Chapter 1: The Chains Break
---
The chains shattered.
Not with a dramatic explosion. Not with divine light or thunderous pronouncement. They simply... stopped existing. One moment, soul-binding iron pressed against skin that had forgotten what whole felt like. The next, nothing.
Kael Ashford opened his eyes.
Wrong room. Wrong ceiling. Wrong body.
He sat up. The movement came too easily. No chains to restrict him. No weight of corruption dragging at his limbs. No Vexroth's laughter echoing in the space between heartbeats.
Sixteen years old. His hands were smooth. Unmarked. The burgundy-black veins of Abyssal Void Resonance should have crawled up his forearms like living scars, but the skin showed nothing. Clean. Unblemished. As if 188 years in the Abyss had been a dream.
It hadn't been a dream.
Kael's fingers flexed. The muscle memory remainedâ€"how to form the nullification field, how to channel the Void, how to drain an enemy's Aetheric frequency until they collapsed into themselves. His body might be young, but his soul remembered everything.
Every. Single. Second.
"Young master, breakfast is ready."
The voice came from beyond the door. Mira. The head maid who would die in three months when Marcus orchestrated the 'accident' in the eastern wing. Kael had watched her burn. Had been too weak to stop it. The memory tasted like ash.
"I'll be down shortly," Kael said.
His voice sounded wrong. Too light. Too young. In the Abyss, his voice had become something elseâ€"ground glass and frozen blood. This was the voice of a boy who hadn't yet learned what true suffering meant.
He stood. The room spun for a moment, then settled. Ashford Manor. His childhood bedroom. The family crest hung on the wallâ€"a crimson serpent devouring its own tail, surrounded by void-black chains. Ironic, that.
Kael walked to the mirror.
The face staring back at him was almost a stranger. Dark hair, still messy from sleep. Sharp features that would become harder with age. Eyes that should have been cold and dead but currently held a flicker of... something. Not quite emotion. Not anymore. But the echo of what emotions used to feel like.
He needed to confirm the date.
---
The Ashford dining hall stretched thirty meters end to end, a monument to excess that served a family of exactly four people. Kael's father, Patriarch Aldric, sat at the head of the table. His half-brother Marcus occupied the seat to Aldric's right. Elena, Marcus's mother and his father's second wife, sat opposite Marcus with a smile that never reached her eyes.
Kael took his usual seat. Left side. Far from the power center. Where the disposable son belonged.
"You're late," Elena said. Her tone carried the perfect balance of concern and condescension. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"I'm fine." Kael reached for the bread. His hand moved with clinical precisionâ€"no wasted motion, no excess energy. A habit from the Abyss, where inefficiency meant death.
Marcus watched him. His half-brother's eyes narrowed fractionally. Kael had seen that look before, would see it again in the coming months. The look of a predator evaluating prey, calculating when to strike.
Not yet, brother. Not this time.
"The Resonance Evaluation is in two weeks," Aldric said. He didn't look up from his meal. "You'll need to reach the Second Realm by then. Have you been practicing?"
Second Realm. The Ember. Kael had reached the Sovereign Realm in his original timeline, had touched the threshold of Eternal before the demons dragged him screaming into the Abyss. Now he was back at Kindling. Barely.
"Every day," Kael lied.
"Good." Aldric set down his fork. "The Ashford name demands excellence. I expect you to demonstrate our bloodline's power."
Void Resonance. The family's pride and curse. The ability to devour other practitioners' magic, to absorb their strength and make it his own. In his original timeline, Kael had been terrified of it. Had barely used it. The emotional dulling, the gradual loss of humanityâ€"he'd resisted it until it was too late.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
"I won't disappoint you, Father."
Marcus's lips curved slightly. A smile that promised suffering. "Of course he won't. My dear brother has always been so... diligent."
The words dripped with venom disguised as honey. In three weeks, Marcus would sabotage Kael's first tournament match. In six weeks, he'd spread rumors about Kael's 'instability' to the other noble families. In three months, Mira would burn.
Kael's hand tightened on his fork. The metal bent slightly before he forced himself to relax. Careful. The body was young, but the Abyssal corruption had changed him at a fundamental level. Even regressed, he was stronger than he should be.
"Thank you for the confidence, brother." Kael's voice remained flat. Emotionless. He watched Marcus's smile falter for just a fraction of a second.
Good. Let him wonder. Let him question.
The breakfast continued in silence.
---
After the meal, Kael made his way to the training grounds. The Ashford estate sprawled across fifty acres of carefully manicured land, but Kael ignored the gardens and decorative fountains. His destination lay underground.
The family vault.
Only direct bloodline members could enter. Kael pressed his palm against the doorâ€"a slab of black iron inscribed with containment runes that would kill anyone without Ashford blood. The runes flared crimson, then subsided. The door swung open.
Inside, the temperature dropped fifteen degrees. The vault stored the family's most dangerous artifacts, the ones too volatile for public display. Kael walked past shelves of cursed weapons and forbidden texts until he reached the far wall.
There. A small obsidian box, sealed with chains of silver-white metal.
Kael had discovered this in his original timeline fifteen years too late. By then, Marcus had already claimed it for himself, had used its contents to accelerate his cultivation to the Eclipse Realm. It was one of the many advantages that had made Marcus untouchable.
Not anymore.
Kael lifted the box. It was surprisingly light. He carried it to the center of the vault, where a ritual circle had been carved into the stone floor. The box went in the center.
He bit his thumb. Blood welled upâ€"darker than it should be, tinged with purple-black corruption from the Abyss. He let three drops fall onto the obsidian surface.
The box cracked open.
Inside, a single object: a crystal shard the size of his palm, pulsing with sickly green light. An Aetheric Fragment, condensed power from a Constellation Realm practitioner who'd failed their ascension to Sovereign. Normally, such a thing would be useless to someone at Kindling. The power differential would tear apart anyone foolish enough to try absorbing it.
But Kael wasn't normal anymore.
He had Abyssal Void Resonance. He'd spent 188 years learning to devour corruption itself. This fragment was nothing compared to the demonic essence he'd consumed in the Abyss.
Kael sat cross-legged and placed the fragment against his chest.
The world exploded.
---
Pain.
After 188 years, Kael had developed an intimate relationship with pain. He'd catalogued every varietyâ€"the sharp bite of soul-rending, the dull ache of essence drainage, the burning agony of abyssal corruption eating through flesh that couldn't die. This ranked somewhere in the middle. A seven, maybe an eight.
Manageable.
The Aetheric Fragment's power flooded into him like molten metal through his veins. His Void Resonance activated automatically, burgundy-black marks spreading up his arms as his bloodline ability triggered. The marks pulsed with each heartbeat, drinking in the foreign energy.
But it wasn't enough. The fragment's power was too much, too fast. His channels couldn't handle the throughput. They began to crack.
In his original timeline, this would have killed him. He would have panicked, would have tried to push the energy out, would have destroyed himself in the process.
Kael did the opposite.
He pulled harder.
The Abyssal Void Resonance surged. The marks on his arms darkened from burgundy to deep purple-black, the mutation he'd gained from 188 years of demonic torture. This wasn't the clean, controlled absorption of normal Ashford bloodline abilities. This was ravenous. Hungry. It didn't just accept the powerâ€"it devoured it, tore it apart, consumed it down to the fundamental frequencies.
The fragment dissolved.
Its essence flooded into Kael's core, where the Aetheric Current residedâ€"the invisible river of primordial energy that all practitioners accessed. His Current roared. The first Realm, Kindling, was about establishing the basic connection. The second, Ember, was about sustaining a flame. Third Realm practitioners at Forge could shape that flame into weapons.
Kael shattered through Kindling like it didn't exist.
Second Realm. The flame ignited. His internal channels, fractured and bleeding, suddenly reinforced themselves. Not with normal Aetheric energy, but with something else. Abyssal essence, woven into his very structure. The cracks didn't healâ€"they transformed into pathways for the corruption to flow.
Third Realm. The Forge. His body temperature spiked. The corruption in his blood burned away impurities, reforged his physical form. Bones that should have taken decades to strengthen condensed in minutes. Muscles restructured themselves for maximum efficiency. His heart, previously pumping normal blood, now pushed liquid that was equal parts Aetheric energy and abyssal corruption.
Fourth Realmâ€"
The fragment ran out.
Kael gasped. His eyes snapped open.
He was halfway to the Threshold. Fourth Realm was supposed to be a major barrier, the point where practitioners transformed from merely talented to genuinely dangerous. The death rate for attempting Threshold breakthrough hovered around seventy percent.
Kael had almost made it in a single session. With a resource that should have killed him.
He looked down at his arms. The burgundy-black marks hadn't faded. They pulsed beneath his skin like living things, mapping out the pathways of his Void Resonance. Permanent now. The price of the rapid advancement.
Perfect.
Kael stood. His body responded with power he hadn't felt in 188 years. Third Realm, Forge. At sixteen years old. The Resonance Evaluation in two weeks would expect Second Realm at best. He'd exceeded that by an entire cultivation stage.
Marcus would notice. Elena would notice. They'd accelerate their plans.
Good. Let them try.
---
The walk back from the vault took fifteen minutes. Kael used the time to adjust to his new power level. The world felt different at Forge Realm. Sharper. His senses extended in a sphere around him, detecting Aetheric fluctuations within a ten-meter radius. He could feel the servants moving through the manor, each one a flickering candle of energy. Most were Kindling or below. Unremarkable.
One signature burned brighter.
Marcus.
Kael's half-brother stood in the hallway outside Kael's room. Third Realm as well, but stable. Controlled. Marcus had reached Forge six months ago through conventional cultivation methods. His energy felt clean, refined. Nothing like the corrupted mess that now flowed through Kael's channels.
"There you are," Marcus said. His smile was friendly. His eyes weren't. "I was looking for you. Wanted to congratulate you on Father's praise at breakfast. It's rare that he acknowledges your... efforts."
Kael stopped three meters away. The perfect distance. Close enough to seem normal. Far enough to react if Marcus tried anything.
"Thank you."
"You seem different today." Marcus took a step closer. His Aetheric signature flared slightlyâ€"a probe, testing Kael's strength. "Something changed. Did you have a breakthrough?"
Clever. In the original timeline, Kael had been too naive to recognize when Marcus was gathering intelligence. Every casual conversation had been an interrogation. Every friendly gesture had masked calculation.
"I'm the same as always, brother." Kael let his own signature flare in response. Just a fraction. Just enough to signal he wasn't helpless.
Marcus's eyes widened. Barely noticeable, but Kael caught it. His half-brother's energy signature spikedâ€"surprise, then suspicion, then something else. Fear?
No. Not fear. Not yet.
"Interesting," Marcus said. His smile never wavered. "Well, I won't keep you. I'm sure you have training to do. Two weeks until the evaluation, after all."
He walked past Kael. Their shoulders nearly brushed. For a single moment, their Aetheric signatures overlapped.
Kael felt it then. The dark undercurrent beneath Marcus's controlled exterior. His half-brother wasn't just Third Realm. He was close to Fourth. Very close. And there was something else, something foreign mixed into his energy. An artifact? A forbidden technique?
Marcus had secrets too.
"See you at dinner, brother," Marcus called over his shoulder.
Kael watched him go. In the original timeline, Marcus had won. Had orchestrated Kael's fall with brutal efficiency. Had claimed the Ashford inheritance while Kael rotted in the Abyss.
But that was the old timeline. The old Kael.
This Kael had consumed 188 years of hell. Had learned to devour demons. Had transformed suffering into weapon.
Marcus wanted to play games?
Fine.
Kael would play.
---
Night fell over Ashford Manor like a shroud.
Kael sat in his room, windows open to let in the cool air. His body no longer generated heat the way normal humans did. The Abyssal corruption had altered his biology at a fundamental level. Cold didn't bother him anymore. Neither did heat, or hunger, or exhaustion. Useful benefits.
Empty benefits.
In the Abyss, Vexroth had explained it once, between torture sessions. "Void Resonance doesn't just drain magic, boy. It drains meaning. Every time you use it, you lose a little piece of what makes you human. Joy becomes muted. Love becomes distant. Eventually, there's nothing left but the hunger."
Kael hadn't understood. Not then.
He understood now.
Sitting in his childhood room, alive again, given a second chanceâ€"he felt nothing. No relief. No joy. No hope. Just the cold calculation of a mind that had been shattered and reforged in darkness. He had objectives. Destroy Marcus. Prevent the demonic invasion. Save those who'd died in the original timeline.
But did he want to save them? Or was it just another tactical decision, optimizing variables in an equation he no longer cared about solving?
Kael didn't know. Couldn't know. The parts of him that would have anguished over such questions had burned away in chains of soul-binding iron.
All that remained was purpose.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Young master? It's Mira. I've brought your evening tea."
Three months. She had three months before the fire.
"Come in," Kael said.
The door opened. Mira entered, carrying a tray with a porcelain teapot and cup. She was young, maybe twenty-five. Brown hair pulled back in a practical bun. Kind eyes that crinkled when she smiled. In the original timeline, she'd been one of the few people who'd shown Kael genuine kindness. No agenda. No manipulation. Just basic human decency.
Marcus had killed her for it. Had burned down the eastern wing and blamed it on faulty rune-work. Kael had discovered the truth fifteen years too late, when Marcus drunkenly confessed during a gloating session.
"Here you are," Mira said, setting the tray down. "Chamomile, like always. It'll help you sleep."
Kael looked at her. Really looked. Tried to find some echo of emotion, some fragment of the gratitude he should feel. Found nothing.
"Thank you, Mira."
"Of course." She paused at the door. "Young master... if you don't mind me saying, you seem troubled. If there's anything I can do..."
Save yourself, Kael wanted to say. Run. Leave the manor. Don't be here in three months.
"I'm fine," he said instead. "Just thinking about the evaluation."
Mira smiled. "You'll do wonderfully. I have faith in you."
The door closed.
Kael stared at the tea. Didn't drink it. After a moment, he poured it into the decorative plant by his window. In the original timeline, this tea had been poisoned. Not enough to killâ€"Marcus was subtler than thatâ€"but enough to disrupt his cultivation for the evaluation.
Small moves. Tiny manipulations. Death by a thousand cuts.
Kael stood and walked to the window. Outside, the Ashford estate stretched into darkness. Somewhere in that darkness, Marcus was plotting. Elena was scheming. The servants who would betray him were sleeping peacefully. The noble families who would turn on him were secure in their mansions.
And five years from now, the demons would invade. Would tear through the Seven Kingdoms like wildfire through dry grass. In the original timeline, Kael had been too weak to stop them. Had watched the world burn before Vexroth dragged him into the Abyss.
Not this time.
This time, Kael had power. Had knowledge. Had 188 years of suffering compressed into cold, calculating purpose.
The chains had broken.
Now it was everyone else's turn to burn.
---
Morning came with artificial brightness.
Kael had stopped sleeping three hours into the night. Sleep required trustâ€"trust that the world wouldn't hurt you while vulnerable, trust that tomorrow would come, trust that rest meant safety. He had none of those things. Instead, he'd spent the dark hours cataloguing everything he remembered about the next five years.
Marcus's schemes. The tournament brackets. Which noble families would rise and which would fall. The locations of hidden artifacts. The names of future traitors. The exact date and time when the demonic invasion would breach the dimensional barrier.
All of it stored in a mind that no longer forgot anything. The Abyss had stripped away many things, but memory wasn't one of them. Every detail remained crystalline. Perfect. Unbearable.
Kael dressed himself. Black training clothes, reinforced with minor defensive runes. In his original timeline, he'd worn the elaborate robes befitting an Ashford heir. Had tried to look the part, play the role, earn respect through appearance.
Pointless.
Respect came from power. Everything else was theater.
He left his room and headed for the eastern training yard. The manor had threeâ€"western for the guards, central for the family, eastern for... everyone else. Servants who showed talent. Visiting practitioners. People the family wanted to observe without investing resources.
At six in the morning, it should have been empty.
It wasn't.
A girl stood in the center of the yard, moving through kata forms with mechanical precision. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. White hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Ice-blue eyes that tracked his approach without breaking her rhythm. She wore the gray training uniform of House Frostwind, one of the Seven Great Noble Families.
Yuki Frostwind. Third daughter. Fourth Realm practitioner. Future assassin.
And in the original timeline, the woman who would eventually fall in love with Kaelâ€"three years after it was too late to matter.
"You're up early," Yuki said. She completed her kata and turned to face him fully. "The Ashford heir, right? Kael?"
"That's me." Kael walked to the equipment rack and selected a practice sword. The weight felt wrong in his handsâ€"too light, too balanced. In the Abyss, he'd fought with weapons made from condensed corruption. They'd been heavy, unwieldy, designed to break the wielder as much as the enemy.
"I'm Yuki." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Professional courtesy, nothing more. "House Frostwind sent me to train with House Ashford for the month. Cultural exchange program."
Kael knew. Knew this was where their relationship would beginâ€"awkward sparring sessions that gradually evolved into friendship, then something more. Knew that in three years, she would confess her feelings
the same day Marcus had him arrested for treason. Knew that she would die trying to rescue him, and her frozen corpse would be the last thing he saw before Vexroth dragged him into the Abyss.
"Welcome to Ashford Manor," Kael said. The words came out flat. Empty.
Yuki's smile faltered. "Are you... okay? You soundâ€""
"Want to spar?"
The offer surprised her. Surprised him, too. In the original timeline, he'd been too intimidated by her skill to suggest sparring. Had stammered through polite conversation and retreated at the first opportunity.
But that Kael was dead. Had died screaming in chains 188 years ago.
"Sure," Yuki said slowly. "Though I should warn you, I don't hold back."
"Good."
They took positions opposite each other. Yuki settled into Ice Flow stanceâ€"weight centered, hands loose, ready to redirect force rather than meet it head-on. Frostwind technique specialized in control, in using an opponent's strength against them.
Kael stood still. No stance. No preparation. Just waiting.
"You're not going toâ€"" Yuki started.
He moved.
Third Realm gave him access to Aetheric Enhancementâ€"the ability to channel the Current through his body, reinforcing muscles and bones beyond human limits. Kael poured his corrupted energy into his legs and exploded forward.
Three meters vanished in a fraction of a second. His practice sword came down in a overhead strike designed to overwhelm, not out-skill.
Yuki's eyes widened. She twisted, redirecting the blade past her shoulder with a palm strike to its flat side. Perfect form. Textbook Ice Flow defense.
Kael had expected it.
His free hand shot out, fingers spread. Burgundy-black marks flared up his arm as Void Resonance activated. The nullification field expanded, and Yuki's Aetheric Enhancement flickered. Weakened. Not goneâ€"she was Fourth Realm, stronger than himâ€"but disrupted enough to matter.
She stumbled. Off-balance. Vulnerable.
Kael could have ended it there. Sword to her throat. Victory in three seconds.
He pulled back instead.
"Good reflexes," he said. Stepped away. Deactivated the Void Resonance.
Yuki stared at him. "What was that? That feeling, like my energy was beingâ€""
"Ashford bloodline ability. Void Resonance. Didn't they brief you?"
"They mentioned it, but..." She touched her sternum, where the nullification field had disrupted her flow. "That was stronger than the reports indicated. You're Third Realm?"
"Recently."
"Huh." Yuki's expression shifted. The professional courtesy vanished, replaced by genuine interest. "Want to go again? For real this time?"
They sparred for an hour.
Kael lost every match. Yuki was Fourth Realm with years of formal training. He was Third Realm with 188 years of experience fighting demons, not humans. The techniques didn't translate well. Demons didn't use sophisticated martial formsâ€"they used overwhelming corruption and brute force.
But he learned. Every exchange taught him something about how his new body moved, how the Abyssal corruption interfaced with Aetheric Enhancement, where the limits were. By the thirtieth match, he'd stopped losing quite so badly.
"You're adapting fast," Yuki said. She wasn't even breathing hard. Fourth Realm gave her near-endless endurance. "Most people stuck in their patterns. You keep trying new approaches."
Because patterns got you killed in the Abyss. Because predictability meant Vexroth would anticipate your move and make you regret it. Because survival demanded constant adaptation.
"Just learning," Kael said.
"Well, you're a quick learner." Yuki sheathed her practice sword. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Sure."
She left. Kael watched her go. In the original timeline, these sparring sessions had been the highlight of his week. Time spent with someone who didn't sneer at him, didn't view him as a disappointment, didn't scheme for his downfall.
He'd fallen in love with her slowly. Carefully. Treasured every small moment.
Now, watching her walk away, he felt... nothing.
The Abyss had taken that too.
---
Breakfast was quieter than yesterday. Aldric had left early for clan business. Elena ate in her chambers. That left just Kael and Marcus at opposite ends of a thirty-meter table.
Marcus didn't speak. Didn't need to. He watched Kael with the intensity of a predator who'd spotted something wrong with its prey. Calculating. Reassessing.
Kael ate methodically. Eggs, toast, fruit. Fuel for the body, nothing more. Taste had dulled somewhere around year fifty in the Abyss. Food was just calories now.
"You've changed," Marcus said finally.
"Have I?"
"Yesterday, you were..." Marcus paused, choosing words carefully. "Different. Weaker. Now there's something else. What happened?"
"I trained."
"Training doesn't change someone overnight." Marcus set down his fork. "Did you find something in the vault? Use a forbidden technique? Make a deal with something you shouldn't have?"
Clever. Marcus had always been clever. That's what made him dangerous.
"I just decided to stop being weak," Kael said. "That's all."
"Hmm." Marcus smiled, but it was the smile of a chess player who'd just lost a piece unexpectedly. "Well. Good for you, brother. I look forward to seeing how much you've improved at the evaluation."
The threat was implicit. Marcus would be watching. Analyzing. And if Kael showed too much strength too quickly, if he disrupted Marcus's carefully laid plans, his half-brother would escalate.
Let him.
Kael had spent 188 years in a place where escalation was the norm, where every day brought new horrors designed to break him. Marcus's schemes were amateur hour compared to Vexroth's creativity.
The meal ended in silence.
---
Afternoon found Kael in the manor's library. Three stories of books, most of them gathering dust. The Ashford family wasn't known for scholarly pursuits. They preferred direct action, practical power, immediate results.
Kael needed information.
He pulled texts on demon taxonomy, dimensional theory, advanced cultivation techniques. Stacked them on a table in the corner farthest from the entrance. Started reading.
The demonic invasion wouldn't happen for five years. But it wouldn't appear from nowhere, either. There would be warning signs. Dimensional weaknesses. Abyssal energy seeping through cracks in reality. Cult activity as corrupt practitioners tried to bargain with demons for power.
In the original timeline, Kael had missed all of it. Had been too focused on surviving Marcus's schemes, too distracted by family politics, too weak to matter when the invasion finally came.
This time would be different.
"Light reading?"
Kael looked up. A woman stood by the tableâ€"late twenties, dark hair, green eyes that sparkled with intelligence. She wore the robes of a Scholar's Guild member, bronze pin marking her as a Second Circle academic.
Seraphine val Moira. The Scholar's Guild representative assigned to House Ashford. In the original timeline, Kael had barely known her. She'd been furniture, part of the background noise of manor life.
Then the demons came, and Seraphine transformed into something else entirely. Fifth Realm practitioner. Combat mage specialized in entropy magic. One of the few people who'd fought on the frontlines and survived.
Until she didn't.
"Research project," Kael said.
"Demonic theory?" Seraphine picked up one of the books, flipped through it. "Unusual topic for someone your age. Most young practitioners focus on advancement techniques, not esoteric subjects."
"I'm curious."
"Curious about demons." She set the book down, studied him with those too-intelligent eyes. "Why?"
Because they're coming. Because in five years they'll tear through the Seven Kingdoms and kill millions. Because I watched them do it once and I won't let it happen again.
"Personal interest," Kael said.
Seraphine didn't buy it. He could see the calculations behind her eyes, the same look Marcus got when he smelled opportunity.
"Well," she said finally, "if you have questions, I'm available for consultation. That's what the Guild pays me for."
"I'll remember that."
She left. Kael returned to his reading.
The texts were outdated, but they contained fragments of useful information. Demon hierarchies. Weaknesses in certain bloodlines. The mechanics of dimensional breaches. He absorbed it all, cross-referencing against his memories from the Abyss.
Vexroth had been a Duke-class demon. Seventh Realm equivalent, specialized in soul manipulation and corruption. There would be others like him. Worse than him. The invasion force would include Archdukes at Eighth Realm, maybe even a Demon Prince at theoretical Ninth.
Kael was currently Third Realm.
The gap was insurmountable.
Which meant he needed to get stronger. Much stronger. And he needed to do it faster than anyone thought possible.
The Aetheric Fragment had jumpstarted the process. But one fragment wouldn't be enough. He'd need more resources. More forbidden techniques. More corruption to feed his Abyssal Void Resonance.
More suffering.
The thought didn't bother him. Should have, maybe. The old Kael would have hesitated, would have worried about the cost to his humanity.
The new Kael understood that humanity was already gone. All that remained was purpose.
And the demons would learn what it meant to face someone who'd consumed 188 years of hell.
---