Shattered Legacy

The world was cracking-a tectonic rumbling that vibrated in my ears, the very surface of my skin, and the marrow of my bones. The feeling is that the surrounding air is being beaten, sending pulses of waves that even my heart's separate beat can't keep up with.

With my own eyes, I saw the sky was slashed and sliced open, a sickly violet bleeding molten gold where the fabric of reality had been torn. I look around me; dust, hard rocks, and metal float and are thrown about.

I stood on a floating shard of white marble, a platform suspended in the air. I felt a lot lighter-smaller than I am now-and my bare feet were cold against the surface.

It seemed as if heaven itself were screaming in chaos. It was the sound of basic laws being ripped apart, mended for a second, and then broken again in the next second. The rhythm repeated endlessly.

Not far before me stood a middle-aged, broad-shouldered man whose silhouette seemed bathed in a strange energy-a light born of stars, perhaps.

The man's shimmering gold armor and long, dark broadsword were jagged with scars; each silver-white line marked a history of every enemy he had battled and some he had opposed.

In front of that man stood seven silhouettes. Their shapes merely resemble the form of humans. They appear like towering mountains of energy wreathed in halos of respective authority. Their eyes were both shimmering crystals of hate or cold indifference. Their voices roared like vast oceans or the cry of a mountain creature.

They were the Sovereigns of the Realms. The few elites that hold the pinnacle of power and holders of unique laws of the universe.

They had come to recover what they claimed was a stolen relic. They claimed that this so-called relic could save the human race from its extinction. Others are also claiming that this relic is a key that can open some deep buried truth that yields endless potential. No one truly knew what it was and why it was. But in their eyes, I saw an absolute resolve to finish their task today, not tomorrow.

In contrast, the lone man stood his ground, insisting that it was not really theirs in the first place. He tried to explain multiple times, but the results remain the same. "There was only one choice, only one path left-to resist, alone."

"Father... is this truly our end?" I heard my own younger voice. I was thin, small, and trembling. The man turned his head toward me, seeing only half of his face, dominated by a single, storm-grey eye that held the weight of uncountable years of war. He looked like a battered laborer at the end of a long, bloody day.

He smiled slowly and spoke with a heavy, suffocating confidence. "Far from it, little one."

He signaled with his arm, and an air ripple opened like a portal. I am curious to take a look, and on the other side, I can see farmland and water meadows with mountains in the distance. I see birds flying around with ease. I can see a fruit-bearing tree that small children are climbing. While seeing these things, I felt peaceful and comfortable. The man suddenly said, "This is where you will be. This is where the legacy hides and remains. Go forth, and don't look back."

Suddenly, the Sovereigns spoke in a legion of voices, talking in unison: "Snap out of it, traitor. Return the relic or die."

The man turned his head and chuckled. His voice was stern and steady. "Really? Do you think you can defeat me so easily? Tell me, how long were you fighting? Even with your combined power, you cannot do anything, lest merely saying it will not be enough."

Aether, the Sovereign of Symmetry and wielder of an Order, grimaced. As the sovereign of structure and geometry, he was known for his calm and controlled demeanor; now his face was twisted in pure rage. His ethereal eyeballs almost popped out from their designated sockets. "Damn you, traitor! You should not have been allowed to breathe this long. You are a disgrace to your wife, your sons, and your daughter. Die!"

The seven Sovereigns readied themselves and began to move. Each wielded a weapon crafted by the finest smiths of the realms, each exuding a unique aura.

The first of the sovereigns, Aether, raised his congruent spear made of pure white flame. The surrounding air was ignited, bursting outward, then lunging forward. As he did, the marble platform groaned. I felt a crushing inertia pushing from all directions. Aether was too fast and vastly powerful.

The rest of the sovereigns followed through. One lifted a silver staff, releasing a blinding light that appeared to revitalize the area with soothing energy. Another one is about him wielding a heavy mace, pouncing with all of his might, making the ground quake, and making the surroundings become dusty. The one with a giant hammer called down the power of thunder for a downward smash. Two figures, one holding a dagger and another a huge sickle, readjusted their stance and suddenly vanished into the mist, while a woman pulled back the string of a large bow with a searing arrow pointing its head at the man in the middle.

The man didn't flinch; he just turned and saw me. "The realms are being destroyed, managed by a rotting people, fueled by their collective greed, Dong." His voice was utterly calm. He parried a combined strike that would have leveled a mountain. The collision sent a planetary shockwave of red sparks cascading over me.

"I have stolen enough time to give you a life and a rite of passage. But the silt is patient. It will find you. Go now and fulfill our prophecy."

The man slammed the pommel of his black blade into the marble. The world starts to turn and fold. The gust of air twisted into a circle that became a spiral.

"Wait! "Where are you taking me?!" I cried out, my small hands reaching for his tattered, soot-stained armor.

To a world of peace and comfort, live happily and grow stronger," the man whispered. He reached out, his forefinger glowing with a soft, silver-grey light, and touched my forehead. The heat was unbearable-a searing brand that felt like it was melting my very soul.

"Be a nobody, Dong. Stay low. Hide inside this world until the time is due. Stay strong and steady. Only then will you reap."

The man turned back to the seven figures. His silhouette grew smaller as the marble shard began to plummet, sucked into a swirling vortex of silver mist. The last thing I saw before the vortex swallowed me was the man raising his black sword one last time-a lone, heavy shadow against a group of powerhouses.

CRASH. The sound of a clay basin hitting the bamboo floor shattered, startling two elderly people nearby, causing them to stand up and look around.

Dong's eyes snapped open. His breathing came in ragged, wet gasps. His lungs were gasping for air as if he had been submerged in water for hours.

Then Dong suddenly stopped and realized the different environment. The bruised-violet sky was gone, replaced by the familiar, dusty rafters of the farmhouse. The smell of burnt metal had vanished, replaced by the fragrant scent of flowers, old wood, and birds chirping outside.

He lay there for a long time, watching the dust motes dance in a shaft of morning sunlight. His heart was still thumping a frantic rhythm against his ribs-a drumbeat of a war he wasn't supposed to remember.

"Just a dream," he rasped, his voice cracking. He wiped his forehead; it was drenched in cold sweat. "Just the same damn dream again."