The last guardian: Rise of Ethan Wilson

The merged warrior stood alone now—bleeding gold, chest heaving with the breath of five souls fused into one. The battlefield was unrecognizable. Where once stood marble bridges and starlight towers, now lay scorched craters, rivers of chaos, and ash that fell like snow.

Pain hovered above the ruins, his arms outstretched, body radiating raw entropy. His armor of broken halos glimmered with cracks—proof he had been challenged. But his smile had only grown wider.

"You burned brightly," Pain said, voice thick with reverence and mockery, "but even stars die."

The warrior didn't respond. He couldn't. Half his body had disintegrated, replaced with flickering strands of unstable light. He fell to one knee, celestial blade buried in the dirt.

But even in that ruin of divine flesh, he lifted his eyes and whispered:

"You… will never erase us all."

Pain sighed, disappointed and amused.

"Why do you cling to hope like it's sacred? Haven't you realized?" He spread his hands. "You are the last candle in a universe full of shadows."

He raised a single finger.

And from it—Void Singularity bloomed once again.

Not as a sphere this time.

As a vortex, large enough to devour the entire palace.

The merged warrior stood, one final time. Light poured from every inch of him. Five voices roared in unison:

"Then let us burn brighter than ever before!"

He charged.

So did Pain.

The heavens ruptured.

And when the explosion faded, there was only silence.

No bodies.

No sky.

Only falling debris…

…and a throne that would never be claimed again.

In the upper chambers of the Celestial Archives, the Scrollkeeper, a quiet being of light and memory, looked up from his tome.

He saw the sky split.

He saw the throne room unravel.

And for the first time in 90,000 cycles, he whispered:

"It is done."

One by one, across the palace, the remaining celestial custodians turned to dust. Not killed by Pain—but by the collapse of purpose. Their existences had been bound to the palace itself. And now, it was falling.

Some wept.

Some laughed.

Some stood in silence and accepted their end.

The Great Gong of Eternity rang once more—its sound fractured, as if even time itself was in mourning.

The Supreme Celestial Lord—now reduced to nothing but embers—let his ashes rise into the wind.

One final whisper crossed the dying realm.

"Let the system find him…"

Then everything fell.

The clouds above Crossfield turned gold.

No one noticed at first. People were too busy—driving, arguing, scrolling through notifications.

But a few felt something deep in their bones.

An ancient instinct—something like awe, something like fear.

Somewhere across the city, Ethan Wilson walked the cracked sidewalk back from school. His bag hung loosely off one shoulder. He passed shops, trees, buses—none of it touched him.

His bruises from earlier had already begun to swell.

But he didn't care.

He walked like someone used to pain. Not numb—but resigned. Like a soldier who no longer remembered what peace felt like.

As he passed an alleyway, a group of boys jeered at him again. He ignored them.

They didn't matter.

Nothing really did.

He turned toward the orphanage… but something made him stop.

The wind.

It had… changed.

Soft.

Warm.

And above—

A crack formed in the sky.

A literal crack—thin, glowing, like golden lightning frozen in place. No thunder. No warning.

Just silence.

Ethan stared up, frowning.

For the first time in months, his eyes widened.

His chest felt… tight.

Then the world flashed white.

The System descended not as a machine, not as a god, but as a presence.

It broke through the atmosphere without sound.

To the naked eye, it looked like a single golden feather falling in slow motion.

To reality—it was a tear in the laws of existence.

"TARGET FOUND."

"HOST CONDITION: CRITICAL. COMPATIBILITY: 99.996%."

"INITIATING DIVINE BONDING PROTOCOL."

Above Ethan, the feather split into countless particles of golden light. They moved like rivers in reverse, flowing upward and downward at once, folding space around them.

Ethan staggered back, his legs trembling. His body felt… pulled.

Something ancient gripped his spine, his lungs, his soul.

"Ethan Wilson. Born of fire. Marked by sorrow. Chosen by extinction itself…"

The world around him slowed.

His heart beat once.

Then again.

Then stopped.

"System: Online."

Ethan opened his eyes.

But he wasn't standing on Earth anymore.

He stood in a field of stars.

No sky. No ground. Just endless galaxies spinning like lanterns in the dark.

In front of him stood a figure, cloaked in light.

He couldn't see its face—but he knew it wasn't human.

"Who are you?" Ethan asked, his voice echoing like a question thrown into eternity.

The figure did not answer. Instead, it reached out—and touched Ethan's chest.

In that moment, everything came rushing in.

—The fire that killed his parents.

—The bullies.

—The emptiness.

—The celestial palace.

—Pain's betrayal.

—The warriors who gave everything.

—The system's long journey.

—The moment the sky cracked.

All of it.

He screamed—not out of fear.

But because something opened inside him.

Something unbreakable.

The light poured into him—not just information, not just power.

But purpose.

A voice—his own—rose in his mind:

"You are the Last Guardian. The final light in a universe consumed by darkness. You carry the will of gods… and the sorrow of men."

"Rise, Ethan Wilson."

"And remember who you are."

Back in the alley, Ethan collapsed to his knees.

His eyes flickered with strange symbols. His body glowed softly, runes burned along his arms, then vanished into his skin.

He gasped.

He could feel… everything.

Every sound. Every breath. Every presence within a mile.

His senses had exploded.

He gripped the concrete, blinking rapidly.

Then he stood.

Straight.

Balanced.

Alive.

More alive than he'd ever felt.

His heart still beat—but differently.

Like it was synced to something bigger.

Across the city, streetlights flickered. Dogs barked. A few children pointed at the sky.

Ethan didn't know what came next.

But for once… he wasn't afraid.

And somewhere deep inside, a quiet fire whispered:

I am not alone anymore.

Far beyond the Milky Way, in the shadowed space between galaxies, Pain stood on a floating platform of bone and silence.

He had destroyed the Celestial Palace. The system had escaped—but not for long.

His eyes snapped open.

He felt it.

A shift.

A thread of light where there should be none.

A heartbeat where silence had reigned.

He smirked.

"So… the boy finally wakes."

He turned toward the swirling void and opened his wings.

"Then let the true war begin."