The Stripping
Renaldo approached through the ruins of Nexus, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The battle was over. Lumina had fallen. The dimensional balance had shattered. And Xanther—wings dripping with necrotic energy, the Obsidian Heart pulsing in his chest—stood victorious.
But victory tasted like ash.
The Architect's Satisfaction
"Magnificent," Renaldo said, his voice carrying genuine admiration. "I gave you chaos magic. I sent you to the Whispering Woods. I orchestrated your transformation. But this—" He gestured to the shattered dimension. "—this exceeded even my predictions."
Xanther turned to face him. The chaos magic roared in his veins, demanding more destruction. The Obsidian Heart wanted to consume Renaldo next—to shatter the architect who had manipulated him.
"You used me."
"Of course I did. You were designed to be used. Created from Elder Dragon DNA, infused with Aldorian's blood of neutrality, married to a Keeper's Agent, crowned King of Nexus—every piece carefully placed. And you performed beautifully."
But even Renaldo couldn't predict everything.
The Cost
Xanther felt it then—the hollowness spreading from his chest. The Obsidian Heart was consuming him. The chaos magic that had granted him god-killing power was now eating through his consciousness, his memories, his self.
He was dying. Slowly. Agonizingly. Becoming nothing more than a vessel for destruction.
"The chaos will consume you within days," Renaldo said, as if reading his thoughts. "That's the price of wielding power meant for gods. You were never supposed to survive this."
"Then why?"
"Because free will requires sacrifice. Because breaking Order demands apocalypse. Because someone had to pay the cost, and you volunteered the moment you accepted that bracelet at your wedding."
The Removal
Renaldo stepped closer. His hand—impossibly strong for someone who appeared so human—reached toward Xanther's chest.
"I will show you mercy," Renaldo said. "Not because you deserve it. But because you paid a heavy cost at my request."
His fingers closed around the Obsidian Heart.
THE HEART IS REMOVED
Pain. Absolute. All-consuming. Reality-shattering pain.
The chaos magic tore away from Xanther's body. The necrotic energy that had transformed him into apocalypse ripped free. His wings dissolved. The emerald and obsidian light in his eyes flickered and died.
And with the Obsidian Heart went his primal magic—the power he was born with, the Elder Dragon DNA that made him special, Aldorian's blessing of neutrality.
All of it. Gone.
Xanther collapsed. Not in defeat—in absence. He was a hollow shell. A puppet with strings cut. A weapon unmade.
The Admission
Renaldo caught him before he hit the ground. With surprising gentleness, he carried Xanther through the ruins of Nexus to the royal chambers—chambers that had survived the shattering through dimensional accident.
He placed Xanther on the bed.
"You paid a heavy cost at my request. I shall help you find a way to sustain the tainting that I caused."
It was the closest thing to an apology the dimensional architect would ever offer. An acknowledgment that Xanther had been used. That the manipulation was intentional. That the suffering was designed.
The Lullaby
Renaldo began to sing. The language was older than dimensions—the tongue of the Keepers, perhaps, or something even more ancient. A lullaby that bypassed consciousness and spoke directly to the dying fragments of Xanther's soul.
Sleep. Not death. Not yet.
Xanther's eyes closed. His life force—barely a flicker—stabilized at the edge of extinction. Magical coma. Suspended between existence and void.
The Promise
"I will fulfill my promise to you."
"I shall make you a town. Its name: AetherHaven."
A place where chaos flows eternally.
Renaldo looked down at the King who had shattered Order itself. The weapon he had forged. The being who had exceeded his predictions and paid the ultimate price.
"You will not die today, Xanther. I owe you that much. But what you become next... even I cannot predict."
And the dimensional architect left to build AetherHaven—the first dome, the flawed prototype, the town that would sustain the monster he had created.