"Well, this is it," Ronan said, letting the silence hang for a moment. Dana, Jackson, and Keith looked back at him, a mix of emotions playing out across their expressions.

For them, this was the end of a short lived yet powerful companionship with life-and-death comrades. For Ronan it was much more.

He'd lived through six lives and deaths with these people. Well, a bit less with the recent additions. Only Keith had been there since the beginning.

6…

"Don't get yourself killed before I can buy you a beer, big guy," Dana said with a smirk. "The same goes for you, kiddo. And I suppose I'd prefer you not to catch the pointy end of a spear, Keith."

3…

Keith grimaced, but then chuckled out loud. Sometimes it was what someone didn't say that really mattered. "Likewise, demoness. I think Ronan and I should end up near each other. We were in the same meeting when… well, you know what happened."

1…

"Thanks for everything you said, Ronan. Dad– fuck. I'll miss you all. I'll try not to get myself killed," Jackson sniffled. "See you around. I think–"

0…

Please prepare for immediate transport to Planet 2.48e11E!

Jackson was cut off as Ronan was yanked into the shifting void by an invisible hand. This time, there were definitely shapes in the writhing, infinite nothingness. Only he couldn't make anything out beyond outlines.

Party has been disbanded due to exceeding range limitations!

He felt himself begin to fall, an empty sensation filling his stomach. Dazzling lights flashed into view, moving past at incomprehensible speeds. An enormous sphere covered in blue, green, and red masses came into view.

Is that… Earth? Why does it look so– Ronan wasn't able to finish his thought when everything around him froze.

A pressure greater than anything he'd ever felt wrapped around him, suffocating him. He could feel the invisible hand of the system… faltering?

Ronan blinked. He was standing in a space of pure white, no details or differences in the endless blankness.

A man with plain features, wearing nothing but a colourless robe, stood in front of Ronan. His face was heavily wrinkled and his body was covered in cracks. Within those cracks a vibrant purple light shone out, as though leaking from his core.

The only thing he wore that might separate him from the surrounding void was an amulet made from a strange material that shimmered like a blanket of stars. He stared at Ronan with a conflicted expression, but his eyes shone with warmth.

"I feared you might not make it before my time ran out. Perhaps you are the fated one…" the man said, his voice echoing from every direction at once.

Despite his damaged appearance, his tone was commanding and full of confidence. Ronan stared at him, wondering who this was. The personification of the system?

No, it would never appear with such a broken appearance. It's too… sterile for that. He wondered if he should wait for the strange man to speak first, then decided to get the ball rolling himself.

"Sorry, but who are you? The system message said I was returning to… Planet 2.48e11E, whatever the hell that means," Ronan said with a more disgruntled tone than he'd intended to use.

"Yes, I know, Ronan. However, I have little to no time left before I succumb to this… corruption. I needed to speak with you before my death. Leaving the final descendant of my once illustrious clan without properly arming him with the knowledge he needs would drench me in shame and dishonour. A dog's death," the man boomed, clenching a fist as his eyes filled with rage.

Ronan felt himself staggering as formless waves of power smashed into him. The simple act of raising his voice caused such effects? How powerful was this old man, exactly?

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Descendant? Clan? What the hell is he talking about? I know Grandfather came from wealth but this is… I don't know what or who the hell this is, Ronan's mind ran through a dozen explanations at once, ending up right where he started.

Noticing Ronan's discomfort and confusion, the old man's temper subsided. His eyes became two serene violet stars once more. "Apologies, it has become harder to control my strength as this corruption spreads. Let me get straight to the point, given how little time we have here. The system doesn't like me messing with its toys," he said, chuckling and looking up as a dark crack appeared in the endless white space.

"Sorry, not to offend you old man, but I don't remember having any ancestors that were so… purple," Ronan said in the politest tone he could muster.

"Well, there are quite a few generations between us, Ronan. I wouldn't expect you to recognise me. After all, your bloodline only awakened when your world was integrated by the system. I would have preferred to meet you later, when you understood your powers a little more, but my weakness and the system's growing power have caused your heritage to awaken improperly. I must correct it, if it is the last thing I do," the old man said, determination welling up in his eyes as he stepped forward.

At that moment Ronan understood. Not everything, because all this crap was confusing as hell, but a lot about his ability to travel back in time and grow stronger with every death. This man was someone who shared his heritage.

"I see you understand a little. Can you show me your status? I need to understand what exactly has gone wrong," the man said, now just three paces away from Ronan.

"How do I do that, exactly?" Ronan asked.

"You don't–" the old man sighed, violet light seeping from the cracks across his body as he did. "Never mind. Make it appear, then imagine giving me permission to see."

Ronan did as the man said. His status appeared in his own vision, then as he willed it to become visible for the old man, he saw those piercing purple eyes inspect it all within an instant.

"The system has become a truly formidable entity. To be able to suppress even the Reverberating Chronosphere Heritage to this extent… Worrying." As he finished speaking, the old man waved a hand and Ronan suddenly felt nauseous and dizzy.

It passed after just a few seconds. When it did, something within him felt… more real. He couldn't explain it better than that. The old man cleared up his doubts.

"There. I have corrected the system's interference. You should be able to develop your heritage properly now. The fact you managed to achieve so much in such a short time despite being handicapped to that extent is extremely impressive, Ronan. I have high hopes for you, my last descendant." The old man's voice was weaker now. It still echoed through the empty white space, but no longer did it feel commanding and confident.

There were dozens of dark cracks now, growing larger by the moment. Ronan suspected they only had a few seconds left, at best. He had so many questions, but he knew there was only time to ask one.

"Tell me, ancestor, how can I get strong enough to punch this fucking system in the face?"

The old man snorted in amusement. The shining purple cracks covered two-thirds of his body now, making him resemble a violet disco ball.

"Truly, I have high hopes for you. You have inherited our clan's spirit and determination, Ronan. If that is your goal, all you have to do is trust in yourself and keep doing what you already have been. Your heritage will guide the way," the old man said.

"I see. So you're saying it's possible, then. That's great," Ronan said, half to himself as he clenched a fist in determination.

"Anything is possible in this cosmos. Now, before you go let me give you one final parting gift," his ancestor said, reaching out a finger to touch Ronan's forehead.

He flinched a little at the icy touch, but acclimated fast. There was not much time left, after all. The dark cracks took up more space than the white void now.

"First, let me tell you my name. There are those out there who might offer you their hospitality should you choose to share it. Though be warned, there are far more who would strike you dead the instant they hear it," he said, a nostalgic smile appearing on his lips as he spoke.

"I am Azathere the Timeless, Patriarch of the Chronos Clan, The Unseen Reaper. My name and deeds have rung throughout the cosmos and beyond, reverberating into eternity!"

Ronan felt a surge of energy flooding into his body from the old man's finger as he spoke. The words seemed to imprint themselves into his very soul.

The sensation was similar to when he received an infusion of stats, but a thousand times more intense. He felt his insides burst in a shower of purple flames, before being reforged the next moment.

Yet there was no pain. Only the emotions and determination of the old man flooding his mind.

It faded momentarily, but as he opened his eyes Ronan realised there was no sign of the old man. It was as though he had slipped through one of the dark cracks around him, never to be seen again.

At the same instant, the final drop of white was consumed by the darkness. That giant sphere flew into view, but Ronan continued to fall. He blacked out for an instant.

When he opened his eyes again, he realised he was sitting amidst the wreckage of a building. There was no time to slowly inspect his surroundings, however, as a piercing screech cut through the silence.

Something flew past, smashing into an already broken desk, shattering the last remnants of it into dust and splinters. The thing stood up, letting Ronan get a better look.

"Ronan! Nice of you to finally join us, sleeping beauty. A little help here?" said Keith, blood dripping from a fresh cut on his forehead and a dagger clutched in his right hand.

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