The night was quiet, painted in shades of violet and silver.
The twin moons hung over the Elderwood Forest, casting faint ripples of light across the lake where I had set up camp. Crackling embers flickered beside me, sparks leaping into the cool air as if trying to escape the stillness.
I wasn't some hero, or even a traveler by choice.
Just a wanderer — a failed adventurer who got sick of cities that demanded gold and guild cards for every breath you took. I had no party, no future, and no reason to care.
So I camped.
Day after day, I hunted small beasts, roasted them over the fire, and counted stars like they owed me rent.
That night felt no different — until the air shifted.
At first, it was faint. A soft tremor through the earth, as if something ancient had just taken a breath for the first time in centuries. The fire dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally long, bending toward the treeline.
The smell of iron and ash drifted in, sharp enough to make me choke. Then I heard it — a low whisper, curling through the dark like smoke.
> "Boy…"
I froze, hand instinctively reaching for my rusted dagger. The whisper deepened into a growl that made my chest vibrate.
> "Do not fear… you are chosen."
"Chosen?" I muttered. "I didn't even sign up for anything."
The ground split open.
A surge of crimson light erupted, swallowing the clearing in a violent glow. I stumbled back, shielding my eyes as something — someone — rose from the crack. A towering figure wrapped in torn robes and shadows, his horns curved like blades, eyes glowing like molten stars.
When he spoke, the world seemed to bend around his words.
> "I am Amon, the Abyssal Lord of Ruin… and you, mortal, carry my mark."
I blinked. "…The hell did I do to deserve that?"
His gaze pierced straight through me. "You camp upon sacred soil. The last of my essence sleeps beneath this forest. It recognized your soul… the despair, the defiance. It chose you."
I laughed nervously. "So what—you're saying the dirt decided to sponsor me?"
He didn't laugh. Instead, he raised a skeletal hand, black veins of power rippling through the air. "Mock all you want. You have been seen. You have been chosen. My time wanes, and my power must not fade."
The ground pulsed again, this time harder. My fire died instantly. The air turned thick, almost liquid, every breath burning in my throat.
> "Inherit my power, mortal," he intoned. "Or be erased with this decaying world."
"Hold on, what world—?"
Before I could finish, he thrust his hand forward, slamming it into my chest.
I felt my heart stop.
Then the pain hit.
It wasn't pain like a wound — it was something cosmic, like my soul was being rewritten. My veins burned, my bones screamed, and every thought shattered into static. The forest disappeared. My vision flooded with symbols, runes of crimson light spiraling into my mind.
> [System Initialization Complete]
[Welcome, Successor of the Abyss]
[You have awakened the SSS-Class Power: Authority of Oblivion]
I collapsed, gasping for air. "Wha—what is this? Who's talking?!"
> [Secondary Skills Activated: Devour, Regeneration, Abyssal Pulse.]
[New Title Granted: "Heir of the Fallen Abyss."]
I barely understood any of it. My body glowed faintly, dark light swirling around my arms, veins like lightning made of shadow. I felt strong — too strong — yet unbearably fragile at the same time.
The demon, Amon, stepped closer, his expression unreadable.
"You are… surprisingly stable," he murmured. "Most vessels explode."
"Comforting," I croaked.
"Do not disappoint me. The world that rejected you — the kingdoms that cast you out — they will soon kneel before you. The power of Oblivion can consume gods themselves."
I stared at my trembling hands. "Gods…? You're joking, right?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his body began to crumble, black particles scattering like ash in the wind. "This realm no longer sustains me. My will passes to you. Rule or die — the abyss rewards only the relentless."
And then — he was gone.
The wind roared suddenly, trees bowing as the light faded. The world returned to silence, as if nothing had happened. My campsite was untouched, the fire rekindled somehow — except for one detail:
A faint, glowing mark on the back of my hand.
A swirling pattern of red and black, pulsing like a heartbeat.
I touched it cautiously. The moment my fingers brushed the mark, reality glitched. My surroundings shifted — trees blurring, air trembling — and for a brief second, I saw visions.
Cities collapsing under black skies. Armies of winged beasts kneeling before a throne. And on that throne… me.
Cloaked in shadow, eyes glowing like Amon's.
I tore my hand away, chest heaving. "What… what was that?"
> [Future Synchronization: 0.00001% Complete.]
[Warning: Overexposure to Abyssal Energy may cause Reality Distortion.]
[Recommendation: Seek Stabilization Core in the ruins of Veldora.]
"Ruins…?" I muttered. "Great. Now I'm getting fetch quests."
The system didn't respond. Just a faint hum, fading into the night breeze.
The forest seemed to breathe again, as if relieved the ancient being had finally vanished. Crickets resumed their song. My campfire crackled lazily, as though mocking me.
And me? I just sat there, staring at my hands — glowing faintly under the moonlight — wondering if this was all a fever dream from spoiled boar meat.
But deep inside, I could feel it.
A presence. Watching. Whispering.
> "Do not run from what you've become…"
The voice echoed faintly in my head, fading like smoke. I exhaled shakily and stood, gazing into the vast darkness between the trees.
The night felt different now.
Alive. Hungry.
Amon's words replayed in my head — "Rule or die."
And for the first time in my miserable life, the thought didn't sound so crazy.