The moment the Mark of the Void Heir settled into Raizen's soul, the hidden realm shifted.
Subtly.
A low hum ran through the altar, as if the space around him recognized something long forgotten. Ancient glyphs on the drifting temple walls lit up faintly. The wind changed direction. Somewhere deep in the void, something smiled.
Raizen stood silent at the center of it all.
He didn't celebrate.
He didn't grin.
He simply looked down at his hand, then closed it into a fist.
"Now they'll notice."
And they did.
Thousands of miles above, in a crystalline palace floating within the Heavenlight Ring, a divine mirror cracked.
Seven robed figures turned sharply. All wore silver masks. All stood without touching the ground.
The mirror had only cracked once before—in the age of the last Void Monarch.
"It's real," one whispered.
"The mark has returned."
"A mistake…"
"No. A threat."
"Has the lineage truly endured?"
"Should we descend?"
One of them raised a hand, silencing the others.
He stepped forward, voice calm but cold.
"No. Not yet."
"We send testers."
"If he lives, we confirm. If he dies… he was never worth the fear."
He turned his palm upward.
Seven glowing seals formed in the air—ancient tokens bound to immortals who had once hunted void users in the past.
The moment his fingers closed, the seals vanished.
Back in the realm, Raizen felt the shift.
Not in energy.
In the air itself.
He stepped off the altar, and the realm began to fall apart slowly—its duty fulfilled. The temples cracked. The floating stones fell into the darkness. The glyphs unraveled like silk.
He didn't panic.
He didn't rush.
Instead, he walked to the edge of a shattered platform and stepped off.
Void wrapped around him.
Reality blinked.
And when it cleared—he was standing in a silent forest under the night sky.
But his instincts screamed.
He turned his head slightly.
The air behind him twisted.
A figure stepped out.
Then another.
And another.
Seven.
Each cloaked. Each with a blade too refined to belong to the lower realm. No killing intent. No bloodlust. But Raizen could feel it:
"These aren't assassins."
"They're measurements."
They weren't here to fight.
They were here to gauge him.
"You carry the Mark," one of them said.
"You walk where others were erased," said another.
Raizen didn't answer.
They drew weapons in perfect silence.
The first moved.
Fast—like thought.
Raizen barely tilted his body, and the blade missed by a breath.
He countered with a flick of space—his body skipping behind the attacker before slicing his back open with a mundane dagger.
The man fell, unconscious.
Raizen didn't kill him.
The next two attacked in sync, forming a dual seal that would collapse the air in his lungs.
Raizen dispersed the air around him, turning their spell into harmless fog.
He moved between them and tapped both with a sealed palm strike—shutting their Qi channels instantly.
The rest paused.
"His control is abnormal."
"He's not using pure void... it's rewritten."
"He's a danger."
The last four charged together.
Raizen didn't retreat.
He stepped into the air, bent the space above, and vanished—only to reappear behind them mid-attack. With one wave of his hand, the air solidified into a reflective wall.
Their blades struck it—and bounced back.
None were dead.
None were injured beyond recovery.
But all were defeated.
Raizen stood still.
His voice was low, firm.
"If you came here to confirm something..."
"You've seen enough."
The figures said nothing.
One of them dropped a jade token before vanishing in light.
Raizen caught it.
On its surface was a single word:
"Ascend."
He looked at it for a long time.
Not because of fear.
But because he recognized what it meant.
"They know."
"And they're not going to wait."