After eliminating the hidden assassins with ease, Igaris did not rush. He moved slowly, each step deliberate, as he made his way toward the outer section of the estate. There, nestled in a quiet grove surrounded by moss-covered stone walls and withered lanterns, lay the ancestral graveyard of the Vance family.
It was a sacred place. The resting ground of generations past. His father. His mother. His grandparents. Dozens of ancestors who once upheld the dignity of their name. And there, at the heart of it all, was the grave of his older brother, Izroth.
The brother who had once carried the responsibility of their family’s hope. The prodigy. The protector. The one who died too soon.
Igaris came to a halt before the graves. A soft breeze stirred the dying leaves around his feet. The scent of old soil and blooming nightflowers lingered in the air, mingling with the weight of memory. His gaze wandered from tomb to tomb, but it lingered longest on the one marked by a blackened obsidian plaque. The one bearing Izroth’s name.
He stood before it in silence.
Memories, raw and uninvited, returned. The warmth of his mother’s embrace. His father’s hand resting proudly on his shoulder. His brother’s calm yet firm voice calling his name in training. Scenes from a life long past, untouched by bloodshed and betrayal.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. He did not notice it fall.
Another followed, cutting a trail down his cheek before he reached up and wiped it away.
"No. I didn’t come here to mourn," he muttered quietly, voice barely above the breeze.
He looked ahead with newfound determination.
"I came here to bring you back."
He extended his hand, and the earth responded. The ground before him trembled as tendrils of mana wove through the soil. Guided by his Earth Manipulation, the graves began to open gently, the soil peeling away in spirals rather than bursts, respectful and controlled.
Within moments, three rectangular voids lay exposed beneath the moonlight.
From within those hollows, three coffins slowly rose.
They were not ordinary. Each one carved from a dense, rich blackwood, polished to a deep sheen that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Intricate silver patterns etched the surface, spiraling into ancient sigils of the Vance lineage. Runes of protection, preservation, and silence shimmered faintly, still active after all these years.
These signifies the importance of their legacy.
Within them rested his mother, his father, and his brother.
Igaris stared at the coffins with calm eyes. No longer filled with grief, but with purpose. He had not returned to pay respects. He had returned to awaken them. To pull them from the eternal slumber and bring them back into the world that had betrayed them.
The lid of the coffins slowly slid open, revealing the long-silent remains of those he had loved. But then, Igaris froze.
His expression darkened, not from the sorrow of reunion, but from a chilling realization.
One of the coffins was empty.
The one that belonged to Izroth.
There was no body. No trace. Only a hollow silence where his brother should have been.
Someone had stolen it.
The man who had given everything to protect the people of the Empire. The man who had bled for his nation on a thousand battlefields. Even in death, they had not spared him the dignity he deserved.
A thunderous vibration shook the estate as Igaris’ aura erupted.
"Who... Who did this?" he growled, his voice low and feral, like a beast driven mad with grief. His eyes blazed with fury, and his clenched fists trembled, drawing power from the very ground beneath him.
The wind stopped moving.
And the city quivered under the weight of his rage.
He had come here with hope. With a longing buried so deep, even time had failed to erase it. He knew revival was not guaranteed, but just to see them again, to try, to believe that perhaps he could bring them back. That was enough for him.
And now, even that small hope had been ripped from his hands.
Only his father and mother’s dried, preserved bodies remained beside him. They lay in solemn rest, untouched, but his brother’s absence rang louder than any scream. It was a void that pierced deeper than any blade.
He hadn’t seen Izroth in eons, not just years. Not since the day the Primodial war took him in future timeline. Not since the day the universe changed.
At that time, he couldn’t even say goodbye.
His breath came heavier.
The yearning in his chest burned like wildfire, laced with guilt, sorrow, and rage.
"I will find him," he said under his breath. "No matter who took him, no matter what force lies behind this... I will tear through the heavens to bring him back."
The aura calmed slightly.
But the fury in his eyes remained was burning, eternal.
And the Overlord never broke his vows.
Igaris stood alone beneath the grey heavens, his eyes fixed on the lifeless forms of his mother and father, each resting silently within their ancient blackwood coffins. Their faces, though still and pale, held a quiet dignity, untouched by time or decay. A hollow ache stirred in his chest, but he did not allow it to sway him.
He raised his hand slowly, his fingers trembling with anticipation and conviction. The air around him began to twist, threads of energy coiling together like serpents born of light and shadow.
The taboo Concept activated at his will. A sphere of ethereal force expanded outward, bathing the corpses in alternating waves of golden warmth and silvery chill. Life energy, drawn from the inverse flow of the world itself, began to pour into them like a silent river, tender and relentless.
He said nothing, but inwardly he prayed.
Let them not have passed through Samsara.
Let their souls still linger.
If they had already reincarnated, then it was too late. They would awaken in another life, as strangers, unknowing and unfeeling toward the son kneeling before them. The bond of blood would mean nothing. His voice would reach them as just a sound. That pain, he had known before. In the past timeline, he had stood here, tried the same, and failed.
But this time was different.
This time, he had returned sooner. Stronger. Wiser.
He closed his eyes and pressed his palm deeper into the earth, urging the life energy further, whispering beneath his breath. The veins of energy wrapped around the corpses, intertwining with what remained of their essence.
Then, the heavens groaned.
A deep rumble tore through the clouds above, shaking the world beneath his feet. Thunder rolled across the skies as if the very laws of nature were revolting against his act. The clouds churned, black and seething, and wind shrieked like a chorus of furious wraiths.
He looked up toward the sky and narrowed his eyes.
"Today, even you cannot stop me."
His voice cut through the storm like a blade. Defiant. Unshaken.
He poured more energy into their bodies. Slowly, the pallor of death faded from their skin. Their chests began to rise and fall faintly, as though the very breath of life was being coaxed back into them.
Their fingers twitched. Muscles stirred. Warmth returned to limbs once lost to stillness.
Igaris leaned closer, his heart pounding like war drums in his chest. His breath caught as his mother’s eyelids quivered.
Then his father’s hand moved.
And finally, with a slow, hesitant motion, their eyes opened.
Their gazes were dull at first, as if waking from a dream a lifetime long. Then clarity flickered through them. A glimmer of recognition. A tear gathered in the corner of his mother’s eye.
His name fell from her lips like the wind through leaves, soft and filled with wonder.
His throat tightened. For a long moment, he could not speak. He fell to his knees before them, hands clenched, tears finally spilling from the corners of his eyes.
They were not just revived.
This time, he had won.
"Welcome back," he whispered.
And the heavens, for the first time, fell silent.