The sky was gray long before Raizen arrived.
Not cloudy. Not stormy.
Just... drained.
As if even light didn't want to linger here.
The land before him was called the Hollow Reach, a region erased from every modern map, where compasses spun uselessly and spiritual beasts refused to tread. No sect claimed it. No kingdom patrolled it. Even the boldest adventurers never returned.
But Raizen stepped in without pause.
The moment his foot crossed the unseen threshold, the world went quiet.
No sound.
No Qi.
No wind.
Even the void energy around him thinned, as if reluctant.
> "Dead zone," he muttered. "But not empty."
He moved forward, not using his powers—just walking. The silence wasn't natural. It was intentional.
Someone… or something… didn't want to be disturbed.
---
The further he walked, the more the terrain warped. Trees grew sideways, stone paths spiraled into themselves, and bones jutted from the earth like broken pillars. In the distance, towering ruins stood crooked, half-swallowed by the land.
Raizen stopped before a collapsed gate—its arch barely holding together. Carved into the center was a name, nearly erased by time.
> "Ashendark Sect."
He didn't recognize it.
But the moment he stepped through, something watched him.
A presence.
Cold.
Familiar.
Void-touched.
---
He passed empty halls and shattered cultivation rooms. Dust covered everything, but nothing had decayed. Time moved strangely here. Not fast. Not slow. Just wrong.
At the center of the ruin was a raised platform with nine stone seats—all empty.
Except one.
Raizen narrowed his eyes.
A man sat hunched over, robes shredded, body unnaturally still. He hadn't died of wounds. He hadn't turned to bone. He had simply… stopped.
But his eyes were open.
And glowing faintly with a dull, void-colored light.
Raizen approached slowly.
The man didn't move.
Until Raizen stepped onto the platform.
Then, without lifting his head, the man spoke.
> "Why didn't you die like the rest of us?"
His voice was dry, brittle—like a soul that had been echoing for too long.
Raizen didn't answer.
> "They erased my name. My sect. My history."
"But I didn't fall."
"I waited."
Now the man looked up.
And Raizen saw it.
This was no projection.
No remnant.
This was a failed inheritor.
A void cultivator who survived whatever erased his world—but not intact.
---
"You carry the mark," the man hissed. "But it doesn't belong to you."
He stood slowly.
His body was thin, scarred with void rot. His left arm was gone, replaced by a swirling mist. His aura cracked with every step—like something broken trying to act whole.
> "They gave it to you willingly?" he sneered. "Then they've forgotten what it means."
Raizen didn't flinch.
> "And you?" he asked simply. "What did you do when they came for you?"
The man laughed—a harsh, hollow sound.
> "I became this."
Void energy exploded outward—not refined, not controlled. Wild. Twisted. Desperate.
Raizen stood still.
The man lunged, mist-arm stretching unnaturally, blade forming from condensed shadows.
Raizen didn't dodge.
He stepped forward, catching the blade with two fingers, dispersing it instantly.
> "You drowned in your own hunger."
> "You weren't erased… because you erased yourself."
The failed inheritor screamed, energy turning to claws, blades, spikes—striking from every angle.
Raizen dodged nothing.
He simply walked through.
Void bent around him like he was the original law. The attacks passed, missed, or folded back onto themselves.
The man staggered, collapsing.
Not because he was hurt.
But because he finally realized:
> "You're not like us."
> "You're what we were supposed to be."
Raizen didn't respond.
He placed a hand on the man's forehead.
No hatred.
No mercy.
Just silence.
And then—
> Erased.
---
The ruins trembled.
But they didn't collapse.
Instead, the stones rearranged slightly—doors opened, walls shifted.
And beneath the main hall, a stairway revealed itself.
At the end of it: a sealed chamber.
Within, not a treasure…
But a mirror.
Raizen stepped inside.
And what he saw—
Was himself.
But older.
Stronger.
Crowned in black flames.
Eyes like stars.
Then the reflection blinked.
And said:
> "You're not ready."