After the fall of the Sky-Dividing Sect, Raizen didn't return to any mortal realm.
He drifted through the void—alone.
But he wasn't truly alone.
They were with him. All of them.
Inside his realm, time had no meaning. Mountains floated sideways. Rivers ran through the sky. Giant broken swords pierced through clouds of darkness.
At the center stood a single black spire—The Core Nexus.
Raizen hovered above it, arms folded, eyes closed. Around him knelt the legion.
Not puppets. Not mindless constructs.
They were echoes—remnants of the void reshaped into form.
Each was built in his image, but with unique traits—drawn from those Raizen had erased. Their strength, essence, and instincts became the building blocks. But their wills? That belonged only to Raizen.
They did not eat.
They did not sleep.
They did not decay.
And they never questioned.
Raizen opened his eyes and looked down upon them. "Report."
One stepped forward.
Jet-black hair. Pale white eyes with no pupils. A sword across his back, curved unnaturally, as if bent by spatial tension itself.
He knelt and spoke without emotion.
"First Legion General, Kael of the Rift. All shards are stabilized. Sixty-seven new voidborn soldiers have formed. Four elites ready for direct deployment."
Raizen nodded.
Kael was the first—born the moment Raizen absorbed the soul of a void dragon. Sharp. Tactical. Lethal. Unshakably loyal.
Another figure stepped forward next.
A woman. Tall, draped in translucent fabric that flowed like mist. No weapons. Her hands pulsed with chaotic, spiraling energy.
"Second General, Nyra the Spiral." Her voice sounded like two echoes overlapped. "All mental barriers are clean. Emotional interference: zero. Legion discipline at peak stability."
She was the mind of the legion. Mistress of illusion and distortion. Created from the soul of a master of mental arts who once tried to manipulate Raizen. Now she served him fully.
Two more followed:
"Third General, Varn the Silent," a cloaked assassin whose blade couldn't be seen—because it didn't exist until the moment it struck. His body barely had form, always flickering at the edge of perception.
And lastly—
"Fourth General, Draxis the Unyielding," a brute carved from darksteel void ore, fused with the soul of a warbeast that once ruled a continent. His hammer was a collapsed star given shape.
Raizen looked over his four generals—the pillars of the legion.
Behind them stood the soldiers. Humanlike. Varied. Each one unique in armor and weaponry. Some radiated cold light, others flickered with void sparks. But all stood still, awaiting only Raizen's thoughts.
He didn't need to speak commands.
His will echoed through them naturally.
They existed not for themselves, but for him.
Raizen raised one hand, and a glowing map formed in the air. Several sects lit up like dying stars.
"Next: the Crimson Roots Sect, the Azure Star Pavilion, and the Bonefire Clan," he said flatly. "Take everything they've hidden. Leave nothing behind."
The four generals bowed.
Kael's voice rang out like a commandment.
"Legion, move."
And the void shifted again.