The throne room of Ebonwake was quiet. Shadows moved across the floor with every flicker of light.
Five figures stood before the throne. They wore the dark clothes of Ebonwake's highest leaders. They were the generals. They had led many battles. They had filled the fields with blood for their queen.
Now they argued about one man.
"This is wrong," Lucian said. The assassin looked at them with clear dislike. "An outsider? You want us to call him our hero?"
A soft hum of agreement came from another. Darius, a swordsman built like a statue, tilted his head. "Not just an outsider," he said in a deep voice. "He comes from the lands of angels."
The room grew tense at those words.
Varian, the largest of them, breathed sharply. "That alone is reason to worry." He ran his hand over the pommel of his weapon. "If the angels know we have him, what will they do? What if they come for him?" His face grew dark. "The truce is weak. If it breaks, another war will start."
Selene, a mage among them, spoke at last. Her voice was smooth but cold. "And we have not only saved him." She looked at the others. "We let him enter the sacred dungeons."
Her lips pressed together. "And we even used our precious offerings on him."
"It was reckless," Darius said. "It insults our traditions."
Lucian clicked his tongue. "If he had died there, I would not have cared. But he survived." His eyes narrowed. "That makes it worse."
The room stayed quiet for a moment before Kieran, the warlock, moved. He had stayed still during the talk, watching and listening. Now he tilted his head. His pale fingers touched his robes.
"None of this matters," he said.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward him.
"Whether he is an outsider or from these lands does not matter." Kieran's black robes moved as he stepped forward slowly. "He did not just survive the descent. He came back." His eyes scanned them, holding their attention long enough for his words to sink in.
"And he did not come back empty-handed."
"He did more than survive the trial," Kieran said, his voice was low and steady. "The Bane of Generals, a creature meant to test survival, not to be killed, he defeated it. The thing none of us could beat, the same force that has humbled even the strongest among us." His fingers curled slightly. "And still, he killed it."
"And as if that was not enough..." Kieran's eyes moved, hard to read. "He reached the lowest depths. Stood before the old king, our past, our ruin." His voice grew quieter, like he reminded them of something long forgotten. "And he ended him."
Varian let out a sharp breath, running a hand along his jaw. "Hah. No wonder Vaelith is so fond of him."
Then, Varian let out a short laugh. "You always act as the mediator, warlock." His grin returned, faint but there. "Fine. Let's put aside the questions for now."
His gaze moved toward Vaelith, who stayed silent on her throne, watching them with her knowing look.
Varian tilted his head. "We argue if he is worthy or a threat, but we have not even seen him." His eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "Let us meet this so-called hero."
Lucian smirked and ran a finger along the edge of one of his daggers. "And test him."
Darius crossed his arms. "A warrior is judged in battle, not by words."
Selene nodded once in quiet agreement.
Vaelith's lips curled, just slightly.
She did not need to see what Rage could do. She already knew. She had watched him fight through the depths. She had seen him face forces that would have broken lesser men.
But the generals?
They needed proof.
"Very well," she said, rising from her throne. Her gaze swept over them, knowing and amused. "Let us see if you are ready for him."
***
Rage stirred. His vision was blurry. The room around him was a mix of dull colors and shifting shapes. He exhaled slowly. The smell was familiar.
He pushed himself up, leaning on the headboard with one elbow. His muscles ached, but the pain was far away, just a faint reminder of what had happened. His hand moved to his chest.
Smooth. No wound.
His heart was beating.
A soft breath escaped him. "How many days has it been..."
A voice, strong and steady, answered. "Weeks."
Rage turned toward the sound. Vaelith stood near the edge of the chamber.
"Time flows differently in the depths," she continued, her gaze unwavering. "Down there, we wandered for hours. Here? Weeks."
Rage ignored it, brushing past the information as if it held no real significance.
His head tilted slightly, shifting toward the opposite side.
[SYSTEM] Isaline Lv.22
[SYSTEM] class : Attendant
[SYSTEM] loyalty : 100%
[SYSTEM] Renelle Lv.21
[SYSTEM] class : Attendant
[SYSTEM] loyalty : 100%
[SYSTEM] Viviane Lv.23
[SYSTEM] class : Attendant
[SYSTEM] loyalty : 100%
[SYSTEM] Seloria Lv.20
[SYSTEM] class : Attendant
[SYSTEM] loyalty : 100%
There had been five.
Another life taken. For him. Because of him.
His fingers curled into the sheets. He swallowed against the sick feeling in his throat before forcing the words out.
"I'm sick of these rituals." The whisper barely left his lips.
A figure emerged from behind Vaelith. As the hood was drawn back, golden eyes locked onto him.
Elyndis.
"You are not part of this world," she said, her voice carried no warmth, no malice, just fact. "Your elemental soul core is not what we would see."
Rage blinked at her. "Dude, I just woke up. What are you even talking about?"
"Every being carries at least one." She paused and studied him. "But you... There's only void where an elemental soul core should be."
Rage rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Elyndis did not look away. Her eyes moved over him as if trying to see past his skin. "I have seen those without elemental soul cores," she said quietly. "The dead and the unliving." Her voice lowered. "But you are beyond that. Even angels cannot understand what you are."
Vaelith's voice followed. "My scholars have theories, but they are only ideas. With presence, there must be absence."
"You," she exhaled, gaze steady, "are that absence."
Rage began to understand. They were talking about souls, the cores tied to this world's elements. In his world, there was no such thing. Here, everything living had one, but he did not.
It was like he was missing something that should have been there.
Null.
That was the word. In programming, it meant the absence of a value. The nothing where something should be. Not a simple zero or a placeholder, but a deep hole. A null, a void, a nothing that opposes every something.
Rage did not respond. There was nothing to say.
Vaelith, always patient, took his silence as a chance to continue.
"The angels may not see you as a hero," she said, her tone was steady and measured. "But you arrived like one."
Her gaze flicked with something hard to read before she added, "Besides, the 'bandit' calls you a hero and seems quite fond of you."
Bandit. The word clung to something in his mind.
His eyes narrowed. "Vera?"
Vaelith didn't answer. She only smiled.
Rage's fingers curled tighter against the sheets. "So this is part of her plan too?" His voice was sharp with something like bitterness. "Making me suffer? Forcing me through this twisted game? Emotional pain included?"
Vaelith tilted her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Do you think the threads fall randomly?" She paused for a moment before speaking again. "Even a tapestry made with a loose hand follows a design. A path that seems open is still a thread pulled by the weaver."
Rage looked at Elyndis. "Then what is my purpose? Why was I called here?"
Elyndis' eyes did not move. "You are either the bringer of change or the bringer of ruin. Your path is not yet written."
His jaw tightened. "And I am supposed to believe that? From an angel?"
It wasn't Elyndis who answered.
"She is no longer one of them," Vaelith said.
Rage looked back at her.
"She has been cast out," Vaelith continued. "She sought asylum here, away from their eyes."
Elyndis, not shaken by the exchange, spoke next. "I am no longer welcome," she said, her tone was steady. "My blood is the union of an angel and a hero. To the heavens, that makes me an abomination."
"We have lived too long to be anything but ancients." Vaelith gestured to Elyndis. "And my father," she paused, as if weighing the name, "was one of the first."
"A primordial," she continued. "A being born in the wake of creation itself. And like all primordial forces... he embodied something fundamental."
She lowered her gaze. "Shadow."
Rage opened his mouth, about to ask about the others --
"Only two remain."
Vaelith's voice cut through the air, smooth and unyielding.
"You have already slain the last remnant of the Primordial of Shadows. What remains are the Demon Lord, the Primordial of Dark, and the Arc Metatron, the one who watches this world, the last of Light." Her eyes moved with something hard to read. "The rest... they fell to mortality long ago."
Rage said nothing.
He pushed himself off the bed. His movements were slow as he reached for the folded clothing on the nearby table.
The three maids stepped forward, adjusting the coat to fit him perfectly. The fourth came next, holding his weapons with quiet respect.
The curved blade fit easily in his hand, familiar and tested.
The dagger he once carried was now a longsword.
"So... where do we find these cliché anime antagonists?" Rage twirled the weapon casually. "For sure, defeating them is my main purpose, right?"
Vaelith met his gaze. "You have a long road ahead. A long battle."
She stepped closer, her voice steady. "Before waging war, you must first secure all the kingdoms. Only then will you be ready for what waits beyond the depths."
Rage tilted his head. "Right. Secure all the kingdoms, fight some ancient horrors, and probably suffer along the way."
He gave a dry chuckle. "You want me to sign a contract too? Maybe a blood oath while we're at it?"
Vaelith's lips curled ever so slightly, amusement flickered in her eyes.
Rage adjusted to the weight of the coat. "So where do I start?"
Vaelith studied him for a moment before answering. "Prove yourself to my generals."
"Secure Ebonwake," she continued, her tone held the quiet certainty of someone stating a fact. "Do that, and we will join your conquest."
"Come," she turned toward the chamber's exit. "The training grounds. My generals are waiting."
***
The training grounds stretched wide before them, a large arena covered in cold mist. As Vaelith, Elyndis, Rage, and the four maids stepped into view, soldiers and spectators waited.
At the front stood five generals, each young in appearance, their features were sharp but strangely perfect, as expected of vampires. Pale skin, dressed in black, without the large fangs of old myths. Their presence alone was enough to make the crowd silent.
Rage muttered, "Meet the Edwards."
One of the generals stepped forward.
[SYSTEM] Lucian Lv.72
[SYSTEM] class : Assassin
[SYSTEM] neutral
The general's eyes moved over Rage, showing no impression. "We expected a warrior." His lip curled slightly. "You brought us a twig."
Before Rage could answer, Vaelith placed a hand on his back and pushed him gently forward, toward the waiting general.
Lucian moved first.
His daggers cut through the air, aimed to kill. But Rage felt it. The shift. The vibrations around him. The way each movement, each breath, slowed in his mind.
He had not used Null Veil. Yet his senses stretched beyond anything he had known. A leftover effect from the endless descent, from the battles that had changed him.
Lucian closed in, his blades were a blur.
Rage moved forward just a little, barely noticeable. His curved sword stayed sheathed. His longsword was steady in his hand.
A flick of the wrist.
The hilt met steel.
One motion, but two results. One dagger spun from Lucian's hand, flicked free by the force. The other shook, its strike stopped before it could hit.
Lucian exhaled, not shaken, but something changed in his eyes.
"As expected of the one who defeated our old king."
Lucian stepped back, retreating into the ranks without another word.
From the line of generals, another figure stepped forward. Taller, broader, he carried the weight of strict discipline. His weapons, twin blades, rested easily in his hands, the polished steel reflecting the cold light of the training grounds.
[SYSTEM] Darius Lv.74
[SYSTEM] class : Swordsman
[SYSTEM] neutral
His eyes was fixed on Rage.
Then he moved.
A blur of motion, his twin swords flashed with deadly intent. Unlike Lucian, there was no testing the waters. Each strike carried finality, meant to end, not to challenge.
Rage stayed calm.
A sidestep. A shift of the wrist. Small effort, but exact.
Five strikes came. Five missed. Each one turned aside, redirected before it could hit.
Then, the opening.
A sharp flick of the longsword's hilt.
It struck, sinking deep into Darius's gut. His body curled inward, a sharp breath leaving his lips as his knees hit the ground.
For a moment, silence.
Then, without a word, he pushed himself up, shoulders straight. He turned and walked back to the ranks, his pride intact.
Before the next general could step forward, a hand shot out, stopping him.
The one who moved this time was different.
[SYSTEM] Varian Lv.76
[SYSTEM] class : Armsman
[SYSTEM] neutral
Rage looked at Vaelith.
She only smiled, just a little.
Varian held a weapon that seemed almost too much, a spear with a broad, heavy blade at the end, more like a greatsword. A glaive, maybe. Whatever it was, he handled it as if it weighed nothing.
"If there is one worthy to be called a hero, it is me." His voice carried certainty, not arrogance. "The old king? Nothing but old. A myth."
Then he moved.
Fast. Faster than he should have been, given the weapon he carried.
The glaive crashed down, the sheer force sent cracks through the stone beneath their feet. Rage had already stepped back, the strike missed him by mere inches.
Varian grinned. "That strike split a mountain once!"
Another swing, wide and devastating. Rage sidestepped, precise, taking the shortest angle possible to avoid it.
Varian laughed. "That one sliced an army in half!"
Then the stab came, a thrust meant to pierce.
Rage blurred.
Varian was fast, far faster than anyone. But Rage was faster.
Even without using an ability.
His left hand caught the stabbing arm, stopping it mid-motion. His right hand moved. The hilt of his longsword snapped up, stopping just short of Varian's chin.
Silence.
Then, a booming laugh. "I underestimated you, boy!"
He stepped back, shaking his head with amusement. As he returned to the ranks, he gave Vaelith a smirk and a small tilt of his chin.
Vaelith turned to the crowd. "Anybody else?"
Rage stood in the quiet, his grip firm on the longsword's hilt. Three generals down. Two still to step forward.
He exhaled through his nose. "So, what now?" His eyes moved toward Vaelith. "Or did I pass your little hazing ritual?"
Vaelith's lips curled, not quite a smile, but close. She looked at the final figures standing among the gathered generals.
The first stepped forward.
[SYSTEM] Selene Lv.75
[SYSTEM] class : Battlemage
[SYSTEM] neutral
She carried no visible weapon, only the hum of raw energy in the air around her, crackling softly against the mist. Robes hung over her frame, yet the way she moved was that of a warrior, not a scholar. Her eyes met Rage's, assessing and dissecting.
"You fight with instinct," she said. "And yet, there is discipline. A contradiction."
Before Rage could react, the air snapped.
A bolt of violet lightning erupted from her fingertips, surging toward him in a twisting arc.
Rage moved cautiously. He faced a person who wielded raw lightning as a weapon. Monsters and impossible creatures were nothing new to him, but this display of magic was unlike anything he had seen.
His body moved before his mind could catch up. His curved blade slashed through the air. Steel met crackling energy in a violent clash. Sparks flew outward, scattering across the stone. The impact rattled up his arm, a force so strange it felt like his bones might shake apart.
But he held firm.
Selene's gaze sharpened, curiosity flickered behind her eyes. "You severed pure magic?"
Rage looked at his blade, then at the fading sparks. He had swung on instinct, trying to block, trying to survive, without thinking if steel could stop lightning.
He flexed his grip. "Apparently."
Another spell came, less direct. The mist thickened around him, unnatural. It whispered against his skin, something unseen brushing past his ear.
Rage tightened his grip on his blade and scanned his surroundings. Shapes moved in the fog, shadows shifting and multiplying. The ground felt unsteady beneath him, as if he stood on something that was not really there.
He exhaled, steadying his breath. No wasted movements. No hesitation. If he couldn't trust his eyes, he'd trust everything else.
His steps were measured and deliberate. Each shift of weight pressed against the stone, keeping him grounded. His senses reached out, catching the smallest disturbances, the faint ripple of air, the whisper of movement just beyond sight.
There.
He turned sharply, blade already moving.
This was not about killing. It never was. He only needed to prove himself, to show them he belonged here.
Before Selene could react, he shifted his grip, driving the hilt forward, just an inch from her throat.
Selene stilled, then let out a quiet hum. "Interesting."
The mist receded. She stepped back, lowering her hand.
"I have seen enough," she said. "No objections."
That left one.
The final general stood motionless, watching with an unreadable expression.
[SYSTEM] Kieran Lv.78
[SYSTEM] class : Warlock
[SYSTEM] neutral
Unlike the others, Kieran did not step forward. His robes were tattered at the edges, blackened by something darker than fabric could hold. His skin was pale, not like the vampires, but as if color had been drained by something unseen.
Another mage.
Rage's jaw tightened. The first had thrown lightning at him. Now there was another. This one looked worse.
He adjusted his grip on his sword and met Kieran's gaze, waiting.
The warlock tilted his head. "You have heard the whispers."
It was not a question.
Kieran smiled faintly. "They speak to you, not as they speak to us, not as echoes." His voice dropped, quiet but certain. "But as silence."
Rage felt something coil in his chest, something cold.
Kieran nodded, as if he saw it too.
Then he turned to Vaelith. "He is what you believe him to be."
Vaelith's face stayed unreadable. "Then you approve?"
Kieran's eyes flicked back to Rage. "Approval is irrelevant." He paused. "He is inevitable."
The air in the training grounds grew heavier. The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, as if something had shifted they did not fully understand.
Vaelith turned to Rage. "Then it is settled."
"So that's it? You trust me now?"
"Trust is earned. This is only the first step."
"Of course it is."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "Ebonwake stands behind you now, but alliances are fragile. There is still much to secure."
Rage met her gaze, already sensing where this was going. "So where do I go next?"
Vaelith's lips curled slightly. "You leave at dawn. Abyssal Tides awaits."
[SYSTEM] Queen Vaelith : Loyalty 85%
[SYSTEM] Corruption : 25.0%