Ronan's breath came in ragged gasps. His body was changing.
Pain coiled through his veins like molten metal, his flesh burning from the inside out. The Mark of the Devourer seared itself into his very soul, reshaping him, warping him into something else.
And before him, the Door stood open.
It loomed impossibly large—carved from an obsidian material that reflected no light, its surface writhing with eldritch runes. Chains of black fire coiled around its edges, groaning as they loosened, unshackling the abyssal prison beyond.
The whispers grew louder.
"Enter, bearer of the Mark. Step through, and claim what is yours."
Ronan's instincts screamed at him to run. Every fibre of his being told him that stepping through that door would mean the end of whatever was left of his humanity.
But then, he clenched his fists.
Humanity?
Had the world ever treated him like one? The System had abandoned him. The Hunters had ignored him. The guilds had rejected him.
He had nothing left to lose.
With a deep breath, Ronan stepped forward.
And the abyss swallowed him whole.
The Void Between Worlds
There was no ground.
No sky.
No air.
Ronan fell, tumbling through the infinite dark, his body weightless in the endless abyss. Colours that had no name flickered at the edges of his vision. Impossible shapes slithered past him—vast, unseen entities that lurked in the cracks of reality.
The System had no power here.
And that terrified him.
Then, something moved.
Far below—if direction even had meaning in this place—a colossal city loomed in the abyss.
It was unlike anything Ronan had ever seen.
Towering spires of bone and obsidian pierced through the void, their jagged edges glowing with eerie violet light. Enormous bridges hung between the structures, shifting like living veins. The air was thick with a low, guttural hum, as though the city itself was breathing.
At the very centre, a cathedral of darkness stood—its entrance marked by a single, open eye that pulsed like a heartbeat.
And as Ronan fell towards it, a voice boomed.
"You have entered the Lost City of N'Zallith."
The name echoed through his bones, resonating with something deep inside him.
This was no ordinary ruin.
It was a throne abandoned by gods.
A place where the first wielders of the Devourer's Mark had once walked.
"Claim your inheritance, or be consumed."
The air around him twisted.
A figure emerged from the shadows.
It was humanoid, but its skin was pitch black, lined with cracks of molten silver. Its eyes burned white-hot, and in its hands, it held a blade forged from pure void—its edges constantly shifting, as though it was not truly part of reality.
"You are the first in eons to set foot here." The creature's voice was deep, layered, inhuman. "Prove yourself, or die forgotten."
It lunged.
Ronan barely had time to react before the world exploded into motion.
A Fight Against the Abyss
The creature was fast. Unnatural.
Its blade came in a horizontal slash—one moment it was meters away, the next it was at his throat.
Ronan's instincts screamed. He twisted his body just in time, feeling the blade pass through the air where his head had been a fraction of a second ago.
But he wasn't unscathed.
A sharp burning sensation bloomed along his ribcage. He glanced down—his black coat was sliced open, and a thin line of violet energy bled from his skin.
What the hell?
The wound was wrong. It wasn't just pain—his very essence was unraveling around the cut. As if his existence itself had been wounded.
"You cannot escape the Void's judgment," the creature intoned, its blade humming with otherworldly power.
Ronan gritted his teeth. Then I won't run.
His right hand burned with an unfamiliar sensation.
Instinct took over.
His Mark of the Devourer flared to life.
Black tendrils erupted from his arm, twisting and shifting into something new—a weapon unlike any sword or spear.
A claw.
A massive, jagged abyssal claw, its surface rippling like a void-born chitin, pulsing with hunger.
The moment it formed, a flood of information poured into his mind.
Abyssal Assimilation Activated.Combat Adaptation Initialized.Foreign Energy Detected—Calculating Countermeasure…
Ronan didn't fully understand it, but he felt it. The Devourer's Mark was responding, altering his body in real-time, evolving him in the midst of battle.
The creature lunged again.
This time, he met it head-on.
Their blades clashed—one forged from abyssal energy, the other from the void itself. A shockwave erupted, distorting the space around them.
Ronan moved on instinct, ducking low and swiping with his new claw. The creature dodged—too slow. The abyssal limb ripped through its torso, tearing a massive gash across its body.
But instead of blood, pure darkness spilled from the wound.
The creature stumbled, its form flickering.
Ronan didn't hesitate. He thrust his claw forward, sinking it into the being's chest.
The moment he did—
"Devour."
A surge of power exploded through him.
The creature screamed as its body unraveled, breaking apart into a thousand streams of violet energy that rushed into Ronan's arm. His veins burned. His heart pounded. The symbols on his skin flared brighter.
And then—
It was over.
The creature was gone.
And Ronan knew—he had absorbed its strength.
The First Step into Darkness
A new System Window appeared before him.
—----------------------------------------
Name: Ronan Kessler
Title: Bearer of the Devourer's Mark
Class: ??? (ERROR: SYSTEM REJECTION)
Authority: [Devourer's Right] (??? Rank)
New Skill Acquired:
→ Voidwalker's Edge – A weapon of the abyss, able to disrupt reality and sever the essence of beings.
—----------------------------------------
Ronan exhaled slowly. His body was still trembling, but the pain had faded. Instead, a new hunger settled deep inside him.
He looked up.
At the heart of the ruined city, the cathedral loomed—its massive gates now slightly open.
Beyond it lay his true inheritance.
And whatever came next… he would take it.