Darkness.
That was the first thing Caius Veralt felt. Not the numbing silence of unconsciousness, but a living, breathing darkness—thick, ancient, oppressive. It writhed like smoke through his lungs, filled his nostrils with the scent of scorched earth and cold steel.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been falling.
The last memory he had of Earth was his cluttered apartment—the shelves stacked with war manuals, strategy books, ancient lore and half-drunk coffee mugs. He'd been writing, of course. An unpublished essay on why Rome's military model would have decimated medieval Europe if logistics were solved. Mundane, logical... safe.
Then came the screen. Floating. Glitching. Too real for hallucination.
[You have been selected.]
[Sovereign Trial Candidate: Confirm Acceptance?]
He remembered hesitating. Not because he feared death or fantasy. But because... something about it felt like a trap. Something designed for him. Specifically.
He'd accepted anyway.
Now, here he was—his body weightless, his mind sharpened, and a cold, void-like pressure wrapping around his chest.
Then, the voice came.
It wasn't human. It was like a chorus of whispers layered atop thunder.
"One thousand Lords shall rise. You are one of them."
"Your domain shall be forged from the Abyss. Your fate... is your own to shatter."
"Prove your worth. Rule or rot. That is the law."
His vision returned in fragments—gray skies, skeletal mountains, a crumbling obsidian fortress in the distance. All around him, ash drifted on the wind like snow. Beneath his feet lay cracked, dead soil, throbbing faintly with residual mana.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[You have acquired: Abyssal Lord System]
[Unique Trait: 100x Amplification – Resources, Units, Growth]
[Faction Bonus: Undead Dominion]
Caius's brows drew together as he scanned the System prompts flashing before his eyes. Data. Numbers. Strategy. He could already see the possibilities forming like a battle map—territory to expand, undead soldiers to raise, nearby threats to eliminate.
He wasn't afraid.
No. This world wasn't terrifying.
It was familiar.
Designed like the games he used to study. Like the simulations he used to master.
War. Territory. Power.
The only difference was—this time, the blood would be real.
He took his first step forward, the crunch of ash beneath his boots echoing across the desolate plain. In the distance, the gates of the ruined fortress groaned open, as if welcoming him home.
And in that moment, Caius Veralt smiled.
Not because he felt joy. Not even because he felt hope.
He smiled because for the first time in his life, the rules were simple: Dominate or perish.
And he had no intention of dying.
Thus began the rise of the Abyssal Lord—one man against a thousand Lords, gods, monsters, and kingdoms. With deathless soldiers beneath his command and a growing harem of fierce, powerful women drawn to his will, Caius would forge a realm out of death itself.
A realm that would one day challenge the very heavens.