Nyxborn-The Forgotten Etherium

The world seemed to warp around them as Renar and Vael stepped into the swirling portal.

For a moment, the very air itself felt like it was stretching, twisting, as if the fabric of reality itself was being pulled apart and remade.

The light from the portal flashed—a blinding brilliance—before it dimmed into shadow.

They landed, solidly.

Vael stumbled, catching himself on the stone floor as the echoes of the portal's passage faded into silence.

Renar stood, his hand still clutching the hilt of his sword, his senses on high alert. The chill in the air felt more oppressive now, as if they had crossed into a different world altogether.

The chamber around them was vast—its walls black as obsidian, reflecting no light. Only a faint, flickering glow came from the veins of energy embedded in the stone itself, casting the entire place in a muted, eerie hue.

They weren't alone.

The air shifted once more.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Unyielding.

A figure stepped forward from the shadows—tall, imposing, their presence almost crushing.

Renar's heart beat faster. There was something unnatural about this place. This wasn't just the heart of the Order—it was their sanctuary.

The figure's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"So, you've come."

Renar's grip tightened.

The figure was masked—but there was a sharp edge to the tone, something familiar in the way they spoke.

A cold, calculated tone.

It was a reclaimer.

Vael stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "I know you."

The reclaimer cocked their head slightly, as if the words were a puzzle they didn't quite understand.

"I doubt that."

Renar's hand shifted, drawing his blade slowly. The air hummed with tension.

"I'm not here to fight," Renar said, his voice steady. "We need answers."

The reclaimer's eyes gleamed from behind the mask—recognition flickering.

"And what makes you think the Order will grant you answers?"

Renar didn't flinch. "We have nothing to lose."

The figure studied them carefully, their hands folding behind their back as they took a slow step forward.

"Your memories are fragments. The Order wiped you clean, but you're here. Why?"

Vael's gaze darkened. "You know why."

The reclaimer's voice softened, the words slipping from their lips like a whisper in the dark.

"It's not that simple."

Vael growled under his breath. "It is. We were erased for a reason, and now we're finding out why."

A long silence followed.

The reclaimer's stance shifted, and they let out a soft laugh, the sound filled with bitterness.

"So you think the Order erased you because you knew too much? That's what you believe?"

Renar's sword lowered slightly, his mind racing. "Wasn't that why?"

The reclaimer stepped closer, their presence overwhelming.

"No. You weren't erased because of knowledge." Their voice grew quieter, more calm.

Renar frowned.

"Then why?"

The reclaimer paused, their gaze drifting to the distant shadows that surrounded the chamber. The atmosphere was thick with secrets, like the walls themselves were closing in.

"You were erased because you were part of something that was never meant to exist."

Vael's eyes went wide.

"What?"

The reclaimer's voice dropped even lower, as if sharing something too dangerous for the world to know.

"You were part of the First Epoch. A time before the Order, before the war, before the erasure."

The words hit Renar like a physical blow. The First Epoch. The history that had been lost to time, erased from every record, every scroll. A forgotten age.

"The First Epoch?" Renar whispered.

The reclaimer nodded, stepping even closer.

"Before the Order's rise, there was a time when the world was ruled by those who could reshape it with their will. The World-Weavers. You and Vael were two of them. But your kind became a threat. You… were meant to be erased. To stop the world from being reshaped again."

Renar's heart stopped. World-Weavers.

Those were the ones who could reshape the world at their will. The myths—the legends.

"So, we were… gods?" Vael's voice trembled. "We were powerful enough to change the world?"

The reclaimer's eyes glinted behind the mask.

"Not gods. But close enough. You were more powerful than you can imagine."

Renar's mind was spinning, but he steadied himself. "Then why did the Order—"

The reclaimer interrupted him.

"The Order didn't just erase you—they locked you away. The first of the World-Weavers were sealed in the heart of this place. This is the true heart of the Order. A prison."

Renar's gaze hardened.

"A prison for us."

The reclaimer nodded slowly.

"For all who threatened the balance. But something has been… changing. You were never meant to remember. But now that you have, the door to the past has begun to open."

The shadows around them began to shift, and the walls of the chamber began to tremble.

Renar felt it. The power was waking.

"What happens now?" Renar asked, his voice sharp.

The reclaimer's mask gleamed in the dim light, and they smiled. "Now you find out if you are still the World-Weavers you once were."