Pain. That was the first thing Lucian Graves felt as his consciousness clawed its way back from the abyss. His body lay twisted on the cold, uneven ground, blood seeping into the dirt beneath him. His breaths were ragged, his ribs broken, his vision blurred.
Above him, storm clouds churned, flashing violet as thunder roared like the voice of an angry god. The scent of burnt ozone filled the air, mixing with the iron tang of his own blood. He tried to move, but agony shot through his limbs, pinning him down like an insect under glass.
A low, guttural growl echoed through the darkness.
Lucian's instincts screamed. His eyes darted to the edge of the ruined temple, where it watched him. A beast unlike any other—its form obscured by shadows that writhed and slithered like living things. Eyes burned like molten gold within the blackness, unblinking, predatory, ancient.
A Nightmare Devourer.
An existence that should not be. A creature from the Forbidden Realms, where even the gods feared to tread.
Lucian let out a dry, humorless chuckle. So this is how it ends? Crushed, abandoned, forgotten?
It was poetic, in a way. He had always been weak, always overlooked. In a world where beast taming determined one's worth, he had been nothing—a failure. No affinity. No lineage. Just another nameless, powerless orphan, left to scrape by in the shadows of those who stood above.
And yet…
I refuse to die here.
Gritting his teeth, Lucian forced himself upright. His body protested, screaming in agony, but he ignored it. His silver eyes, once dull, burned with something raw. Something feral.
The Nightmare Devourer shifted, intrigued. It was not a mindless beast. No, it was something far more dangerous—a predator of souls. It fed not on flesh, but on despair, on agony, on the very essence of those who strayed too far into the unknown.
And Lucian was helpless before it.
But helplessness was a lie.
There, amidst the ruins, something called to him. A whisper, ancient and forbidden, slithering through his fractured mind.
Do you want to live?
The voice was not kind. It was cold, vast, and infinite—something that had existed long before the concept of time. It was offering him something worse than death.
Lucian's fingers twitched.
Choice.
It was something he had never been given. The world had already decided his fate before he had drawn his first breath. He was nothing. But now, for the first time, the universe itself had paused.
Waiting.
Watching.
Do you want to live?
His lips cracked into a grin, wild and reckless.
"I don't want to just live…" His voice was a hoarse whisper, but his soul screamed. "I want to take everything this world denied me."
The voice laughed. It was not a sound meant for mortal ears. It shattered the sky, split reality apart at the seams. The earth trembled, and the Nightmare Devourer recoiled, its golden eyes narrowing.
The pact was made.
A sigil ignited beneath Lucian's feet, carved in symbols that no man had ever spoken aloud. Shadows wrapped around his body, sinking into his very flesh, searing into his soul. Power—cold, unrelenting, absolute—flooded his veins.
The Nightmare Devourer lunged.
Lucian raised his hand.
And the world obeyed.
A monstrous black chain erupted from the sigil beneath him, moving faster than thought. It coiled around the Nightmare Devourer's throat, dragging it mid-leap. The beast howled, its form writhing, twisting, trying to resist.
It failed.
Lucian clenched his fist.
The chains tightened, digging deep into the beast's essence. It shrieked in agony as its very being was forced into submission. The golden glow in its eyes dimmed, and for the first time in its existence, it knelt.
Tamed.
Lucian exhaled, his vision swimming, his body trembling under the weight of what had just happened.
He had done the impossible.
He had tamed the untamable.
The chains faded, sinking into his flesh, leaving behind a burning sigil upon his arm—the mark of his first Forbidden Pact.
The Nightmare Devourer did not speak, for it had no voice. But it did not need one.
Lucian felt its thoughts, its hunger, its fear.
He smiled.
For the first time in his life, he had power.
The storm above raged on, but it no longer mattered. The world had made a mistake. It had left him behind, broken and discarded.
But now?
Now, he would rise.
And nothing—no god, no king, no beast—would stand in his way.