The gate behind me slammed shut with the weight of judgment, drowning the world outside into silence. Inside, the Abyss opened before my eyes—vast, shadow-bathed, yet disturbingly alive. A city carved from black stone and metal. Towers like broken teeth. Walkways suspended by chains. Fires that burned without smoke, licking the air with eerie blue flames.
Orba walked ahead, hands calmly clasped behind his back, his fur cloak trailing like a fallen king.
"Keep your eyes open, Simon," he said without looking back. "Everything here has claws."
I followed quietly, steps heavy. The air here felt thicker—like it watched, and waited.
Creatures of all shapes watched us from the balconies and market stalls. Not demons like fairy tales. They were worse. Some human-shaped with too many joints, some beast-like with burning eyes. Some wore armor glowing faintly red, etched with runes that whispered. All bore the same expression: hunger, not just for flesh—hunger for dominance.
"What is this place exactly?" I asked.
"The Abyss." Orba's tone was casual. "The real one. Not the legends that mortals romanticize."
"And these… people?"
"Citizens, soldiers, exiles, predators, prey." His lips curled into a faint smile. "Everyone here has killed to stand where they stand. Everyone will kill again to climb higher."
We passed a pit where two creatures fought, fangs clashing, blood spraying into the cheering crowd. There were no rules, only roars.
No referees.
No medics.
Just survival.
A man fell—throat torn open—and immediately, scavengers jumped in, ripping flesh before his body hit the ground properly. No one flinched. No one covered children's eyes. Because there were no children here.
I swallowed hard. "Barbaric."
Orba chuckled. "Naive."
He slowed, turning slightly toward me, crimson pupils glimmering like lit embers.
"You're still thinking with the morality of your previous world," he said. "There, laws protected the weak. Systems coddled them."
I clenched my fists. Images of hospitals, police sirens, courtrooms flickered through my mind. Humanity trying—failing, sometimes—yet always striving to protect life.
Orba continued, voice low, patient like a teacher explaining to a stubborn student.
"But here, Simon… morality has teeth. And it bites. Weakness is a crime. Hesitation is death. Pity is poison."
We passed a marketplace where blades were displayed beside meat. I wasn't sure which was hunted and which was crafted.
"As long as you can kill," Orba said, "you deserve to live. When you can't… you feed those who can."
A shiver crawled up my spine. "So… survival of the fittest."
"A crude summary." He smirked. "Here, power isn't merely muscle. It's cunning. Will. Ruthlessness. Those with strength rule. Those without kneel—or disappear."
We stopped atop a wide balcony overlooking the Abyss city. Below, life pulsed in cruel rhythm—training yards, execution platforms, roaring arenas. The Abyss wasn't chaos.
It was order built on teeth and blood.
"This is nature undressed," Orba murmured. "Without your world's illusions of fairness."
His cloak fluttered in the strange wind. I felt very, painfully mortal beside him.
"So where do I fit?" I asked quietly.
Orba turned fully to me now—towering, eyes burning like coals buried in ash.
"You stand," he said, "at the very bottom."
My jaw tightened. Shame and anger mixed in my chest—but fear dominated. So did something else: stubbornness refusing to die.
"But," Orba continued, "you learn fast. You survived. You impressed me."
His tone… softened? No—measured. Calculating.
"And I reward potential."
He gestured, and a portal of shadow opened before us. Through it, I glimpsed a chamber carved from obsidian—warm lights, soft bedding, food laid neatly, steaming and fragrant. Comfort in a hell where comfort shouldn't exist.
"For you?" Orba said, "Shelter. Meals. Training. Knowledge."
I stared, stunned. "Why?"
"One condition." His voice lowered. "Serve me. Swear loyalty. Be my hand in the battles to come."
I inhaled slowly, thinking. "Why me?"
Orba smiled—sharp, intrigued, dangerous.
"Because you broke in from another world," he said. "And fate never wastes effort. You were brought here for a reason. Power follows destiny—and I can smell destiny on you."
He stepped closer. His presence was suffocating—immense, ancient, patient like a predator studying a cub that might grow into a lion.
"You can rise here," he whispered. "Not just survive—rise. I offer you purpose. Protection. Path. All you must do… is choose."
Choose.
Serve a being who could crush me like a fly.
Or try to claw through this hell alone.
My voice came out rough. "And if I refuse?"
Orba didn't blink.
"Then I will not kill you," he said simply.
Relief flickered—
"But the Abyss will."
The words hit heavier than any threat. Because here, it wasn't a threat. It was truth.
A scream echoed from below. Something wet splashed stone. The city swallowed the sound like it was a daily song.
He extended a hand.
"Serve me, Simon. Or be devoured by those who will gladly wear your skull as a cup."
The silence between us stretched. My fingers trembled—not from weakness, but from knowing the world behind me was gone. The world ahead was razor-sharp.
I lifted my chin. Fear still coiled in me, but something else stirred—anger, pride, the stubborn human refusal to die quietly.
"I won't be weak," I said.
Orba's eyes gleamed.
"So you accept?"
Not servitude. Survival. The only path. The first step in a new hell.
"I accept," I whispered.
Orba's grin was slow, hungry, like shadow smiling.
"Good." His voice rolled like thunder. "Then welcome to the Abyss. From today forward, you climb. You kill. You conquer. Or you die trying."
He turned, cloak sweeping dramatically as the portal widened.
"Come, Simon," he said. "Your new life begins. And your old self?"
He snapped his fingers.
Darkness swallowed the balcony lights for a heartbeat.
"Forget him."
I stepped through the threshold, heart loud, breath steadying.
Behind me, the city roared.
And somewhere in that roar, I felt a truth carve itself into me:
This world had no mercy.
But neither would I.
---
The door closed behind Orba with a heavy thud, and the lock slid into place like a final judgment. For a long moment, the room and I stared at each other in silence.
It was… shockingly comfortable.
Soft bed, thick blankets the color of midnight. A small table with steaming bread, meat, and soup that smelled rich and warm. A basin of clean water—clean, in a world where blood seemed more common than air. Ornate torchlight hummed from crystal sconces on the wall.
This should have been comforting.
But comfort here felt like a loaded weapon.
Orba's final words still echoed:
"Do not even consider breaking the loyalty you swore me. The Abyss does not forgive doubt. And I am worse than the Abyss."
Then he left.
Just like that.
I exhaled shakily and sat on the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the mattress. My mind spun.
He didn't ask for obedience. He demanded it.
Not just loyalty—absolute submission.
Back in my old world, loyalty was… voluntary. Earned. Negotiated. You could leave a job, end a friendship, walk away from betrayal.
Here?
Walking away meant disembowelment and your skull being turned into someone's tea cup.
My throat tightened. I pressed both hands over my face.
"Okay," I whispered. "Breathe. Think."
I forced air into my lungs. The Abyss was a nightmare, yes—but a structured nightmare. With rules. Rules could be learned. Systems could be mastered.
And Orba…
Powerful. Terrifying. But not random. He made calculated decisions. Recognized potential.
He didn't just want a servant—he wanted a weapon.
I needed to become one before someone sharpened themselves on me instead.
I stood and paced, boots silent on smooth stone. My mind drifted to the fight pits outside, to the cheers as someone died, to the hunger in the eyes of those spectators.
Here, sympathy was suicide. Mercy was weakness. Hesitation was a death sentence.
I swallowed hard.
"I can't act like a human here," I muttered. "Not like before."
This world wasn't built for humanity; it was built to strip it away.
Was I ready to let go of who I was?
Did I have a choice?
I turned to the food. Steam curled into the air. My stomach twisted with hunger—but caution hissed louder.
Is it safe? Is anything here safe?
Then I remembered: if Orba wanted me dead, he wouldn't have fed me.
He would have let the Abyss do it slowly.
I picked up the bread, tore a piece, and chewed carefully. Warm, soft, slightly sweet. Real. The soup was even better—savory broth, tender meat that melted on my tongue.
It was disarming.
Like someone giving you a warm blanket in a prison cell to make you forget the chains.
I sat again, staring at the torchlight as shadows flickered across the ceiling.
I thought about Orba's smile when I accepted. Not warm—satisfied. As if he'd seen a puzzle piece fall into place exactly where fate intended.
Destiny.
That was what he called it.
I wasn't sure if I believed in destiny. But I believed in endings. And this world offered only two:
Rise or rot.
I rested my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands together.
"I can't just survive here," I whispered. "I have to become… something else."
Something that didn't crumble when stared at by monsters. Something that didn't flinch at fear, didn't break under pressure.
But what? A killer? A strategist? A monster myself?
I didn't know.
But I knew I needed power. Knowledge. Allies—if such things existed here. Weapons. Skills.
And Orba was the only source.
For now.
Trusting him completely would be idiotic.
But betraying him?
Also idiotic.
I needed time. Training. A plan.
Step 1: Survive. Step 2: Grow stronger. Step 3: Understand this place, its rules, its hierarchies. Step 4: Earn power—but quietly. Step 5: Never kneel again.
Not to Orba. Not to anyone.
A soft hum broke the silence, almost like the stone walls breathed. The Abyss wasn't a place. It was a predator. Every shadow looked like it wanted to watch me bleed.
A shiver crawled across my spine.
"I won't break," I murmured, voice trembling but steel beneath it. "Never again."
Even fear sharpened into resolve. Better fear than arrogance. Fear kept you alive.
I walked toward the mirror beside the basin. My reflection looked back—brown hair, tired eyes, a face still too human to belong here.
That had to change.
But slowly.
Deliberately.
I leaned in, whispering to the reflection like confessing to a stranger.
"No one will protect me here. So I'll protect myself."
My fingers curled into fists.
"And one day… I won't need Orba. One day, even he will look at me and reconsider threatening me."
A foolish thought? Maybe.
But impossible dreams were fuel too.
Another shiver passed through the room—like the walls approved, or warned.
I lay on the bed at last, but sleep didn't come immediately. Too much noise in my head.
Memories of Earth flickered—streets, sun, laughter, warmth.
Gone.
Now, only the Abyss.
I closed my eyes and whispered into the silence:
"I don't care if this place wants to eat me alive."
A beat passed. My heart slowed.
"I'm not here to be prey."
Silence answered like a vow.
"I will carve a place. I will rise. I will not die forgotten."
Only then did exhaustion claim me—slow, heavy, dragging me into uneasy sleep.
Somewhere far off, I swore I heard something whisper back.
Then let the weak tremble.