The forest no longer felt like a battlefield.
It felt like a graveyard that was still learning how to breathe.
The Army of Death had fully descended.
Not arriving.
Not marching.
But unfolding from the ground itself—like the world had decided to remember everything it had ever buried.
Then—
A tremor.
Deep.
Ancient.
Reality cracked slightly under its own weight.
Even the air felt… displaced.
Achlys tilted his head.
"…hmm?"
A slow smile formed.
"…war?"
The Spirit of Death stood in the distance.
Unmoving.
Watching.
Then it spoke.
"That's right."
Its voice carried across everything at once.
"It's one of the apocalypses."
A pause.
"…War."
The word landed like a law being enforced.
Death tilted its head slightly toward Achlys.
"Defeat me…"
A faint pressure spread through the battlefield.
"…and I will submit to you."
Achlys didn't hesitate.
He smiled wider.
"…with pleasure."
He moved.
Not cautiously.
Not strategically.
But like something that had decided violence was a language worth mastering.
He plunged straight into the Army of Death.
Black miasma erupted instantly.
The soldiers reached for him—
And dissolved.
Not cut.
Not destroyed.
Erased.
Like their existence had been declared unnecessary.
The battlefield became a blur of collapsing silhouettes.
Achlys moved through them like a mistake reality couldn't correct fast enough.
A punch.
A head vanished.
A kick.
A body shattered into mist.
He grabbed one soldier mid-charge—
Slammed them into the ground so hard the earth folded.
Another lunged—
Black Mamba dagger flashed.
A skull split.
He released the dagger.
It hovered.
Telekinesis.
It spun mid-air and returned directly into his hand, dripping with fading essence.
"…efficient."
He muttered.
But something changed.
A sound.
Not footsteps.
Not battle cries.
Hooves.
The ground shivered.
A massive red horse burst through the battlefield like a living catastrophe.
Its armor was scorched crimson.
Its presence… heavier than the army itself.
And atop it—
A figure.
Red armor.
Towering sword.
No hesitation.
No warning.
Only execution.
WAR.
The blade came down.
A slash meant to split existence.
Achlys vanished sideways.
The sword carved the earth open instead.
A canyon formed instantly.
Achlys turned.
Touched the horse lightly.
Black mist spread.
The horse collapsed instantly, its structure destabilizing like it forgot how to exist.
War leapt mid-fall.
Landing perfectly.
No delay.
No stumble.
The ground shattered beneath the impact.
They clashed.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Each collision erased soldiers around them.
The Army of Death itself began to scatter under the pressure.
War's sword came down—
Achlys blocked with a dagger.
Shockwave detonated.
War didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
He attacked again.
And again.
The Spirit of Death stood watching.
"…look at them go."
Its tone was almost… amused.
Achlys smiled mid-fight.
"I don't want to kill you."
A pause.
"…you'll make a fine subordinate."
He kicked War directly into a mountain.
The impact cracked it instantly.
Dust rose.
Silence flickered for half a second—
Then War returned.
Unbroken.
Unshaken.
Achlys didn't wait.
He turned.
And ran.
Straight toward the Spirit of Death.
His thoughts sharpened.
End this now.
No more delay.
Black miasma condensed tightly around his arm.
He extended his hand.
A direct touch.
A kill condition.
Death raised its scythe.
"…you're still predictable."
It swung downward.
Perfect timing.
Perfect angle.
Achlys smiled.
"…shit."
Death paused.
"…I fell for it."
For a moment—
Everything stopped.
The scythe halted mid-air.
But Achlys was not there.
He was behind Death.
Hand already placed on its shoulder.
No mist.
No protection.
Direct contact.
A perfect kill condition.
Death slowly turned its head.
"…you used yourself as bait."
Achlys leaned slightly closer.
"…yeah."
Silence.
Death looked upward.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Just… completion.
"…so this is how it ends."
It exhaled slowly.
Then—
Kneeling.
"I… the Spirit of Death…"
A pause.
"…accept Damian and Achlys as my sole masters."
The black crown mark on Achlys's arm sank deeper into his skin.
Binding.
Permanent.
The battlefield went still.
The Army of Death collapsed into dust.
War stopped moving.
Even he… acknowledged it.
Achlys looked upward.
"…I'll come out when we weather the underworld."
A pause.
"For now…"
The miasma slowly receded.
"…I'll stay in the space between beyond and under-"
His body collapsed gently.
Not dead.
Just… transitioning.
"…The Abyss."
—
Damian Consciousness—
A river.
Greenish-black.
Still flowing.
Damian stood there.
No weapons.
No war.
Just silence.
Sophie was sitting nearby.
Waiting.
Damian walked beside her.
"…it's my first time here since I first died, isn't it?"
Sophie nodded softly.
"Yes."
Damian stared at the river.
"…Sophie."
A pause.
"I feel like you and I are connected."
Sophie didn't answer immediately.
Damian continued.
"You are a high ectoplasm spirit…"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…and the black crown—the primordial mist—created a split existence."
He turned toward her.
"…so aren't you my contractor?"
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Sophie finally spoke.
"Yes."
Another pause.
"My powers are a purified form of the Primordial Mist."
"They differ in quality… and lethality."
Her gaze lowered slightly.
"But I wasn't sure the Black Crown would create something like him."
Damian listened.
Sophie continued.
"The crown chooses its master."
"It is not talent."
"It is will."
A faint smile formed on her lips.
"I gambled on you."
"And I won."
Damian nodded slightly.
"…I don't mind."
A pause.
"You gave me a chance to kill the people who killed me."
His gaze softened… but only slightly.
"…that's enough."
Then—
"…what's in it for you?"
Sophie looked at the river.
Quiet.
"…my life was lonely."
"I cannot die."
Her voice lowered.
"No matter how many lives I passed through…"
"…it always ended the same."
She turned slightly.
"So I abandoned the past."
"And searched for a different outcome."
Her eyes narrowed faintly.
"…and then you appeared."
Damian's body trembled slightly.
Not physically.
But… internally.
His consciousness flickered.
Sophie's voice faded slightly.
"…when you died, you reached the Soul River's Edge."
"Not the Passage."
"That shouldn't be possible."
Damian felt himself fading upward.
Waking.
Sophie looked at him one last time.
"…you were drawn here."
Damian spoke softly.
"…I may have lost my humanity, Sophie."
A pause.
"…but never my pride."
His gaze steadied.
"I will always be on this journey."
Sophie smiled faintly.
"…so will I."
"From start to finish."
—
Elsewhere — The Abyss Awakens
In the deeper silence beyond reality…
Achlys opened his eyes.
The Soul River's Edge stretched before him.
He sat down slowly.
"…so this is where I'll be when I'm not awake."
A voice answered.
"Yes."
Sophie.
Achlys turned slightly.
"…oh."
A faint smirk.
"A high spirit."
He studied her.
"You use ectoplasm mist… a purified version of primordial mist."
"I'm impressed."
Sophie smiled calmly.
"Don't be surprised too early, Lord Mist."
"I'm still not at full strength."
Achlys paused.
A faint thought crossed his mind.
Not at full strength… but still heavier than before.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The surface restricts spirit essence… so this is her real weight.
"…interesting."
He leaned back slowly.
"…you're stronger than I expected."
A pause.
Then—
He closed his eyes.
"…wake me when it matters."
The Soul River continued flowing.
And the Abyss… remained silent.