AETHERBOUND: Rise of the Valtheris Empire

He grinned, 'Easy.'

Obviously, he could go faster and without pause but still he had to act tired or risk his workload been increase.

'Does it even matter, already have everything I need… but still it better to stay under the radar.'

Bounding up the stairs two at a time, Sylas sprang onto the railing, his body balanced with an effortless grace.

Without breaking stride, he launched himself upward, hands wrapping around the beam as he swung his legs forward.

For a moment, he hung suspended, then released his grip, landing with a quiet thud on the ground below.

Rolling to disperse the impact, he was back on his feet in a heartbeat, his steps light and controlled as he continued his journey.

Ahead, a group of guards watched, their conversation halted as Sylas moved.

"Did you see that?" one of them whispered, his voice sounding very impressed. "He's very good compared to the other kids."

"Just the kids?" another countered, shaking his head. "You are telling me that you can do something like that with ease and it very obvious that he is tired with his work. Look at the way he moves—so fluid, so precise. I'd wager the captain's already got his eye on him for training."

"Training?" The youngest of the group leaned backward, smirking. "That's an understatement. He's bound for the elite units with moves like that."

The older guards exchanged glances. "You think so?"

"I'd bet my next month's pay on it," the younger one said with conviction. "It's not just talent. The lad's disciplined. You don't get that good by luck."

"True enough," Another guard muttered, stroking his beard. "It's hard work and dedication. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already on someone's list for special training."

"Yes, I heard that the researcher groups want him as well" The older guard gossiped. "The kid has so many talents."

As if on cue, Sylas landed lightly in front of them, his face alight with a mischievous grin.

"Evening, gentlemen," he greeted, brushing nonexistent dust from his tunic. "Don't let me interrupt your important discussions."

The guards chuckled.

"Evening, Sylas," the bearded guard replied.

"You've got us all beat with those moves. Maybe we should leave the guarding to you, eh?"

Sylas laughed, shaking his head. "I think you've got this covered. Besides, someone's got to keep the rest of us safe while we show off." He winked, his humor as sharp as his movements.

As he continued on his way, the guards watched him go, their admiration evident.

"That boy's going places," one of them said, breaking the silence.

"Aye," another agreed, his tone resolute.

"Mark my words, we'll be saluting him someday."

*******

{Sylas's Room}

Sylas lay on his bed, staring at the dimly lit ceiling of his chamber.

The soft hum of distant machinery filled the silence, his eyes inevitable cut sight of the ring on his finger. The ring that now contained Sera.

Engraved on the ring were various symbols which his father told him meant Valtheris.

The name Valtheris echoed in his thoughts.

It wasn't just a name—it was a legacy.

His father's voice, calm yet heavy with unspoken emotion, came to him as if he were there. "You are a descendant of Zelathar Valtheris, Sylas. A name feared by all who have heard his tales and even more by who has witnessed his actions."

His grandmother told him tales of their ancestor, although his true name was Zelathar, he was known more by his titles. The Conqueror. The Monster. The Bloody Emperor. The Devil's Teacher. The Planet Eater and many more.

[A.N: Who can guess the reason for the planet eater title.]

The Aetherian who once shook the universe to its core, obliterating worlds and leaving trillions dead in his wake.

Sylas could almost see the scenes his father had painted with his words—the burning skies, the rivers of blood, shattered planets, empty solar systems, entire civilization's corpses in space.

A shiver ran through him. His ancestor had been a force of unimaginable power, and yet... his family had turned away from it all, well not all of them.

[A.N: More explanation in the future]

They had chosen exile, abandoning the empire Zelathar built to live as monks.

They had vowed to harm no one, to never wield weapons, and to channel their strength into peaceful pursuits.

Meditation, innovation, creation, and a fragmented, elusive fighting style were their legacy.

His great-grandfather, or perhaps it was his great-great-grandfather (it was hard to tell; everyone seemed frozen in their prime, making the family tree more of a tangled vine In the absence of clarity, he simply called them all "Grandpa."), described the technique as " A shattered shard of Zelathar's own techniques, stripped of its deadly edge."

Even with their pacifist ways, the Valtheris family had been remarkable.

Sylas smiled faintly, pride stirring in his chest.

They were born different, blessed with abilities that set them apart. Every member of the Valtheris Clan could manipulate Aether, a rarity that made them both envied and feared.

Their stamina was twice that of ordinary humans without having to train, their wounds healed several times faster, and their bodies grew stronger faster than anyone else's.

What was considered talented by others was nothing but a regular thing in their clan.

Even their beauty, something Sylas had never cared much for, was said to be a mark of their bloodline.

But those gifts had made them targets.

The smile faded as his thoughts turned darker. The Crimson Empire. The invasion.

Sylas clenched his fists, remembering the event of that day.

That day was going like every other day, kids grabbing fruits from the trees, some getting water from the stream, older generations meditating and cleaning the village with their abilities.

Suddenly the morning sky went dark as various spaceships entered their planet.

Soldiers, tanks, and war machines poured onto their planet in endless waves, their sheer numbers a devastating sight.

Less than two hundred peaceful clan members fought back.

Even with so many enemies the Valtherians held true to their beliefs, refusing to fight with deadly force.

At first, they showed mercy. The soldiers who attacked were knocked unconscious and restrained with vines.

Despite being outnumbered, the Valtherians tried to negotiate, offering peaceful resolutions as wave after wave of enemies descended.

However the empire refused to listen, eventually to break the stalemate the Crimson Emperor sent a group of Aetherian lead by a master-rank aetherian.

They retreated a few seconds later when more than half of them were knocked out and tied up.

This reinforced the Crimson Emperor decision to wipe them out and find-out the secret about their bloodline, learning from his mistake he kept sending waves of soldiers to tire them out.

Through all this the Valtherians were still trying to reach out with a compromise.

Eventually the first Valtherian died, turning to dust.

Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds and then something snapped.

The massacre began.

That was the day the Crimson Royal fleet was wiped out, the once green planet was dyed red.

Nobody was spared even the ones captured and bound down were massacred.

That day, Sylas glimpsed the true nature of his bloodline when it was unrestrained.

Although eventually his clan was destroyed the Crimson Empire paid dearly and gained nothing.

Even though they tried to supress the news of the losses they suffered, the enemies eventually caught wind of their weakened state caused by the lost of most of their Master Aetherians as well as the destroyed royal fleet and immediately launched invasions.

[A.N: Keep in mind that they don't own only one fleet, but the royal fleet was the strongest, not the most numerous. Basically, an elite group. Oh and except from in the Valtheris family master ranks are rare]

As far as he knew he was the sole survivor of the Valtheris family.

Turning to his side, Sylas closed his eyes, trying to suppress the storm in his mind. But the questions, the pride, the sorrow—they all lingered, refusing to let him rest.

'Change of plans. I am taking that colony ship.'