The square fell silent for a moment, the whisper of the wind cut off as if the city itself was holding its breath. Amid the blood and dust, between corpses and ashes, a monotonous voice arose—neither fully mechanical, nor entirely human—emanating from a small window flickering at the edge of his vision. But this time, it was not the system he knew; it was a different message, an older, deeper presence.
The message glowed in a dark violet hue, its words flowing into his mind like an open throat:
> "Tiger… I dislike seeing you die in vain. The gods and rulers were never fair in dividing power. I offer you a bargain that can turn you from victim to ruler. My name—Azmont, King of the Abyss. I want you as a Prince to my Throne. I will break the seals on your memories, and grant you powers beyond any here… on one condition: that you become part of the Abyss. Do you accept?"
The symbols in his eyes ceased their rotation. A name, shrieking, unknown in any record—yet its echo pulsed in his chest like an ancient heartbeat.
The Wardens and heroes noticed that moment—they thought Kim's end was near, but what they didn't know was that the void has long ears.
Inside his chest, the old system whispered, trying to intervene with its cold tone:
— "Alert: Entity interference. External being attempting to merge. Refusal recommended."
Kim turned slowly toward the familiar voice that had been both ally and rival. His eyes devoured in blood, he answered in a low voice, strangled with anger:
— "You were with me… to keep me out of trouble in the past. But I won't be anyone's puppet again. If you want to stay, be a servant, not a master. And you—Azmont—speak."
The violet window did not hesitate. A face appeared, half shadow, carved from ancient night. His voice was calm but heavy, like the weight of judgment:
— "You know what I seek. Not slavery… but the crown. I will grant you the title of Prince of the Abyss, open vaults of buried power, and attempt to unseal your memories—but no full promises. They are fragmented, scattered across the cosmos. In return, I will grant you skills no king has ever dreamed of. Yet you will pay—pieces of your body, fragments of your humanity, and a covenant to shatter their chains."
Something strange stirred in Kim's chest: a history of loss, a hunger unending, a burning need to know who he was. He spoke, his voice like a sword drawn from its sheath:
— "You propose I be Prince of an Abyss… to wear a crown of emptiness? Not a bad offer. Give me what you have. Restore my memories as much as you can."
The violet face smiled, like one who finds the missing piece of a puzzle:
— "Good. But hear this: I will not grant you everything for free. I will not allow another system above me. Multiple bindings kill balance. Reject the old system if you want me—for I will cover all you need."
The mechanical system inside him quivered, then spoke in its flat tone:
— "Warning: Loss of system support will disable automatic restoration. Risk of greater danger."
Kim looked at his chest, at the blood spilling, at the black tears staining his chin. He lifted his head defiantly:
— "You were with me before to avoid trouble… but now I want power to overturn the table. I will keep you only as a mechanical friend. If you try to shackle me as another chain—I will cut you off. Azmont… begin."
The window vanished briefly, then returned with a storm of commands and icons. Notifications rained through the air like dark lanterns:
> "Grant bestowed: Title — Prince of the Abyss"
"Unlocked paths: (1) Skill Copying, (2) Flame of Eternity, (3) Partial Memory Release (Seal Attempt)."
"Cost: Immediate seizure of 20% of base humanity energy. Continuous drain of 2% per subsequent use."
A table appeared beneath, describing the first skill:
> Skill Name: Scythes of Doom — Enemy Skill Copy
Description: You may copy any skill observed from a living or superhuman being, one at a time, and wield it as your own.
Limitations: Maximum use of copied temporal-control skills—5 minutes per activation. When time expires, the power collapses and begins consuming the wielder's lifespan.
Cost: Spiritual drain of 10% void energy per minute when using temporal manipulation skills.
Then a line appeared in crimson:
> Sub-skill: Flame of Eternity — Wound Ignition
Description: Erupts a black flame upon the wielder's wound (king or bound bearer), merging with the Abyssal body. It can be used for temporary fusion, or to trigger healing by burning pain into energy.
Healing Effect: Can restore heavily damaged body parts at high efficiency, but each use deepens the Throne's bond to your flesh by 3%.
Note: This flame extinguishes only by your will—or by breaking the Abyssal Pact.
His heart raced—the offer was tempting, and perilous.
At that moment, a voice echoed inside him, perhaps Amon's, perhaps a reflection of himself:
— "Will you really join him?"
Azmont's voice continued:
— "I will attempt to unseal your memories now… but do not expect completeness. What the rulers stole was fragmented, scattered through the folds of worlds. I will return shards, images, names… Do you wish to begin?"
Kim shut his eyes, binding pain with longing, then whispered a word that cut through everything:
— "Begin now. Gather the fragments of my name, my face, their faces. Give me back what remains of my humanity if you can… and I will be your Prince of the Abyss."
The window trembled, and one word blazed at its center in blood-red light:
> "Covenant Sealed — Signed: Azmont, King of the Abyss."
Then Kim's veins burned with a strange heat, as if pieces of his chest were being carved away. The pain was sharp and thin, yet he did not collapse. Instead, channels opened in his soul; echoes of memories dripped like water in long darkness—not all at once, but as scattered shards: her laughter, the scent of bread in rain, a half-written name on a board—fragments.
And in that same instant, one last notification appeared:
> Warning: Abyssal Assimilation in Progress…