The battlefield burned beneath a blood-red sky.
The Dark Realm—his kingdom, his throne, his dominion—was in ruins. Once a place that towered above all, where even gods and demons dared not tread without his will, now lay crumbling beneath the weight of betrayal.
The scent of blood thickened the air. Not just any blood—his people's blood.
The Abyssal Throne stood shattered, its once-pristine blackstone walls now fractured and jagged like the remains of a broken soul. The towering spires, built upon the bones of fallen deities, swayed against the pressure of something far greater than time itself.
Zahiel sat upon his throne. His throne.
The very same seat that had bent the cosmos to his will. The same throne from which he had conquered gods, defied fate, and ruled over creation with an iron grip.
And now… it was all slipping away.
His violet eyes, once filled with dominion, now held only silent acknowledgment of the scene before him. The flames reflected in their depths, dancing in eerie contrast against the abyssal black of his hair.
Standing before him, sword in hand, was Bellion.
His most trusted general. The one who had stood beside him through countless wars. The one who had led armies in his name, who had slaughtered in his honor.
And now, that sword dripped with the blood of those who had once sworn undying loyalty to their Lord.
Zahiel exhaled softly, his voice like a whisper through the ruins.
"You, too?"
Bellion smirked, though there was something bitter in his expression. A shadow of hesitation, perhaps. A flicker of what once was.
"Did you truly believe you were untouchable, Zahiel?"
The grand doors of the throne hall groaned open.
A presence unlike any other seeped into the air, drowning the world in suffocating darkness.
Zahiel knew this presence.
It was not simply power.
It was hunger. A force beyond existence.
Ozrath.
The Primordial Dark Demon.
Zahiel had fought gods. He had crushed celestials beneath his heel. He had laughed in the face of divine wrath.
But even he had never dared to challenge this.
From the abyss itself, Ozrath emerged.
His form was an abomination of shadow and hunger, neither truly solid nor truly formless. Eyes darker than the void itself flickered like black suns, devouring the light around them.
His voice, when it came, was like the grinding of reality itself.
"You were strong, Zahiel."
A pause. A void stretching between them.
"But you made a mistake."
Zahiel tilted his head, unfazed. "Enlighten me."
Ozrath's abyssal tendrils slithered through the air, distorting the very fabric of existence.
"Darkness is not meant to have a king."
Bellion took a step forward. For the first time, his confidence wavered.
"You built an empire that defied gods, demons, celestials—even the light itself. But power like yours should never be ruled by one man alone."
Zahiel chuckled.
It was a quiet sound.
Not of fear. Not of regret.
But of amusement.
"And so you chose to kneel?" His gaze darkened. "Pathetic."
Before Bellion could respond, the air split apart.
Three figures materialized between Zahiel and his betrayers.
Verazel. Zarciel. Ceilerstine.
His Abyssal Generals.
His most loyal warriors.
Verazel was the first to speak, his crimson cloak torn, dark hair slicked back with sweat and blood. His voice was calm, but beneath it burned unwavering devotion.
"Forgive us, my Lord." His head lowered, not in shame, but in solemnity. "We failed to stop them before they reached you."
Zarciel's fiery red eyes flared, his hands gripping the hilt of his sword with enough force to crack the abyssal steel.
"But we will not fail now," he growled, his voice steady. "We will protect you, even if it costs us everything."
Ceilerstine stood in silence, positioned between them.
Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, her violet eyes glowing with restrained power.
Unlike Verazel and Zarciel, who were driven by loyalty, Ceilerstine's gaze held something deeper.
Unspoken.
Unyielding.
Zahiel saw it.
And he knew.
He had always known.
"You think the three of you can stop us?" Bellion scoffed, gripping his blade tighter.
Ozrath raised a clawed hand.
The throne hall collapsed into a vortex of abyssal energy.
Verazel and Zarciel lunged.
Their blades struck like collapsing stars. Their power was unmatched. The force of their attack could have shattered a realm.
But against Ozrath, it was meaningless.
A single pulse of abyssal might sent them hurtling through the air, crashing through the shattered remains of the throne room.
Ceilerstine did not move.
Not out of fear.
But because she knew.
She knew what she had to do.
Slowly, she raised her hands.
Abyssal chains surged from the ground, twisting like living serpents, reaching for Ozrath.
Ozrath paused.
Even the Primordial Dark Demon hesitated.
"You defy me, Ceilerstine?"
His voice was a whisper, yet it crushed the air like a divine decree.
Ceilerstine did not answer.
Instead, she clenched her fist.
And the abyss roared to life.
The throne room darkened further, shadows writhing as they attempted to devour even the void itself.
But it was not enough.
The next pulse of darkness shattered Ceilerstine's abyssal chains.
Her body slammed against the ground.
Blood dripped from her lips.
But she did not stop.
She crawled, reaching for Zahiel.
Zahiel exhaled.
"Fools," he muttered. "All of you."
They had no chance.
Not against Ozrath.
And yet, they refused to leave.
Even as the abyss swallowed the throne room, they stood.
Then, the air itself froze.
A presence unlike any other filled the battlefield.
A massive, armored figure dropped from the shadows, landing between Zahiel and the abyss.
The impact sent shockwaves across the entire Dark Realm.
Cryptos.
The Guardian of the Dark Realm.
For eons, he had remained silent. Watching. Waiting.
But today, he moved.
"You will not take him," Cryptos rumbled, four burning violet eyes glaring at Ozrath.
His obsidian blade gleamed with something beyond mortal comprehension.
Ozrath tilted his head.
"Even you, Cryptos?"
Cryptos did not answer.
He merely raised his blade.
And the battle began.
The air split apart with the clash of steel. The throne room, once a monument to Zahiel's dominion, had become a graveyard of shattered stone and burning shadows.
Cryptos, the Guardian of the Dark Realm, stood unmoving, his four violet eyes glowing like dying stars. His obsidian greatsword, taller than a man, pulsed with abyssal energy. Every swing of his blade sent shockwaves through the ruined citadel, the sheer weight of his attacks shattering the ground beneath him.
Bellion met him head-on.
The traitorous general moved like a phantom, his speed unnatural. His black armor gleamed under the red sky as he wove through Cryptos' devastating swings, his twin sabers carving through the air with deadly precision. Sparks erupted as steel clashed against steel, the sound of their battle echoing across the burning city.
"You still defend him?" Bellion sneered, parrying a downward slash before twisting, his blade slashing at Cryptos' side. "He ruled with an iron fist. He made the Abyss kneel, but even darkness must be free!"
Cryptos did not answer. His silence was his judgment.
He countered with an upward swing, the force behind his strike causing the air itself to ripple. Bellion barely managed to evade, his boots skidding against the crumbling ground as he put distance between them.
Verazel and Zarciel struck next.
The two abyssal generals flanked Bellion in perfect synchronization. Verazel's crimson blade burned with abyssal fire, while Zarciel's black spear crackled with pure destruction. Together, they attacked like twin storms, their movements seamless, their strikes merciless.
Bellion barely had time to react. He twisted, parrying Verazel's flaming strike, but Zarciel's spear struck his side, sending him crashing into a nearby pillar.
He groaned, spitting blood onto the blackened floor. But he grinned.
"You think this is enough?"
The air behind him convulsed.
Ozrath moved.
Without a sound, the Primordial Dark Demon materialized in the heart of the battle. His abyssal tendrils slithered through the air like hungry vipers, devouring light, consuming everything they touched. His towering form cast a shadow over the battlefield, his presence a nightmare made flesh.
Verazel and Zarciel turned instantly, their instincts screaming at them to move—
Too late.
A single tendril lashed forward, faster than thought. It struck Zarciel first, wrapping around his throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air. He struggled, his spear falling from his grasp as the abyss seeped into his body, corrupting his very essence.
"Zarciel!" Verazel roared.
He lunged, his sword igniting with abyssal fire, slashing at the tendril—
The blade passed through nothingness.
Ozrath's abyss was not physical. It was not bound by reality.
Before Verazel could react, another tendril wrapped around his arm, twisting it with an unnatural force. He gritted his teeth, fighting against it, but the abyss drained his strength with every passing second.
Ceilerstine moved.
Abyssal chains erupted from the ground, twisting and writhing like living creatures. They shot toward Ozrath, coiling around his limbs, his form, his abyssal tendrils. Unlike Verazel's flames or Zarciel's spear, Ceilerstine's abyssal power did not merely strike at the darkness—it commanded it.
For the first time, Ozrath paused.
His glowing, sun-like eyes flickered, his gaze turning toward Ceilerstine.
"You dare?"
His voice was a whisper, yet it tore through the air like a thunderclap.
Ceilerstine did not flinch. Her violet eyes burned with unwavering defiance as she tightened her grip. The chains constricted, tightening around Ozrath's form, sealing him, holding him—
For a moment, silence.
Then the abyss roared.
The chains shattered.
A pulse of darkness erupted from Ozrath's body, an explosion of raw, primordial energy. The impact sent Ceilerstine hurtling backward, her body slamming into the ruined walls of the throne hall. Blood sprayed from her lips as she collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath.
Verazel and Zarciel were thrown back as well, their bodies crashing against the broken stone.
Cryptos alone remained standing.
The Guardian planted his greatsword into the ground, the sheer weight of his presence holding firm against the abyssal storm. His four eyes burned, his body crackling with an energy unlike any other.
Ozrath turned toward him.
"Even you will fall," the Primordial Dark Demon whispered.
Cryptos did not respond. He lifted his sword.
The final battle began.
The throne hall trembled, barely holding together under the weight of the battle. Darkness clashed against darkness, power against power.
Cryptos stood like a towering mountain of obsidian and wrath, his four glowing violet eyes locked onto Ozrath's abyssal form. His sword, the Eclipsing Edge, radiated an aura that could sever reality itself. But before he could strike, Ozrath's abyssal tendrils slithered forward, consuming the very air.
Zahiel, still bound by the abyssal restraints, watched in silence. His dark violet eyes flickered with unreadable thoughts.
This was not just a battle. It was a reckoning.
Cryptos exhaled, his voice deep and unwavering. "I have watched over this realm for eons. I have never interfered. But I will not allow a parasite like you to claim what is not yours."
Ozrath's black sun-like eyes pulsed with an unfathomable hunger. "Then you are a fool."
A voidstorm erupted between them.
Cryptos swung his massive blade, the force of his strike sending shockwaves that shattered what remained of the throne hall. The very foundations of the Dark Realm groaned under the sheer impact. Ozrath met the strike with an abyssal tendril, twisting and writhing like a black hole given form. The collision of their power created a storm of black lightning and warped energy.
Zahiel narrowed his eyes. Cryptos… how far will you go?
Bellion, who had been watching from the side, took a step forward, gripping his abyssal blade. "You're strong, Cryptos, but even you can't fight forever. This is meaningless. You should stand down while you still have the chance."
Cryptos didn't even spare him a glance.
"You, Bellion…" his deep voice rumbled, filled with quiet contempt. "You are the lowest form of existence. A man who kneels before power because he lacks the strength to wield his own."
Bellion's eyes twitched. "Watch your words."
Cryptos let out a slow, guttural chuckle. "Or what? Will you betray me, too?" He finally turned to face him, his four glowing eyes burning like twin eclipses. "You are nothing but a stray dog who bites the hand that once fed him."
Bellion's grip tightened around his sword. "I did what was necessary."
"Necessary?" Cryptos stepped forward, his massive armored foot cracking the ground beneath him. "You murdered your own kin. You slaughtered those who trusted you. You sold your soul for a mere fraction of power. And for what?" His voice lowered, but the weight of it crushed the air. "To become a pawn?"
Bellion sneered, but before he could retort, Ozrath's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Enough."
Ozrath raised his abyssal hand, and suddenly, the world collapsed inward.
A voidstorm raged around him, devouring everything in its path. The abyss itself screamed, pulling at reality like it wanted to consume the entire Dark Realm. The sheer force of it was suffocating, even for Cryptos.
Zahiel felt the restraints around him tighten. Abyssal Law. It was being enforced at a level even he could not yet break.
Cryptos lifted his sword once more, the edge of the blade cutting through the endless darkness. "If you think I will fall so easily… you have made a mistake."
Ozrath's abyssal form expanded, his tendrils stretching out beyond the throne hall, reaching toward the very fabric of the realm itself. His form was no longer just a shape—it was an abyssal void that devoured all things.
"Then let this realm break," Ozrath declared.
The very sky shattered.
A black hole formed above them, spiraling downward, threatening to consume everything. The Dark Realm's foundations cracked, abyssal structures collapsed, and the very existence of this world began to unravel.
Cryptos planted his sword into the ground, trying to resist the pull. His four violet eyes blazed with defiance.
Zahiel, still bound, let out a low chuckle. "You think destruction will erase me?" His voice, though calm, was laced with something dangerous. "You think I will simply cease to exist?"
Ozrath's sun-like abyssal eyes bore into him. "You will not die. You will be forgotten."
Bellion stepped closer, watching Zahiel's expression carefully. His own face was twisted in uncertainty. Why is he not afraid?
Zahiel smiled. A slow, knowing, almost mocking smile.
"You still don't understand, do you?" Zahiel murmured. His dark violet eyes gleamed with something infinitely deeper than fear. "I don't need a throne to rule. I don't need a realm to exist." His voice dropped into something almost whispered, yet it echoed across the battlefield.
"I am the abyss itself."
For the first time since the battle began, Bellion hesitated.
A flicker of doubt crossed his abyssal eyes.
But before he could respond, a massive explosion of power erupted behind them.
Verazel. Zarciel. Ceilerstine.
They had not escaped yet.
The Dark Realm was collapsing, but they were still within it, fighting their way through the endless storm of abyssal energy.
Verazel, his crimson cloak tattered, gritted his teeth as he barely held up a protective barrier around Ceilerstine, whose body was covered in wounds. Zarciel stood before them, sword drawn, his red-burning eyes locked onto the abyssal forces that surrounded them.
"We're running out of time," Zarciel hissed. "We need to move—now."
Ceilerstine, struggling to even stand, looked back toward the battlefield. Her violet eyes, filled with abyssal light, locked onto Zahiel.
She saw him watching them.
A silent moment passed between them.
Ceilerstine's lips trembled, but she clenched her fists. "Zahiel…"
Verazel grabbed her wrist. "Ceilerstine, we have to go."
Ceilerstine's breathing was unsteady. Her body was weakened, her abyssal energy drained. She was barely holding herself together—but her eyes never left Zahiel.
Zahiel, still bound, met her gaze.
And for the first time… a faint flicker of something unknown passed through his expression.
Not power.
Not arrogance.
Something unspoken.
Then, the abyss collapsed further.
Cryptos, still clashing with Ozrath, turned his gaze for a single moment.
"Verazel. Zarciel. Now."
With no other choice, Zarciel grabbed Ceilerstine, and with a final burst of abyssal energy, they vanished.
Zahiel exhaled. His dark violet eyes turned to Ozrath once more.
"You have failed," Ozrath declared, his form stretching beyond the abyss. "This world is mine."
Zahiel chuckled softly. "No, Ozrath." His voice was calm, but there was something undeniably ominous in the way he spoke.
"You have only begun to lose."
Ozrath's abyssal eyes narrowed.
And then—the abyss took everything.
Zahiel's body vanished into nothingness.
The Dark Realm crumbled.
Everything—collapsed.
And then—
Light.
Warmth.
The scent of morning air.
Zahiel's eyes opened.
Soft voices murmured around him. His body felt different. Smaller. Weaker.
A woman's voice, gentle yet exhausted, whispered close.
"My little Zahiel…"
Zahiel did not cry.
He did not scream.
He simply stared at the world anew.
For this was not the end.
This was the beginning.
(End of Chapter 1)