The Last Paragon in the Apocalypse

“Nine Divine Soul Bead Art,” Fruity whispered as he read the name aloud. He didn’t even need a second to look at the runic inscriptions, he immediately knew the meaning so he spoke the name.

The moment he said the words, the runes on the door began to light up, pulsing with energy. A low hum filled the air, and Fruity immediately felt a strange sensation in his chest as if something was calling out to him.

Fruity’s heart raced faster as he approached the glowing door. “Is this it? Is this the technique meant for me?” he thought, moving closer. The light intensified, and suddenly, the door swung open again.

He expected to see the outside of the building, but what greeted him took him by surprise. Instead of the familiar surroundings, he saw a peaceful, evergreen space filled with vibrant flowers, rare plants, and birds flying about. Their soft chirping created a melody that instantly calmed him.

“What is this place?” Fruity muttered as he stepped through the doorway. The atmosphere was serene, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could tell that this place wasn’t part of the world he had come from. It felt like a completely different plane of existence.

“Finally, the renegade has appeared.” Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.

Startled, Fruity jerked forward, his heart pounding again. He quickly turned around and saw a bald man sitting under an apple tree, draped in simple monk robes with heavy-looking prayer beads around his neck. The man sat calmly on a prayer mat, his presence powerful yet strangely peaceful.

“Who are you?” Fruity asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though he couldn’t hide the fear creeping in. The monk’s presence felt overwhelming, like a force of nature.

The monk smiled gently and gestured to a prayer mat across from him. “Come, sit down, Fruity.”

Fruity hesitated but was too curious to refuse. As he sat down, he couldn’t help but ask, “Grandpa, how do you know my name?” Since the monk hadn’t introduced himself, Fruity gave him the same respectful title he used for the elder monks at the monastery.

The monk chuckled softly. “Names are easy to know, especially when the heavens have been watching you for a long time.”

Fruity felt a cold chill run down his spine. “The heavens?” he repeated, his voice tinged with sudden wariness. He couldn’t explain it, but hearing that word stirred something deep inside him—an odd mix of anger and sadness.

It wasn’t something he fully understood, yet the feelings lingered. On the outside, he remained calm, but the monk sitting before him seemed to notice everything, as though he could see straight into Fruity’s soul.

The monk didn’t mention it. Instead, he asked a simple question, “Fruity, what is it that you want in this life?”

Fruity blinked, caught off guard. What did he want? The question seemed easy enough, but when he tried to answer, he found himself struggling. A day ago, the answer would have been simple.

He would have said that he wanted to grow up, eat lots of food, play with his uncles, and maybe when he was strong enough, he’d seek out the Ice Princess, the girl he admired so much. But now, that dream felt distant, almost childish.

His life had changed in ways he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just a carefree boy anymore. Now, he was responsible for much more. He needed to become stronger, not to chase after a girl, but to protect himself and those he cared about.

He had to grow powerful enough to reunite with Aurelia and defend his home when the inevitable dangers arrived.

“I want to be strong enough to tear down the heavens and protect the ones I love,” Fruity said suddenly. The words came out without hesitation, even though he hadn’t planned to say them. They were raw, filled with emotion he didn’t fully understand, but he knew in his heart they were true.

The monk’s eyes gleamed with understanding as he gazed at Fruity. There was no surprise, only acceptance. “A noble desire,” he said softly. “But be warned, Fruity, tearing down the heavens is no easy task. It will demand more of you than you can imagine. Strength alone may not be enough.”

Fruity clenched his fists. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I won’t let anyone hurt the people I care about.”

The monk nodded. “Good. Hold on to that resolve. It will guide you in the dark times ahead. But remember, strength isn’t just about power—it’s about the heart, the will to keep going when everything else tells you to stop.”

Fruity sat in silence, absorbing the monk’s words. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but he knew one thing: he couldn’t afford to fail. Too many people were counting on him.

The monks didn’t show it, but deep down, they were all wary of what was to come. They knew that no amount of training, secrecy, or careful covering of tracks could hide Fruity’s existence forever. He was an oddity, something that didn’t fit the natural order. And the heavens? They wouldn’t allow such an oddity to grow.

Fruity’s presence was like a crack in their design, something destined to be eradicated.

After observing Fruity for a while, the Monk spoke “Good. Now remember, you are who you choose to be. Don’t let the rules or expectations of others change who you are meant to become. You are a Paragon, the bane of the heavens. Be one. Be the renegade, the one who defies all norms.”

As the monk’s words echoed in Fruity’s mind, something strange happened. His vision began to darken, and before he could react, everything around him disappeared into blackness. The peaceful evergreen space was gone, and when his sight returned, he found himself standing in an empty, vast expanse. The place felt hollow and desolate, with no light to guide him and no life in sight.

A shiver ran down his spine. The darkness wasn’t just a lack of light—it felt like something more, something pressing against his very soul.

Then, suddenly, a low, rhythmic chanting filled the air. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The words were strange, foreign, yet they stirred something deep inside Fruity. The chanting grew louder and more intense, and Fruity stood there, frozen in place as if drawn into a trance.

As the chanting continued, a sense of unease and wonder washed over him. His heart raced, but at the same time, he felt a strange calm, as though the chanting was meant for him, calling to him. The sound seemed to speak to the deepest parts of his soul, unlocking thoughts and emotions he didn’t know he had.

He felt entranced, unable to move or look away. Something was happening—something beyond his understanding.

“What… is this place?” Fruity whispered, his voice swallowed by the vast emptiness around him. But no one answered.

The chanting intensified, filling his mind with images, symbols, and fragments of something greater. It was as if the very space he stood in was alive, pulsating with an ancient power that was reaching out to him.

Fruity didn’t know what was happening, however, he soon got the answer. The chanting suddenly stopped and Fruity was left standing inside the Soul Temple. Somehow, he was back there.

He sighed, but just when he could move, something appeared in his mind, “The Nine Divine Soul Bead Art… It’s the first form” He smiled and then walked out of the Temple with a smile playing on his lips.