The abyss was not empty.
It breathed.
Lucien fell through a spiral of blood-red mist that coiled around him like living serpents, weightless yet burdened by crushing pressure on every inch of his skin. The sensation was like drowning in liquid mercury while being pulled apart by invisible hands. There was no ground, no ceiling, no sense of time—only whispers slithering in his ears like promises from the damned. His system interface flickered erratically in front of him, digital symbols scrambling and reforming into patterns that seemed to burn themselves into his retinas, a language not meant for mortal comprehension.
> [SYSTEM WARNING: Dimensional Stability Breached]
> [Reality Anchor Lost — Temporal Flow Disrupted]
> [System Integrity at 76% and Falling — Proceeding with Blood Throne Trial]
> [Caution: Host mortality rate in this realm approaches 94%]
