The darkness was not empty.
It moved.
It breathed.
Kael felt it coil around what remained of his consciousness, not as an enemy, but like an old predator circling prey it had once claimed and lost. There was no pain here, no body to be torn apart, no soul to be crushed by heavenly laws. Only awareness—sharp, unfiltered, terrifyingly clear.
The abyss stretched endlessly in all directions, a sea of crimson-black mist that swallowed light and meaning alike. There was no sky, no ground, no sense of up or down. Yet Kael knew he was falling.
Or perhaps being welcomed.
"So," the ancient voice said again, echoing through the abyss without direction, "you have finally arrived."
Kael did not answer immediately.
He examined himself.
There was no body. No limbs. No blood. He was a thought drifting in an ocean of darkness, held together by will alone. He could feel the fragments of his soul—damaged, incomplete, yet stubbornly intact. Heavenly erasure had failed to destroy him completely.
That alone told him one thing.
This place existed outside the authority of the heavens.
"You are not surprised," the voice observed, amused.
"I stopped being surprised the day the world turned on me," Kael replied calmly. His voice did not echo. It simply existed. "If you brought me here to mock me, you'll be disappointed."
Laughter rolled through the abyss, deep and layered, as if countless beings were laughing at once.
"Mock you?" the voice said. "No. I have waited for you."
The mist parted.
Something immense revealed itself.
At first, Kael thought it was a mountain—until it moved.
An eye the size of a city opened within the darkness, crimson pupils burning with ancient intelligence. Then another. And another. Shapes formed around them—horns, shadows, wings made of void itself. The presence alone pressed against Kael's consciousness, heavy enough to crush lesser souls into nothingness.
This was not a god.
Gods demanded worship.
This thing remembered being feared.
"You know what I am," the voice said, no longer playful.
"Yes," Kael replied after a long pause. "You are the origin."
The abyss trembled.
Few beings still remembered that title.
"I am what existed before the heavens learned to judge," the entity said. "Before fate dared to bind. Before morality was invented to control power."
The eyes narrowed slightly.
"I am the first devil."
Kael felt no awe.
Only understanding.
"So this is where devils go when the world decides to erase them," he said.
"Do not insult this place," the first devil replied coldly. "This abyss is not a grave. It is a memory."
The mist surged, and suddenly Kael was no longer drifting.
Scenes unfolded around him.
Worlds burning.
Stars collapsing.
Civilizations screaming as shadows devoured light.
He saw devils—countless devils—rise and fall across eras. Some rampaged mindlessly. Others ruled wisely. Many were betrayed. All were feared.
"All devils end the same way," the first devil said. "Killed by those who need them… and hate needing them."
Kael watched silently as the scenes shifted again.
This time, he saw himself.
His rise.
His conquests.
His mistakes.
Moments he had long buried resurfaced—hesitations he had ignored, mercy he had shown when slaughter would have been wiser. Each memory burned brighter than the last.
"You were close," the entity said. "Closer than any devil in this era."
"Close to what?" Kael asked.
"To breaking free," it answered.
The scenes shattered.
Darkness returned.
"You were not betrayed because you were evil," the first devil continued. "You were betrayed because you were uncontrollable."
Kael's consciousness tightened.
The truth had always been there.
He had refused to kneel. Refused to accept fate's script. Refused to be a tool for heaven or hell. And the world had responded the only way it knew how—by uniting to destroy what it could not chain.
"Tell me," the first devil said softly, "do you regret it now?"
Kael did not hesitate.
"No."
The abyss went silent.
Then, slowly, approvingly, the darkness pulsed.
"Good," the entity said. "Then you are worthy of a choice."
A symbol appeared before Kael—an ancient sigil formed from fear, hatred, and raw authority. It burned without heat, radiating power so pure it made heavenly treasures seem laughable.
"Your soul is damaged," the first devil said. "Your existence rejected by fate. If you remain here, you will dissolve into the abyss. Eventually."
Kael listened without emotion.
"But," the voice continued, "I can send you back."
Kael's focus sharpened.
"Reincarnation?" he asked.
The first devil laughed again.
"No. Reincarnation is mercy."
The sigil split into two paths.
"One path leads to oblivion," the entity said. "Peace. Silence. An end to betrayal."
The other path ignited.
"Return to the moment before everything began. Your body weak. Your name worthless. Your enemies unaware."
Kael understood immediately.
"Time reversal," he murmured.
"Yes," the first devil said. "But with conditions."
The abyss tightened, pressure bearing down on Kael's consciousness.
"You will not return as a hero," the entity warned. "The heavens will reject you. Fate will resist you. Every step forward will invite disaster."
Kael smiled.
"That was already the case."
The first devil's eyes gleamed.
"You will grow stronger only as fear of you spreads," it continued. "Mercy will weaken you. Hesitation will punish you. The world will sense what you are becoming… and it will try to kill you again."
Kael felt something stir within him.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Anticipation.
"And when I reach the peak again?" he asked.
The abyss darkened.
"Then," the first devil said quietly, "you will face a truth even darker than betrayal."
The sigil burned brighter, pulling Kael toward it.
"Choose," the entity commanded. "Oblivion… or return as the devil the world feared."
Kael moved forward without hesitation.
"I already died once," he said. "I won't waste it."
The sigil shattered.
Pain unlike anything Kael had ever known tore through his consciousness. His soul was compressed, reforged, branded with something ancient and irreversible. Memories fused with instinct. Fear, hatred, authority—all carved themselves into his existence.
The abyss roared.
"Remember this," the first devil's voice echoed as Kael was dragged away. "The world does not fear devils because they destroy."
Darkness collapsed inward.
"They fear devils… because devils remember."
Light exploded.
Cold air rushed into his lungs.
Kael gasped violently as sensation returned—pain, weakness, hunger, humiliation. His eyes snapped open to a low wooden ceiling stained with mold and age.
A child's body.
Fragile.
Powerless.
Familiar.
Before he could move, voices echoed outside the room—mocking, cruel, impatient.
"Is that trash still alive?"
Kael closed his eyes slowly.
And smiled.