The descent was silent.
Kali stepped from the edge of the convergence pit and the world dropped away.
There was no falling.
Space simply folded downward, pulling him into a tunnel of violet light and shattered symbols. Gravity twisted, then released, then twisted again, like the planet itself was trying to decide whether he belonged.
He landed on black stone.
The impact cracked the surface beneath his boots.
The Abyssal Sector opened around him.
It was a dead city buried beneath another dead city. Ancient towers lay half-sunken into glowing mist, their surfaces crawling with faint runic light. Rivers of molten energy carved glowing scars through the terrain, while enormous skeletal remains of creatures unknown to modern science pierced the skyline like grave markers of forgotten gods.
The air vibrated with pressure.
Kali exhaled slowly.
This was not a battlefield.
This was a graveyard of civilizations.
His core pulsed — harder than it ever had.
The environment itself was feeding it.
Movement.
Kali's senses caught it before his eyes did.
Something massive shifted in the fog between collapsed structures. The ground trembled as a creature stepped into view, its body layered with black crystalline plates, its eyes burning with slow red light.
An Abyssal Guardian.
Not a candidate.
Not a beast.
A construct born of the planet's ancient wars.
The Guardian roared.
The sound cracked the air.
Kali did not retreat.
He adjusted his stance, weight low, center stable, every muscle coiled.
The Guardian charged.
Kali moved.
He slid sideways as the creature's claw smashed into the ground, sending a wave of energy across the stone. He drove his fist into the joint between its armor plates, feeling the shock of impact tear through his arm.
The Guardian barely slowed.
It swung again.
Kali ducked beneath the strike and launched upward, driving his knee into its chest. The impact shattered several armor plates, exposing the glowing core beneath.
The creature howled.
Kali felt his blood heat.
He pressed.
He gathered energy through his spine, compressed it into his shoulder, and released it in a single devastating punch.
The blow detonated.
The Guardian's chest collapsed inward as the energy burst tore through its core. The creature froze — then shattered into shards of glowing crystal that evaporated into mist.
Silence returned.
Kali stood among the fading light, chest heaving.
His hands trembled.
His core burned brighter.
He could feel the shift inside himself.
Not a breakthrough yet.
But close.
He continued deeper.
The Abyss unfolded in layers. Some zones were frozen in time, others warped by gravity. He passed fields of shattered war machines, floating fragments of ancient fleets, and enormous stone statues depicting races long extinct.
The pressure never faded.
It only intensified.
Hours passed.
Kali fought.
Creatures emerged from the fog — twisted remnants of forgotten experiments, warped constructs, and living storms of energy. Each battle carved deeper into his body and spirit.
His armor cracked.
Blood soaked his sleeves.
His vision blurred.
But he kept moving.
He refused to stop.
Finally, he reached a massive chamber.
At its center floated a fragment of crystal the size of a human heart, glowing with shifting patterns of light.
A relic.
The inheritance the commander had spoken of.
Kali approached.
The moment his hand touched the crystal, the world exploded.
Energy surged into him.
Pain tore through his veins.
His core screamed.
He fell to one knee, teeth clenched, body convulsing as the relic's power fused with his own.
Then everything went quiet.
Kali's breathing slowed.
His core stabilized.
Stronger.
Denser.
More alive.
He stood.
The Abyss had accepted him.
And the real growth had only just begun.