Apocalypse: Transmigrated with an Overlord System-Chapter 233: Kazren’s Past

On the farthest edge of the ruined zones of the Planet, deep within a forgotten valley surrounded by collapsed cities and mutated forests, stood a hidden estate known to no one but its master.

Kazren’s manor was carved into the side of a cliff, camouflaged with cloaking fields and natural overgrowth, its entrance protected by layers of encrypted barriers and optical illusions.

To the outside world, it looked like nothing more than a wasteland of shattered stone and lifeless soil. But inside, behind those illusions, stood a sleek, high-tech mansion made of reinforced blackstone and smooth white crystal—gleaming quietly under the filtered light of artificial suns embedded in the ceiling.

This was Kazren Maeryn’s sanctuary.

No one knew about it. No one could find it. And for now, that was enough.

Kazren walked slowly through the arched entryway of his estate, the automated doors opening silently before him. His cloak fluttered slightly as he entered. The air inside was fresh, filtered through layers of specially grown moss and micro-filter plants.

The floor was warm underfoot, embedded with passive heating circuits that matched the temperature of a spring morning on Spire.

But Kazren’s destination wasn’t the living quarters.

He passed through the main hall, crossed the bridge walkway above the underground forge, and descended the quiet glass elevator that led directly to his lab.

The moment the doors opened, a warm golden-green light poured out. The laboratory was vast and dome-shaped, filled with long rows of floating trays where seedlings sprouted from nutrient-rich soil. Each tray hovered mid-air, rotating gently, absorbing faint pulses of aether-infused light from the crystalline lamps above.

The entire floor beneath the plants was transparent glass, and below it was a wide field of shimmering soil—rich with raw aether stones. Their glowing veins pulsed like the heartbeat of the earth itself, sending bursts of energy into the roots of the plants growing above.

Kazren stepped in slowly, hands behind his back. His eyes moved across the rows of experimental produce: golden-leafed rice, purple wheat, crystal-skinned melons.

"Still unstable," he muttered, glancing at the data panels. "Aether absorption is too quick. The roots burn after twenty-four hours. Hmph."

He moved to the next tray. A vine twisted up toward the glass ceiling, its leaves tinged with silver. "Better," he whispered. "This one adapted."

Each plant was being tested for self-sustaining bioenergy. If successful, Kazren wouldn’t just grow food—he would grow power. Crops that healed wounds, fruits that amplified strength, grains that purified toxins. These would be the backbone of the world he intended to build.

Because a kingdom without resources was nothing.

And Kazren wasn’t building a shelter.

He was going to build his own civilization.

His expression softened briefly as he reached the center console and touched a holographic map. It showed the layout of his hidden planet—zones designated for agriculture, zones for defense, and a single circle in the center marked with a name:

A cold smile touched his lips. "Just a little longer..."

Suddenly, a quiet ding echoed from the far end of the lab.

The door opened.

A man in a black suit stepped inside and immediately bowed low. His face was covered with a half-mask, and his aura was barely noticeable—like a shadow pretending to be air.

"Master," the man said.

Kazren didn’t turn around. "Any news of Atlas? Did he show up?"

The agent straightened. "No, Master. Atlas has not appeared."

Kazren frowned faintly. "I see. Continue the report."

The man gave a short nod, his voice cautious.

"Regarding Dawn Base... the operation failed."

Kazren, who had just finished scanning a row of glowing seedlings inside a sealed glass chamber, paused without turning. His voice was cold.

"Failed? The mutated Fire Wolf pup alone should’ve triggered enough blood-scent to cause chaos."

The man swallowed. "We didn’t rely on just the pup, Master. Following your orders, we enhanced the corpse with Bloodrage Resin — a compound you designed to amplify the pheromones in mutated beasts. Its scent was calibrated to simulate the death-cry hormones of an alpha-class cub... one of their own."

Kazren’s fingers twitched slightly, but he said nothing.

"We also injected the pup’s body with Feral Lure, the psycho-stimulant that induces blood frenzy in beasts. It creates a trail — makes them obsessive. They were supposed to follow it blindly until they tore the base apart."

He hesitated before continuing. "Additionally, our field agents scattered microcapsules of Red Howl Dust around the perimeter of Dawn Base. The compound’s been banned by Spire since the Red Moon War, but it works — it mimics distress signals of wounded high-grade monsters. That should’ve created a perfect feeding illusion."

Kazren slowly turned, his expression unreadable. "And yet?"

The man lowered his eyes. "...They all died. Not a single mutated beast survived."

Kazren’s hand paused over the console. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

"...Eliminated?" he asked, turning slowly. "By First Commander?"

The agent’s voice was low. "The report says it was done by the First Commander of Spire. He arrived during the height of the beast tide and used a technique said to be his personal trump card. In a single command... the entire horde exploded."

Kazren’s eyes narrowed.

"...So he really used it," he muttered, his voice soft but filled with thought.

He slowly sat down on a nearby bench, resting one ankle over his knee. His eyes were lost in thought.

"The First Commander," he said, more to himself than the agent. "So her bases was really saved by him."

He tilted his head slightly, staring at the glowing vines in front of him.

"Liora..."

He whispered her name like a puzzle.

"What kind of existence are you...?" he said. "A supposed nobody from the Blue Planet. A forgotten planet. No record of your past... and yet..."

He looked up, eyes glowing faintly under the glass light.

"You gained the protection of Atlas, and now even the First Commander of Spire lays waste for you?"

His fingers tightened slightly.

"What did they see in you... that made them break the rules they once helped enforce?"

The lab grew quiet for a moment.

Then the masked man spoke again, cautious. "Master... should I continue monitoring the base? If you command, we can stir the people again. Perhaps we can even send a second horde."

Kazren waved his hand.

"No. Don’t touch the base. Let it be."

The man bowed again. "Then what are your orders?"

"Focus on the First Commander. I want everything. His current condition, his schedule, his guards, his allies, his mental state. And..."

Kazren stood, his expression turning sharp.

"...Do not let him catch you. He’s not like Atlas. He won’t give you a second chance. If you make a mistake near him... you won’t even realize you’ve died."

The agent nodded solemnly. "Understood."

Kazren turned back toward the seedlings, brushing his fingers gently along the glowing petals of a half-grown flower.

"That girl..." he whispered.

"She’s the key, isn’t she?"

His eyes gleamed.

Kazren Maeryn did not move.

His hand still rested over the translucent console, but his eyes had drifted far away—drawn not to the present, but to the shadows of a memory that refused to die.

Two years ago.

Back when he was still called the Miracle Scholar of the Nuvexis Spire.

Back then, the world looked very different.

The Spire itself was a colossal structure piercing the clouds, a vertical city surrounded by endless hovering districts, defense grids, floating academies, and the shimmering silver-blue skyways that branched like veins through the heavens. It was the center of knowledge, power, and authority for the entire civilized world of the upper galaxy.

But behind its shining face, the true power of the Spire was not held by the people nor by the law.

It was held by the Six Founding Clans—noble bloodlines that ruled from the shadows, their influence embedded in every corner of Spire’s systems. Each clan had one representative on the Council of Elders, but the decisions were rarely made on merit. Politics, alliances, and ancient feuds ruled everything.

Kazren belonged to one of those six—the Maeryn Clan, known for their mastery of natural aether, space-folding technologies, and plant-based genetic engineering.

And among them, Kazren had risen fast.

Though he was the second son, not the heir, his brilliance outshone even his older brother. His research in aether-sustained agriculture was decades ahead of its time, and he had been personally awarded by the Spire Council more than once. The public saw him as a prodigy. A symbol of the Spire’s future.

But even with his fame... he had never been the true heir.

That title had always belonged to his brother. The proper one. The obedient one.

Kazren, however, never complained.

Because he wasn’t alone.

By his side had stood another young man, just as powerful, just as brilliant, and destined to rise higher than any of them—

Atlas Vireon, the only son of the Vireon Clan, and heir to one of the most feared lineages in all the Spire.

Unlike Kazren, Atlas didn’t care for politics. He was happy, joyful without any care of the world. But with Kazren, he had always shown a strange loyalty. The two had grown up together, trained together, bled together. They were the perfect duo.

One was nerd. The other, reckless.

The Scholar and the Sword.

And between them stood the light of their youth—Aeris Vireon, Atlas’s younger sister.

She had been the soul of their little world.

Bright. Cheerful. Naïve in the best way. Always running between the labs and training fields, bringing sunshine into places where no joy should exist.

They both doted on her.

Kazren had treated her like a little sister of his own. He would bring her snacks from the lower districts, laugh at her terrible drawings, fix her hair when she got it tangled in the engine wires.

Atlas, though disdainful had protected her like a blade in the dark.

Together, the three of them were unshakable.

Until everything changed.

Kazren blinked slowly in the present, staring at a faint light blinking on the seedling monitor. His throat tightened.

He remembered that day too clearly.

It had been late at night, long after most researchers had gone home. Kazren was still in the data archive, digging deeper into the old vaults of Spire’s genetic experiments.

He was looking for something unrelated—an anomaly in plant genomes that reacted strangely to old-world radiation.

But what he found... was not a plant.

It was a file.