The atmosphere trembled like the breath of a dying star.
Above Nova Terra, in the far reach of the upper sky, the Griever King sat upon his floating black throne. He did not bring warships or legions. He didn't need to. He was a singularity of destruction—a psionic apex predator born of collapse and entropy.
He spoke, but not with words.
"Child of the System. Heir of stolen legacies."
"You wear the skin of those who failed before. Shall we peel it away together?"
His voice clawed at the mind—thousands of echoes stacked together, like a chorus of dying gods.
And I answered him—not with thought, not with system prompts, but with action.
I activated the Aetherlance.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: AETHERLANCE ARMOR 100% SYNCHRONIZED]
Core Interface: Locked
Mana Lattice: Interwoven
Physical Structure: Reinforced Starcore Alloy
Primary Weapon: Lance of Origin
Feature: Psionic Nullification Field – Active Radius 1.3 km
Secondary Systems: Gravimetric Override, Dimensional Blink, Arcstorm Conductor
The armor wasn't sleek.
It was mythic.
Wrought from planetary cores and star-forged under Watcher flame, it radiated light woven into geometric patterns. Capes of aurora hung behind me, bound by antimatter thread. The helmet, crowned with silent runes, formed as the final plate locked in.
Then the Lance appeared.
Not conjured. Not crafted. Claimed.
Forged from my very essence—plasma, memory, light, and gravity, twisted into a singular line of judgment. It wasn't just a weapon.
It was a statement:
I am not just an Heir.
I am the next origin.
I left Auraxis in orbit.
This was not its fight.
Not yet.
I alone would meet the Griever King.
I warped to him—crossing void and light in less than a breath.
The moment I arrived, space snapped like glass.
And we stood before each other.
He looked... human. But wrong.
Six arms. A ribcage that pulsed like a second brain. Skin made of thought and grief. A crown of inverted light. His throne bent around him like an old parasite.
"I expected your fear," he said. "Where is it?"
"Buried beneath my will."
He snarled. "Then be the first to scream."
He struck first.
Reality split.
Waves of psionic force slammed toward me—memories of death, warped futures, voices screaming in forgotten tongues.
The system filtered it.
[MINDLOCK BARRIER: ACTIVE]
[NULL FIELD RESISTANCE: 86%]
I charged.
The Lance ignited.
We clashed not in sound or fury—but in ruptures of existence.
Every strike bent gravity. Every parry shattered layers of unreality. His crown unleashed horrors, illusions of my own death, my family's destruction, my empire in flames—
But none took root.
"You think I haven't seen the end?" I shouted, driving the Lance through one of his left arms.
"I was born from it."
He howled.
The throne screamed with him.
But I pressed forward.
We fought for seventeen minutes.
A war that tore moons from orbit would have caused less damage. Aurora storms bent above us. Satellites failed. Oceans cracked like mirrors beneath the force.
And then—I saw it.
A flicker.
The true core behind his projection. His soul-kernel.
I shifted grip on the Lance.
My system aligned. My will aligned.
[SPEARPOINT PROTOCOL: LANCE OF ORIGIN – FINAL STRIKE READY]
Permission to rewrite local space-time upon successful penetration confirmed.
I whispered one word:
"Break."
And I stabbed the Lance into his core.
Light.
Then... silence.
Not victory. Not yet.
The Griever King was not destroyed.
But he was wounded.
And worse...
"You remember how to bleed," I whispered, breathing heavily inside my suit.
He retreated. His throne screamed into reverse warp, shattering a nearby moon's crust in its wake.
For now, he was gone.
But I knew this was only the first act.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Psionic Apex Signature Severed – Estimated Recovery Time: 6-8 Months
Your signal is now being traced across adjacent realities.
Prepare. The Other Thrones will awaken.
I returned to Nova Terra in silence.
The people cheered. They did not understand the cost.
But the Council did.
Alis met me on the Skywalk with red-rimmed eyes.
"You won."
"No," I said quietly, gazing at the stars. "I just survived long enough to make sure the game started."