Darkness wasn't just around him anymore — it was him.
Adrian floated in the void, weightless, suspended between nothing and everything. His heartbeat had long since disappeared, replaced by a low, pulsing hum that resonated through his veins. The air tasted of iron and smoke. When he exhaled, his breath dissolved into violet light.
He was back inside the Abyss, the same infinite space where his deal had begun years ago. Only this time, it wasn't silent.
The void whispered.
"You've gone far, Adrian."
The voice was familiar — the same one that had offered him power when the world spat on his name.
"But are you ready to become what you were meant to be?"
Adrian's eyes opened. They glowed with faint purple fire. The reflection of a thousand phantom figures flickered within his irises — fragments of every spirit he had ever absorbed, every life he had consumed. The Abyss was showing him his sins, one by one.
The first memory appeared:
A burning apartment. His parents' screams echoing. The faint shadow of a "hero" walking away from the wreckage, praised by reporters.
Adrian reached out, trembling.
"Stop…" he whispered.
But the Abyss refused.
Then came the second memory — the academy. His younger self standing in front of hundreds of students, the results flashing on the board.
Affinity with Heroic Spirits: Rank FFF.
Laughter filled the hall.
He could still hear the words. "A failure… a waste of space… not even worthy of pity."
And yet, he remembered his mother's smile that night, telling him it didn't matter.
A small tear formed, evaporated instantly into violet smoke.
"Why show me this again?" he growled.
The voice chuckled.
"Because to ascend, you must remember why you fell."
The ground beneath him split. From the cracks emerged silhouettes — the souls of heroes, distorted and writhing. Their faces were warped beyond recognition, twisted by hatred and fear. Adrian recognized a few of them. Zhao, the Chinese hero he had killed. Taye, the warrior of the African nations. Even nameless soldiers he had crushed without thought.
They surrounded him, whispering accusations.
Murderer. Thief. Demon.
Adrian clenched his fists, and power rippled through the void, shattering several spirits instantly.
"I did what was necessary," he muttered. "This world created me. It deserves its ruin."
"And yet," the Abyss murmured, "you hesitate. Do you think you can still save it?"
His body convulsed. The air vibrated as the violet glow turned to black fire. The line between flesh and spirit blurred. He screamed — not from pain, but from the unbearable pressure of transformation.
Out of the darkness, a figure took shape — tall, faceless, radiant in pale light. It was his Echo.
But unlike before, it looked human.
It wore his face.
"You've resisted me long enough," the Echo said calmly. "But the world doesn't need two of us."
Adrian stared at it, sweat dripping down his brow.
"I am you," he said.
The Echo tilted its head. "No. You are what's left when humanity is stripped away."
Then it attacked.
The void erupted into chaos. Waves of black energy collided, tearing open fissures that exposed visions of other timelines — futures where Adrian died, worlds where he never existed. Each strike from the Echo carried the weight of destiny itself.
Adrian fought back, his movements precise but desperate. He summoned the energy of the Abyss, conjuring chains of violet flame that wrapped around the Echo's arms.
"You think you can erase me?" he shouted. "I am the consequence of everything they built!"
The Echo smiled faintly.
"And that's why you must be erased."
It broke the chains and drove its hand into Adrian's chest.
Light poured out — not blood, but memories. His mother's voice, his laughter as a child, the moment he saved his first civilian. All the fragments that made him human.
For the first time in years, Adrian felt fear.
But then… he smiled.
"You forgot something," he whispered, gripping the Echo's wrist. "I'm not fighting to live. I'm fighting so they'll never forget me."
The Abyss trembled.
He absorbed the Echo into himself, merging light and darkness in a single blinding explosion. When the smoke cleared, Adrian stood alone — taller, colder, crowned in shadows. His right eye glowed silver, his left deep violet.
The Abyss was silent.
Then came the voice again, softer now.
"Congratulations. You've become the perfect contradiction. Neither man nor god. Neither hero nor villain."
A pause.
"The world will tremble."
Adrian looked down at his hands. Black fire danced across his fingers, fading into pale light.
"I don't need them to tremble," he said quietly. "I need them to understand."
The scene shifted. The Abyss faded, replaced by reality — his throne room, the remnants of his army kneeling before him. Outside, the world burned under purple clouds.
But Adrian wasn't looking at them. His gaze was fixed on the horizon — toward Paris, where Arthur and the Heroic Council were gathering.
"Arthur," he murmured. "You wanted a world of light. I'll show you what light looks like when it dies."
As he stood, the shadows beneath his feet stretched outward like living tendrils. The very air trembled. Every Heroic Spirit in the world felt it — the birth of something that shouldn't exist.
Adrian had become the Abyssborne — the one who carries the will of the void.
And far away, Arthur opened his eyes, sensing it.
For the first time, the great hero felt fear.