"Where am I?"
"Am I dead?"
Abaddon found himself floating in a void of absolute darkness once more. The emptiness was all too familiar, a place he had visited before—back when he was declared useless during the testing exam.
He pondered the whereabouts of the entity he had encountered then. As if the void could sense his very thoughts, it didn't take long for the answer to manifest. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness, twisting and contorting until it solidified into a grotesque abomination of an entity.
This time, Abaddon felt no fear. His golden eyes bore into the specter's eerie form with calm a composure unlike how he freaked out the first time he saw it.
"Destined child."
the entity spoke as it slowly approached Abaddon.
"You walk a path steeped in shadow, yet the threads of chaos bind you to an end none may foresee."
Abaddon seeing the approaching figure thought to himself.
'This was the second time this…thing called me 'destined child.' What does it mean?'
Abaddon tried to speak up and enquire why he was being called destined child, but every time he tried speaking, what came out of his throat was nothing.
The words were stuck in his throat, as though the void itself forbade him from uttering a sound.
The entity's twisted grin widened, as if it 0had anticipated his silence.
"You will burn, rise, and shatter the heavens."
It said in a sinister certainty.
"Your destiny has already been written. Find me, and your wish shall come to pass."
Before Abaddon could process the cryptic message, the void began collapsing in on itself. Reality tore through the darkness, and he felt himself being pulled back—plunged into the waking world once again.
Opening his eyes to a blurry haze, Abaddon saw the sterile glow of an ancient laboratory ceiling. Slowly, he raised his hands to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness.
As full consciousness returned, he looked around and noticed magical runes adorned on the walls of the room. It was a strange, alien like space filled with tubes of liquid, alchemical instruments, and intricate machinery. The entire place felt like it belonged to a world far removed from his own.
Looking down, he realized he was lying on a sleek metallic bed with glowing panels embedded in its surface. Beside him, Eleanor was fast asleep with her head resting on the metallic edge of the bed.
Her long black hair spilled messily over her face, and her steady breathing indicated she had been there for some time.
In the corner of the room, Orlan lay on another bed with his body covered in bandages. A woman dressed in white robes stood beside him, carrying a glowing green staff as she tended to his wounds. She appeared to be a Ranker of the Cleric class, specializing in healing magic.
Suddenly, Abaddon's expression tightened as a sharp pain rippled through his head. He clutched his forehead and let out a low growl of pain, causing Eleanor to stir awake. At first, she stared at him in a daze, as though trying to process the sight before her. Then, after several seconds, her eyes widened in recognition.
"Young Master!"
She cried out, throwing her arms around him as tears streamed down her face. Clinging to him she spoke in low trembling voice.
"You're awake… thank the gods. I was so scared."
Abaddon winced slightly at the tight embrace but gently patted her back with a small, comforting smile. Still confused, he asked,
"Eleanor… what happened? Where are we? How am I even alive?"
She pulled back, hastily wiping away her tears, and began recounting the events.
"After you fainted and that vile man dragged me away… your owner intervened. He was furious, demanding to know why that fat man dared damage his purchase. The auctioneer tried to intercede, but your owner shut him down completely. Without hesitation, he ordered his men to deal with the fat man and his gang."
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"They didn't just deal with him—they slaughtered him and his entire gang. It was terrifying, but… it was justice. Afterward, he had you and my father given healing potions. Then…"
With her hands clenched tightly as a spark of hope shone in her tear-filled eyes. She continued in a brightened tone.
"He bought us—me and my father. He said he would take care of us from now on, that's why we're here now. He kept his promise and brought us to this place to recover."
After listening to everything Eleanor said, Abaddon felt a strange unease. Nevertheless, the dream continued replaying in his mind as he hazily flexed his fingers and assessed his condition. His body felt unnaturally rejuvenated, and any wounds he had sustained were completely healed.
Several minutes passed in silence before Orlan stirred and finally woke. He immediately turned his attention to Abaddon. Seeing him awake, Orlan got to his feet and approached him. Bowing respectfully, he greeted Abaddon despite the pain in his lower body, which was evident in his strained expression.
"Young Master, you're awake. Forgive me. I failed you… I failed to protect you, and I have no excuse for my weakness."
Eleanor glanced down at her father with a baffled expression, but Abaddon remained utterly cold and emotionless.
For a moment, Orlan surveyed the situation as the room fell into silence. A heavy thought crossed his mind:
'Something about the Young Master has changed ever since he heard about the murder of Lady Elyssia and how the Drakon family discarded him. He is changing, slowly but surely. By the Erythrian gods, I hope he doesn't become something worse.'
Orlan's thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Raising his head to meet Abaddon's gaze, he noticed the cold expression from earlier had vanished, replaced by a faint yet warm smile.
"You didn't fail, Orlan. You're still here. That's what matters."
These words gave Orlan pause. Perhaps he was overthinking things. With a smile of gratitude, he rose to his feet at Abaddon's silent command. Abaddon, meanwhile, sighed inwardly. Despite everything, he found some comfort in the fact that they were still together.
As the three continued their quiet conversation, the sound of heavy metallic boots echoed through the room. All turned their attention toward the doorway as the noise grew louder. Soon, a group of knights entered in rigid formation. They parted to reveal a tall figure with long white hair approaching from behind.
The man before them exuded an air of majesty. Dressed in a spotless white lab coat with the abbreviation "S.T.E.E.L" embroidered on the left breast, he gazed down at them with piercing silver eyes. A monocle perched on his left eye added a touch of professionalism to his commanding presence.
In a cold yet majestic tone, he spoke while performing a deep, formal bow that revealed the short white gloves on his hands.
"You're fully awake. That is good. Then I suppose introductions are in order. Allow me to begin."
Straightening himself, the man observed them closely. Orlan and Eleanor quickly returned his bow with respectful ones of their own. Abaddon, however, made no such gesture, clearly uninterested in courtesies despite his noble lineage.
"I am Archimedes."
The man began.
"Head of Science and Engineering for S.T.E.E.L. Perhaps you've heard of me. I am responsible for innovations such as energy vehicles, flying chariots and ships, firearms, and, of course, the bioengineered creatures you've likely encountered."
He paused, clearly pleased with his accomplishments, then continued.
"As for you, I believe I know who you are. The one I purchased earlier is none other than the youngest son of the great hero, Kaedryn Von Drakon, and Lady Elyssia De Drakon. I was an old acquaintance of theirs. You, Abaddon Von Drakon, are the black sheep of the Drakon lineage. And you two must be his servants."
Hearing this, Orlan stiffened but managed a nod of acknowledgment.
"We owe you our lives, Sir Archimedes. On behalf of my master and my daughter, thank yo—."
But before Orlan could finish speaking, Archimedes raised his hand, stopping him. With a faint smirk, he asked:
"Gratitude from slaves? How quaint. But don't get any ideas. I didn't save you out of charity. You're alive because I deemed you useful. Nothing more."
This took Orlan aback. As he looked at Archimedes, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off—there was an ominous presence about him.
Leaving the old man behind, Archimedes turned his attention to Abaddon, offering him a smile. Abaddon met his gaze without showing any signs of fear. Archimedes gestured toward him, pointing directly at Abaddon with his finger, this startled Abaddon for a moment, but the question that followed was what made him speechless.
"Do you seek power, boy?"