The mother sat in silence, her body trembling as if the grief in her chest weighed more than the world itself. All she had left were her sons — and the bitter truth that she could not protect them. Not against hunters who devoured their own kind, not against debts left by a man long gone, not against the cruel world that had already swallowed her hope.
Tears streaked down her cheeks as she whispered into the darkness.
"If this world will not save them… then I will."
Her decision had already been made. There existed whispers, passed down from old cults and forbidden texts, of a being older than the dungeons, older than hunters themselves. An ancient demon god who granted strength in exchange for blood. It was not salvation in the way the priests preached, but a contract — a trade. Her life, for her children's protection.
She carried her sons deep into the mountains, to a cavern that hunters avoided even at their peak. The villagers called it a cursed wound in the earth, where even light struggled to stay. The perfect place to call upon the one who lingered between abyss and reality.
Her eldest son clung to her hand, his voice breaking.
"Mother… why here? It feels wrong."
She hushed him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Because wrong things are the only ones left that can protect us."
The younger child whimpered, but he was too young to resist. His small body curled into her arms as though sensing the terror that seeped from the stone walls.
The mother set them down near the edge of the cavern. "Stay here," she told them, her voice shaking, "and no matter what happens, do not step into the circle."
Her bloodied fingers drew the last lines on the floor, a sprawling pattern of symbols that burned with a faint crimson glow. Each stroke had cost her part of herself — her vitality drained, her body weakening — but the circle was complete.
She stood in its center, her palms raised, chanting words that scraped against her throat like shards of glass. They were not meant for human tongues, but she forced them out. The air thickened, the temperature plummeted, and shadows swirled unnaturally around her form.
The earth rumbled, the hunters of all rank felt the quake. All 10 of The Divine Rank hunters from all over the world felt the power of a being that should not have been summoned.
A voice emerged from nowhere and everywhere at once, vast and resonant, like an ancient drum echoing through eternity.
"You dare to call upon me?"
The mother fell to her knees, but her eyes burned with desperate resolve. "I summon you, Lord of the Abyss. I offer my life. My soul. Everything that I am. In return… protect my sons. Guide them when I cannot. Make them strong enough to survive this cursed world."
For a long moment, silence reigned.
Then the circle ignited in blinding purple light. Flames without heat rose from the markings, wrapping around her body like chains. Her flesh burned, but she did not scream. She embraced it, because pain meant the contract was being heard.
From the depths of the abyss, a shape began to form — vast, towering, wings like torn shadows stretching into the cavern's roof. The air bent around it, heavy enough to crush the breath from mortal lungs.
Only its body emerged at first: a massive frame of muscle wrapped in obsidian skin, veins glowing faintly with molten fire. Its head remained veiled in darkness, unseen, but the weight of its gaze could be felt like spears piercing the soul.
The Demon God.
Its hand descended slowly, clawed fingers brushing against her face. The touch was strangely gentle.
"A life for protection. A soul for power. This is the contract you seek?"
Her tears fell freely, dripping into the glowing circle. "Yes. Take me. But promise me… promise me they will live."
A silence stretched. Then, a low, rumbling sound like laughter shook the cavern.
"Very well, mortal. Your sacrifice is accepted."
The light blazed brighter than the sun. The mother's body collapsed, her last breath carrying a faint smile as her soul was consumed by the abyss.
The Demon God straightened, its massive shadow looming over the trembling children at the edge of the circle. One clawed hand rested on the shoulder of the eldest son, not in cruelty, but as though claiming him.
Then, as the last fragments of her soul faded, the shadows peeled back from his form, revealing him fully. His skin was pale, smooth like carved stone, his build lean yet suffused with power. Black hair flowed down his back like liquid night, shifting as though stirred by a phantom wind. Twin horns of obsidian curved upward from his temples, sharp and regal, crowning him in darkness. His eyes opened — voids of endless black with burning white pupils, like inverted stars. His face was youthful, hauntingly beautiful, yet carried a terror beyond mortal comprehension.
The cavern itself bowed in silence. Monsters lurking outside fell to their knees, trembling as their master revealed himself after an eternity of absence.
The Demon God's lips parted, his voice echoing like a legion of shadows speaking as one.
"Your mother has given everything. From this day, her blood shall not be abandoned."
His gaze swept across the cavern, settling upon the two boys, and then he spoke his name.
"I am Khaeryon… God of the Abyss."