Reborn as the Last van Ambrose

Grim found himself sitting in an endless white void, the sounds of battle completely gone. The pain that had been tearing through his body was reduced to a distant ache, like a memory of agony rather than the actual experience.

"Well, this is inconvenient," a familiar voice said beside him.

Grim turned to see who was speaking, but found only empty white space. The voice that had guided him through his life, but had been silent the entire time he had been in the sea realms.

"You’re dying," the voice continued matter-of-factly. "Mo Xuan’s attack did more damage than your body can handle. Your soul is coming apart at the seams."

"Great," Grim replied, surprised to find he could speak normally in this place. "Any suggestions, or are you just here to narrate my death?"

"Oh, I have suggestions," the voice said with what might have been amusement. "But first, we need to have a conversation we should have had years ago."

Grim looked around the white void, noting how peaceful it felt compared to the chaos he had just left behind. "Are we in my head?"

"In a manner of speaking. This is a space between spaces, where souls can converse without the limitations of flesh. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to bring you here."

"And my impending death qualifies as the right moment?"

"Actually, yes," the voice replied seriously. "Because what happens next will determine not just whether you survive, but what you become."

As the voice spoke, colors began to appear in the white void around them. Streams of mana in different hues flowed through the empty space like rivers of light.

Grim recognized some of them—the blue water mana he had absorbed in the sea realms, white light mana that reminded him of his aurora techniques, and black shadow mana that looked similar to Mo Xuan’s corruption.

But there were two other colors he couldn’t identify. One was a deep crimson that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, and the other was a silver so pure it hurt to look at directly.

"What are those?" Grim asked, pointing at the unfamiliar mana streams.

"Your heritage," the voice replied. "Powers that have been dormant in your bloodline for generations, waiting for the right circumstances to awaken."

"My heritage?"

"The van Ambrose family has always been more than just nobles with sword skills, Grim. We are descendants of one of the most powerful beings who ever lived. Someone who stood as an equal beside gods and emperors."

"Axem," Grim said, remembering Tianlong’s words in the dragon graveyard.

"Among other names, yes. But that’s a story for another time. Right now, we need to focus on keeping you alive."

The voice paused, and Grim could sense something changing in the void around them. The formless presence that had spoken to him was beginning to take shape.

A figure materialized in the white void—he was broad-shouldered, tall, and scarred all over his body. His hair was white as snow. He wore simple clothes, but carried himself with the bearing of someone who had commanded armies.

"Hello, Grim," the man said, his voice now coming from an actual mouth rather than empty air.

"Who are you?"

"Now is not the time for this," the voice said, sitting down across from him in the white void. "Powerful souls don’t just disappear when their bodies fail. We find ways to linger, to guide those we deem as our legacy."

"You’ve been the voice in my head all these years?"

"Yes."

Grim touched the scar on his face, feeling it pulse with warm energy. "Why won’t you tell me who you are."

"Because you needed to grow into your own power first," the voice replied. "If you knew who I was. You would have relied on my knowledge instead of developing your own instincts. You needed to become Grim van Ambrose, the last heir to the greatest human legacy."

The mana streams around them pulsed brighter, and Grim could feel their power calling to him. "What about my father? Mo Xuan said—"

"I know what he said," the voice interrupted gently. "And much of it was true. Rowan is trapped in the Demonic Realm, slowly losing himself to Malaxis’s influence. But Mo Xuan didn’t tell you the whole truth."

"What do you mean?"

"Your father isn’t just a victim, Grim. He’s fighting back. Every day, every moment, he struggles against possession. Malaxis hasn’t consumed him yet because Rowan refuses to give up. He’s holding on to hope that somehow, someday, his son will find a way to save him."

Tears stung Grim’s eyes. "But how? I can’t even survive this battle, let alone travel to the Demonic Realm."

"First things first," the voice said, standing and gesturing to the mana streams around them. "You need to survive Mo Xuan’s attack. And for that, you’ll need power beyond what you’ve accessed before."

The crimson and silver mana streams moved closer, responding to Grim’s will. "I can’t tell you what they are, but you need to channel them and access the power if you want to live."

"They’ve remained dormant. But Mo Xuan’s attack has pushed you to the edge of death, and extreme circumstances require extreme measures."

Grim studied the swirling mana streams, feeling their power calling to him. "What happens if I accept them?"

"You become something more than human," Caius said seriously. "Not a dragon, not a god, but something entirely unique. The question is: are you ready for that responsibility?"

Before Grim could answer, the white void around them began to tremble. Cracks appeared in the perfect emptiness, and through them, he could hear the sounds of battle returning.

"Time’s up," the voice said urgently. "The choice has to be made now."

Grim looked at the voice one last time, but this time his face was not a white blur.

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Back in the Dragon Emperor’s chamber, the situation had become desperate.

The five remaining corrupted guardians had formed a circle around the surviving defenders, their coordinated attacks leaving no room for escape. Ao Shun was using every technique he possessed to keep Grim’s dying body protected, but his ice barriers were cracking under the relentless assault.

Gongfu had reverted to his human form. But even his strength was failing against five ancient spirits.

Mo Xuan watched from above with obvious satisfaction. "This is almost disappointing," he called out. "I expected more resistance from the legendary Dragon Kings."

Then the chamber’s main entrance exploded inward.

The destruction wasn’t caused by magic or conventional force. The ancient stone doors simply disintegrated, reduced to particles by an aura of absolute authority.

A large man stepped through the ruined entrance, and his presence immediately changed the entire dynamic of the battle. Where the other Dragon Kings radiated power, this man embodied it.

He had scales run alk over his body, nore so than the other dragon kings. His scales were deep blue-black, like the ocean depths.

In each hand, he carried a dagger that seemed to be forged from crystallized corral. The weapons were small compared to him, but the power radiating from them made the air itself recoil.

"Father," Gongfu breathed, relief and apprehension mixing in his voice.

Ao Guang’s gaze swept the chamber, taking in the corrupted guardians, the wounded defenders, and his dying son. When he spoke, his voice carried the authority of tsunamis and hurricane winds.

"You dare to harm my children?"

The five corrupted guardians turned toward him as one, recognizing a threat that exceeded anything they had faced before. They attacked simultaneously.

Ao Guang didn’t dodge. He simply raised his daggers and spoke a single word:

"Cease."

The power that erupted from the Dragon King of the East Sea was beyond description. It wasn’t an attack in any conventional sense—it was a command backed by absolute authority. The daggers in his hands blazed with light that redefined the concept of brilliance, and when that light touched the corrupted guardians, they simply... stopped.

Not destroyed, not defeated—erased. Completely and utterly removed from existence as if they had never been.

Mo Xuan’s expression of smug confidence cracked for the first time since his manifestation.

"Impossible," the sorcerer whispered. "Those guardians were bound by power older than—"

"Older than me?" Ao Guang interrupted, his terrible gaze fixing on the pale figure. "Child, I was ancient when the first stars learned to burn. Your parlor tricks do not impress me."

For the first time since the battle began, Mo Xuan looked genuinely uncertain. The sorcerer who had manipulated events for millennia suddenly found himself facing something he hadn’t planned for—a power that exceeded his own plans.

The chamber fell silent except for the sound of Grim’s labored breathing as he hovered between life and death.