Sahil_Ashat

Buried for centuries beneath the earth, an ancient horror awakens. A being of hunger and destruction, once feared as the Devourer, emerges from the abyss with fragmented memories and an insatiable thirst for power.

In a world ruled by kingdoms and warriors who hunt monsters for glory, the Devourer is more than just a beast—it is an entity that defies nature, evolving with every life it consumes. As it moves through the lands, leaving death in its wake, whispers of its return spread, rekindling forgotten nightmares.

But this time, the Devourer is different. A growing awareness stirs within its monstrous form, hinting at a deeper purpose beyond mere destruction. As the creature regains its lost self, it faces a world that seeks to annihilate it—hunters, kings, and ancient forces determined to erase it once more.

Will the Devourer reclaim its rightful place at the top of the food chain? Or will humanity succeed in extinguishing the last remnant of an age-old terror?

The hunt has begun, but this time, the monster is not the prey

Abyssborn – The Rise of the Devourer

A hush had fallen over the ruined forest, as if the very land was holding its breath in anticipation of something terrible. The corruption that spread from Nyxthar's presence had only grown stronger, twisting the trees into grotesque mockeries of their former selves.

And deep within the abyssal void of its own existence, Nyxthar was changing.

It stood amidst the wreckage of the battle, its new wings of living shadow pulsing with an unnatural rhythm. The flesh it once wore was no longer a prison but a vessel—a temporary form that could be shed and reshaped at will.

Its power had reached the next stage.

More essence. More strength. More destruction.

Vaelin Duskbane clenched his jaw as he wrapped a bandage around his wounded arm.

The wound burned—not just from the pain of torn flesh, but from something worse.

The battle had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. He had faced horrors before, slain countless beasts birthed from the void, but Nyxthar was unlike anything he had encountered.

He wasn't just fighting a monster.

He was fighting something that was learning.

Something that grew stronger the longer it lived.

He exhaled slowly, glancing toward the ruined village where the survivors had gathered. Kara and Elder Garon had tended to the wounded, but the fear in their eyes had not faded.

They were waiting for him to say something.

He sheathed his sword and turned to face them. "We don't have much time."

Kara's brows furrowed. "You mean… it's coming back?"

Vaelin nodded. "Not yet. But it will. And when it does, we won't be able to stop it."

Elder Garon's face darkened. "Then what do we do?"

The hunter's golden eyes glowed in the dim firelight.

News of the disaster had spread beyond the ruined village.

Messengers had been sent to Black Hollow, the nearest stronghold capable of mounting a defense. If there was to be any chance of survival, the people needed warriors—hunters—anyone willing to face the coming storm.

But Black Hollow was no safe haven.

The underbelly of the town was a breeding ground for criminals, mercenaries, and those who sold their swords for gold rather than honor. It was ruled by Lord Malrik, a warlord who saw the world through a lens of power and control.

If Vaelin was to seek aid here, he would have to navigate a den of wolves.

And he wasn't sure if they would help… or try to kill him.

Far away from the remnants of battle, a group of travelers made their way through the darkened wilderness. Merchants, carrying goods from distant lands, hoping to make their fortune in Black Hollow.

The first man died without a sound, his body absorbed before he could even scream.

He made it three steps before Nyxthar's shadowed tendrils pierced through his back, lifting him into the air as his soul was devoured.

The monster didn't just feed this time.

It twisted the bodies of the fallen, reshaping them in its own image, testing the limits of what it could create.

By the time the sun rose, the once-human forms had become something else.

Creatures with hollow eyes and mouths stretched too wide, their bodies filled with abyssal corruption.

Nyxthar gazed upon its new creations, satisfaction blooming in its chest.

For the first time, it was no longer alone.

Vaelin sat in the corner of a dimly lit tavern, his hood pulled low over his face. Black Hollow was as wretched as he remembered—filthy streets, lawless men, and the ever-present scent.

Abyssal Evolution