Cosmic Ruler - Chapter 532

Chapter 532: Nihlus XII
Aiden’s foot touched the golden thread—

—𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘝𝘌𝘋.

A deafening CRACK split through reality as the golden path pulsed, warping, twisting, reshaping itself. The mark on Aiden’s palm burned, its silver and black glow expanding outward like veins of corruption through the golden light.

Then, all at once—

Everything collapsed inward.

Aiden gasped as the world snapped back into focus.

He was no longer standing in the void.

Instead—

He was falling.

—𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘖𝘖𝘔—!

Aiden crashed into the ground, his body slamming into the earth with enough force to carve a crater into the battlefield below. Dust and debris exploded outward, and the entire battlefield went silent.

Then—

“AIDEN!”

Myne’s voice cut through the chaos. She appeared in an instant, her shadowmancy shifting the light around her as she landed beside him. “Damn it, what happened?! One second, you vanished—” She froze, eyes locking onto his hand.

The mark of the Forsaken still pulsed on his palm.

“Aiden…” Myne’s voice lowered. “What the hell did you just do?”

Aiden exhaled, pushing himself up. His body felt different. Heavier. Lighter. Stronger. Weaker. Like something inside him had changed at the very core.

But before he could answer—

—𝘙𝘜𝘔𝘉𝘓𝘌—

A massive rupture split through the battlefield.

A dark, abyssal gate ripped open, flooding the field with an overwhelming pressure.

And from within—

They emerged.

Not Abyssal Knights.

Not mere creatures of darkness.

But something far, far worse.

The Forsaken.

—𝘍𝘞𝘖𝘖𝘖𝘖𝘚𝘏—!

A wave of impossible beings poured out of the gate, their bodies shifting, twisting, flickering between existence and non-existence. Some had too many limbs. Some had none. Others had faces that did not belong to them.

And at their center—

A single figure stepped forward.

Tall. Draped in abyssal robes. His face was obscured, but his presence was undeniable.

Veyros.

The First Forsaken.

“What the hell is going on?!” Rick’s voice roared across the battlefield. He and Dren appeared at Aiden’s side, weapons raised, eyes locked on the horde that had just emerged.

Myne whispered in disbelief. “Are they… enemies?”

Aiden didn’t answer.

Because at that moment—

The Forsaken Army all turned toward him.

And then—

They knelt.

Silence.

Rick, Dren, and Myne froze, staring at the impossible scene before them. The Forsaken—the very manifestations of those erased from existence—were kneeling before Aiden.

Then Veyros spoke.

“Rise, Aiden. You are Forsaken no longer.”

Aiden’s breath caught.

Veyros lifted a single hand—and the battlefield obeyed.

The very air cracked with power. The Abyssal forces that had been fighting screamed, their bodies disintegrating into dust as the Forsaken’s presence alone wiped them from existence.

Then—

Veyros smiled.

“What will you do now, little flame?”

Aiden’s fingers curled into a fist. His mind was racing.

He had wanted to defeat the Architects.

To end their tyranny.

But now, standing at the head of an impossible army, feeling the Abyss pulsing within him—

He realized something terrifying.

He was no longer fighting against the Architects.

He was something that could replace them.

Aiden gritted his teeth.

He looked up at Veyros, then at his kneeling army.

Then, finally—

He spoke.

“We move forward.”

Veyros’ smile widened.

And the Forsaken marched.

The Forsaken marched.

Aiden felt it in his very soul—the shifting weight of destiny. He had fought against the Abyss, defied the Architects, and sought to break the chains of fate that bound this existence.

But now, he had become something else entirely.

The Forsaken did not follow because they had to.

They followed because they chose him.

And that was more terrifying than any prophecy.

—𝘙𝘜𝘔𝘉𝘓𝘌—

The battlefield beneath them cracked as the veil between realms trembled. The Architects would not ignore this.

They would come.

And this time—

They would come to erase him for good.

Aiden clenched his fists, his mind racing. The golden thread from before—the one that connected him to the greater tapestry of reality—still pulsed faintly within his vision.

He was walking a path that had never existed before.

“Aiden.”

Myne’s voice snapped him back to the present. She had moved to his side, her sharp gaze locked onto the Forsaken army, then flicking back to him. Her usual smirk was gone.

“You need to tell me what the hell is going on,” she said, voice low, steady. “This—” She gestured toward the kneeling Forsaken. “This isn’t just some battlefield victory. This is bigger than that.”

Aiden exhaled. He was about to answer when—

Veyros stepped forward.

His presence alone made the world waver. Even without raising a hand, he felt like something that should not—could not—exist.

“Aiden understands,” Veyros said, his voice carrying an ancient weight. “The moment he took my mark, he became something beyond the grasp of fate.”

Rick scoffed, crossing his arms. “Sounds an awful lot like you’re just turning him into a new kind of puppet.”

Veyros’ gaze flickered toward Rick. A slow smile formed.

“Puppet?” Veyros chuckled. “No, mortal. He is not my pawn. He is my successor.”

Silence.

Rick, Dren, and Myne stiffened.

Aiden himself barely breathed.

Veyros’ silver-threaded robes shifted as he turned fully to Aiden, his expression unreadable. “I have watched from beyond the Rift for longer than you can comprehend, little flame. And now, I give you the same choice that was once given to me.”

The mark on Aiden’s hand burned.

“Will you accept the mantle of the Forsaken King?”

The words slammed into him with the weight of a thousand realities. The very air thickened as if the universe itself was waiting for his answer.

Dren’s hands tightened into fists. “Aiden,” he muttered, “don’t let him control you.”

Aiden barely heard him. His eyes locked onto Veyros.

This was it.

The choice that would determine everything.

If he accepted—

He wouldn’t just be a warrior fighting against fate.

He would become a force that could rewrite it.

But at what cost?

Would he still be himself?

Would he still be Aiden?

His heart pounded.

His body trembled.

And then—

A single pulse ran through the world.

—𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘖𝘖𝘔—

Something had arrived.

No—

SOMEONE.

The sky split open.

The golden light of the Architects pierced through reality itself, descending upon the battlefield in a cascade of divine radiance.

Aiden felt it instantly.

A presence far greater than any he had ever encountered.

And from the light—

A figure emerged.

Clad in pristine silver armor, their form was blurred, as if they were not bound to a single shape. A halo of shifting symbols hovered above their head, and in their grasp—

A blade of pure, undeniable authority.

An Architect.

No—

Not just any Architect.

The Herald of Annihilation.

They had come to erase him.

The Forsaken army stirred, their whispers like a thousand voices speaking in forgotten tongues.

Veyros only smiled.

“Well then,” the First Forsaken murmured.

“Let’s see if you’re worthy of my throne, little flame.”

Aiden slowly exhaled.

His hands gripped his sword.

And the final war began.