The skies above Eclipsera bled with twilight as Kaien stood before the gathered legions. The armies of men, angels, and reformed demons stretched beyond the horizon—an ocean of banners and armor gleaming under the fractured light. The air itself felt heavy, as if the world knew this march would decide its fate.
Kaien walked among his soldiers, his presence calm but commanding. The black and silver cloak he wore rippled with both light and shadow, every step radiating quiet power. In his hand rested Noxveil, pulsing with faint blue veins of light—the living blade forged from the essence of balance itself.
Behind him, Reina approached, her silver hair glinting softly. "They're ready," she said, her tone steady though her eyes betrayed concern. "Once we cross the veil, there's no turning back."
Kaien nodded slightly. "There never was."
He looked toward the horizon where the veil shimmered—a colossal tear in reality, swirling with darkness and violet flame. "The Abyss calls," he murmured, "and I'll answer."
A low rumble shook the air as Azrael, his second-in-command, stepped forward, his armor glowing faintly with runes of celestial fire. "The vanguard awaits your signal, Sovereign. The Abyssal Gates won't hold much longer."
Kaien's gaze hardened. "Then we move."
He raised his hand, and the world trembled.
From the sky, rivers of light descended, forming bridges between realms. The air rippled with the power of creation and destruction intertwined. As the army advanced, shadows whispered across the ground, echoing Kaien's name like a prophecy.
Reina watched him in silence. He had changed—his power no longer wild, but deeper, controlled, and ancient. There was a serenity to him now, even as they stepped into hell.
---
The first step into the Abyss was like walking into a memory.
Darkness wrapped around them, dense and suffocating, but not empty—it was alive. The land stretched endlessly, a vast wasteland of crimson stone and black flame. The ground pulsed like the veins of some sleeping god.
Azrael scanned the horizon. "No sign of the vanguard scouts. This place devours everything."
"Not everything," Kaien said quietly, planting Noxveil into the ground. The sword's light spread outward, clearing the haze for miles. "It can't consume what belongs to both light and shadow."
From the mist ahead, something stirred.
A thousand eyes blinked open in the darkness. The earth split apart as colossal figures rose—Abyssal Titans, ancient sentinels forged to guard the Demon King's domain. Their bodies were made of molten stone and their roars shook the abyssal air.
The soldiers behind Kaien faltered, fear rippling through the ranks.
Reina whispered, "We can't fight them all—"
"We won't have to," Kaien said.
He stepped forward, and the titans turned their gaze toward him. The air thickened with crushing pressure. Kaien lifted his hand, and a circle of black fire ignited beneath his feet—not destruction, but containment. "Rest," he commanded.
The words carried weight beyond sound.
The titans froze. Then, one by one, their movements slowed until the light in their eyes dimmed. They bowed their massive heads, sinking back into the ground as if obeying an ancient call.
The soldiers stared in disbelief.
Azrael muttered, "He commands the Abyss itself…"
Reina's gaze lingered on Kaien. "No," she said softly. "He's becoming it."
Kaien turned slightly toward her, as if hearing her unspoken fear. "I'm not them," he said quietly. "I'm the balance they forgot."
---
As the army marched deeper, the Abyss grew stranger. Time twisted. The stars above flickered and reversed. The land whispered with voices of the long dead—warriors, kings, demons, angels—all lost to eternity.
They reached a vast chasm where the ground fell away into endless dark.
Across it stood a black citadel suspended in midair—the Throne of Zarveth, the Demon King's seat of power. Its spires were carved from the bones of fallen gods, its gates bound by chains of living flame.
Kaien stopped at the edge, his eyes fixed on the citadel. "That's where it ends," he said. "Zarveth waits inside."
Azrael approached. "Do you think he knows we're coming?"
Kaien's lips curved faintly. "He's known since the moment I was born."
The Abyss howled as if in answer. A tremor raced through the realm, splitting the chasm wider. From the depths below, wings unfolded—vast, skeletal, and burning with black fire. A demon unlike any Kaien had faced before rose from the pit, its voice thundering through the void.
"Kaien Draven. The false Sovereign. You carry the king's essence. Return it—or be unmade!"
Kaien's aura ignited, light and shadow intertwining into a storm. "Tell Zarveth," he said, raising Noxveil, "that I'm coming to return it myself."
The demon roared, unleashing torrents of flame. Kaien surged forward, cutting through the fire like a storm through the sea.
Every strike carried the weight of creation and ruin, every movement echoing the will of the Sovereign.
Lightning clashed with darkness as their battle lit the abyssal sky.
When the dust cleared, the demon fell, its massive body dissolving into mist. Kaien stood amidst the ruin, his blade glowing faintly. "One gate down," he said. "Seven remain."
Reina stepped beside him, her voice low. "And beyond them—Zarveth."
Kaien looked toward the citadel again, the flames reflecting in his crimson eyes. "Then let him wait," he murmured. "Because I'm coming to end his reign."
---
As the army advanced once more, the Abyss trembled with fear for the first time in its eternal history.
And high within the throne room of black flame, Zarveth opened his eyes.
"They march," he whispered, his voice ancient and cold. "And the child of gods dares to challenge the abyss."
He smiled faintly. "Let him come. Let him learn what it means to slay a god."