Nyxborn-The Forgotten Etherium

"The gods are long dead… but their whispers never truly fade."

Night smothered the skies of Caelum. The twin moons hung high—one silver, one crimson—casting pale light over the marble towers of Zenithar, the capital of Solmaria. Beneath its golden walls, the empire slumbered.

But in the shadow of the palace, a single figure knelt.

His breath trembled in the cold night air, mixing with the copper scent of blood. Shackles bound his wrists. His once-pristine uniform—marked with the sigil of House Ardentis—was torn and stained. Behind him, the palace flames flickered in the wind, as if the gods themselves had turned their gaze away.

Tonight, the heir of House Ardentis would die.

A boot slammed into his back, forcing him to the stone floor.

"Renar Ardentis… by order of His Radiance, Emperor Aurex Solmaria—"

A familiar voice. His uncle.

"—you are stripped of your name, your title, and your Etherium. You stand condemned for treason against the crown."

Treason.

Renar's nails dug into the stone. His body ached, but the pain was nothing compared to the hollow weight in his chest. He could still see their faces—his mother's final smile, his father's outstretched hand—before the flames consumed them.

They were dead.

Because of him.

No one would speak the truth. That the betrayal had come from within the palace. That House Ardentis had been sacrificed to silence something… something they had uncovered beneath the palace archives.

But the empire needed a scapegoat.

And who better than the heir with a shattered Etherium Core?

Renar's broken Core pulsed faintly in his chest—a hollow shard where once there had been blazing strength. Without his Etherium, he was no different from any other condemned man.

He could feel the weight of the blade at his neck.

"Any last words?"

Renar's eyes flicked upward—past the blade, past the soldiers, past the palace spires.

Beyond the golden towers, the moon hung red in the sky.

The fractured whisper of a forgotten god stirred in his mind.

"Do you seek to rise again… fallen one?"

The voice was not his own.

It was older. Colder.

Renar's heart pounded. His lips parted—barely a whisper.

"…Yes."

The instant the word left his tongue, the world shifted.

The broken Etherium Core within him… stirred.

A forbidden heat bloomed in his chest—dark and twisted—like something that had been buried beneath his soul for far too long. He clenched his fists as the warmth spread through his veins.

His uncle's eyes widened. He stepped back.

"What… what have you done?"

Renar didn't answer.

He could feel it—the fractured shards of his Etherium Core pulling together, reforging. Not into something whole… but into something unnatural.

Something that shouldn't exist.

The soldiers scrambled back, fear flickering in their eyes.

Renar rose slowly to his feet, chains rattling.

For the first time in his life… he felt nothing.

No warmth. No light. Only the endless, hungry void that now coiled around his fractured soul.

That night, House Ardentis burned to ash.

The traitor prince was executed at dawn.

But the world did not know the truth.

Renar Ardentis died that night…

…and something else was born.