The ruins of Arctis City were still breathing. Smoke drifted lazily from the charred towers, curling into the gray morning sky. The wind whispered through the hollow shells of buildings, carrying with it the faint scent of ash, blood, and iron. It was a broken city—silent, scarred, and beautiful in its ruin.
Kaien Draven stood at the edge of what was once the central plaza, his cloak torn and his boots blackened from battle. The light of dawn touched the sharp planes of his face, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to stop moving. The weight of everything pressed down on him—the fight, the power he had unleashed, the faint tremor in his hands that refused to fade.
The world around him was quiet now, but his mind wasn't. Every heartbeat echoed with memories of what he'd seen the night before. The black rift. The Demon King's shadow. The voice that had called him by name, not as an enemy, but as something else. Something deeper.
He clenched his fists and looked out over the horizon. The sky was still red from the fading traces of the Eclipse. The war wasn't over—not even close.
A soft sound broke the silence behind him. Lira's boots crunched against the debris as she approached, her white hair swaying gently in the wind. The ends of it were singed, her armor cracked and stained with soot, but she still moved with quiet grace. Her staff glowed faintly in her hand, its light soft and pure, a reminder of what still stood in this world.
"You're still here," she said quietly, her voice rough from exhaustion.
Kaien didn't turn. "I thought you'd left with the others."
She stepped beside him, following his gaze across the ruins. "I told them to rest. The city's in no shape for another battle, and neither are we."
He exhaled slowly. "We'll have to be. That wasn't the last of them."
Lira nodded. "I know."
For a long time, they said nothing. The wind carried the faint sounds of crackling fires, the distant cry of crows circling above the wreckage. The world felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for what would come next.
Finally, Lira broke the silence. "You used it again, didn't you? The abyssal power."
Kaien's hand brushed unconsciously over his chest, where the mark pulsed faintly beneath his armor. "I didn't have a choice."
"You always have a choice," she said softly. "But the more you use it, the more it takes from you. One day, it'll take everything."
He turned to her then, his eyes glinting red in the dawn light. "If that's the price for ending this war, then so be it."
Lira met his gaze, unflinching. "And what happens after the war, Kaien? What's left of you when the demons are gone?"
He looked away. The question lingered in the air, unanswered.
A moment later, a low vibration rippled through the ground beneath their feet. Kaien's eyes snapped downward. "Did you feel that?"
Lira raised her staff, its light flaring slightly. "Yes."
The tremor grew stronger. The stones beneath them cracked, and the air filled with the sound of shifting earth. From the center of the plaza, where Kaien had faced the projection of the Demon King, a circle of dark runes began to glow. The pattern spread outward like wildfire, etching itself across the ground.
"Not again," Lira whispered, stepping back.
Kaien drew Noxveil, its blade igniting with a faint red aura. "Stay behind me."
The light from the runes pulsed brighter, and a column of crimson energy erupted skyward, splitting the clouds above. Kaien shielded his eyes as the wind roared around them. When the light dimmed, something stood in the center of the mark—a figure cloaked in black, its presence radiating power that made the air itself tremble.
The being spoke in a voice that was both male and female, both close and distant. "Kaien Draven. The Abyss calls for its heir."
Lira raised her staff. "Who are you?"
The figure ignored her. Its masked head turned toward Kaien. "You've strayed far from what you were meant to be. The King grows impatient."
Kaien took a slow step forward, sword ready. "Tell your king I'm done answering his summons."
The figure tilted its head slightly, as if amused. "You don't understand, do you? You were never his enemy. You were his vessel."
The words struck harder than any blade. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt. Kaien's pulse pounded in his ears. "What did you just say?"
"The power within you, the mark you carry—it was never meant to destroy the abyss," the figure continued. "It was meant to release it. You were born from his essence, Kaien Draven. You are his blood."
Lira's eyes widened. "That's a lie."
The figure raised a hand, and the space around it distorted. Visions flickered in the air—shadows of a time long before theirs. A child born beneath a red eclipse. A mark burned into its chest. A voice whispering in the darkness. "You were chosen before your first breath," the figure said. "The King gave part of his soul to you. You are his weapon."
Kaien's grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles turned white. "No. I fight to destroy him."
"And yet, your power grows stronger every time you call upon the abyss," the figure said. "Every time you fight, he awakens a little more."
Lira stepped forward, defiant. "You're trying to twist him. To make him doubt himself."
The figure's mask tilted toward her. "Doubt is unnecessary. The truth speaks for itself."
Kaien slashed his blade through the air. "Enough."
The figure didn't move. "When the King rises again, you will stand beside him, whether you will it or not."
Kaien lunged. His sword struck through the figure's chest—but it passed through like smoke. The being dissolved into black mist, its final words echoing across the ruins.
"You cannot kill what you are."
The mist vanished. Silence fell again, heavy and suffocating. Kaien stood frozen, chest heaving. The mark beneath his armor burned, and for a brief instant, he heard it again—a whisper, faint and familiar, deep inside his mind.
My son.
He staggered back, pressing a hand to his chest. "No…"
Lira reached for him. "Kaien, what is it?"
He forced himself to steady his breathing. "It's nothing."
"Don't lie to me," she said, stepping closer. "I felt it. Something inside you changed."
He sheathed his sword slowly, the motion deliberate. "We move at dawn. North."
"North? Toward the Citadel?" she asked, startled. "That's where the Demon King's power is strongest."
"That's where I'll find answers," Kaien said quietly. "If this mark truly ties me to him, then I'll face him myself."
Lira grabbed his arm. "You don't have to do this alone."
He looked at her then, truly looked at her. The exhaustion in his eyes couldn't hide the fire burning behind them. "I do. Because if that thing inside me ever takes over, I need to be far from everyone else."
She didn't let go. "You saved us all last night. You stood between this world and the abyss. Don't talk like you're already lost."
Kaien hesitated, then gently pried her hand from his arm. "I'm not lost yet. But I can feel the abyss watching me. Waiting. And I won't risk anyone else."
Lira's expression softened, but her voice was firm. "Then you'll have to fight me before you go. Because I'm not letting you walk into the heart of the abyss alone."
Kaien opened his mouth to argue—but stopped. Something in her gaze silenced him. It wasn't defiance; it was conviction. The kind that didn't waver, even in the face of death.
Finally, he nodded. "Then stay close."
They packed what little they had left. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of them set out across the wasteland, the remains of Arctis fading behind them. The wind howled through the canyons like the voices of the dead, and the sky above turned a deep shade of crimson.
Ahead, in the distance, the outline of the Citadel of the Abyss rose against the dying light—a tower so vast it seemed to pierce the heavens. Its black spires pulsed faintly with red veins of energy, alive like the heart of some colossal beast.
Kaien's hand brushed the hilt of his sword. The mark on his chest glowed faintly beneath his armor, responding to the Citadel's call. He could feel it, like a heartbeat echoing his own.
The abyss was calling him home.
And deep within the Citadel, far beyond mortal reach, the Demon King stirred from his throne of shadows. His voice drifted through the void, soft and triumphant.
Come to me, my heir.
Kaien looked toward the horizon, his eyes burning crimson.
"I'm coming," he whispered. "But not as your heir. As your executioner."
The wind tore across the wasteland, carrying his words into the darkness.
And thus began the journey toward the heart of the abyss.