The Realm of Rage had no sky.
Just a bleeding wound across existence.
Lightning that didn't flash but shattered. Wind that didn't howl but screamed. And rivers—not of water, but molten blood—twisting across jagged obsidian like veins through a dying heart.
The Thronebreaker stepped into this chaos alone.
❖ Realm Identified: [Nereth-Ka] — The World That Screams
– Core Concept: Rage Embodied
– Warning: Emotional Containment Protocols Advised
– Note: This realm responds to your anger.
He didn't need the system to warn him.
He could already feel it. Rage, raw and unfiltered, rising up like a tide inside his chest.
Every regret.
Every betrayal.
Every scar.
Here, it wanted to speak.
Wanted to breathe.
Wanted to burn.
He took a step forward—and the ground erupted.
Not from pressure. From response.
This realm didn't have physics. It had triggers.
The more he moved, the more it changed.
Mountains screamed his name in static.
Skies split with whispers of those he failed.
Even the air pressed against his ears like a thousand voices shouting without words.
He gritted his teeth and moved faster.
Every memory of pain, loss, fury—amplified.
The Trial here wasn't about endurance.
It was about control.
❖ Challenge Initiated: Rage Constructs Manifested
The first wave hit without warning.
A dozen red-armored beasts burst from the cracked hills. Not demons. Not men. Just shapes of pure hate given flesh. Each with a face from his past—twisted, mocking.
He recognized them instantly.
Old enemies.
Former allies.
Versions of himself.
They came fast.
He came faster.
He didn't summon weapons.
Didn't activate system perks.
Didn't even call out commands.
He moved.
And the realm obeyed.
Every strike he threw lit the air on fire. Every step shattered stone. Every breath sent shockwaves through the soil.
Because here—
His rage fed him.
And he let it.
For a moment.
Just one moment.
He gave in.
The constructs shattered into ash, one after the other.
He didn't slow down.
Didn't look back.
Didn't feel remorse.
The world howled louder, drunk on his violence.
And at its center—
A mountain split open.
Inside was not a throne.
But a heart.
A living, screaming heart the size of a cathedral, pulsing like a war drum. Veins stretched from it into the realm itself, feeding it, shaping it, infecting it.
❖ Target Identified: [Heart of Nereth-Ka]
– Status: Core Anchor of Realm
– Directive: Quell or Corrupt
He stood before it.
And the screaming stopped.
Only one voice remained now.
His own.
"You don't want me here," he whispered.
The heart pulsed, slow and heavy.
He stepped closer.
"I'm not here to fix you."
A crack formed along the edge of the heart.
"I'm not here to destroy you either."
Another crack.
The system blinked.
❖ Warning: Core Anchor Stability Falling
"I'm here to understand you."
The heart stopped pulsing.
Everything froze.
The skies. The rivers. The storms.
Even the wind held its breath.
And then—
A vision.
Not a memory.
A gift.
He saw this realm before it became Nereth-Ka. Before rage consumed it.
A place of philosophers. Of peace. Of compassion.
Until the outerverse came.
Until dominions from beyond tore into it, stole its core codes, and fed off its emotions.
And in that betrayal—rage was born.
The people didn't fight back.
They screamed.
Until screaming was all they knew.
He opened his eyes.
And the heart was dying.
Not because he attacked it.
Because he understood it.
❖ Realm Core Detaching
– Integration Available: Rage Aspect (Controlled Burn)
He reached out.
Touched the heart.
And instead of burning him—it quieted.
A final scream, not of pain.
Of relief.
Then it dissolved into flame, and flowed into him like liquid power.
❖ Aspect Gained: [Controlled Burn] — Harness emotional spikes to boost reflex, strength, and temporal acceleration
– Passive Bonus: Immune to External Rage Effects
– Throne Progression: 26%
The realm collapsed behind him.
But not in fire.
In silence.
And for once, he didn't feel like a conqueror.
He felt like a witness.
When he stepped through the next gate, he didn't arrive in fire or light.
He arrived in a void.
Empty. Silent. Black.
Until something moved.
A whisper.
A flicker.
A shadow with a thousand faces—
—each one wearing his.