sword flashing in a single, perfect arc. The blade, infused with the last of his Starflow energy, 'sheared through the beast's lower jaw', severing it clean.
The Stalker growled, its maw collapsing in on itself, the black hole dissipating into a whirlwind of dying starlight. The beast staggered back, its remaining jaws gnashing, but the fight was over.
Eirian stood, panting, his sword dripping with dark black-blood.
The Stalker's remaining eye locked onto him with immense hatred—a final, hateful glare—before the creature dissolved into mist, its essence scattering to the winds.
He smiled and raised his hand. "Become stronger. Or this world will eat you alive."
Then—Gone.
Vanished into nothingness, leaving only the echo of his warning.
Eirian staggered back, his breath ragged, as the Nebula Stalker dissolved into shimmering mist. He was bleeding through seven orifices.
The battlefield fell eerily silent—too silent. No birds, no wind, just the fading echo of the beast's death scream.
Then the ground — shuddered.
A deep, guttural pulse thrummed through the earth, like the heartbeat of something ancient waking beneath his feet. The air grew thick, pressing against his skin like the weight of a coming storm.
Eirian noticed his blade, still slick with dark black-blood, 'trembled in his grip'.
THE AWAKENING!!
From the remains of the Stalker's corpse, black tendrils of smoke coiled upward, twisting into something far worse. The mist thickened, forming a, Massive, lidless eye that hovered in the air, its pupil a "swirling abyss".
An ancient voice—not a sound, but a vibration in his bones—spoke: "You have slain the guardian. Now face the Veliborn spirit."The earth — split open.
The Veilborn Spirit Reveals itself. A hand, larger than a temple, clawed its way from the fissure. Its waist pulsed faintly.
Dris became solem and said, "This aura is so powerful, A Soulspark Realm creature..!!"
The Veilborn Spirit moved—not with speed, but with inevitability, as if the universe itself bent to its will. A single finger flicked outward, and the ground beneath Eirian erupted in a storm of blackened earth.
Eirian dashed, his body a blur of motion, barely avoiding the shockwave that turned the battlefield into a crater. He retaliated, his sword flashing like a falling star as he aimed for the Spirit's wrist.
CLANG!
His blade shattered on contact, the fragments dissolving into ash.
The Veilborn Spirit laughed, the sound unraveling Eirian's thoughts like a fraying thread.
"Mortal metal cannot harm me."
Eirian spat blood, gripping the broken hilt. He had one chance—the waist, where he had seen that flicker of vulnerability. Inside he is feeling startled, excited and anticipation for the fight. But he knew it would be difficult and one mistake, life is gone...
But the Spirit was already moving again. A massive hand, wreathed in celestial fire, slammed down. Eirian rolled, but the shockwave sent him flying. His ribs cracked on impact.
"Pathetic," the Spirit rumbled, its voice like collapsing stars.
Eirian forced himself up, his body screaming in protest. He had no weapon. No advantage.
But he had rage.
With a roar, Eirian channeled the last of his Starflow, his veins burning with raw power. The air around him shimmered as he leapt, not away—but toward the abomination.
The Veilborn Spirit's eyes widened—just for an instant—before Eirian plunged his bare hand into its waist, where the flicker of weakness had been.
Dris was injured from the aftermath, coughing blood he tremblingly said, "Starflow Energy is the lifeblood of warriors, the divine current that fuels supernatural strength, speed, and mystical abilities. It is not mere physical stamina or mana—it is something far greater, a cosmic force intertwined with fate itself.
Origins of Starflow Energy
Celestial Inheritance: Some believe Starflow is the remnant energy of dying stars, absorbed by ancient warriors who first touched the heavens.
Soul Manifestation: Others say it is the raw essence of one's spirit—the brighter the soul, the stronger the Starflow.
Stolen Divinity: A darker theory claims it is the fragmented power of slain gods, siphoned by mortals who dared challenge them.
Whatever its origin, Starflow is the dividing line between ordinary warriors and those who can fight beings beyond mortal comprehension. Starflow also has many grades.
His voice was abruptly stopped when--
Eirian roared in AGONY,
His flesh burned. His bones cracked. The pain was beyond anything mortal minds could comprehend.
But he held on.
Reaching into the remnants of his Starflow, he plunged his hand into Veliborn Spirit waist, where his blade had chipped the Spirit's flesh.
The pain was unimaginable—his skin burned, his bones cracked—but he held on, channeling every last spark of his power into the Veilborn Spirit's waist's weak point.
For a fleeting moment, a phoenix mark flickered on Eirian's forehead—then vanished, as if it had never been.
He screamed in immense pain and a smile could be seen on his face, "Even if I have to die, you will also go with me to hell together..!!"The Veliborn spirit roared, its body convulsing as light erupted from within.
For a moment, the battlefield was daylight. Then—silence. The Veilborn Spirit's form unravelled, its essence fleeing into the rift—not dead, but banished. For now.
But so was Eirian's right arm, vaporized up to the shoulder. The sky wept shadows where the rift had been. Somewhere beyond, something older stirred.
Eirian collapsed to his knees, staring at the sky. He had won—but the cost was written in his missing arm. He was alive after facing a life and death battle!
He noticed that the Veilborn's body was also missing, he was shocked upon seeing it. Dris was collapsed on the ground bleeding heavily from the aftermath, he still stood up weakly and walked towards Eirian.
He asked in a weak fearful voice, ' Eirian.. You have faced massive damage, Are you alright? Where is that powerful creature?'
"Yes.. I am alright but my injuries are quite serious." He smiled and sat cross legged on the ground to absorb Starflow from surrounding, "not dead, but banished, I guess it was not his original form" after saying that, he focused on healing his body and cultivating. Eirian swallowed another healing pill, feeling the raw medicine knit his flesh back together at an unnatural speed. But some wounds went deeper than the body.
"I need a Soulshaper," he muttered.
Dris stiffened. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Eirian flexed his remaining hand, testing his strength. "My soul's been scorched and my right arm was destroyed. If I don't get it reforged, I'll never wield Starflow properly again."
Soulshapers were rare—mystics who could mend shattered spirits, reshape fractured memories, and even alter fate for a price. But their methods were… unsettling.
Dris grimaced. "You know what they demand in return, right? Memories. Pain. Sometimes even years of your life."
Eirian's eyes hardened. "Then I'll pay."
A Realm Beyond
Far away, in a dimension untouched by time, a pair of golden eyes watched.
The air here was thick with the scent of burning embers and forgotten prayers. A figure sat upon a throne of blackened bone, fingers steepled in contemplation.
"He survived."
The voice was neither male nor female, but primordial, like the first spark of fire in a frozen world.
A second voice answered—a whisper of wind through dead leaves. "He is stronger than the others. But is he strong enough?"
The figure on the throne smiled.
"We shall see."
Author's Note
Thank you for joining Eirian's journey through Ashes of the Realms! Your support fuels this story's fire. 🔥
I'm a new author, and every view, comment, or like means the world to me. Your support gives me the motivation to keep building this world and shaping Eirian's journey.
If you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reading the novel to your library, leaving a review, or dropping a comment — I'd love to hear your thoughts!
More chapters coming soon — and much more fire to unfold. 🔥