Chapter 31: The Emperor's Revelation
The gem pulsed.
Philip froze as the power within it surged—not gradually, but explosively, like a dam breaking. He had only meant to feed it a little more mana, but it overfilled in an instant.
And then—
The void vanished.
He stood not in space, not in the factory, not even in the temple—but inside a vast projection of golden light. Before him stood a man—no, a being—so radiant, so impossibly perfect, that Philip dared not lift his eyes.
The figure's outline shimmered like sunfire, gilded and formless, yet carved with impossible symmetry. His body looked chiseled from divine intention. His presence didn't just shine—it commanded. His face seemed too flawless, too eternal, as if it violated reality to even exist. His eyes shimmered like constellations, alive with wonder and wisdom.
Philip's knees bent before he realized he was bowing.
The figure spoke, his voice a calm thunder that bypassed the ears and echoed directly within the mind:
"My inheritor... finally. After 3,000 years."
The words held no pride, only an ancient fatigue and restrained satisfaction.
"I am the Emperor of this galaxy," the projection continued. "Or rather... I was."
Philip listened, awestruck, as the figure continued. The Emperor explained that he had once ruled this galaxy—not with cruelty, but with absolute power. He had learned all it could offer, conquered its mysteries, bent its gods and invaders to his will.
But it wasn't enough.
"This galaxy... is small," he said. "There are greater worlds beyond. Realms of scale and strength that dwarf this one. I chose to leave. I chose to grow."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"You see, the trials weren't built for a successor. They were built to train my royal soldiers. Most give up in the Trial of the Body—broken as their essence is reforged. Fewer survive the Trial of the Mind. Only two ever made it that far."
Philip's heart beat faster.
"You," the Emperor said, "are the only one who endured."
Then, the Emperor raised a hand, and golden glyphs danced in the air.
"You've tasted mana, but now I speak of something greater: Aether."
He spoke the word with reverence, and Philip felt its weight—like the heartbeat of a dying star.
"Aether is not just energy. It is a concept. A higher form of mana. Aether can shape your body to be like planet . With Aether, I controlled laws. Not spells, not techniques—laws. Gravity, time, flame, will. I made gods kneel. I broke those who resisted. Even the rich beings who came from other galaxies—invaders who sought to devour this one—they fell before me."
The Emperor's eyes burned brighter.
"Some chose divine energy, seeking godhood. But divinity is a cage. It ties you to a root—a fixed form. A god may rule a realm, but an Emperor..."
He leaned forward.
"An Emperor should rule all realms."
Philip felt the gem in his forehead throb, responding to the Emperor's words. The six-pointed diagram on his chest glowed in rhythm.
"Aeter is the path beyond gods," the Emperor said. "It is the legacy I offer you. But it is not given freely. Power is forged, not gifted."
He paused, as if considering something far beyond Philip's understanding.
"One day, I Might return. But until then, learn. Grow. And if you must—conquer."
I see your awakened creation use it well I awakened destruction.
The projection began to fade, the Emperor's voice echoing like a thunderclap across eternity:
"Your journey has only just begun."