Chapter 33: Chains of the Abyss

1. The Mark That Binds

The Ashen King clenched his jaw as the pain burned through his chest. The sigil left by the Sentinel pulsed like a brand, searing into his very being. It wasn't just a wound. It was something far worse.

A binding.

A tether to the Abyss itself.

Eryndra stood frozen, her silver eyes locked onto the dark symbol glowing beneath his skin. He saw the way her breath hitched, how her fingers twitched as if she wanted to reach out but couldn't.

Fear.

Not of him, but of what was happening to him.

And that made it worse.

The Ashen King took a slow, steady breath. He couldn't let this consume him. Not here. Not now.

His hand hovered over the sigil. The Abyss's energy still lingered, tendrils curling against his fingers like a whisper of something ancient. He could feel it—the call.

The same call that had once nearly stolen his soul.

He closed his fist. Not this time.

"This… isn't good." Eryndra's voice was quiet, but her words carried weight.

He forced himself to smirk. "Understatement of the century."

She didn't smile.

Instead, she reached for his arm, her fingers brushing against his skin. A faint glow of her magic flickered, testing the sigil, trying to unravel it.

Then—she flinched.

A flash of something dark lashed back at her, and she recoiled as if burned.

Her gaze snapped to his. "It's alive."

He grimaced. "Of course it is."

The Abyss didn't just mark people. It claimed them.

And right now, it was claiming him.

---

2. A Rift Between Us

Silence stretched between them.

The air was heavy—not just with tension, but with something deeper. Something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Eryndra was the first to break it.

"We have to remove it."

He exhaled sharply. "I'd love to. Any brilliant ideas?"

Her eyes flickered with hesitation. Then resolve. "We need to go to the Eldren Sanctum."

He stiffened.

"The Eldren Sanctum?" he repeated, voice low. "You realize what that means."

She nodded.

It meant walking into the heart of the celestial realm.

A place where the Eldren—the divine beings that stood against the Abyss—would have every reason to kill him on sight.

"You want to march me into the stronghold of beings that hate my very existence?"

"They don't hate you," she said carefully.

He gave her a look.

"…Okay, most of them do," she admitted. "But they won't kill you if I vouch for you."

He let out a humorless chuckle. "Oh? And when they see this?" He gestured at the pulsing sigil on his chest. "You think they'll just ignore the fact that I've been marked by the Abyss?"

She hesitated. "I'll make them listen."

He wanted to believe her.

But he also knew the Eldren.

They didn't listen.

They judged.

They condemned.

And the moment they saw him, they would never trust him again.

And neither would she.

He could see it already—the doubt in her eyes. The way she wanted to believe in him, but something held her back.

He clenched his fists.

The Abyss hadn't just marked him.

It was already driving a wedge between them.

---

3. A Kingdom on the Brink

Before either of them could say another word, a distant rumble echoed across the land.

The sky shuddered.

Both of them turned, instincts flaring.

And what they saw made their blood run cold.

The city on the horizon—once a stronghold of the mortal kingdom—was burning.

Flames climbed the sky, casting an eerie red glow over the ruins. But the fire wasn't normal. It was black.

Abyssal flames.

A cold dread settled in his stomach.

"They're here," Eryndra whispered.

The Abyssal forces. The ones who had been waiting.

This wasn't just an invasion. It was a message.

They weren't trying to conquer.

They were trying to draw him out.

His hands curled into fists. "Then let's give them what they want."

Eryndra grabbed his arm. "You're injured—"

"I don't care."

She glared at him. "You should."

A tense moment passed between them.

Then, reluctantly, he exhaled. "Fine. I won't throw myself into the middle of the battlefield."

Eryndra relaxed.

Then he smirked.

"But I will burn them all down."

Her groan was lost in the wind as he surged forward, abyssal energy crackling in his veins.

---

4. The Abyssal Warlord

The battlefield was chaos.

The kingdom's forces were already struggling, locked in desperate combat with abyssal creatures that shouldn't even exist in this realm.

But at the center of the destruction, one figure stood above the rest.

A warlord.

Towering, armored in obsidian plating, abyssal flames curling around his form. His very presence warped reality, as if the world itself rejected his existence.

The Ashen King recognized him immediately.

"Veydris."

A former general of the mortal empire—before the Abyss claimed him.

Now, he was something else.

Something… wrong.

Veydris turned, his abyssal gaze locking onto the Ashen King. A twisted grin spread across his face.

"Ah," he rumbled. "Finally."

The Ashen King narrowed his eyes. "I'd say it's good to see you, but I'd be lying."

Veydris laughed, the sound echoing like a death knell.

"You've been chosen," the warlord mused, eyes flickering to the sigil on the Ashen King's chest. "The Abyss has marked you as its heir."

The Ashen King's jaw tightened. "I'm not its heir. I'm its end."

Veydris's grin widened.

"Then prove it."

He lunged.

The battlefield erupted.

The first clash sent a shockwave across the land, shattering stone and warping the air with raw abyssal power.

The Ashen King gritted his teeth as he met the warlord's blow head-on, their forces colliding like gods warring over the fate of the world.

But deep down, he knew—

This wasn't just a battle.

It was a test.

A test to see if he truly belonged to the Abyss.

And the worst part?

A part of him wasn't sure if he could fight it forever.