Prologue

A luxurious hallway as wide as nine oceans and ten seas. 

Futuristic holographic screens numbering in the millions floated aimlessly on the mechanical, multicolored surface. 

This hallway would have been one of a kind if it weren't for the thousands of similar hallways intersecting with a main bridge twice their size. 

Blinding neon lights filled the skies— rather, the high ceilings of this majestic palace. In the sea of humanoid androids busying about under these screens that displayed planets, stars, and galaxies contained within this futuristic plane of existence, a peculiar phenomenon swept the hallways like a storm. 

One moment, everything looked just fine. 

Blink your eyes once, and you would notice that thousands upon thousands of blurry afterimages that illustrated a dignified maid dressed in black fast-walking through the sea of androids and holographic screens. 

Her expressionless face that lagged behind in space-time seemed to carry a hint of urgency and distress, three neon rings pulsing in her black pupils. 

Almost three months later, these afterimages she left in her wake would slowly start to dissipate. 

Three years later, the sound of her metallic, hurried footsteps would echo these hallways. 

That's how urgent and fast she was. 

… 

A few moments later, this expressionless maid entered a private bedroom that was an isolated world of its own. In this world, there wasn't the slightest hint of technology around, only a scene of natural beauty and a wooden house in the distance. 

Inside the wooden house were a simple bed, a simple table, and a simple hairdresser. 

In front of the mirror sat a woman with long black hair, black eyes, and nine rings of multicolored neon light in her eyes. 

This woman was smiling happily, mumbling to herself. 

"Maria will be giving birth soon, what should I prepare for the unborn Sirius?" 

As she was lost in thoughts, she didn't notice the extra person who appeared in her mirror, or perhaps she did notice but wasn't particularly interested to pay the maid any mind. 

The maid didn't mince words, hurriedly kneeling to report. 

"The Godslayer has been detained!" 

"The Six Infernal Planes are in unrest!" 

"The Six God Planes are preparing for an invasion!" 

"The reincarnation of Dizmason Eternus VII will descend on Sirius's body!" 

One sentence after another shook this woman who was in her happiest of moments just a few words ago, and before the maid could relay her next sentence, the woman was already gone from this world. 

From this universe. 

Perhaps from this plane in its entirety. 

… 

In this stretching multiverse, there exist kings aplenty. However, 99.9% of those kings are lords over a finite territory. 

The King of this land, that land, this kingdom, that kingdom, this realm, that world. 

There is always a limit, and depending on the limits of a king, one can determine their power. 

The larger the scale, the fewer the kings, the heavier the title, and the crown. 

As such, when taking the myriad planes in mind, only a handful of individuals can proudly declare themselves kings, and masters of their respective realms. 

Many years ago, a story written in the blood of billions, depicting the shattering of stars and collapsing of universes aplenty, hailed the rise of an Infernal Kingdom. 

In the past, there were seven thrones recognized across the myriad planes. 

The Immortal Throne. 

The God Throne. 

The Celestial Throne.

The Barbarian Throne. 

The Andromeda Throne. 

The Devil Throne. 

The Ghost Throne.

Nowadays, there is an eighth that emerged from blood and corpses. 

The Infernal Throne. 

Legends say that the throne chooses its king and the king rules his people. 

… 

"My King! This is absolute madness! The Six Infernal Planes are about to witness an unprecedented rebellion from within our flesh and blood!" 

A middle-aged advisor with a head of silver-white hair that stood in contrast with his eyes that were completely black, barged into an ancient imperial study with an expression wrought in distress. 

The Infernal King looked at the report on his desk that listed the names of over 72 branch bloodline houses, led by House Eternus, to start an armed rebellion against the main bloodline, House Eternal Night. 

"To forcibly detain the Godslayer of our purest Eternal Night bloodline and sacrifice the body of his son to succeed Sir Dizmason Eternus has angered House Eternus! They take it as a disgrace to their strongest warrior to have walked these myriad planes!" The man continued to patiently advise. 

"I had already arranged a marriage for him with the Holy Celestial Daughter, a dignified and proud woman. However, he went ahead and got some nameless slut from a branch family pregnant, almost causing the alliance between the Infernal Throne and the Celestial Throne to collapse." 

"We needed this alliance to weather the incoming storm against the God Throne, but since he wants to be selfish, he should bear the consequences." 

The Infernal King's voice was cold and detached. 

"This is the least bit of sincerity we could show to the Celestials, otherwise we can kiss this alliance goodbye." 

The advisor clenched his teeth so hard they began to creak! 

At this rate, there will be no more Infernal Race, let alone an army to weather the incoming storm! 

The advisor snapped! 

"But he is your son, my King!"

Bang! 

"Indeed he is my son! MY son, MY flesh and MY blood!" 

The Infernal King stood up with a hand slammed on the table, wisps of pitch-black smoke oozing out from his pulsing veins that throbbed on his forehead. 

His teeth were also clenched hard as he spat out, "But I am also a King! A King who gave his fucking word to another King! And my goddamn son knew all along!" 

The advisor wanted to say: 

So what?! Which great man didn't have three wives and nine concubines?!

The advisor wanted to say: 

So what? Look in the mirror, how many wives do you have?!

He wanted to say plenty of things, but his mouth opened, yet no words came out. 

Eventually, he sighed and left, his shoulders looking bleak and heavy. 

Behind him, the Infernal King sat down and passed his eyes over an ancient book on his desk. 

Titled: Chronicles of the Infernal Kings. 

He flipped to a particular page under the name Dizmason, its content reads: 

 This was the case until HE was born; Dizmason Eternus. 

 This was the case until HE branded his name on the Infernal Throne. 

 This was the case until HE brought terror to the planes of man. 

 This was the case until HE became the sole exception. 

 A galactic empire under a throne forged with bones and blood, and for every historical battle recorded in the books of its lore, HE was the first to enter the battlefield and HE was the last to leave, otherwise, in the battlefield, he eternally rested. 

 Millions of years later, during every war that threatened the realm, it became a ritual— rather it became a must to reincarnate HIM. 

 Dizmason Eternus I…

 Dizmason Eternus II… 

 Dizmason Eternus III…

 Dizmason Eternus IV…

 Dizmason Eternus V…

 Dizmason Eternus VI… 

 Dizmason Eternus VII… 

… 

This was an empty region in the multiverse. In fact, this used to be quite the bustling corner where many planes intersected until the unfortunate happened. 

One day, two universes of abnormal volumes yet opposing natures collided at the point of planar intersection, creating an interplanar black hole that swallowed up the bordering universes. 

Not even Gods and Immortals bothered with calculating the casualties, it was deemed an impossibility. 

This empty region of darkness in the void seemed endless. 

Not even an entire universe could escape the ripping force, let alone light, hence the unusual darkness. 

On this day, however, a multicolored neon light cut through the darkness in one stroke, advancing further and further into the depth; unhindered. 

This was the middle-aged woman from the Andromeda plane who was seen in but an ordinary wooden house not too long ago, and her destination was the heart of this region. 

In no time at all, she spotted massive long infernal chains holding down a solitary figure that was riddled with wounds from head to toe, the black robes covering his body in tatters, save for a wide hoodie that covered his sharp facials. 

Seemingly sensing something, the figure raised his head ever so slightly. 

The woman felt a pair of pitch-black eyes staring right at her, and a sensation resembling that of a cat approaching a primordial dragon filled her heart. 

Under the shadows of the hood, in the darkness of this endless abyss, those eyes seemed to take darkness to a whole new level. 

Darkness within shadows, veiled under even denser darkness, simply staring lifelessly at her. 

"The Andromeda Holy Daughter?" 

The man muttered softly, his voice echoing in a space even light couldn't cross. 

The woman waved her hand, multicolored neon lights flashing about as the sounds of collapsing chains filled the void. 

"We have no time if you want to save Sirius, unless you wish for your son to become the 8th Dizmason Eternus, a puppet for mindless slaughter that will be disposed of as soon as the war ends, or he dies fighting on the battlefield." 

She spoke coldly, her body quickly disappearing in the direction of the reincarnation ritual. 

The man cracked his neck, shoulders, and legs. 

Then, after letting out a soft sigh, he also disappeared. 

On that day, the Six Infernal Planes shook from the heavens above to the earth below, the Infernal Throne fractured, and the Infernal King went missing. 

… 

In one particular corner of the myriad planes, on the surface of a desolate asteroid, the cries of a young woman could be heard in the void. 

"Sirius, my baby! Cry for me! Why aren't you moving?! Why aren't you crying?!" 

"Maria…" 

The crying woman didn't listen nor respond to the soft, bloody hand that touched her shoulder. 

"Don't Maria me! Nova Francis Andromeda! Where were you?!" Maria grew hysterical, shouting as her tears flowed. 

With a pair of red eyes, she stared into the pitch-black eyes of a man who stood not too far away. 

"Both you and this man! Where were you?! They killed MY baby! MY Sirius! Where were you?!" 

"Say something! Why are your eyes so lifeless?! Are you man or stone?!" 

Her shouts echoed in the void, causing the stars to quake and the asteroids to shatter. 

"The boy is not dead yet." 

The man spoke and moved, knocking Maria unconscious before taking the boy from her grasp. 

"Godslayer, what are you doing?!" 

Nova screamed, but her voice sounded like thousands of robotic echoes combined into a high-pitched roar. 

The man didn't respond. Instead, he shoved his hand into his chest, plucking out his own heart that was as black as his eyes, if not darker. 

Even with blood trickling down his mouth, he tapped two of his fingers into the black blood before marking Sirius on the forehead, muttering a chant that echoed in the void. 

By my true name and Godslayer title, I exhaust my fate and cultivation. 

Purify, refine, and seal the seven reincarnations…

Purify, refine, and seal the seven lifetimes…

Purify, refine, and seal the past…

Purify, refine, and seal the present…

Purify, refine, and seal the future…

Nova watched in shock as the black blood flowed from the heart and into the baby's open pitch-black eyes. Further, the man's long silver hair began to dim and crumble away, just like his skin and body that began to age rapidly. 

Inside the baby's mind, there was a vast black sea that raged with countless scenes of bloodshed and slaughter, a will to kill and exterminate life boiling within. 

Then, a massive black ancient gate appeared in the space, its doors wide open, taking in the entirety of this black sea as it submerged the space behind the gate, surrounding a pitch-black heart at the bottom of the sea. 

Then, the gate closed slowly and heavily before merging into a now empty, blank, white space. 

In the outside world, the Godslayer was no more than skin on bones, a decrepit old man on his last breath. 

In his hand was now an ordinary red, beating heart. 

His voice was shaking as he looked at the baby boy in his arms, some white appearing in those once lifeless eyes, and a spark of curiosity as well. 

"Hurry, use what's left of your cultivation and take them away. I'll use whatever is left of my karma to sever your fate from the Infernal Planes…" 

"Hurry! Make sure to transplant this heart for her later, she can't use the black heart lest they find you through the karma involved. Make sure to change your name and the name of the boy, your karma is too strong and they'll easily find you." 

"Maria is fine, she is someone from a branch family, her karma isn't great enough to support a search across the myriad planes. I will assist you in opening a passage into a plane that doesn't coincide with our main timeline, that should be enough." 

The man— rather an old man, acted as he spoke weakly, already constructing a passage. 

He was already weak and blind, but he acted as though this was no big deal. 

Isn't it just his cultivation? Big deal. 

… 

"You wanted a simple life for our son," he said, "Now you can give him just that." 

Nova explained everything that happened after Maria was knocked unconscious, including the matter of creating new identities for themselves and the matter pertaining to the heart transplant. 

With the transplant concluded, only the names and identities remain to be settled. 

In an unremarkable New York alleyway on the little blue planet Earth, Maria stared blankly at the sleeping baby in her arms. 

Unknowingly, one hand was on her beating heart. 

It was a weak heartbeat, so weak it might as well be imperceptible. 

… 

Back on the nameless asteroid, the old man's body began to decay and scatter in the void, only his bleak voice resounding. 

"Here lies the Godslayer, but this karma will make it back one day. He is my son, and the Infernal Throne, though broken, has already marked his fate…"