Reincarnated Ruler: Awakening in a Broken Reality

In the battle between Seroi and Eram…

Seroi formed a blade from pure mana. Without hesitation, he slashed across Eram's corrupted shoulder. The wound sizzled but then it closed on its own, sealed by writhing black veins and pulsing flesh. Something inside Eram shrieked, a parasite hungry for blood.

Eram laughed. Not out of mockery, but as if he was enjoying the pain.

Seroi didn't stop. He didn't show mercy as already he knew that it was not Eram.

His eyes met the gaze of a man he had once trained beside. Fought beside. Laughed with.

For a single heartbeat, Eram caught Seroi's blade with his bare hand. Then his right arm twisted grotesquely. Flesh peeled and shifted into jagged spikes, as if his fingers had turned into a weapon of their own. He lunged, driving the flesh-blades straight toward Seroi's chest.

Eram didn't hold back. He attacked like a man possessed, again and again.

Seroi screamed. His voice echoed across the battlefield. Pain surged through him. His vision blurred. His heartbeat slowed.

And then, he saw a memory.

He was standing beneath the peach blossom trees again.

The courtyard at Qiyun's academy.

Sunlight bathed the stone. It was warm. Peaceful.

"Don't get left behind again," Eram grinned, tossing him a gourd of wine.

Seroi caught it, snorting. "I wasn't the one crying during spell-casting class."

"Lies," Eram laughed. "You're the emotional one."

But the laughter didn't last.

The memory broke apart.

The blossoms withered, turning black. The gourd in Seroi's hand melted, hot and wet. It became blood.

Back in the present, Seroi's hands shook.

"You were the best of us," he whispered, his blade trembling. "You should have led us."

Eram's face twisted. His voice changed.

It wasn't his own anymore.

"Then why did the council choose you?"

Seroi's eyes widened. He hadn't known.

The parasite had found something an old wound buried deep inside Eram. A bitterness Seroi had never seen.

"I was stronger," Eram hissed. His body grew taller, darker, more monstrous. "But they chose you. The quiet one. The obedient one. The one who never questioned the lies."

Seroi lowered his head. "Because I never wanted it," he said quietly. "I told them this place was never meant for me. It was meant for you."

The parasite shrieked.

Eram began to fight against his own body. Some fragment of his true self was still alive, and it was resisting. Tearing itself apart to stop the thing inside him.

It showed in his body. He screamed. Twitched. Burned from within.

The parasite roared in rage. "I am immortal. You can't kill me!" it howled. "You worthless insect! I control this body! How are you still fighting me?"

Blue-orange flames erupted across Eram's skin. He howled again but this time, it wasn't Eram.

It was the parasite.

And just before everything collapsed, Eram smiled.

Not the parasite.

The real Eram.

Seroi could barely stand. Blood poured from the wound in his chest. His vision was dark. But he didn't fall yet.

Eram's smile held no hatred. Only peace.

And in that final moment, Seroi dropped to his knees in the air and whispered the words he had never said aloud.

"I only wanted to protect you."

★★★

High above the battlefield, Virion's wings spread wide.

He felt it the moment Eram died.

A faint silence passed through him, like an old weight lifting. He looked toward the fading light and shouted into the wind.

"I told you this day would come! And now it has!"

He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular. Not even to the soldiers below. He was speaking in his mind like he was remembering the old memories.

"I warned you, Eram. You were not strong enough to fully take over a soul. Yes, you created this cursed method, but you were always the weakest of us. You never had real power, only the ability to twist someone's desires. But if the will to resist is stronger, then you can't win."

His voice rang with both pride and sorrow.

"My words were true. And now you've seen them proven."

But Virion knew this moment was only part of the war.

His true battle was against the Mage King.

The Mage King stepped forward, cloaked in black and white flames. He walked... moved as if space itself bent to his will with his sword. Every movement of him carried authority. Every motion shifted gravity around him.

But Virion didn't flinch.

He was looking towards the Mage King. Then he lifted his hand and drew a symbol in the air. A spell. From the spell, a yellow dark sword came. In the starting, it was a giant sword with terrible shaking mana that was enough to shake the whole battlefield. Everyone, for a second, stopped their battles and looked towards there. Vestiges understood now what would happen.

Mage King too slid because of the mana that sword released. When that sword came into Virion's hands, it became normal. Mage King held his body, and then they looked in their eyes for a second, and their powers clashed.

But this time, it wasn't just magic.

It was everything that they had.

★★★

Below, thunder echoed from where everyone had fought.

Above, the sky cracked under the rage of Virion and the Mage King.

Across the battlefield, memories refused to die.

Borun walked through the chains covered with flames like they were smoke.

His every footstep shattered the space. Every swing of his chained arms sent shockwaves that bent the air.

Ahead of him stood his enemy.

A titanic skeleton and Vestige.

The skeleton was wrapped in black bone, with black shining symbols carved on its bones. It was pulsing across a face too.

Borun squinted, voice like grinding stone.

"I don't know. You told was truth or liar. But now only important is to protect everyone by defeating you."

The Vestige Hollow General didn't speak. He tilted his head, like a predator trying to remember its prey.

Borun's fists clenched, chains tightening from rage.

★★★

Before everything...

We saw Borun.

He had no chains. Just bandages on his arms and steel over his fists. He had led the charge through the Western Gate of the Eastern Empire's last fortress.

They called him a hero.

He had broken a mountain with one punch.

Destroyed a fortress with another.

But after the victory, he had seen what came next.

The fires.

The prisoners.

The screaming people.

He stood there, soaked in blood, while his generals burned what remained.

Those they couldn't cleanse were buried alive.

And Borun?

He had done nothing.

He wasn't the hand that gave the order.

But he was still the blade.

That's how he justified it.

★★★

Now back in the battle...

The earth cracked beneath Borun's boots.

His height over nine feet tall, his body wrapped in thick silver chains that clinked with each step. His scarred chest rose and fell slowly, but his eyes burned bright. The field was ruined already: ash, stone, shattered bones of a hundred lesser undead crunched beneath him. Yet the true battle was only beginning.

Thunder rolled.

The Titanic Relic awakened. He had a giant hammer too.

Two foes. One warrior.

Borun cracked his neck. His chains rattled like serpents, then uncoiled.

They struck first.

The Hollow General lunged, its glaive cutting the wind in two. Borun ducked low, sliding beneath it, and snapped a chain forward. It wrapped around the General's leg mid-swing and pulled hard. The Vestige staggered, momentum broken.

Before he could press the advantage, the sky darkened.

The Titanic Relic raised its hammer. Borun rolled. The impact shattered the ground behind him, flinging boulders like pebbles. Dust clouded the air. Borun leapt into it, vanishing.

From within the cloud came a scream of metal.

Chains erupted, wrapping around the Titan's arm like constricting snakes. Borun clung to its shoulder, eyes locked on the weak spots between the armor plates. He slammed his fists down. Each blow cracked the relic's shoulder joint, the chains glowing brighter with every strike.

The Hollow General intervened.

With an unnatural leap, it landed on the Titan's chest, swinging its glaive sideways. Borun released the chain and dropped. The blade scraped past his scalp, shearing a chunk of chain but missing flesh.

He hit the ground hard, rolled, and snarled.

Now.

He roared. His chains lifted on their own, alive with magic. They shot in every direction, forming a spinning wall of silver. The Hollow General charged again. The chains wrapped around its limbs, mid-strike, and pulled.

Borun pulled too.

The glaive fell. The Hollow General twisted. Then Borun surged forward, shoulder slamming into its chest. Crystal cracked. The mist inside flickered.

A second later, the Titan stomped.

Borun was ready. He flipped back, letting the Titan's hammer crash down on the stunned General.

The crystal-armored Vestige shattered beneath the weight. Mist burst like a dying flame.

One down.

Borun didn't slow.

He leapt straight at the Relic, chains whipping ahead of him. They wrapped around the giant's wrist, twisting the hammer away. With both arms wrapped in silver light, Borun climbed the Titan again.

Up the arm. Across the shoulder. Onto the head.

He slammed both fists into the skull. Once. Twice. Sparks flew. Then the chains dug deep, anchoring him.

He dropped, pulling the chains down.

With a screech of old gears, the head tore from the body. The Titan staggered, legs wobbling. Borun landed behind it. The chains yanked again.

The Relic collapsed, a mountain brought to its knees.

Silence.

Borun stood amidst ruin, body bleeding, chains frayed, but still upright.

Two fallen. One victor.

He looked to the dark horizon, where more threats waited.

And raised his chained fists high.