Ethan fell.
The sensation wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, more fundamental. The world around him had shattered like glass, breaking apart into an endless abyss, and now he was plunging into the unknown. There was no wind, no sense of acceleration, just the vast weight of nothing pressing down on him.
The Master’s last words echoed in his mind.
"I will break you down… so I can rebuild you properly."
His fingers clawed at empty air, instinct demanding he find something—anything—to stop his descent. But there was nothing. No ground. No sky. Just darkness stretching infinitely in all directions.
A pulse of cold energy shot through his chest. The sigil burned into his skin flared to life, sending jagged streaks of pain through his veins. His vision blurred, and then—
Impact.
Not a crash. Not a bone-breaking collision.
One moment he was falling, the next his body was on solid ground, his knees hitting hard stone. It was like the abyss had simply decided his descent was over. The transition was so unnatural that his stomach lurched. He gasped, pressing a hand to the ground to steady himself.
The air was thick. Heavy.
The atmosphere here was different.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
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The space around him was vast and endless, but unlike the labyrinth from before, this place had no walls. No ceiling. Just an expanse of black stone stretching infinitely in every direction. Above, a swirling sky of deep violet and black churned like a living thing, streaks of silver lightning flashing through the void.
Glowing symbols, ancient and incomprehensible, floated in the air like dying embers. Some pulsed gently. Others flickered, barely holding on to existence. Ethan’s breath came slow and measured as he took it all in.
Then he heard it.
The sound of chains.
A deep, distant clinking—like something massive shifting in the darkness.
His body tensed.
He wasn’t alone.
A shadow moved in the distance.
It was tall. Humanoid. But not quite right.
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Ethan’s pulse quickened. His feet shifted into a defensive stance. The memory of the Corrupted Warden still burned fresh in his mind. But this… this was different.
It didn’t lunge. Didn’t attack.
It simply stood there. Watching.
His fingers curled into fists. "Who are you?"
The figure didn’t answer. Instead, it took a single step forward.
The light from the floating runes flickered as it moved, and for the first time, Ethan saw it clearly.
It looked like him.
Not an exact replica, not like the shadow-wraith from before. This was something… worse.
The creature was wrapped in a shifting, liquid-black substance, almost like armor, its surface rippling like disturbed water. Its face was obscured, hidden beneath the inky darkness, but two glowing slits—deep violet, nearly identical to Ethan’s own eyes—pierced through the void.
It radiated something ancient. Something overwhelming.
Something familiar.
Ethan’s breath hitched.
This wasn’t just a shadow.
This was him.
Or at least, something that had once been.
The realization hit him like a hammer.
This was the mark’s doing.
The power of the Abysswalker—the weight of being the Warden of the Forgotten.
The creature took another step forward, and the chains rattled again.
Ethan frowned. The sound wasn’t coming from the entity itself—it was coming from somewhere beyond it. Somewhere behind it.
His gaze shifted.
And that’s when he saw them.
The chains stretched out into the darkness, disappearing into the void beyond. Some were broken. Others held firm.
And at the center of it all, something vast and unknowable stirred.
Ethan’s body locked up.
It wasn’t fully awake, not yet. But the weight of its presence alone was enough to crush lesser minds.
Even without seeing it, he knew what it was.
The Forgotten One.
The entity he had sealed away.
It wasn’t gone. It wasn’t defeated.
It was waiting.
Watching.
And even now, it was still whispering.
"The chains will break again…"
The shadow moved.
Ethan barely had time to react before it was there, lunging at him with speed that blurred the space between them. His instincts screamed, and he twisted to the side just as a blackened blade—an exact replica of his own daggers—sliced through the air where his throat had been.
There was no time to think.
The thing came at him again, faster this time, its movements fluid and relentless. Ethan dodged back, barely keeping up, his body reacting on pure instinct. The ground cracked beneath his feet as the entity’s next strike slammed down, sending shards of black stone flying in all directions.
Ethan cursed. He needed a weapon. He needed—
Pain flared through his chest. The mark burned hotter, sending a surge of energy through his veins. His vision blurred—then sharpened.
A voice.
”You do not need a weapon. You are the weapon.”
His fingers twitched. And suddenly—
A dagger formed in his hand.
Not metal. Not steel.
A blade of pure abyssal energy, flickering between solid and smoke.
His eyes widened, but there was no time to process.
The shadow attacked again, and this time—Ethan met it head-on.
The clash of their blades sent shockwaves through the void. Ethan’s mind raced, adapting, reacting. The entity was strong, but so was he.
Their movements mirrored each other. Every strike met with equal force. Every dodge countered with a relentless pursuit.
It was like fighting a reflection.
A test of what he had become.
And for the first time, Ethan understood.
This wasn’t an enemy.
It was the Abysswalker inside him.
It wasn’t trying to kill him.
It was trying to see if he was worthy.
A smirk pulled at his lips. "Fine. Let’s see who lasts longer."
He shifted his stance. His grip tightened.
And then—
He attacked.