Chapter 1
"Mom! I'm home!" Shouted Zenith, entering his house after hanging out with his friends. The lights were all off and not a sound could be heard. Walking into the kitchen and turning on the light, he saw a plate of food wrapped in saran wrap with a sticky note stating that his parents had to leave the country suddenly due to a work-related problem. This isn't an uncommon occurrence, and they usually return within 2 weeks or less. His parents were both high level executives in the same company, so when a situation appeared, they were summoned to be on site.
They would leave a meal on the table and several others in the freezer, along with transferring a large sum of money into Zenith's bank account for whatever he needed. The reason for the note and not a phone call was because his phone was always on dnd.
"Damn, I keep forgetting to allow their calls and messages to go through." Cursed Zenith, as he went into his settings and did just that. While he was at it, he messaged them and told them that he made it home and hoped to see them soon.
'Now that that's done, I needa hit the bed.' Though Zenith, his social battery was completely drained, and he was exhausted. He had already eaten with his friends, so he put the meal into the freezer with the rest and when right to bed, he didn't even have enough energy to take a shower.
Moments—or perhaps hours—later, his eyes fluttered open. Yet, this wasn't his room. He was standing in a vast, ethereal void, its stillness broken only by the presence of a radiant light in the distance. The light shimmered like a living sun, its brightness overwhelming and gentle all at once. Strangely, it didn't burn his eyes or force him to look away. Instead, it drew him in with an almost magnetic pull.
He took a step forward, the weightlessness of the void making it feel as though he was floating. The closer he approached, the more the light pulsed, each rhythmic glow resonating in his chest like a heartbeat. Curiosity overtook him as he reached out a hand, fingers trembling with anticipation. The light felt alive—inviting and warm, yet incomprehensibly immense. When his fingertips finally grazed its surface, a burst of pure energy surged through him.
The brightness enveloped him, consuming everything, and in a blink, there was nothing. He was surrounded by darkness once more, the only thing repelling the darkness from him was a glowing symbol, shining brightly against its dark adversary.
At first, there was only the void.
Dark, suffocating, and eternal—it pressed against him from all sides, filling his senses with an overwhelming, crushing emptiness. He was nothing here, and that realization struck him with a terror so raw it almost unraveled him. Fear coursed through his very essence, and his thoughts spiraled into despair. Where am I? What is this? Am I gone? Am I nothing?
He thrashed against the nothingness, panicked and desperate, clawing at the intangible darkness with a will that flickered faintly, like a lone candle in a storm. He screamed into the void, though no sound came. He fought, though there was no foe to resist. The fear threatened to consume him entirely, to extinguish what fragile light remained of his existence.
But he did not give in.
Time in the void was unknowable—moments and eternities blurred together. Gradually, his fear began to recede, not because the darkness grew less oppressive, but because he began to change. The storm of panic gave way to quiet determination. If this was all there was, then he would not waste his strength flailing uselessly. If the void sought to crush him, he would fight it—not with panic, but with purpose. His flickering will began to stabilize, to burn brighter.
In the depths of the void, he discovered his core—an anchor in the emptiness. It was faint at first, like a single ember in an endless night, but it was his. He latched onto it, focusing all his thoughts, his feelings, and his very will into that fragile light. The fear was still there, lingering at the edges, but it no longer controlled him. He began to push back, to harness the light within him, to expand his core bit by bit.
As he worked, his thoughts sharpened. He began to reflect, to grow. He didn't know how he had ended up here or what awaited him, but he knew one thing: this darkness would not be his end. Every ounce of his determination was channeled into strengthening his core, into pushing his light outward, even when the void pushed back with relentless pressure.
The more he focused, the more he realized that the void could not truly destroy him—it could only challenge him. The fear that had once threatened to consume him now fueled his resolve. If this is all I have, then I will make it mine. If there is a way forward, I will find it.
His core grew brighter, stronger, pulsing with a steady rhythm that echoed through the void. The once fragile ember had grown and from it had given birth a small flame that encompassed his being, defiant and unyielding. The darkness still surrounded him, but it no longer felt invincible. He could feel his mind strengthening alongside his core, his fear replaced with a quiet, steely resolve.
By the time the void finally began to shift. Like a sun rising for the first time, gracing the new world with its precede, something clicked inside of Zenith. As if his core had grown tired of the dark expanse, it let out a humming sound - soft, but hearable. Humming, the bright flame that once tightly covered Zenith, expanded, gaining more space over the darkness inch by inch and by long, it was no more, just his radiant light.
He had been forged in that endless emptiness, and he emerged from it not as a frightened soul, but as someone who had found strength within himself. Immediately after he gained control over the void, cracks appeared all around him, shocking him, leaving him unprepared for what happened next.
The void shattered, and his bodily senses which were dormant for far too long had finally flared awake. His body felt small, delicate, and trembling, and he was dimly aware of being cradled against the warmth of another. Blinking rapidly, his blurry vision began to clear, revealing a scene unlike any he had ever imagined.
A soft light bathed the room in golden hues, and strange, intricate patterns glowed faintly on the walls. He could see a woman—his mother, he realized instinctively—holding him close, her face radiant with a mixture of exhaustion and joy.
Another figure moved nearby; their hands surrounded by shimmering blue light that danced like living fire. His eyes widened as he watched them work. The light spread from their fingertips, cleaning linens, dissolving fluids, mending tears in fabric, and calming his mother with gentle pulses that seemed to ease her tension instantly.
What is this? His thoughts raced, his mind struggling to process the impossible sight. That light… It's not technology. It's not science. What is it? How is she doing that? He wanted answers, but all that escaped him was a weak, mewling sound.
The nurse turned to his mother with a reassuring smile. "He's strong, my lady. Although I gave you mana to stabilize you, you'll need sleep to fully recover..."
Though he couldn't understand all her words, fragments reached him—strong, my lady, mana. He felt frustration bubbling in his tiny chest, knowing that there were answers just out of reach. What did they mean? What was he? And why was this magic—this light—so natural to them, while it left him in awe and disbelief?
Deep thought, he was brought back to reality by a faint glow emerging from his skin, just above his heart. It grew brighter and sharper with each passing second, until the intricate pattern of the Mark of the Bloodline revealed itself. Unlike the marks of others, which usually didn't light up until the Bonding Ceremony, this mark was alive—radiant and pulsating, golden threads weaving through the sigil like light coursing through veins. The elders stepped closer, unable to contain their curiosity, yet their movements were slow, reverent.
"It shines already," one of them murmured, his voice barely audible. "The mark manifests now, even before the Bonding Ceremony. This is… unprecedented."
The radiance spilled outward, illuminating the entire room in brilliant hues of gold and white, casting ethereal shadows that danced across the walls of the room.
'Great, not only am I a baby, I'm also being looked at like a golden buddha statue by a bunch of old people.' Thought Zenith, inwardly irritated and uncomfortable. Observing Zenith's entire being, one of the elders couldn't help but let out a feminine chuckle. Zenith swore he could see tears welling up in her eyes.
The elders of the family, ancient beings whose wisdom and power had guided the Luminarchs for centuries, stood in a semi-circle, their normally composed faces etched with expressions of wonder. They had witnessed many births, many marks—but this was different. Zenith's Mark of the Bloodline, etched above his heart, shone with a brilliance they had never seen, a golden beacon that filled the room with a warmth that stirred even the deepest recesses of their being.
The eldest among them, a figure whose glow had dimmed with the passing centuries, stepped forward. His voice, weathered but steady, carried through the chamber. "This light… It is unlike any we have witnessed. It is pure, unyielding, and without equal. A mark such as this… it speaks of a bloodline untarnished, a lineage stronger than even the most radiant stars."
Another elder, her form wreathed in soft silver light, bowed her head as tears of awe poured from her eyes. "He carries the legacy of the Eternal Core itself. Such purity—such perfection—it is as if our ancestors have returned to guide us once more." She turned to the Radiant Monarch and his wife, her voice trembling.
The Radiant Monarch stood tall beside his wife, his golden aura steady and composed, but there was an unmistakable softness in his eyes as he gazed at his son. His wife, though exhausted, held Zenith close, her expression radiant with quiet pride.
The elders moved closer, their gazes never leaving the newborn. Each motion was deliberate, reverent, as if they feared disturbing the fragile perfection of the moment. The hum of Zenith's light seemed to grow stronger, filling the room with a rhythm that resonated with the very essence of the Luminarch race.
"It is not just his light," another elder murmured, his voice filled with awe. "It is his presence. It reaches beyond this room. I can feel it… as if the Eternal Core itself is responding to him."
The eldest elder placed a hand over his own dimmed mark, bowing low before the Radiant Monarch and his wife. "Your son is not merely an heir. He is a beacon, a promise of our race's enduring brilliance. You have honored us all with his birth."
The other elders followed suit, bowing deeply, their gestures not just of respect, but of reverence. The Radiant Monarch inclined his head, his composure unbroken as he addressed them. "His light is a reflection of our lineage, yes. But it is also a responsibility—a flame to guide, not to blind. Together, we will ensure he carries it with purpose."
His wife, her voice soft but unwavering, added, "He is of us, and for us. His light is ours to protect, as much as it is his to bear."
The elders straightened; their expressions still tinged with awe but now filled with resolve. "Then we stand ready," the eldest declared. "For whatever future his light heralds, we will follow it, and ensure it never dims."
As the gathering dispersed, the sanctum seemed to glow brighter, the warmth of Zenith's light lingering in the air, a promise of the brilliance yet to come.