Chapter 4: Chains of Mortality
The wasteland stretched endlessly, an ocean of cracked stone and jagged cliffs, where the sky remained a dull, lifeless gray.
Every step Raviel took was a battle against his own body.
His legs burned, his chest ached, and his breath came shallow and slow—things he had never experienced before. It was humiliating. He had ruled over legions, walked through flames unscathed, and crushed lesser beings with a mere thought.
But now?
Now he was panting. Struggling to keep up with a mere mortal.
Horizon, on the other hand, walked at a steady pace, completely at ease. He never looked back, never slowed down. It was as if he didn't even care whether Raviel was following or not.
The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating.
Raviel gritted his teeth. He was not weak. This was just… temporary. He would get his power back. He would return to the Abyss and burn the fools who had dared to cast him down.
But for now, he had to figure out where he was.
His gaze flickered to Horizon. The man clearly knew this place. He moved with purpose, not like a wanderer but like someone who had been here long enough to adapt.
Raviel swallowed his pride.
"...Where are we?"
Horizon chuckled. "Took you long enough to ask."
Raviel's scowl deepened.
"This place," Horizon continued, "is called the Forsaken Expanse. It's where all the unwanted things in the world end up. People. Beasts. Gods. Even whole civilizations."
Raviel's brows furrowed. "A prison?"
"Something like that." Horizon tilted his head slightly. "But there are no walls. No guards. The prison itself is the land. There's no escape."
A cold chill crawled down Raviel's spine.
No escape?
No. That was impossible. He would find a way out. He had to.
"How did you end up here?" Raviel asked.
Horizon smirked. "Same way as you, probably. Someone wanted me gone."
Raviel said nothing. He understood.
His father had been the strongest entity in the Abyss, yet someone had managed to overthrow him. Not just him—his entire court, his generals, his armies. Someone had orchestrated it all.
And Raviel had been spared.
Not out of mercy.
Out of mockery.
His fists tightened. If he had his power—if he had even a fraction of what he once was—he would have torn through this land already.
But right now, he was bound by chains he couldn't see.
For the first time, the world was bigger than him.
And he hated it.
---
They walked for hours, or at least what felt like hours. Time here felt off, as if the sky refused to change, trapping everything in a state of endless twilight.
Eventually, the cracked ground gave way to a ruined city.
Or at least, what remained of one.
Towering black stone structures loomed overhead, their spires broken, their walls scorched by some ancient war. Streets littered with debris stretched into the distance, silent and empty.
But something was wrong.
There was no dust.
No signs of age.
As if this city had been destroyed recently.
Horizon clicked his tongue. "Great. Looks like we have company."
Raviel tensed.
"Who?"
"Scavengers." Horizon's gaze sharpened. "Bandits. Cultists. Monsters. This place breeds desperation, and desperate things don't care where their next meal comes from."
Raviel's eyes darkened. "Let them try."
Horizon shot him a look. "You do realize you're not immortal right now, right?"
Raviel stiffened.
"Didn't say I was," he muttered, looking away.
Horizon chuckled. "Then stick close, prince."
Raviel snapped his head toward him. "How do you—"
"You're too well-groomed," Horizon said lazily. "Even beaten down, you look like someone who's never had to fight for food. That, and the way you talk—like everyone's beneath you."
Raviel bristled.
"Guessing you used to be important somewhere," Horizon continued, eyes scanning the buildings. "Which means someone must have really hated you to dump you here."
Raviel's fists clenched, but he said nothing.
Because Horizon was right.
And that truth burned more than any wound ever could.
---