Consciousness came in starts and stops for Leon.

The waking moments consisted of screaming as he felt his arm socket bubble with fresh flesh, a bare undetailed nub of a limb slowly re-growing in real time.

Every time his pain reached a feverish high, a needle would be slammed into his side by an alien with blue skin wearing a nurse uniform.

Reality rapidly faded following that, the nurse retreating back to her seat beside the bed Leon lay in as his eyes shuttered.

Then came the mercy of oblivion, a kind and inky darkness that cradled the broken fiend until the healer came to poke and prod him back to wakefulness.

More screaming once his bones started to reform, the healer's mana freely poured into his body, building him back as he had been before his fight.

Leon saw an exposed neckline and attempted to cut off the source of his pain at the source, baring his teeth and lunging.

The bite would have succeeded in tearing open her throat had she reacted any slower.

After that he'd been bound to the bed, body locked in stasis through some work of magical bullshit or other when the healer came to do her work.

Frustration attacked from two fronts.

Unable to move, to fight, to progress in a meaningful way, Leon felt his very soul atrophy as he languished in bed.

That alone would have irked him, that the alien caregiver pressed her chest to his when pulling him forward to inspect his back drove him mad in a much different manner.

A small comfort came from his swords, all four lined up against the wall, visible only when he could turn his head.

The healer fed him, tipping a thick pulpy juice that coursed through him, quenching and sating in equal measure.

Unlike a normal hospital no machines bleeped and blipped around him, the room painfully domestic, likely a normal bedroom repurposed to care for Leon.

No one aside from the healer ever visited and so Leon remained bedbound until the work reached completion.

His new arm itched, the muscles subtly different to the ones he'd cultivated in the Tutorial. Leon felt his own weakness and knew it would take time for this limb to acclimate to his body.

Whatever kept him fixed to his plush sheets gave one morning and Leon crashed out of bed, crawling across the floor to cradle his blades.

They'd stripped him of his armour, the lack of protection sending shivers up his spine.

Drawing in a deep breath, Leon attempted to replenish his mana, the only thing he gained being pain.

White hot agony raced through his veins, every cell rebelling against the presence of mana.

Aftereffects of using two circuits simultaneously aside, Leon still had his storage ring.

The Lord's Regalia took him minutes to suit into. Clasping all four swords to his body Leon kicked open the wooden door of the room, ready for his next fight.

An empty room greeted him, small, with rustic décor.

Light streamed through an open window, another door yielded to his boot and Leon found himself standing beneath the sun again, eyes locked on the horizon.

A cloudless sky saw a deep azure hue dominate the firmament, golden light from the heavens warming sections of his exposed skin.

A clink came from his left, ice jostling in a glass.

Leon's armour chafed against his bare skin as he spun to face the sound's source.

An older man, his copper hair shining in the midday sun. Flecks of grey bared themselves throughout both his well-groomed ponytail and cropped beard.

Clad in only a pure white robe, the man's glass ran near overflowing with a viscous purple drink, cubes of ice barely visible through the murky liquid.

Leon knew the man for a warrior by his stance. Firm, ready to spring into action.

The sword at his back only confirmed this.

All other features dimmed as Leon took in the scars.

White lines that carved through every stretch of skin, spiralling and weaving a pattern complex enough to boggle the mind. They grew brighter in the light, gleaming with a silver shade.

The scale alone- to drive a blade through your eyes, through your neck- would have impressed Leon.

Yet, the rigidity, the uniformity of the bladework even as it sought to mimic natural jagged war wounds?

Transcendental.

No mortal could have engraved such lines.

A god's handiwork.

His bloodline probed and found nothing, empty air.

The man before him either had means to fool Leon's senses or dwarfed him so utterly in power that he couldn't even be perceived.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Stormy blue eyes traced Leon with fascination.

Drinking him in, the warrior spoke using the tone of a man far older than his appearance belied.

"You are the spitting image of my brother- bar your eyes. You have your grandmother's eyes. Far kinder than the sort our lineage bestows. Enough prattle, congratulations are in order. You comported yourself admirably, circumstances considered."

Leon knew this voice.

One he'd heard in a dream, in what felt like a lifetime ago.

"Thank you, uncle."

Two chairs, carved of wood so dark they seemed to swallow the light, materialised behind the elder Swordfiend.

Claiming one, Leon's relative patted the other.

"Sit. We have much to discuss and little time."

He did as bidden, the elder Swordfiend speaking first.

"You will be sent back to Earth within minutes, now that you are healed we cannot keep you from your intended destination. Your planet's terraforming will finalise a day after your return. All other celestial bodies, bar the system's star, have been smashed into the mega planet now known as Earth. The world you return to will be alien, warped by mana and the uncaring machine's machinations- you leap from one proving ground to another."

Leon's uncle paused, weighing his words.

"Break through to the [G] Grade as soon as possible nephew. Temper each of your attributes, deepen your insights and claw free of your cradle with haste, lest a vulture smothers you in it."

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Sha tapped the glass and it disintegrated at his touch.

"Enough unsolicited instruction from this old man. Tell me nephew- how have you been?"

Leon thought for a moment before answering.

"Well, uncle. There have been bumps in the road, but I keep moving forward."

"Gratifying to hear nephew. How did you find your great-great-grandfather? Old Auberon can be... blunt with his words."

"He has begun instructing me in managing my bloodline. I can forgive his words should they help me achieve balance."

Another drink, this one a fizzy lime green, appeared in Sha's hand.

"Truly? He can be trusted on matters of blood, at least. Speaking of."

A subtle pressure descended on Leon as Sha spoke.

"My brother. Good Darius and his wife, Stateira. How did they meet their end?"

Leon wracked his mind for the details, a sombre mood chilling the sun's rays.

"I never met my grandmother. She'd been dead long before my birth and it had become taboo to mention her; a scar on my grandfather best left alone. Grandfather never mentioned her. I didn't know her name until today. I remember my grandfather's death. He withered away for a little over a month. The week after I turned eight it started. Doctors couldn't diagnose him. I watched as he died a little more every day, lying in a hospital bed sucking down the slop they deigned to serve him. Last thing I remember seeing is the coffin. I don't think I ever cried for him. Took months for me to feel anything other than numb."

Silence followed Leon's recollections, broken by Sha draining his glass, voice a whisper on the wind.

"Mana diffusion. Mana wants to move, to be equalised. Higher Grade beings suffer in lower Grade environs. They are slowly being bled of mana by the environment. A [B] Grade in manaless space- it's a miracle he lived as long as he did. Thank you, nephew. Enough questions from me. You have ones of your own I'm sure."

The pressure vanished and Leon asked the question he knew only this man could answer.

"Only one question worth asking uncle. What happened to our clan?"

Silence reigned until Leon felt a glass of purple fizz being pushed into his hands. He sipped on the sugary concoction as Sha spoke, recounting the end of the Swordfiends.

"My father decided we had outgrown life as mercenaries. We angered many in our subsequent conquests; our subjects and enemies eventually banded against us, hunted us until we lay broken. I survived as I had broken ties with the clan centuries before- few remembered I yet lived. Fear not nephew. All those who drew Swordfiend blood are dead and buried. None would hunt you for crimes we committed in time immemorial."

Sha paused, draining his glass.

"Of course, you should keep your lineage obscured. At least until you are stronger."

Another pause, longer this time as the man brought a crystal display out, tutting as he noted the time.

"Our time runs low. You would not accept protection from me- we are a proud sort, I know that well enough to let you return to your home. A gift, before you leave."

Rising to his feet, Sha dispelled the chairs, sending Leon to the floor. Offering a hand, Leon's uncle had the good grace to look abashed.

"Ah. Apologies nephew."

Allowing himself to be pulled up, Leon shook his head.

"My fault, I should have stood. Just call me Leon uncle. Family shouldn't be so formal with each other right?"

The older man smiled, a genuine warmth radiating out of his scarred visage.

"I suppose not Leon. Then you are to call me Cyrus- Uncle Cyrus if we are entertaining company or you wish to be polite. I have something of a reputation to preserve."

The two entered the silent forge, a lustrous suit of black metal armour laid out for Leon to inspect.

The edges of each piece presented as plain grey iron, steadily darkening to inky black the closer to the centre one looked.

"An unnamed suit of armour forged by the master smith Cyrus Sha as a gift for his nephew. Forged of black void adamantine, the armour inherits both the metal's mana conductivity and its ability to reform from a single atom- rendering it nigh indestructible. Layered atop this is an Incorporate Armour enchantment, designed to allow the armour to devour any other protective equipment, gaining the ability to transform sections of itself into what it has consumed. Additionally, the armour's base form features the Blade Resonance enchantment, boosting the power of any bladed weapon attacks used by its wielder.

Restrictions- Soulbound- Leon Knox."

Patting the chest plate, Cyrus looked to study Leon's expression as he spoke.

"A gift, one to cover every birthday I missed. Better than Growth Armour, I debated using that but Incorporate Armour lets you keep all the enchantments you'll ever need on one piece- a piece that'll hold up to whatever the multiverse throws your way. I leave the naming right to you."

"Void Aegis. Forged of the void, serving as an unbreakable defence. Thank you for the gift, Uncle Cyrus."

"Suit up then. You've a war to wage. Make sure you come back to tell this old man all about how you won it- we'll celebrate, take you out to see the more beautiful parts of the world."

Cyrus Sha left his nephew in privacy to change, pleased the boy had appreciated his gift.

The Lord's Regalia lay discarded as Leon pulled the helmet over his face, the open-faced design allowing him to retain his peripheral vision. Each piece fit him, an impenetrable second skin that shone with dark lustre.

For all its power the armour did not appear imposing- no filigree or pomp had been used in designing it. The Void Aegis served a singular function and cared not for form.

Laying hands on his gilded plate, Leon felt the Void Aegis warm in response, the metal darkening as its hunger faced temptation.

He faced no notifications, only a surety that his armour would consume the Lord's Regalia if he so willed it.

With a snap it did, the gauntlet morphing into a fiendish jaw, crunching the metal noiselessly.

Another pulse of his will had Leon standing in his golden armour once more, the void adamantine shifting to replicate its form.

"All set?"

Cyrus re-appeared without a sound, a ticket in hand.

"All set. I'll be back before you know it Cyrus."

A small grin played across the older man's face.

"I doubt that. I bet half a decade, at least, before you've conquered that dirtball."

Cocking an eyebrow, Leon took the ticket glancing down as he spoke.

"Rip to teleport- destination Earth. Convenient. Two years, by the way. I win, you forge me a sword. You win?"

"You learn to forge properly if I win. I'll take you on as an official apprentice."

"Deal- you're going to eat your words, old man."

"Don't get cocky whelp- go on. Show them all why our clan once stood at the pinnacle. No mercy. No remorse. No hesitation."

Tearing the ticket, Leon vanished in a flash.

Cyrus sipped another alien beverage, a thought striking him as drained the last drops of pearlescent cyan liquid.

"Perhaps I should have mentioned the time dilation."