Chapter 70 – The First Wound

The cosmos had been woven together from the threads of creation and destruction, a tapestry of life and death, light and darkness, bound by the eternal cycle of birth and decay. Yet within this grand design, there existed a singular rift—a tear that had been created at the beginning of time, a wound in the very fabric of existence itself. The First Wound was its name, and it was the birthplace of all suffering, the origin of death, and the curse that had bound the heavens in an eternal struggle of life and decay.

It lay ahead of Rin now, a jagged scar in the heavens that stretched across the void, an enormous gash in the fabric of the universe. Dark tendrils of energy twisted around the wound, pulsing with a malevolent life of their own. The air around the wound was thick with the stench of death, the very essence of suffering and decay leaking out of it in waves, as though the cosmos itself bled into the abyss.

Rin stood at the edge of the battlefield, his eyes fixed on the wound. He had come to destroy it, to sever the very origin of death and suffering that had allowed the heavens to exist as they did. It was here, at this rift, that the gods had drawn their immortality. It was here that death had first entered the world. And it was here that the heavens had been born.

But it was not just a wound in space. The First Wound was alive.

A presence, ancient and malevolent, stirred within the rift. Rin could feel its gaze upon him, an oppressive force that sought to tear at his very being. It was not a god, nor an immortal, but something far older—an entity born of the wound itself, a creature forged from the anguish of creation and destruction, the embodiment of the endless suffering that had once been a part of the universe's birth.

"You dare to challenge me?" The voice echoed from the wound, a deep, guttural sound that resonated with the very core of Rin's being. It was a voice of pain, of endless torment, and of an existence beyond the reaches of time. "You who have touched the Abyss and seen the truth. You think you can end this cycle? You are but a speck in the face of eternity, a momentary flicker in the grand design."

Rin did not flinch. The words of the wound—of this entity—were no different from the voices he had heard throughout his journey. He had heard the whispers of gods, the cries of the dying, the screams of the immortal. Death, the true death, was no longer something he feared. It was something he had come to understand, something he had made his own.

"I am the end of this cycle," Rin said, his voice cold and resolute. "You are nothing but a scar in the cosmos, a wound that feeds on suffering. I will end you."

The entity's laughter rang out, a cruel sound that shook the very heavens. "End me? How do you intend to do that, mortal? I am the First Wound, the source of all suffering. You cannot kill what was born with the universe itself. Death is my domain, and I will not be undone."

Rin stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. He could feel the wound's power, the raw, unfiltered energy that emanated from it, the weight of all the pain and suffering that had ever been. But he also knew something that this entity did not. Death was not its domain. Death was his domain.

He stretched out his hand, his fingers trembling with the immense power that flowed through his body—the power of the Abyssal Truths, the power of the new death he had forged. With a single thought, he summoned the Soul-Eater Dagger, the weapon that had been forged in the heart of a death god, the weapon that had consumed the very essence of the heavens.

The rift in the cosmos quivered as the dagger's power surged forth. The wound recoiled, as though it recognized the threat Rin posed, but it could not move, could not escape. It was bound to the universe, tied to its very essence, and no matter how much it writhed, it could not break free.

"Fool," the entity snarled. "You do not understand. I am the First Wound. Without me, the heavens cannot exist. Without me, the cycle of life and death cannot continue. You cannot destroy me, for I am the foundation of all things."

Rin's gaze hardened, and he took another step forward. The energy around him pulsed with the force of the Abyss, the power of the void itself swirling within him. He understood now what he had to do. The wound was not just a tear in the fabric of space; it was the anchor that held the heavens together. If he was to sever the cycle, he would have to sever the wound itself.

The Soul-Eater Dagger glowed with an eerie light, and Rin raised it high, pointing it directly at the rift. "I do not need to understand you," he said, his voice filled with a cold, unyielding resolve. "I only need to end you."

The air around the wound thickened, the very fabric of reality warping as the wound began to bleed. A dark, viscous fluid poured from the rift, a mixture of energy and death that flooded the battlefield. The entity within the wound howled, its voice rising in pitch as it tried to draw upon the power of the wound to strike back at Rin.

But Rin was no longer the man who had once stood at the edges of the Mortal Realm, uncertain and fragile. He had transcended death, had seen the truth of the universe and become one with the forces that governed it. The wound, the entity, the cycle of life and death—it was all meaningless to him now. He was not a part of the universe's design. He was the one who would break it.

With a single strike, Rin plunged the Soul-Eater Dagger into the heart of the First Wound.

The rift screamed, a sound so terrible it shattered the very fabric of reality. Time itself seemed to stop as the wound began to unravel, the dark tendrils of its power dissolving into nothingness. The heavens trembled as the wound began to collapse in on itself, its essence being torn apart by the power of the Abyssal Truths. The entity within the wound screamed one last time, but its voice was swallowed by the void, fading into oblivion.

Rin stood in the center of the battlefield, his hand still gripping the dagger, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath. The First Wound was gone. The source of all suffering, all death, and all immortality had been severed from the universe.

For a moment, the world was still. The air was thick with the remnants of the battle, the echoes of the entity's screams lingering in the void. The wound was no more. The heavens no longer had their anchor. The cycle of life and death had been broken.

Rin lowered the dagger, his eyes scanning the shattered remnants of the cosmos. The heavens had been undone. The immortal rulers, the gods, the forces that had sought to control death—all of them were now nothing more than empty echoes of a time long past. The universe was no longer bound by the laws of creation and destruction.

Death, in its purest form, was now free.

And so was Rin.

He had done it. He had destroyed the First Wound, severed the cycle of life and death, and forged a new path for the universe. But at what cost? What would become of the universe now that the very force that held it together had been undone?

These questions would have to wait. Rin's journey was far from over. But in this moment, he understood something deeply: death was not a curse to be feared, nor a force to be fought. It was a tool, the ultimate tool, to bring about freedom.

And he was the one who would wield it.

To be continued…