Arman opened his eyes to the same void of darkness he had once been trapped in. But this time, it felt… warm and welcoming. After a moment, he sensed a presence nearby. He didn't need to guess; he knew it was the Dark Knight. Something about it drew him closer, a silent pull—as if it was asking for something. Instinctively, Arman stepped forward and grasped its hand.
In that instant, darkness surged out from his body and flowed into the Dark Knight. The world blurred, and when his vision cleared, he was standing once more in the grand hall.
The Dark Knight's body was gone but Arman could feel it, alive and stirring somewhere deep within him. As he stood there, trying to make sense of what had happened, a voice echoed in his mind:
[You have created a Warrior of Darkness.]
He froze for a moment, stunned, before realization dawned.
'So… I can create my own warrior now?' he thought. 'Then how do I summon it?'
He raised his hand. 'Summon The Lord of the Abyssal Keep!'
Nothing happened. He frowned, thinking. Then he recalled that vile, cold sensation from before the darkness that had poured out of him in the void. He focused on that feeling, following it like a thread through the air.
His shadow began to deepen, growing darker and thicker until a figure emerged from within it the Lord of the Abyssal Keep.
Arman studied the creature. Its form was the same as before, yet somehow… different. The darkness within it pulsed faintly, alive and sentient. After observing for a while, he sent it back into slumber.
But his thoughts kept circling the same questions.
How was he able to create a Warrior of Darkness?
Why was he pulled into the endless void again?
Why now and not when he killed the Faceless Colossus?
'Can I enter that place by my own will?' he muttered. 'I must be missing something.'
He tried again, recalling the sensation of the darkness flowing from him. Calming his mind, he silenced his thoughts and focused on that same pull. When he opened his eyes, the world had changed once more—he was back in the endless void, surrounded by that silent, devouring darkness. And there, he felt it again—the presence of the Abyssal Keeper.
"So that's how it is," he murmured. 'But I still can't tell how I did that. I guess… it's in my nature.'
He leaned back and opened his Codex.
[Artifact: Abyssal Keep Armor]
Description: Once forged by the Templars for the Knights of Nemi --guardians chosen by the God of Light to protect the sacred lands of Nemi during the Age of Gods. But when the land was swallowed by darkness, the light turned hollow, and all within were corrupted by the Descent of Darkness, leaving the knight a shadow of his former glory.
Rank: Divine
Parameters:
Defense: Extremely high resistance to physical attacks Transformation: The armor grows stronger alongside its user Concealment: Can become invisible at will Repair: Regenerates over time
After reading the description, Arman sank into deep thought.
'So… this land was once sacred, called Nemi, destroyed during some kind of war. If that's true, it must've been thousands of years ago. If the Abyssal Keeper was as powerful as his past self now, I would've died instantly.'
He leaned back, his expression unreadable.
'What happened to the people? Did everyone die? Even if they did, wouldn't others have claimed this land by now? There's no way it was left untouched.'
His gaze drifted toward the forest beyond the castle walls.
'If that's the case… then this place must've been completely cut off from the rest of the world. But why?'
He paused, his eyes narrowing. 'Well, I might get some answers if I get out of here first.'
He reopened his Codex and found a new entry.
[Warrior of Darkness]
Abyssal Keeper
Description: Once a loyal guard of a sacred land, he lived only to serve his lord. But when darkness descended, he lost both his master and his city. Alone, he fought countless monsters that emerged from the void. The light within him faded, and at the depth of his despair, he was swallowed by the very darkness he once fought, becoming the Keeper of the forsaken land, guarding what had long been forgotten.
Rank: Devil
Parameters:
Weapon Master: Can wield any weapon with unparalleled skill; each strike carries the weight of darkness. Terror Incarnate: His presence instills dread in enemies weaker than him, weakening their resolve and clouding their senses. Shadow Stride: Moves unseen through darkness; his presence is masked by the void itself, making him nearly undetectable at night or in shadow.
"Okay," Arman exhaled, half-laughing. "He was actually the knight chosen by the God of Light… and this was during the Age of Gods? Things are getting way too mythical."
After regaining his composure, he decided to explore the city further. But before leaving, he wanted to know what exactly the Abyssal Keeper had been guarding.
He searched the grand hall carefully. Nothing stood out—until his eyes fell upon the throne. At first glance, it seemed ordinary, but then he noticed a small symbol carved into its armrest shaped like a button. Curiosity prickled at him. He pressed it.
The ground trembled violently. Arman drew his sword, stepping back, ready for whatever came next. But nothing emerged. The rumbling subsided, and from beneath the throne, the floor split open, revealing a staircase that led deep underground.
He hesitated. Every instinct told him to turn back but curiosity was stronger.
The staircase descended into a long, narrow corridor swallowed by darkness. Dust clung to the stone walls, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling like pale, twisted veins. He moved carefully, each step echoing faintly in the still air.
At the end of the corridor was a chamber. The sight before him made him freeze.
A figure sat cross-legged in the center, its body as black as obsidian, lifeless, and dry, as though it had been consumed from within. Dried blood stained the ground before it. Even in death, the figure exuded a haunting, oppressive aura.
Arman tightened his grip on his sword and approached cautiously. The being didn't move—it had long been dead. He relaxed slightly and stepped closer. The face was human, yet hollow, as if it had stared into the void for far too long.
He turned away and scanned the rest of the chamber. Most of the books scattered around were half-destroyed—pages torn, ink faded beyond recognition. But in the far corner, atop a dust-covered table, one book remained untouched by time. Its cover was whole and was in good shape.
Arman picked it up, fingers trembling slightly as he flipped through the pages. Then, a voice echoed in his mind:
[You have acquired the Grimoire of the Rudra Pathway]