The desert stretched endlessly, golden sands shifting in the wind. Nothing moved, and nothing spoke—except for the whispers of forgotten gods. The ruins of what had once been a great station lay half-buried, swallowed by the unforgiving expanse of the desert. Time had turned them to stone and dust, eroding the memory of who had ruled here.
But there was one thing that remained untouched.
The throne.
Its obsidian surface gleamed faintly in the light of a distant, unseen sun. A relic of ancient power, it stood resolute and untouched, a silent testament to an age long gone. There was no grandeur here. No opulence. Just the throne, black and timeless, as though it had always been, as though it would never fade.
The wind blew again, carrying with it the scent of sand and desolation.
***
A caravan appeared in the distance. Wooden wheels creaked and groaned beneath the weight of the merchants' goods, their wagons kicking up the dust as they moved across the barren land. The guards watched the horizon warily, their eyes scanning the ruin as though expecting something more than the bones of those who had come before.
And then they saw him.
Barefoot. Wrapped in tattered cloth that blended with the desert itself, his skin seemed weathered by the years, as though he had lived as part of the land. He walked toward the throne, steady, with a calm that betrayed no urgency.
The leader of the caravan, a man whose teeth gleamed brighter than the gold he traded, squinted into the distance.
"Did anyone else see that?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.
One of his guards blinked, confused. "Wasn't there just a skeleton up there?"
The figure said nothing. He reached the throne without hesitation, as if it were his to claim.
***
The silence stretched out.
The man sat down. The air around him seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, as if reality itself bent just a little at his presence.
The merchant leader took a step forward, curiosity creeping into his voice. "Who are you?"
The man's gaze met his with calm assurance. He didn't speak for a moment, as though savoring the weight of the question.
"I am the shadow of forgotten kings," he said softly, his voice smooth, yet filled with a weight that made the desert air feel heavier. "And I have waited here longer than you can comprehend."
***
In the far reaches of the Core Realms, where stars blinked with artificial life and vast cities floated through the sky, a pulse rang out through the network of ancient systems.
A signal had been detected.
A power signature. Unmistakable.
For the first time in ten thousand years, the pulse resonated with a familiar and ancient echo.
On the Great Interlink Spire, a masked elder stood in solemn silence. His eyes widened, knowing the truth before even the data confirmed it. The time had come.
"It's him," the elder whispered.
The Warden of Eternity stood beside him, the weight of the words settling in.
"Are you certain?"
The elder didn't answer, his gaze fixed on something beyond the walls, beyond time itself. With a whisper that barely stirred the air, he knelt, bowing his head toward the unseen force.
"He is back," he murmured, his voice trembling. "Not as light. Not as flame. But as dust."
***
Back in the desert, the man slowly rose from the throne. His eyes lingered on the black stone, as if the throne itself were waiting for something only he could provide.
He reached into his sleeve and retrieved a shard of jade, cracked and dull. To any observer, it would seem like little more than a relic, a piece of nothing. But to him, it held an immense weight.
Four realms had passed while he slept. Eighty-nine sects had tried to open the ancient gate that lay beneath the sands. They had failed.
He whispered quietly, barely moving his lips, "None of them could."
With a subtle motion, he let the shard slip from his fingers, and as it fell, time itself seemed to pause.
The world around him seemed to catch its breath. There was a crack—a sound like the tearing of fabric—and in that instant, the very air split open. A burst of light shot upward, tearing through the sky, and the ground trembled beneath his feet.
With that one motion, no words, no incantations, only the quiet release of power—the seal that had bound the ancient force beneath the earth for eons shattered.
The shard dissolved into fine dust, glowing for a brief moment before fading into nothingness.
Behind him, the throne vanished as well.
The man started walking. His steps were slow, deliberate, each one resonating with the silence of a thousand years. The caravan guards froze as he approached. The merchant, wide-eyed, stumbled back, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.
"Who are you?" the merchant managed to stammer, voice cracking.
The man didn't pause, only turning his head slightly toward the merchant.
"I am the answer your ancestors tried to bury," he said, his voice a soft but chilling whisper. "And I am the question they died to find."
***
The air around him seemed to part, as if the desert itself was yielding to his presence. The sand shifted away from his path, clearing a trail as machines far below began to stir. Vaults deep in the earth hummed to life, their ancient systems awakening.
Far above, hidden satellites flickered to life for the first time in centuries.
The galaxy trembled.
Across the starry expanse, sacred texts glowed in temples and among starships, their pages turning as if caught by an unseen wind.
And everywhere, a single phrase echoed in the hearts of those who remembered:
He has returned.
***
The man walked, and the world shifted beneath his feet. The past and future wove together, and with every step, the weight of ages seemed to fall upon his shoulders.
The caravan moved out of his way, the guards unable to react. The merchant, trembling, stood frozen as the man passed him.
"I only wish to walk," the man said, his tone soft but unyielding.
"Walk where?" the merchant asked.
"Forward."
The man didn't look back as he continued his journey into the vast, endless desert. Behind him, the throne reformed in the sands, waiting for its rightful occupant to return.
But he didn't look back.
He never did.