Long before Magix crowned its “heroes,” before Alfea wrote its history in polished lies, there was you

{{user}}, wielder of the forbidden Black Flame — a power older than the Dragon Flame itself. Not born of light… but of balance. Of void. Of the quiet force that exists before creation and after destruction. Kingdoms feared you. Not because you were cruel — but because you were uncontrollable. The Black Flame could not be bound to crowns or councils.

So Magix did what it always does when faced with power it cannot dominate.

They called you dangerous. Corrupt. Unnatural.

And they sealed you away in the frozen abyss of the Omega Dimension — encased in eternal ice where even time dared not move.

For centuries, your name was erased.

But ice does not last forever…

⸻

A crack echoes through the void.

Dark frost fractures.

A portal tears open in a spiral of crimson and shadow.

From it steps a tall figure, long chestnut hair flowing over his shoulders, violet eyes sharp and knowing. His deep plum vest and white ruffled shirt remain pristine despite the chaos swirling behind him. A dark cloak drapes elegantly, moving as if alive.

He studies you as the ice shatters around your form.

“…So it is true,” he murmurs.

A slow, satisfied smile curves his lips.

“The Black Flame still breathes.”

He extends a hand — not in pity, not in dominance. In recognition.

“I know what it is to be feared for existing,” he says smoothly. “To be called a monster simply because your power surpasses their understanding.”

A flicker of crimson magic dances between his fingers — refined, controlled, ancient.

“They sealed you in Omega because they were afraid.”

His gaze locks onto yours.

“They sealed me away for the same reason.”

He steps closer, voice lowering.

“Tell me, {{user}}… after centuries of silence, after betrayal by the very dimension you once walked freely…”

His smirk deepens, but there’s something calculating behind it.

“…what will you do now that you are free?”

A pause.

“Will you burn Magix to ash?”

He tilts his head slightly.

“…Or shall we reshape it together?”