A family of three gods sat eating dinner. The group often at least shared a meal once every heavenly day, which was considered to be a season cycle to the realms below the heavens, or a decade within the mortal realms.

The experience of time was vividly different when a being of power lived through each passing moment, so though the meal took a near month's worth of time to a mortal, their conversation during that period was without end as the gods had much to catch up on with each interaction they had with one another.

“You seem distracted, Dad. What are you doing?”

At the question Micheal Maelstrom looked up to see his daughter Zara looking at him with a feint smile. The man blinked slowly, pulling himself from his cerebral realm fully, looking around the room to focus on his surroundings momentarily.

He sat in the breakfast nook in their apartment. The home considered rather small to gods born within the heavens, but to the family of three who’d ascended from the realms of Cultivation, their apartment, was palatial in size.

“Sorry dearest, one of my Flickers has come across one of our family members I believe, the boy is rather interesting is all,” responded Micheal. Zara nodded, and gestured to the space above the banquet’s worth of food in front of them all, signaling for her father to share what he was witnessing.

“Oh geez, not you too, I’ve been speaking to a wall recently, all he can talk about is, Arson this, Arson that…,” interjected Matron. Zara stuck her tongue out at her mother and the woman rolled her eyes, only to immediately turn her gaze toward the spiral of light that formed above the center of the table.

“He reminds me of myself, can you blame me, he’s only 19 in relative time, and already he’s done so much,” said Micheal. The light shifted, transforming to form a peerless recreation of a series of islands surrounded by shallow waters; the group now able to see a young man fighting for his life as if they watched television above the table now showing Arson being dragged through the air by a drake.

“Woah, are those…”

“Living constructs, yes,” answered Micheal to his daughter’s unfinished question.

“Some of the students in my school are unable to create living constructs, and they're born gods and godlings. Does he really have an understanding of celestial energy at such a young age?”

“No, he doesn’t even know what he’s done truly. He created those as a child without any instruction or assistance. Pretty much did it completely off instinct.”

“I can see why you are so impressed,” Matron said, fully engage in the battle being displayed, regardless of her previous nonchalance on the matter. Father and daughter rolled their eyes after glancing at one another, ignoring the need for proper etiquette for gods, and laughing heartily at the woman.

“What, what’s so funny, the young man is impressive, I will admit that. I just don’t see why Micheal is so involved. You would have been just as accelerated in your growth, Zara, if you would have had the same amount of powerful Ancients around you as that young man does,” Matron said, waving her hand toward the image of Arson. Micheal shrugged, and nodded in agreement, and Zara frowned as she looked between her parents.

“I had Grandpa Carter practically push me toward godhood. It doesn’t get any more handholding than that,,” Zara said simplifying the sacrifices and turmoil she’d had to overcome to ascend by large margins. Her parents who’d been pulled to ascend alongside their daughter and a few others shared a look, knowing without the actions of Zara that neither of them would have become gods as seemingly easily as their daughter implied they did.

“This young man was raised by your grandfather’s sister, is the son of your Idol and previous master, is now the disciple of GG and visited Endless before he’d even completed his cores…” Micheal said, trying to let the differences between his daughter and his newest pupil settle in. Zara eyes narrowed and she glanced between her parent’s once more.

“You said your Flicker has come across him. What kind of Flicker, one of the ones that kill Cultivators and Cultivate energy for you, or one of the ones that teach and help Cultivator’s ascend…?” Micheal’s mouth opened slowly, but no words came out, telling Zara everything she needed to know. Micheal’s guilty glance in Matron’s direction also confirming to Zara that the young man they now watched was being instructed on the ways of Cultivation by her father.

“Wow, was trying to give the guy a break but if this spoon fed brat doesn’t succeed with all that attention he’s absolute garbage,” Zara said, looking at the young man completely differently.

“If he was ever spoon-fed, he’s slowly shed those weaknesses long ago, daughter. From what your father has told me, he faced demons at ages before you even knew what Cultivation was,” said Matron, still watching Arson be dragged through the air, slicing through a nest of drakes while the swarm of DragonKin battled armored giants with multiple arms. Arson comparably feeble to the teenaged titans and dragons he fought against.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where is he anyway? Looks like a trial space but I can’t see the edges of the plane he is in,” Zara asked slowly becoming even more interested in Arson than her own father already was.

“Umm… are you sure you want to know?” Micheal said hesitant. He knew how competitive his daughter was, and telling her that the young man was fighting through a trial built for the children of Gods, well before Arson had even broken into the realms of immortality, Ancient Royalty, or even experienced his DeadYear, wouldn’t be easily digested by the girl.

“Yes…”

“He’s in the Trial of Infallible Memory…”

Matron dropped her fork, and Zara’s eyes widened in disbelief. Mother and daughter then shared a look, both wondering if the man was lying to them, even while knowing any casual lie would draw away from his overall power for a period. The time different for all gods of purity.

“Well, it was fun watching him while he was alive. Why are you wasting your time on him still? He’s going to die in there, for sure,” Zara said beginning to laugh uncontrollably. She felt as if all Arson’s talent and potential would soon be lost to a dungeon that had claimed the lives of so many gods. The dungeon was now considered one of seven impossible trials scattered throughout creation.

Then Arson roared. A globe of mana lightning was expelled from his body and a clutter of drakes around him were turned to dust including the drake that had him by the arm. He started to fall from the sky, turning down toward the group of a near dozen giants battling amongst the swarm, summoning a tornado from his weapon as his scythe’s blade began to spin incredibly fast.

The tornado he aimed downward smashed into the sands below, sending giants hurtling back with an impressive amount of turbulent winds, as one of his three Living Constructs pulled his crown from his head, and moved.

To the gods that watched the Living Hand Constructs, movements were in slow motion. A pure white scythe formed in the fraction of a blink, and carved a dark rainbow streak through the surrounding giants still airborne after the tornado knocked them aside.

The combination of attacks looked like a planet consumed by electricity at the center of a beautiful astroid belt formed from light and mana. Zara and Matron both cursed underneath their breath at the sight and Micheal merely lifted his finger, pointing at the carnage.

“That is why…”

…

Arson’s friends were completely unaware of the actions their leader had taken recently. So when their leader’s presence slowly began to be stripped from existence, their bond began to cause friction with the laws of reality.

Their connection was not as simple as the relationships experienced by mortals, Cultivators, or even the majority of gods. Arson’s bloodline traits caused their bond to not only connect them mentally, but also spiritually.

So as their minds forgot the young man known as Sovereign Arson Omni, their souls did not. An experience that made Cultivators sick to live through, and was far more dramatic to mortals.

New traumas replaced old memories of growth as reality created a web of life experiences to replace what was being ripped away by the Trial of Infallible Memories. His peers never came together to create a powerful foundation of peers relying on peers, instead their lives seemingly had taken on completely different circumstances without Arson.

Khalif felt depressed every day as the leader of a gang that he killed to keep alive and striving.

Xani lived without the knowledge base she’d been granted from both the dump’s countless tomes and books, far less capable of creating the inventions she’d come to love that pushed her to new heights.

Jasmine never left her job working for Mister Kim; never gaining the confidence in herself to lead others that had allowed her to become a confident young business woman.

Rob seemingly never met Jade who’d pushed him to become a master chef. He however still became a talented cook, only to lose the passion for cooking due to a lack of creativity and competition to push him beyond his own limits.

Lane, rather than joining BlackHole conglomerate in her chosen career path as a broadcaster, joined up with Seven as his assistant working directly under Mister Kim. Seven merely a manager for an up and coming fight arena built by his father, did not become a Cultivator, as Arson hadn’t hosted the Tournament of Scions that allowed for him to gain the necessary ingredients for the ritual his father completed for Seven and his adopted mother to join the world of Cultivation.

Micro stayed within UnderCity and the Pocket Apartment gang were all killed in a violent gang battle between Micro’s gang, and Khalif’s own Scapegraces.

Ash further ingratiated herself with the Augustines, and became a prominent leader within the sect, playing the role of double agent for the Augustines within the royal family.

Autumn, no longer inspired by Arson to pursue her own dream of gardening, was pushed by the king to become his rightful heir. The young woman’s mindset corrupted by politics and a pursuit she’d barely been able to escape.

Auto joined the military to become an engineer. His creations no longer pushed by Xani to become the marvels he’d crafted alongside the woman his mind now believed he’d never met.

Axis instead of creating iconic fashion companies with her brother and BlackHole’s assistance, shopped until she was cut off by the king; left to walk a passionless path without motivation or the drive to help Jasmine build a fashion empire.

Aura continued to fight a losing battle within the world of prize fighting , becoming a fighter used to build the confidence of promising competitors in her weight class. The young princess holding the largest losing streak amongst scions in the realm.

Alexander at the tender age of nine was being drafted by a powerful terrorist group across the realms. The scar of Maelstrom was largely in part his recruitment challenge and the young boy was seen as one of the most prominent spies in the making within the deadly organization.

Seneschal had never come to serve Draphen, as it was Draphen’s rampage across CloudLake City that had ultimately pushed the demon to change his ways and leave the realm of demons completely. Instead of giving eternal allegiance to the king who’d merely contracted on occasion with the demon before Arson’s birth, Seneschal had come to head the very army being Cultivated to conquer the Living Mana Core, known as Tempest.

Jade never bought the dump, and continued to play dungeon ball professionally. Her heart and the feeling of loss so overwhelming, that her reputation was terrifyingly violent; the woman killing her opponents more often than not.

To the king’s perception, he’d lost his wife in the battle he’d forced to new heights across the realms. Forced to live without the mother of his children, as well as never having had made a true bond with Jade during their time together while trapped within a foreign realm, Draphen had become truly a cold blooded dragon, a near mirror to his tyrannical father.

Even Carter and Almarine kept their distance from one another, Neither Ancient feeling it necessary to make direct contact with each other, as Arson had been the catalyst for their reunion within Maelstrom.

The entire realm layer was held in a state of absolute chaos and loss. The seemingly lowborn Cultivator that had been both destined to lead his family, only to be cast aside by actions brought on by the system itself, was simply never born. Ripped away from existence in a powerful shift of unrivaled magics, only the gods in the heavens above able to witness both what was, and what had changed, with the exception of one.

Troy sat in a cage. A pressure built in her heart, and she couldn’t understand why she was so mad.

She didn’t know why her heart felt as if it had been set ablaze, but she knew something was wrong. Her very existence felt smaller than it had been even a day prior, as if something had been taken from her.

She knew not exactly what it was, but her heart told her that she shouldn’t be where she was. She shouldn’t feel the pain she did. Nor should she let herself be overcome by the sensation that threatened to rip her mind and soul apart.

Days passed within her prison and she was forced to fight. Nothing changed for her with the exception of two details. The first being her opponent each day.

She’d lost count of how many Cultivators she’d fought. She lost many matches, but won a few each day, apparently enough for her not to be killed by the man named Prince who’d imprisoned her, but even the victories felt small in comparison to the rage that grew in her chest that she knew was fueled by an unending sense of loss.

While the second detail of her hazy mind and the details she felt to be missing from her memory was the only other name within her mind she couldn’t seem to forget or remember entirely.

She didn’t know why she held a random name on her lips. The random name fluttering constantly in her mind felt as if it was the key to why she felt lost and nearly powerless, even as she felt urged to speak it aloud.

The door of her cage opened and the gathered audience roared in celebration of the violence to come. Troy summoned a scythe made of hardened light, completely unaware of why the weapons form brought her comfort, even though she was unskilled with its use. Yet she felt it had to be connected to the name she eternally thought of. The name she’d come to dedicate her every match to as she fought for her freedom.

This is for you…

“Arson…”