The valley lay in ruin, a graveyard of ash and blood. Yet Aadhir did not linger. His crimson eyes scanned the horizon, seeking what no mortal had ever dared to touch—the Shadow Abyss, a realm of darkness where legends said the most forbidden powers slept, buried beneath layers of death and malice.
He approached the yawning pit at the heart of the valley. Its edges seemed to devour light itself, tendrils of black mist curling upward like living snakes, hissing promises of power and pain. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, but Aadhir's heart thrummed with anticipation. Fear was a luxury he had shed with his mortal shell.
He stepped forward.
The moment his foot touched the mist, the world shifted. Gravity twisted, the air thickened, and the ground beneath him roared with life. From the shadows emerged beings long forgotten, their forms skeletal, draped in ancient armor, their eyes glowing with malice. The Guardians of the Abyss, creatures created to devour all intruders, sensed the presence of a new predator.
One leapt. Its claws could rend mountains. Aadhir barely moved, letting the blade of shadow manifest from his arm. In a single motion, faster than thought, he cut through bone and sinew, the creature's blood hissing as it hit the ground.
Another came, faster, more cunning. Aadhir's twin blades danced—a blur of black light and crimson blood. Limbs severed, skulls crushed, screams swallowed by shadows. Each death fed his abyssal blood magic, inflaming the darkness within him.
But the Guardians were relentless. They struck again and again, each stronger than the last. Aadhir's body burned, his muscles tore, yet he grinned. Pain was a reminder that he lived. That he was becoming stronger.
Finally, a massive figure emerged, its body shrouded in living shadows. Its voice was a thousand whispers screaming in unison:
"You… are not welcome here. Turn back, or be devoured."
Aadhir tilted his head, amused. "Devour me? I am the predator, not the prey."
The shadows surged. Aadhir's body twisted, his blood coiling like serpents, and he struck. The clash was cataclysmic. Darkness met darkness, and the sound of tearing reality echoed through the abyss. The Guardian roared, spewing black flames that could melt flesh and bone. But Aadhir did not falter. He absorbed the fire, letting it mix with his demonic blood, becoming more than flesh, more than devil, a living nightmare.
With a final strike, the Guardian exploded in a torrent of black blood and screaming souls. Aadhir felt the power surge through him, unlocking his first true devil cultivation breakthrough. His aura expanded, black tendrils curling around him, licking the air like hungry serpents.
"This… is only the beginning," he whispered, tasting the abyssal power on his tongue. "Every demon, every celestial, every mortal… they will kneel, or they will bleed."
The Shadow Abyss pulsed around him, as if acknowledging a new master. Hidden relics stirred, ancient weapons shifted in their tombs, and somewhere deep below, the first seal of forbidden power trembled.
Aadhir laughed. The sound was a mixture of joy, madness, and promise. The world would remember his name, not as a mortal, not as a clan member, but as Aadhir, the Devil who defies Heaven itself.
The abyss whispered back, and he listened. Blood, power, revenge… and the throne of the Devil Emperor awaited him.
He stepped deeper. Every step brought him closer to godlike power, and farther from the weak man who had been betrayed. Aadhir had become the embodiment of death, shadow, and ambition. And nothing, not even the heavens, would stop him.
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