The rain poured down without pause, washing the sidewalks and streets, yet the cold in the air couldn't put out the heat boiling in his chest.
Lornveil sat on a rusty park chair, alone, beneath the gray sky, while his thoughts devoured him from the inside.
In his right hand, a cup of hot coffee. In his left, a lousy sandwich—something even a stray dog might refuse to touch. And yet, for him… it was food that painted his gray day with a different taste.
He lifted the cup to his lips, but his hand suddenly trembled, and the hot liquid spilled over his new pants—or maybe they weren't new… he wasn't even sure.
He looked down at the dark stain on the fabric, his eyes empty, not even feeling the heat of the coffee.
"Looks like ordinary days aren't made for someone like me…" he whispered to himself, then gave a faint smile.
At his feet, a small cat stopped, staring at his sandwich with hungry eyes.
He lifted the last bite toward his mouth, but his eyes stayed fixed on the cat.
Between eating it or giving it away… he chose the latter.
He reached out and placed the sandwich on the ground; the cat snatched it between its teeth and disappeared into an unknown alley.
He sighed, then stood up, running his hand through his black hair, pushing it back.
He grasped a long Japanese sword, around which a flickering violet aura swirled, like smoke drifting from another world.
He slid the scabbard open slightly, letting his face reflect on the blade, and spoke in a mocking tone:
"Looks like this will be the last time I'm here… No matter, my life's just been a cheap action movie anyway."
He sheathed the sword again and began walking through the rain, his head full of thoughts swinging from the far right to the far left.
He didn't notice until he bumped into a giant of a man.
He took a step back and raised his head, finding an angry-faced man glaring down at him:
"Boy, watch where you're going… or I'll rip your eyes out of your skull."
Lornveil gripped his sword, but quickly let it go, bowing slightly as he said:
"I'm sorry… next time I'll watch my steps."
The giant didn't reply, only shot him a look of disdain.
Lornveil bit his lip, then muttered in a cold, low voice:
"If it weren't for my promise to her… this bastard's head would be rolling like that guy's."
He then smiled in contradiction and said with sarcasm:
"Why get angry? This scum will die soon enough… whether by my hand or another way."
He continued walking, raindrops falling onto his shoulders and strands of hair.
After half an hour, he stood before a small, newly built structure. A black sign hung above its door, with white letters:
[Cursed Abyss Center]
His fist clenched, his heartbeat quickened. He hesitated a moment: to enter… or to run away.
"Of all the nightmares I hated and feared… today, they've become reality."
"My heart wants to scream from fear… but there's no escape, no other choice."
He climbed the stairs—three flights. And before his hand could touch the doorknob, it suddenly swung open, and a girl walked out.
She was beautiful… so beautiful it froze him in place for a moment.
Black hair falling neatly to her shoulders, blue eyes pure as a winter sky, skin white as snow.
A gray jacket, a light white dress beneath it, a black cloth covering her chest and neck, and a black skirt down to her knees.
She glanced at him briefly while holding a white paper, then headed toward a narrow alley.
"A student?… wanting to become an Akuma? Strange… but she's incredibly beautiful."
He chuckled to himself:
"Have I fallen in love? Man, she only looked at me for seconds… guess misery follows me even here."
He stepped into the center. The place was miserable: old white chairs, two doors on the sides, a medium-sized desk in front of him, and behind it, a half-open door.
"A trashy center… they've got the money but never improve it. If I had half of what they do…"
He approached the desk and rang the bell with his finger.
After a few seconds, a man came out eating a donut, wearing a white shirt tucked into black pants, with a captain's badge on his chest.
The captain spoke while wiping his mouth:
"Kids these days, wanting to join the Akuma… damn that meteor incident that brought us the Abyss Paper."
Lornveil smiled in boredom:
"You know… even I don't want to be here… or to see your face."
The captain stared at him in surprise:
"You little punk… some come for the money and fame, but this job could cost you your life."
Lornveil laughed, placing his fingers over his eyes.
"What? I didn't tell a joke… I was speaking the truth."
His provoking laughter was enough to make the captain narrow his eyes.
"Sorry… but who in their right mind would want to step into the nightmares of the abyss? To hell with the money and fame that strip me of the simplest blessing… the blessing of life."
Lornveil spoke as he clenched his trembling hand, staring at the captain with unsettled eyes.
The captain let out a short, mocking laugh before replying:
"Hahaha… and what's life worth without money?"
Then he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a more serious tone:
"Before I waste my precious time, kid… do you carry within you a blessing, or a curse?"
Lornveil wasn't surprised by the question—he had expected it… but he had wished it wouldn't be asked.
He lowered his gaze to his right hand, where a black bandage was wrapped tightly, and spoke in a low voice tinged with defeat:
"I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse… but for me, it's a curse that destroyed my life."
The captain slouched into his chair, waving a hand dismissively:
"Enough philosophy, show me what you've got."
Slowly, Lornveil unwrapped the bandage, and from his hand burst a dense violet aura, pulsing with a deadly coldness and radiating a silent dread.
The captain stopped chewing his donut, his eyes widening in astonishment.
"Kid… that's no curse. That's a great blessing! When do you want to start your mission?"
Inside, Lornveil muttered bitterly:
A blessing? What a fool… no one understands the pain of a wound except the one who bears it.
"Today."
The captain stood from his seat and walked toward a room in the far right corner.
He pulled out a keyring and began unlocking an old padlock, speaking without turning around:
"Right, I never got your name… but from your look, you seem like someone forced to become an Akuma."
Lornveil closed his eyes for a few seconds, hiding behind them what he could never say:
Forced? A quiet word to describe an unbreakable shackle… a curse with no escape.
"My name is Lornveil… as for your second question, it has no answer."
A brief silence passed before the captain finished unlocking the door.
From the gap, a dark, cold aura seeped out, like the breath of another world.
"You can step through this room now… or you can take the return slip and go say goodbye to your family before you dive into the depths of the abyss."
Lornveil looked at him with lifeless eyes:
"Family?… I have none."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
The captain stared at the door for a moment, then rubbed his face with both hands, sighing:
"What a weirdo… even his name sounds like a curse."
———
Darkness filled the room, until Lornveil noticed—a faint violet glow gathering at the center of the space.
There, on a stone pedestal, rested the Abyss Paper.
His eyes gleamed slightly as he touched his chin and muttered under his breath:
"As far as I know… I have to read what's written on this paper to enter the nightmares of the abyss."
He stepped forward hesitantly. The air here was heavy, as if the walls themselves were watching him.
He reached out for the paper and read in a low voice, though his heart was pounding fast:
[In the age of snow and chaos… survival, escape, and battle. These are your only options. Add to them your mind… if it still remains with you.]
[As an Akuma… you must slay the Abyss of Elden if you wish to survive.]
[And beware… the depths of the abyss…]
[are not always what they seem.]
The moment he finished, he felt a sharp sting run through his body, and his eyes snapped open—
A decaying shack, freezing cold seeping through its cracks, the crumbling walls whispering of death.
And at the center of the scene… a beast coiled around a human corpse, tearing into it with its teeth, the sound of ripping flesh filling the place.
The Death Is near Out of him