《The Abyss Walker》


 Shadows That Linger

    Darkness clung to the edges of Rhys Mensah''s vision as he stirred awake. A dull, throbbing pain pounded against his skull, like a hammer striking steel. His limbs felt leaden, his body drenched in exhaustion so deep it clung to his bones. The air around him was thick with the stale scent of sweat, alcohol, and something faintly acrid, like scorched ash.


    Where the hell am I?


    Rhys exhaled sharply, his breath shallow. Forcing his eyes open, he was met with the sickly yellow glow of flickering motel light. Shadows stretched across the peeling walls, the air heavy with the lingering stench of old cigarettes, cheap detergent, and dampness. Above him, a ceiling fan churned with a slow, uneven creak - the only sound in the suffocating silence.


    The world around him was hazy, the edges blurred like a half-remembered dream. He pushed himself upright, only to have a sharp, splitting pain lance through his skull. His stomach churned, the room tilting as if trying to drag him back under.


    On the battered wooden table beside him, a half-empty bottle of whiskey lay discarded next to a smartphone. His gaze lingered on the phone, it''s dark screen offering no answers, only the promise of time lost. He reached for it.


    Thud!


    Rhys barely had time to register the fall before he found himself on the grimy floor. His palms pressed against the cold, cracked concrete, the bitter taste of regret thick on his tongue.


    Rhys winced and let out a slow, shaky exhale.


    F**k me. Did I drink myself into oblivion again?


    It wouldn''t be the first time. Nights blurred together too easily when there was nothing to wake up for.


    He planted one hand on the cold concrete, then the other, pushing with all the grace of a new-born calf. His legs buckled, knees violently knocking against the wooden table as the world seemingly lurched sideways. A laugh bubbled up in Rhys Mensah''s throat¡ªdry, humourless.


    Snatching his phone from the table, he collapsed back onto the bed and switched on the screen.


    4:44am


    Too early, too late¡ªwhat did it even matter? He shut the screen off and draped an arm over his face, trying to gather pieces of his mind


    Haloway, your typical metropolis¡ªnoise, the unfamiliar cityscape, towering skyscrapers that made Rhys feel dizzy just by picturing them and the feeling of air cold enough to bite through his jacket. He had been out there, right? Looking for something¡­ No, someone.


    Just as the thought that person began occupying his mind, a strange sensation prickled at the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. A faint whisper of movement, like something shifting just beyond his field of vision.


    His gaze flicked to the corner of the room. The shadows there were too deep, darker than they should have been, pooling unnaturally like ink spilled onto the floor.


    Rhys frowned. He blinked once. Twice.


    The shadows rippled.


    Huh!?


    A sharp chill coiled around his spine, the air in the room suddenly feeling too still. He forced himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. His breath came uneven as he took an unsteady step forward.


    Nothing. The corner of the room looked normal again.


    He let out a slow breath, using the tip of his fingers to scratch his scalp.


    I''m just seeing things. Probably still drunk¡­ or hungover.


    The air around him felt heavier, denser. The headache lingered, pulsing like a distant heartbeat.


    Rhys made his way to the bathroom to shower, hoping to feel refreshed. Whatever it was, it didn''t matter. He had bigger problems to deal with. A name surfaced in his mind. One that had been missing for too long.


    The Benefactor.


    It had been five years since Rhys had last heard from him. The man had disappeared without a trace, and Rhys needed answers.


    Even if it meant chasing ghosts.


    He had an inkling as to what might''ve caused the Benefactor''s disappearance.


    Marauders.


    Ten years ago, an inexplicable madness began sweeping through the world''s largest cities. Ordinary people¡ªrandom, unassuming citizens¡ªstarted hearing strange whispers, murmurs that promised something greater. Heaven, they said. Salvation. At first, the authorities dismissed it as nothing more than a viral hoax¡ªsome elaborate prank spreading on the internet, stoked by bored teens.


    But all that changed when a popular televangelist¡ªone of the first to speak of the whispers¡ªwas caught live on air, delivering a sermon when he suddenly transformed into a grotesque, eight-foot monster. It tore through the crowd, slaughtering his disciples before the military finally intervened. Barely.


    That was the first recorded Marauder.


    Soon after, the madness spread. More and more people began to change, their bodies mutated into monstrosities, their minds consumed by the whispers. Major cities fell into chaos as military forces struggled to control the outbreak and nations all over the world abolished the concept of borders and united as one against a common threat.


    This fast-tracked technological advancements at an astonishing rate, pushing the world into a new age. But it still wasn''t enough.


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    Just when the world seemed on the brink of the apocalypse, another strange occurrence happened¡ªRevenants.


    Ordinary people, seemingly unaffected by the madness, began to develop extraordinary abilities. Some said they were born to fight back, others claimed they were the chosen ones, destined to bring balance. Either way, the Revenants became the world''s last defence against the Marauders.


    But for Rhys Mensah, it all felt like something from a fantasy novel.


    He came from a small town, far removed from the violence, the chaos and the powers that had reshaped the world. He''d only heard stories, seen the economic ripples, but none of it felt real¡ªnot until now. Now, with the Benefactor''s name hanging in the air, Rhys couldn''t ignore it.


    If he was going to find him, it meant stepping into a world he never thought would touch him. A world of madness, monsters, and extraordinary heroes far beyond his understanding.


    But why did Rhys only decide to look for the Benefactor five years after his disappearance? Simple. He didn''t know where to start. That is until recently when he received an anonymous text message with an address which led him to Haloway, the biggest metropolis on the central continent.


    Rhys grabbed his coat, the cold fabric a reminder that time was slipping away. He couldn''t afford to waste another moment. The Benefactor had been missing for five years, but now, Rhys felt a pull in his gut¡ªsomething was different.


    Before Rhys left he confirmed the time which was 6:30am.


    He shoved the door open and stepped out into the chilled morning air. The streets of Haloway were eerily quiet at this hour, the hum of neon signs the only sound breaking the stillness. He pulled up the map on his phone again, making his way to the address¡ªa rundown warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It had been a dead end the first time Rhys checked, but something about today seemed promising. Maybe the Benefactor had left behind a clue. Maybe he''d been there recently.


    As he approached the subway station, an odd excitement fluttered in his chest. He''d never ridden the subway before. This was a new experience, a strange little adventure in the midst of a crumbling world.


    He stepped up to the ticket booth, glancing at the machine in front of him.


    "Hey," he said, turning to the man behind the counter. "How do I pay for this?"


    The attendant, a man in his mid-thirties with a bored expression, looked up and raised an eyebrow.


    "You''ve never ridden the subway?" he asked, voice thick with disbelief.


    Rhys rubbed the back of his neck. "No, small town¡­ you know how it is. So, what do I do?"


    The attendant sighed, gesturing toward the machine. "You either use the machine or swipe a transit card. It''s the same as anywhere else."


    Rhys blinked, confusion still clouding his thoughts. "Swipe a card? Like a credit card?"


    "No, man. Ametrocard. You gotta load it up first."


    "Oh¡­ right," Rhys muttered, realizing how out of his element he was. "And how much is it?"


    "Four bucks for a single ride," the attendant said, barely hiding his amusement.


    Rhys hesitated, then fumbled for a crumpled bill in his pocket. He inserted it into the machine and waited, but it immediately spat it back out. He stared at it, dumbfounded.


    The attendant raised an eyebrow. "Really? You''ve never even used cash before?"


    Rhys let out a nervous laugh. "No, I''ve used cash. Just¡­ not for this."


    A soft chuckle escaped the attendant as he swiped his card through the machine. "Here. Just get one of these cards next time. Makes it easier."


    Rhys nodded sheepishly and shuffled past, feeling like an idiot.


    The subway car was nearly empty, save for a few homeless people sleeping on the seats. Rhys felt uneasy sitting next to them, so he stayed on his feet, clutching the metal pole. His eyes scanned the train¡ªa couple of people here and there, but nothing remarkable. At least, until a girl caught his attention.


    She was standing by the door, her messy bangs falling over her dark eyes. She looked young¡ªmaybe sixteen¡ªbut there was something else about her.


    Nope. Can''t be caught staring at a minor on the subway.


    Rhys tried focusing elsewhere when his thoughts were interrupted by a strange buzz in his ear¡ªlike whispers, soft and indecipherable. He winced, trying to shake it off, but the sound wouldn''t go away. It was as if something wasinsidehis head.


    His gaze flicked to the girl. She was staring at him now, her expression unreadable.


    Shit.


    Rhys cleared his throat, trying to break the tension.


    "Cold morning," he started awkwardly, glancing over at the girl. "You headed out this early too?"


    She didn''t answer at first. Then, after a beat, she nodded. "I''m usually never up this early but today is special I guess."


    He chuckled awkwardly, his fingers twitching. "You sure are punctual for a teenager."


    A small smirk tugged at her lips, but she didn''t say anything more.


    "What about you?" she asked, voice sharp as a needle. "Where are you headed?"


    Rhys hesitated. What was he supposed to say? That he was looking for the man who basically raised him but didn''t know much about him?


    "Outta town," he said, trying to sound casual. "It might turn out to be a special day for me as well."


    Her eyes flickered with interest, but she gave nothing away. "Good for you, I guess." she said, her tone flat.


    Rhys was about to respond when a loud clattering sound filled the subway car.


    The elderly woman''s purse hit the floor, the clatter of its contents scattering across the train. Papers, coins, and a small lipstick bottle rolled away in different directions.


    The girl was the first to move, darting forward to help. Rhys hesitated, standing frozen for a moment before he followed her with his eyes.


    "Thank you, my child," the old woman said, her voice faint and raspy.


    The girl nodded, her expression flat. "No problem," she muttered, her gaze darting over the woman, flicking away quickly as if something was off.


    Rhys was still taking in the scene in front of him. And then, thesmell.


    It came in suddenly, a faint, acrid scent¡ªlike something burning just out of reach. Rhys'' stomach tightened, and his nose twitched. He couldn''t place it. A metallic tang. A touch of smoke. But it was there, unmistakable. It lingered in the air like a bad omen.


    His breath caught in his throat, and the train car seemed to grow heavier, the air denser. He looked around, searching for the source. A few others were shifting uncomfortably in their seats, but no one said anything.


    "Such a refined young woman," the old woman muttered again, her voice cracking, before trailing off.


    The old woman slowly bent down, still mumbling softly, as she retrieved the last of her belongings. Rhys couldn''t help but notice how her fingers trembled slightly as she fumbled with the purse.


    "Such... a...ref... wom¡ª"


    Her voice distorted. The words slipped, warping into something unnatural¡ªnightmarish.


    The old woman''s body began to convulse and wet cracking resounded as her bones were being broken and reassembled.


    Her skin rippled, dark purple veins bulging beneath the surface like thick cords of rope. Her mouth stretched too wide as her teeth grew¡ªsharp and jagged, yellowish fluid dripping from them. The edges of her form seemed to fragment, almost like she was melting into something else.


    Rhys froze. His blood ran cold, his entire body locking up in horror. The woman was changing¡ªtransforming¡ªright before his eyes.


    The girl beside him flinched back, her eyes wide, her mouth parting as if to scream, but no sound came. She staggered, looking at the woman in confusion, fear creeping over her face.


    The air in the train car seemed to thicken, heavy with the stench of burnt flesh. The woman''s hands trembled as they reached for the girl, but the fingers¡ªno longer just fingers¡ªwere now claws, jagged and dark, like twisted branches of some old tree.


    The girl took a step back, her eyes flashing with confusion¡ªor was it fear? Rhys couldn''t tell. He couldn''t tear his eyes away from the woman, whose body was now shuddering,breaking, transforming into something monstrous, something not of this world.


    She lunged.


    A sharp, desperate gasp escaped the girl''s lips as the monstrous woman''s claws swiped toward her. Time seemed to slow, stretching out like an eternity. Rhys was frozen, his legs useless, his mind screaming at him to move. But he couldn''t.


    The girl¡ªshe was going to die.

 First Encounter

    In a dimly lit control room, the glow of large monitors cast flickering shadows across the walls. The air hummed softly with the low buzz of machinery, punctuated by the occasional click of a keyboard. Two men sat opposite each other, both dressed in dark guard uniforms. The older one slouched in his chair, glued to his phone, while the younger one leaned toward a monitor displaying a digital map of Haloway, sectioned into four quadrants. Only the upper-left quadrant pulsed a faint blue, indicating active surveillance.


    "Tch, Angel Company fell off hard," the older guard lamented, his voice thick with frustration. He ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Why did it only start tanking after I spent most of my life''s savings buying their bonds? I''m dead when my old lady finds out."


    The younger guard smirked, barely glancing up. "It dropped in the Company Rankings again?" He tapped the screen, shifting the map''s view. "Come to think of it, when was the last time their Revenants took down anything other than some measly Thrall types?"


    "Ugh, transferring their star player, Vahari, over to Wayne Company was a stupid decision. Even if they were low on funds!"


    The younger guard chuckled. "I agree with you there, but I can''t say I feel sorry for you. I convinced my father to get a 3% stake in Wayne Company, so you can only guess how ecstatic I am. I''m considering quitting this job to attend a real university.


    "Wipe that smug look off your face. How can you quit when you just joi¡ª"


    A sudden, ear-piercing alarm cut him off. Red warning lights flared to life, bathing the room in an ominous glow. The younger guard''s screen blinked violently, a single red dot appearing beneath the grid of Five Street.


    "Crap," the younger guard muttered, already typing rapidly. "A Reaper type appeared below Five Street." His eyes flickered across the screen, scanning the data. "Heat signatures suggest at least six civilians in its immediate proximity."


    The younger guard shot an inquisitive glance at the older guard.


    The older guard sat up, his phone forgotten. His face hardened, trading casual disinterest for the sharp focus of experience.


    "As long as it''s not a Brute or a Wraith, call it to any Company with the nearest available Revenant."


    "Roger."


    The younger guard pressed a button, his fingers moving quickly to enter the emergency code. The automated system kicked in, sending a priority alert to the nearest Revenant.


    "North-west surveillance team," he spoke into the comm. "A Reaper type Marauder has appeared in a subway under Five Street. Civilian presence confirmed. I repeat¡ª"


    As Rhys stood frozen in place, debating between his fight-or-flight responses, the creature that had once been an old woman lunged towards the petrified teenage girl. The air snapped¡ªa sharp, wet crack as its limbs twisted too fast. Its claws flashed, skin peeling back like dried bark. Its gnarled fingers stretched towards the girl, the surrounding air vibrating as if the laws of physics were shattering around it.


    The internal debate within Rhys halted as his instincts screamed at him. Move. Now.


    Rhys threw himself forward, crashing into the girl and sending them into the stiff embrace of the metal floor. The impact rattled his ribs, but there was no time to process the pain. The Reaper slammed into the seat behind them, metal screeching as its claws tore through synthetic leather and steel.


    A guttural howl erupted from its throat.


    Rhys grabbed the girl''s wrist, yanking her to her feet. Run. We have to run. He turned his body in the opposite direction and¡ª


    The Reaper was already in front of them, blocking the aisle.


    Its face was barely human at this point; its mouth had split open too wide, jagged rows of fangs pushing out like shards of broken glass. The creature''s empty eye sockets seethed with black mist, with tendrils writhing like earthworms beneath its skin.


    "Refff¡­ined woman!" It shrieked as the last remnants of its humanity escaped from its mouth.


    Rhys and the girl barely ducked in time as its claws carved through the air where their heads had been.


    The girl desperately scrambled for anything her hands could come into contact with. Eventually, she picked up a piece of steel that had broken off from the destroyed railing. She immediately swung and stabbed the creature''s lower torso.


    Seemingly unaffected, the Reaper kicked the girl into the homeless people who had gathered at the farthest end of the car, knocking her out.


    Upon seeing this, Rhys felt like an electric current had run through his skin, and he began scrambling for anything. Please. Anything.


    His finger closed around cold steel. It was a fire extinguisher.


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    But Rhys did not care what it was and just swung.


    Crack!


    The metal cylinder collided with the reaper''s skull.


    A person''s skull would have caved in¡­but why is this thing still standing?


    The Reaper merely twitched, its head rolling to the side before snapping back into place with a sickening crunch. Its eyes widened and stared deep into Rhys''s soul.


    Shit. Allow it, man.


    The train rattled violently, screeching against the rails. The next station was close. If they could just¡ª


    The Reaper seized him.


    Its claws punctured his shoulder, hoisting him into the air with terrifying ease. The pain was instantaneous, a searing white hot agony that shot through his arm.


    "Ahhhhhhh¡ª" a blood-curdling scream escaped Rhys'' mouth before his breath vanished


    Then came the pressure.


    The tearing.


    The sound of flesh rending.


    Rhys barely had time to finish screaming before the Reaper ripped off his left arm away at the shoulder.


    His vision went white as his body began convulsing. The severed limb fell to the floor with a wet thud. Blood sprayed across the train walls, thick and dark, the crimson pooling beneath his boots.


    Am I seriously going to die?


    The monster hurled him like discarded trash as the train was coming to a halt at the next stop.


    The train door exploded open.


    Cold wind roared past his ears as Rhys was flung onto the platform. Before Rhys could register the change in his surroundings¡ª


    Thud.


    The concrete floor had met him with a blunt pain that turned everything white.


    I can''t breathe.


    He lay sprawled across the subway platform¡ªthe world twisted and distant. Blood poured from his mangled shoulder, a crimson tide creeping outward. His body twitched violently, the overwhelming pain reducing his thoughts to nothing but static.


    Somewhere beyond the agony, he heard it.


    The hurried steps of the people in the subway running for their lives. He also faintly heard an argument, but could only make out the last bit.


    "What are you doing, you idiot?! Drop the girl if you want to live"


    "Uh¡­f**k! Okay, she was gonna drag me down anyway"


    Scum.


    Rhys felt rage from no one helping him, but only for a split second. He couldn''t help but feel like he should have done the same thing¡ªgotten the hell out of there as soon as he sensed something was off. Girl be damned.


    But his body moved as if a command had come from deep down his soul to protect the girl. Why is that?


    So you fancy yourself a hero now, eh, Rhys? Congratulations, here''s your reward.


    Rhys couldn''t help but laugh at himself in his current predicament. After all, until a week ago, self-preservation was his one and goal before coming to Haloway.


    Mr Benefactor. You took pity on a random street kid who even tried to steal from you. I could survive, thanks to you. Now look at me, about to die in an unknown city without even getting to know your whereabouts. And just because of a random girl I met on the subway. Hope you''re proud; looks like your investment paid off.


    Just then, he heard another sound. A wet, crawling sound.


    A shadow unfurled from the wrecked train, only focused on Rhys, its jagged form skittering over broken glass and twisted metal. The once-human creature tilted its head unnaturally, a single rattling breath slithering into the silence.


    Move. Move dammit!


    His body ignored him.


    The Reaper reared back, its claws gleaming with the crimson of blood, poised for the killing blow.


    This was it.


    Then¡ª


    A sound split the air.


    A deep vibrating hum, like a blade being unsheathed from the fabric of reality itself.


    The creature froze mid-strike. Its claw falling beside Rhys'' body.


    The subway lights shattered, plunging the station into absolute darkness¡ªexcept for a single figure standing behind the beast.


    A blade glinted in the dim glow of the emergency exit with dark mist surrounding the blade, emitting ethereal sounding murmurs.


    The figure took a single step forward.


    A clean, effortless cut severed it at the elbow. Blackened fluid sprayed across the platform, sizzling as it hit the concrete. The Reaper howled¡ªreleasing a piercing, unnatural shriek that was clearly not of this world.


    The creature attempted to fight back and lunged at the figure, but the figure did not show any sign of hesitating and unleashed a succession of precise attacks that looked like a whirlwind surrounding the Reaper.


    Rhys could barely follow, and by the time his eyes caught up, the creature had already been reduced to twitching limbs and shredded remains.


    The figure straightened, stepping over the wreckage. Their blade dripped with obsidian blood. The subway''s faint red lights cast an eerie glow over their silhouette as the figure muttered to themselves.


    "They seriously called me in for a Reaper?"


    Rhys gasped, his consciousness slipping further.


    His remaining arm twitched, fingers curling instinctively as he tried¡ªand failed¡ªto lift himself.


    "What a joke," snarled the figure.


    The last thing Rhys saw was a pair of burning amber eyes staring down at him through the darkness.


    Then¡ª


    Nothing.

 Jagged Crescent

    Amara Osei woke to the scent of blood and scorched ash. For a long moment, she didn''t move. She couldn''t. Her body felt foreign, like it didn''t belong to her anymore. Her ears were ringing, her thoughts scattered, and the only thing anchoring her to consciousness was the distant hum of the subway, the faint crackle of broken lights, and the ringing in her ears.


    Amara gasped, sitting up too quickly. Pain bloomed in her ribs. She winced, gripping her side. Her vision blurred for a second before snapping back into focus.


    She turned her head, her hazel eyes scanning her surroundings, which had been reduced to nothing short of a battlefield.


    The wrecked train bent slightly off track, its shattered windows reflecting the crimson emergency lights overhead. Debris littered the platform¡ªtwisted metal, splintered seats, and the torn bodies of those who weren''t fast enough to escape. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, mixing with the acrid scent of something not quite human.


    Steeling herself to bear the pain, Amara Osei began crawling her way to the subway''s platform and there, sprawled across the floor, lay the man who had saved her life. Her breath caught when she registered what condition he was in.


    His arm¡ª


    Oh God.


    She scrambled toward him, hands shaking as she reached out¡ªbut then she froze.


    What about the monster?


    That''s when she sensed the presence looming besides Rhys.


    The woman barely spared her a glance, her burning amber eyes locked onto the dismembered corpse of the Reaper. Her face was unreadable¡ªcold, composed, utterly unimpressed¡ªlike this wasn''t the aftermath of a brutal fight, but just another chore on her list.


    She was tall, her posture almost lazy, yet her presence coiled like a blade just waiting to be unsheathed. Thick, midnight-black hair cascaded in waves past her shoulders, catching the dim light. Her skin, smooth and sun-kissed, contrasted against her long white coat with silver embroidery that caught the faint light.


    Her hand rested on the hilt of a sheathed blade, the deep green of its scabbard breaking the monochrome of her attire. Tendrils of black mist curled off its edge, whispering something just beneath the threshold of sound, a presence of its own.


    She exhaled through her nose, flicking the blood from the weapon with a quick snap of her wrist.


    "They sent me to deal with this?" she muttered, her voice dry. "What a waste of my time."


    The woman pressed against an earpiece and began laying out a report to the person on the receiving end.


    Amara Osei was in disbelief. This woman¡ªthis warrior¡ªhad cut the Reaper down in seconds.


    She had done effortlessly what she and the man dying in front of her had fought desperately to survive.


    And now she was looking at her. As she drew closer to Amara, Amara noticed the rune-like tattoo on her neck. The jagged crescent peeked from beneath her at, it''s dark lines creeping towards her cheek like cracks in porcelain. The pattern was intricate, curling at the edges as though it had been seared onto her skin. In the dim light, it pulsed once¡ªdeep amber before fading back into her skin.


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    A Revenant. Amara remarked internally.


    The woman studied her head, tilting slightly. Her gaze wasn''t unkind, but it wasn''t exactly friendly either.


    "Mmm, you''re alive," she said bluntly as she began speaking into the earpiece again. "It doesn''t look like there are any other survivors besides the ones who escaped. I will personally take the girl to receive medical attention, but as for the man¡ª"


    Amara couldn''t help but still think of the man who saved her because, while she was badly injured, she was treading the line between life and death.


    Her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak.


    "Who¡­ who are you?"


    The Revenant wiped the last of the Reaper''s blood from her blade, her amber gaze piercing straight through her.


    For a second, she didn''t answer.


    "I''m the one who just saved your life."


    Amara swallowed. "Please¡ª" She hesitated, glancing at the man again.


    The Revenant followed her gaze, her eyes flicking toward the blood pooling beneath his unmoving body.


    "Don''t worry, he''s not dead," she said flatly. "Not yet, anyway."


    Relief hit Amara so hard she nearly collapsed. Her knees wobbled, and she had to grip the edge of a broken subway bench to steady herself.


    The Revenant took a step closer.


    "And you," she continued, gaze sharp. "What''s your name?"


    The question sent a jolt through Amara. "My name?"


    The Revenant''s expression remained unreadable, but there was something expectant in her eyes.


    "Yes. I assume you have one."


    Amara''s throat tightened. For some reason, saying it aloud felt... strange. As if, the moment she did, something irreversible would happen.


    But she had no reason to hesitate.


    "¡­Amara."


    The Revenant hummed, as if considering the name. She received a message through the earpiece and turned away from Amara whilst taking in the message, occasionally shooting a glance back at Amara.


    Then, after a pause, she finally spoke.


    "Vahari."


    Amara blinked. "What?"


    The woman sheathed her sword with a smooth, practiced motion and made her way to help Amara to her feet.


    "My name." She glanced at Amara again, something calculating but unreadable in her expression. "It''s Vahari. And I''ve just been told you are to come with me."


    Amara''s face looked shocked for a second before settling down and asked, "You''re with Wayne Company."


    Vahari nodded. "But first I need to confirm something first."


    Vahari then lifted Amara''s hoodie, revealing rune-like tattoos similar to hers, but resembling a swirling mass of ancient looking symbols around her belly button.


    The reason Amara had been taking the subway rather early was because Wayne Company invited her itself. She had awakened as a Revenant pretty early into the chaos but the Companies always ignored her since she had no power. That is until Wayne Company invited her, a relatively newer Company that was established last year but quickly shot up in the Rankings.


    "It''s no wonder you survived, but I''m honestly surprised he survived an encounter with a Reaper"


    Amara cast her gaze towards Rhys. "I''m actually alive because of him," she paused, a flicker of guilt and gratitude passing through her, "he could have run like everyone else, but he fought."


    Vahari scoffed. "Stupid move."


    Amara''s head snapped toward her, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"


    Vahari shrugged, clearly unfazed. "Could''ve run. Should''ve run. Saying that doesn''t matter now, he threw himself at a Marauder like some idiot hero." She tilted her head. "That kind of thing gets people killed."


    Amara clenched her fists. "He''s not an idiot. He¡ª" She hesitated. What was he? Just some guy on the train? A stranger? Why did something about him feel comforting and familiar?


    Her voice dropped. "He didn''t have to save me."


    For a moment, Vahari didn''t respond. She simply observed Amara with those sharp, calculating eyes before sighing. "Yeah, well. That''s not your problem now." She rolled her shoulders, then jerked her chin toward Amara. "We''re leaving"


    "Wait!" protested Amara, "What about him?"


    Vahari raised a hand, dismissing her.


    "I''ve already called for a medical team. Honestly, he''ll be lucky if he survives, so I don''t want to waste any more time here with you."


    Amara looked over to see the medical team arriving, beginning their operations on Rhys. She hesitated for a moment, but finally, she let out a soft, resigned sigh.


    "I hope to see you again, Mister¡­"


    With that, she turned away and followed Vahari.

 War Hammer

    Vahari and Amara walked up to the street and they were greeted by the biting chill. The morning light struggled to cut through the haze clinging to the city, a dull glow against the towering skyscrapers. Neon signs still flickered from the night before, their colours muted in the rising sunlight.


    A steady stream of people manoeuvred through each other¡ªeach on their way to earn their daily wages. Surveillance drones weaved silently above, their blinking lights casting faint reflections on the damp pavement.


    Amara was mostly enthralled by the digital billboards on the buildings that shifted and pulsed, advertising different products. One billboard in particular pulsed and displayed an ad starring the Revenant she was with. In the ad, Vahari was smiling unnaturally whilst completing miscellaneous tasks.


    Even though Amara had only been acquainted with her for five minutes, she could already tell that kind of facial expression was foreign to Vahari. Then text appeared below the ad:


    Echo Persona: Revenant Edition¡ªHistorys'' strongest warriors at your beck and call, brought to you by Wayne Company.


    "So it was one of those automated holographic assistants?" Amara thought to herself.


    Vahari, noticing Amara trailing behind, glanced at her and saw her eyes fixed on the advertisement.


    "Work hard enough and you''re gonna see yourself up there one day," said Vahari without any hint of emotion.


    "Wh-what? No, I was just admiring the billboards! You don''t really see things like this where I''m from." Amara sputtered. "I''m not even sure why I was invited here in the first place. I don''t have the power to save people like you."


    "I have no idea why either so I hope you aren''t looking to me for answers."


    Amara''s gaze dropped to the pavement, frustration creeping into her expression.


    "But don''t get the wrong idea," Vahari continued, "Revenants aren''t here to save people. We eliminate threats¡ªwherever they may come from. If some people happen to be saved, that''s just a side effect."


    Vahari''s statement sent a chill down Amara''s spine, but before she could reply an alert came in through Vahari''s earpiece. She touched it lightly and listened before relaying the message to Amara:


    "A Class 2 Brute just appeared about eight kilometres from here, let''s move"


    Amara tensed, "I''m coming with you?"


    Vahari didn''t hesitate. "You''ll be fine¡ªjust stick close to me."


    The city blurred into a streak of light and sound as Amara was whisked through air, her breath stolen by the sheer speed as she clung to Vahari. The sudden stop was a violent snap back to reality as Amara toppled over, her legs weak from the sudden stop.


    "You could''ve warned me," she muttered, clutching her head as she was fighting off nausea.


    Vahari smirked slightly but said nothing. Her attention was already fixed ahead.


    Sirens wailed, the military police shouted orders and the few remaining civilians left were being ushered away from the burning wreck that used to be a street. An officer¡ªcovered in dust and tense¡ªapproached, rifle gripped tight.


    "Situation''s bad," he said without preamble, eyes flicking to Vahari with recognition. "Eight-foot Brute, insane strength and durability. One Revenant engaged but barely holding on." He grimaced. "We''re losing this fight."


    A deep guttural roar split the air. Then¡ª


    Crash!


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    A monstrous shape exploded through a shattered storefront, sending chunks of debris flying. In its enormous maw, a mangled Revenant dangled lifelessly. The beast¡ªa hulking mass of gnarled muscle, obsidian hide, and eyes devoid of any signs of humanity left¡ªtilted its head before biting down with a sickening crunch.


    Amara stumbled back, eyes wide with horror. "Oh, hell no¡ª"


    Vahari stepped forward, voice smooth as silk. "Stay here, don''t run"


    Then, she casually walked toward the Marauder. It shifted its focus to Vahari, nostrils flaring as it tasted the air. Then, it roared¡ªdeep and primal, shaking the earth beneath them.


    It lunged, its massive fist tearing through the air, aiming to turn her into paste.


    Vahari sidestepped effortlessly. The sheer force of the strike shattered the pavement where she had stood. The beast was fast for its size, but she was faster. It swung again¡ªshe weaved, dancing out of reach.


    She struck. Just a single blow, a precise jab to its ribs. The Marauder barely flinched.


    A smirk tugged at Vahari''s lips. "Tough one."


    The brute snarled, spinning with a backhand swipe. This time, she blocked¡ªcatching its wrist mid-swing. The ground beneath her cracked from the force, she budged slightly and grunted.


    That actually hurt.


    Vahari exhaled and twisted its arm.


    Snap!


    The brute howled in agony as its shoulder dislocated grotesquely. It staggered back, eyes now filled with pure survival instinct.


    It roared, charging wildly, ignoring its wounded arm. Its claws slashed through the air, leaving deep gashes in concrete. It moved with desperation now, its primal mind recognizing a threat.


    Vahari dodged with immense speed, her movements becoming unnaturally fluid. At times, she wasn''t even stepping¡ªshe shifted, a flicker in reality, her form slipping out of phase for split seconds before reappearing somewhere else.


    Amara''s stomach tightened.


    It was the first time she witnessed anything of this magnitude. It was like watching a scene from a shounen anime!


    The brute tried again¡ªgrabbing, swiping and howling in frustration. It couldn''t touch Vahari.


    Then, Vahari struck.


    A kick¡ªlightning-fast, hitting with the force of a war hammer¡ªsent the monster flying into a burning wreck. The impact created a shockwave, shattering nearby windows.


    The marauder rose, dazed.


    Vahari unsheathed her blade, the air around it shimmered, dark energy coiling around it and ancient sounding murmurs exuding from it. The crescent rune-like tattoo on her neck pulsed, glowing a deep, molten amber. The universe itself seemed to blend around her presence.


    Sensing death, the brute let out a guttural roar and lunged one last time out of pure desperation, full force and then¡ª


    The temperature dropped.


    The world fell silent, as if it had inhaled and refused to exhale


    Only one word shattered the silence, uttered by Vahari, reverberating through the atmosphere.


    "Ase."


    Vahari met the brute mid-air, touching its chest with only the tip of her blade. What followed was an explosion of dark energy that tore through the marauder accompanied by a cacophony of voices¡ªlamenting and wailing in an ancient, long forgotten tongue.


    The impact was colossal, sending the military police officers and Amara hurtling back with a shockwave that tore through the street.


    With a final, thunderous crash, the monster crashed back on the ground, lifeless. Vahari made her landing atop its corpse, blade still humming.


    To Amara, it was like watching a god descend.


    The lamenting voices that had echoed through the explosion of power faded, dissolving into the wind, leaving an eerie silence


    Silence.


    The officers and Amara could only stare, panting and disbelieving.


    A sharp chime rang out, breaking through the silence.


    All around, the massive billboards flickered to life, their bright displays illuminating the ruined street. They all showed the same thing ¡ªa ranking table with five names, each accompanied by shifting statistics. In bold letters, one change stood out: Wayne Company had overtaken Helios for the top spot.


    The new Company Ranking read:


    Wayne Company Helios Titan Angel Company Federal Guardian Authority


    One officer exhaled sharply, lowering his rifle. "¡­Well, damn."


    The others murmured among themselves, glancing between the billboards and the wreckage left in Vahari''s wake. But she wasn''t even looking.


    Her gaze was onto the mangled remains of the fallen Revenant that fought the brute before her¡ªand lost. A flicker of frustration crossed her face, but only for a moment. With a small sigh, she turned away while dusting off her hands and spoke flatly.


    "Next time, tell them to send someone who can actually fight."


    The officers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to be insulted or relieved.


    Amara, however, was watching Vahari carefully. There was no victory in her stance. No satisfaction. Just an unspoken irritation, as if she had lost something. Is that what it''s like to have so much power? Will I reach that level someday?


    Before Amara could dwell on it, Vahari''s wrist device let out a low ping. She pressed on her earpiece and began speaking to someone. Then, without warning, she turned to Amara.


    "Hey, you aren''t close to the guy from the subway right?


    "No, we''re strangers. We met on the train and barely spoke before¡ª"


    "Yeah, he''s dead," Vahari spoke with an eerie finality.


    The words hit like a hammer.


    Amara exclaimed, "What?!"

 Echo Level Zero

    "What?!"


    Vahari exhaled sharply, tilting her head. "You weren''t listening? He''s dead." She repeated in a matter-of-fact way.


    Amara felt her stomach twist. A cold weight settled in her chest.


    "But¡­ the medical team¡ª" Her voice wavered. "I thought they were going to resuscitate him. You said he wasn''t dead¡ª"


    "I said he wasn''t dead yet," Vahari cut in, her words precise. Her gaze flickered for a moment.


    "And that''s not what happened to him."


    A beat of silence. Then she added, "He got caught up in an Abyssal Zone."


    Amara''s breath hitched. "An¡­Abyssal Zone?"


    Vahari studied her for a moment, then sighed. "Right, you wouldn''t know." She folded her arms, expression unreadable. "They''re like Marauders¡ªspontaneous, unpredictable¡ªbut much rarer. One second, everything''s normal, and the next¡­" She snapped her fingers. "The world caves in. Space twists, folds and swallows whatever was there, leaving behind a black, void-like mass. If you''re caught inside, that''s it."


    Amara felt her pulse hammer inside her ribs. "Really¡­that''s it?" She shook her head. "People have made it out before, right?"


    Vahari didn''t answer immediately. "The Zones distort space itself in order to manifest and they are measured by how much they warp space, which is quantified using Echo Levels. The only people who manage to escape the Abyssal Zones are those who manifest the tattoos that you and I have¡ªand become Revenants."


    For a second, Amara felt the sensation of relief wash over her, cleansing a bit of uneasiness off her. "That means there is a chance he can make it!"


    Vahari''s silence was worse than an outright no.


    "He can make it right? Why aren''t you say¡ª"


    "Echo level Zero." Vahari cut in, her voice flat.


    Amari blinked in confusion. "What?"


    "Most escapees emerged from Echo Level Three zones and only a select few, like myself, escaped from Echo Level Two zones. And only one person in history has ever escaped from an Echo Level One."


    Vahari took a beat to look up to the sky before continuing.


    "Your hero got caught in an Echo Level Zero."


    Amara swallowed hard. "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "Up until now, it''s been purely speculation and theoretical."


    "Simply put. It shouldn''t exist."


    ***


    Rhys dreamt of a river that flowed almost endlessly, its waters thick and dark like ink.


    It cascaded upward into a void concealed by a swirling grey mist, its depths stretching into an abyss that almost felt alive. And hungry.


    A cacophony of voices rose from the river¡ªlamenting and wailing¡ªbut he couldn''t understand what they were saying, but the emotions permeated his skull, seeping into his bones


    It started off as whispers, pleading and desperate. Then the whispers grew into cries of pain eventually turning into screams of rage. Louder. Louder.


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    The surface of the river rippled, trembling as something began stirring underneath.


    That''s when he felt it.


    A presence that felt like it was everywhere and nowhere at the same time¡ªwatching him.


    He didn''t know where to look. Should he hide? But where could he hide to escape this being''s gaze?


    Then, as the voices continued growing louder, the river suddenly burst alive, its waves crashing violently towards Rhys. The currents picked him up and carried him upwards towards void.


    And just as the abyss was about to consume him¡ª


    He woke up.


    Rhys'' eyes snapped open as he took a sharp breath, taking in the cold air.


    His heart pounded. The remnants of his dream, no, his nightmare still clung to him. But as he felt the hard ground, reality quickly settled.


    This is¡­reality, right?


    The sky above him was a churning blend of violet and crimson. Twin suns hung suspended in the void, their unnatural hues bleeding into the world around him. The air itself was thick with color, almost like it carried weight to it.


    Rhys inhaled sharply and tried to push himself up, his muscles sluggish and weak. Pain spiked through his ribs and due to his missing left arm, he lay awkwardly on his side.


    He had forgotten but that was a sharp reminder of everything. That damn monster. And that girl, she better be alive.


    "I''m never getting on a train again."


    After struggling his way up, he finally began to take notice of his surroundings like they were hidden from him until now.


    Rhys wasn''t alone.


    A few feet away from him, two bodies lay motionless.


    They were dressed in paramedics'' uniform but they no longer looked human. Their bodies had mutated into a sickly deep purple hue and tendrils seemed to be squirming around under their skin. Bones protruded from their collar bone and elbows and the nails had elongated into monstrous claws.


    His breath caught in his throat.


    Yeah, wasn''t I just fighting for my life in the back of an ambulance? How did we end up here?


    He turned behind him and that''s when he saw it.


    Obsidian spikes grew out the ground all around them, piercing the driver''s head through the windscreen and impaling the ambulance. Another paramedic''s body hung out the passenger window and crimson blood trickled down the spike. Both their bodies mutated in the same state.


    Nausea rose up from Rhys''s stomach and he retreated behind one the obsidian spikes to throw up.


    F**k! Haven''t I woken up from my nightmare yet? Yeah, it''s definitely a dream. Otherwise, how could I have possibly survived this?


    Rhys crouched as he fell deep in thought.


    After thinking for some time, Rhys decided to move. He had no idea where he would go but it did not matter to him as long it was away from here.


    He didn''t know what had caused the paramedics to mutate like that but he sure as hell wasn''t going to wait around to find out!


    As he crouched beside the jagged, obsidian-like spike, he ran his fingers along its surface. Cold. Smooth. Unyielding. He pressed against it, testing its strength. It didn''t budge.


    He gritted his teeth.


    A sharp weapon. That''s what he needed. Something¡ªanything¡ªto protect himself. These spikes seemed perfect, but no matter how hard he struck with the metallic debris from the ambulance, they wouldn''t break. Even rocks would crumble. These spikes were practically indestructible.


    Rhys exhaled sharply, glancing around. There had to be a way.


    Then his eyes landed on the bodies.


    He had avoided looking too closely before. The twisted forms of the paramedics were grotesquely misshapen. But now, one detail stood out.


    Their hands.


    Or rather¡ªtheir claws.


    Long, curved, unnaturally sharp. Like the Reaper''s.


    Rhys'' mind flashed back to the subway¡ªthe way the Reaper''s claws sliced through steel like paper.


    That was it.


    He swallowed hard, pushing down the revulsion curling in his gut as he stepped toward one of the corpses. The thing that used to be a paramedic lay slumped against a half-buried structure, its arms stiff and contorted. Its fingers ended in claws that gleamed under the violet-crimson light.


    Rhys hesitated.


    Then he grabbed the arm and yanked.


    Nothing.


    He adjusted his grip, planting a foot against the body for leverage. With a sharp twist and a sickening crack, the arm snapped off.


    Rhys clenched his jaw, forcing himself to ignore the sound, the texture, the way the limb still felt human in some places.


    He turned back to the spike.


    Lifting the severed arm, he brought the claws down against the obsidian.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Then¡ªa deep, clean slice.


    Rhys exhaled, gripping the arm tighter. He struck again. And again until his arm was screaming in pain. The spike gave way.


    With one final strike, a shard broke free, landing at his feet. Long, jagged, razor-sharp.


    A weapon.


    Rhys tossed the arm aside, picking up the shard. It was rough in some places, but the edge¡ªdeadly. He ran a thumb along it, feeling the sharpness bite at his skin.


    It would do.


    After using the spike to cut off the paramedic''s claws, he rummaged through the ambulance wreckage and found a medical pouch and also took a pair of boots, a bloodied jacket and tactical gaiters from one of the bodies. Undressing the corpses almost recalled his nausea but he managed to keep it down.


    With his preparations finished, he was set to leave.


    He glanced back to make sure the bodies hadn''t moved.


    Good.


    He pressed forward.

 Why Are You Still Alive?

    Rhys had been walking for god knows how long. His pace had slowed to a stagger, each step heavier than the last. The ground beneath him was solid, yet eerily silent¡ªlike the earth itself swallowed every step he made. All he could hear was the shrieking wind, biting through the air.


    The cold cut through his bloodied jacket, the one he''d taken from the paramedic''s mutated corpse.


    How can it be this cold? This place had two suns. Make it make sense!


    The violet-crimson twin suns hung in the sky, like a pair of eyes, relentless in their gaze. As they began to dip below the horizon, the sky was painted in hues of red and purple¡ªbeautiful, but so out of place with the rest of Rhys'' surroundings.


    And with the fading light came a sharp drop in temperature. Night was approaching fast. Rhys knew he needed to find shelter, or he''d freeze before he could figure out what to do next.


    Rhys had made it out of the obsidian briars, but the world beyond offered no solace. A mountainous valley stretched before him, its jagged peaks vanishing into thick, curling fog. The air was heavier here, yet thin at the same time.


    The only way forward was through a narrow fissure carved into the mountainside, its walls steep and shadowed.


    He walked for what felt like hours, the silence pressing in¡ªuntil a sharp crack shattered the stillness.


    Rhys halted.


    The sound came again. A dull, rhythmic pounding, like something¡ªor someone¡ªhammering against stone.


    He followed the noise carefully, slipping between the craggy rocks, until he saw them.


    A small figure, hunched over, striking at something unseen. Their clothes hung in tattered strips, and their movements were sharp, twitchy¡ªlike an animal backed into a corner.


    Rhys'' muscles tensed.


    He kept his distance, breath slow, ensuring his presence remained undetected. There was no way to know if they were a threat.


    Maybe they know what and where this place is¡­ and maybe how to get out.


    A fight wasn''t ideal, but if it came down to it¡ªRhys was confident he could handle it. He had grown used to scrapping for food and a place to sleep back when he was a street kid. But that was years ago, before he met the Benefactor, so he feared that he might have lost his edge.


    His body ached from exhaustion, and the cold gnawed at his bones. Not to mention his missing limb.


    Then the figure turned, and Rhys got a clear look at their face.


    A boy. He couldn''t have been no older than thirteen years old.


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    A jolt of confidence steadied his nerves. A kid? I can handle a kid.


    He took a step forward.


    The boy''s head snapped toward him.


    Then he was gone.


    Not a flinch. Not a dash. Just¡ªvanished.


    Rhys barely had time to register the blur before something primal twisted in his gut. His instincts screamed at him, a razor-sharp certainty that coiled around his spine.


    I''m about to die.


    "I mean no threat!" he blurted, hands raised in surrender.


    A sting bloomed across his throat.


    The boy was already there. His eyes glowed blue, with a certain coldness to them.


    Low to the ground. A jagged stone pressed against Rhys'' skin. Cold, unyielding, slick with something Rhys didn''t want to think about. Warmth trickled down his neck¡ªhis own blood.


    Rhys'' heart pounded. His mind raced.


    What the hell¡­?


    Then he saw it.


    A rune-like tattoo stretched from the corner of the boy''s mouth to just below his eye, pulsing in deep, molten blue. The symbols writhed and shifted, alive with eerie light.


    Rhys swallowed hard.


    Now he wasn''t sure if this really was just a kid.


    Rhys knew he had to do something but he didn''t dare move. His breath came shallow as he was calculating what to do next¡ªshove the kid back, reach for a weapon, run¡ªbut his body refused to listen. All of those probably wouldn''t end well for him.


    His eyes flicked to the stone against his throat. It wasn''t just a rock. A makeshift blade, maybe? It looked like it was made from the same spikes he used. He didn''t know, and now wasn''t the time to figure it out.


    The boy tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving Rhys''. The eerie glow in his irises flickered, studying, weighing, and dissecting. For a moment, neither of them moved.


    He sure doesn''t act like an immature kid. Rhys thought


    Then, the boy spoke.


    "You smell¡­ weird."


    Rhys stiffened. What?


    The boy''s gaze darkened, the blue glow deepening like smouldering embers.


    "Who sent you?"


    Rhys swallowed, feeling the blade shift ever so slightly against his skin. The warmth at his neck reminded him of how little room for error he had.


    "I¡ª" His voice cracked. He forced himself to stay steady. "No one. I swear. I don''t even know where the hell I am."


    The boy''s eyes narrowed, scanning Rhys for any sign of a lie. His expression didn''t shift, but something in his posture relaxed¡ªa fraction, almost imperceptible.


    Then, he spoke again.


    "Then why are you still alive?"


    Rhys blinked. "What?"


    The boy didn''t answer immediately. His grip on the stone loosened, and for the first time, Rhys noticed something strange¡ªhis hands were trembling. Not in fear. In exhaustion. Like he was holding himself together through sheer force of will.


    Rhys took the tiniest breath. His instincts told him this was the moment.


    "Look," he said, voice low, calm. "I don''t know what''s going on here, but I''m not your enemy."


    The boy''s jaw tensed.


    "¡­Not yet."


    Rhys barely had time to process that before the boy finally pulled the stone away from his neck. He took a slow step back, the eerie glow in his eyes flickering like embers in the wind.


    Then, he spoke again.


    "You should''ve died the moment you got here."


    That wasn''t a threat. It was just a fact.


    Rhys hesitated, touching the thin cut on his throat. His fingers came away stained red.


    "Would you mind enlightening me on what that means exactly?" he asked.


    The boy didn''t answer right away. His gaze dropped slightly, and something unreadable flickered across his face.


    Then, at last, he met Rhys'' eyes again.


    He pointed at the tattoo on his face and said, "Did one of these manifest anywhere on your body?"


    "Not that I know off, no." Rhys responded.


    "Then your trial hasn''t begun yet."


    Rhys'' stomach twisted.


    "¡­Trial?"


    The boy said nothing.


    Instead, he turned on his heel and began walking. Not away, but forward.


    And then he stopped¡ªjust far enough ahead that Rhys would have to make a choice.


    Follow.


    Or be left behind.


    Without any other option. Rhys followed.


    Haven''t I been tried enough already?

 The Damned and the Hungry

    Rhys followed the boy.


    His steps were cautious, trailing slightly behind him just to make sure he had a visual on him. But the boy didn''t seem worried about Rhys at all. That must have been because of his display of power from before and Rhys himself didn''t look like he could put up much of a fight in his current condition.


    After walking in silence, Rhys decided there wouldn''t be any harm in introducing himself.


    "My name is Rhys by the way, Rhys Mensah."


    "Lenny." The boy replied.


    They fell back into silence again.


    Did he make me follow him just for the sake of it? I might as well gather as much info as I can.


    "What is this place?" he finally asked.


    The boy¡ªno, Lenny¡ªdidn''t stop walking.


    "The Abyss."


    Rhys frowned. "Abyss?"


    Lenny tilted his head slightly, as if rolling the word around in his mind. Then, with a slow breath, he elaborated.


    "That''s what it''s called. You could run for eternity and you''d still be in here. Doesn''t matter where you go, how deep you fall¡ªit''s still the Abyss. The only way out is by completing your trial."


    Sounds lovely. He mused to himself.


    Rhys let that sink in. His gaze flicked to their surroundings¡ªan endless, dark expanse, shifting like a mirage in his peripheral vision. There were structures in the distance, jagged things that looked like ruins, but beyond that¡­ just void.


    Lenny continued, "Where we are right now is called the Lobby."


    Rhys raised a brow. "The Lobby? How casual."


    You''d expect waiters to be serving drinks and mediocre jazz music with a name like that.


    "It''s where The Damned rest between trials." Lenny spoke as if in response to Rhys'' inner thoughts.


    Rhys slowed his pace for half a second.


    "¡­So I''m one of The Damned?"


    Lenny didn''t confirm or deny it. He just kept walking.


    Rhys took a breath, rubbing his temple. "Okay. Let''s back up¡ª"


    "That mark on your neck," Lenny cut in. "You''ve noticed it, right?"


    Rhys stiffened. His fingers instinctively brushed the side of his throat, where warmth had trickled earlier. He had been more worried about the cut than anything else, but now that he focused¡ªhe could feel it. A lingering heat beneath his skin.


    Lenny stopped.


    Slowly, he turned toward Rhys.


    "That''s the Mark of the Damned. It''s beginning to manifest on you."


    Rhys met his gaze. "And that means¡­?"


    Lenny''s expression didn''t shift. "You better be prepared for your trial to start."


    Silence stretched between them.


    Rhys exhaled sharply. "Yeah. That''s about what I figured."


    A flicker of amusement danced in Lenny''s eerie, glowing eyes.


    They walked a little longer, neither speaking at first. The weight of Lenny''s words settled over Rhys'' mind, but the kid''s presence was just as unsettling. He carried himself like someone who had long abandoned the concept of hope.


    "How long have you been here?" Rhys asked, watching him carefully.


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    Lenny didn''t answer right away.


    Then, without looking at him, he muttered, "Years."


    Rhys frowned.


    "¡­How many?"


    Lenny let out a dry breath.


    "Dunno."


    Rhys studied him. The boy looked no older than thirteen, but something about him¡ªhis posture, the weight in his voice¡ªfelt mature.


    Lenny must''ve noticed his scrutiny, because he smirked faintly. "I haven''t aged a day since I got here."


    Rhys hesitated. "How?"


    Lenny tapped his temple. "Same reason why even though I haven''t eaten, slept, or drank anything since the day I woke up here, I''m still standing."


    Rhys'' stomach twisted.


    Without waiting for an answer from Rhys, Lenny continued. "The pain and discomfort that come with hunger and thirst persists but the body remains. The Abyss deprives you of everything, even death, no matter how much you yearn for it."


    There was no pain in his voice. No bitterness, either. Just¡­ a simple, hollow fact. Maybe he had long fought against the concept but that is a battle he had clearly given up a long time ago.


    Rhys didn''t respond. He couldn''t. But that didn''t mean he had given up either.


    Screw all that, I''m making it outta here, and surviving. No matter what.


    Rhys began to think about all he had done in pursuit of survival because for better or for worse, that''s what most of his life choices came down to¡ªsurvival.


    It''s what drove him to run away from the abusive grown-ups who ran the orphanage where he grew up, which in turn led him to become a street kid.


    After living off of theft, he ran into the Benefactor while trying to pick his pockets. Needless to say, he got caught. But to young Rhys'' surprise, instead of punishing him, he provided for him. A small apartment, cash that appeared when he needed it and books that appeared without explanation.


    He sometimes visited, but rarely, and the visits always felt more like inspections. But Rhys never asked questions; he knew better than to risk breaking whatever fragile arrangement kept him off the streets.


    In all honesty, the man felt more like a shadow than a guardian, but still, Rhys couldn''t shake the feeling that, in his own way, he had cared for him.


    A lot of questions were left unanswered for most of Rhys'' life regarding the Benefactor and his subsequent disappearance. But just as he started looking for answers, he got pulled into something which was entirely fantastical to him. Speaking of which¡ª


    Lenny kept trudging forward in silence and Rhys began to wonder. Where is he even taking me?


    They eventually arrived at a cave.


    Lenny went in first and Rhys stopped for a bit before proceeding cautiously.


    Inside, the walls curved in a way that suggested intent rather than erosion forming it over time.


    Rhys ran his finger along the stone and asked, "Did you carve it out yourself?"


    Standing near the far end of the cave, Lenny answered. "Yes, it took a long time but it''s not like I had somewhere to be."


    Something about the way Lenny was standing rubbed Rhys the wrong way. Even his tone had changed from when they were talking before. Rhys had spent years reading people, learning to pick up on the small shifts in their posture, the tiny hesitations that came before a threat.


    And right now, every instinct of his was telling him to get out.


    Lenny continued speaking, "I''ve been stuck here for years you know¡ªno food, no water¡ªand you''re the first living thing I''ve seen." Lenny stared Rhys down with an expression he couldn''t identify. "I''ve even forgotten what meat tastes like."


    Oh¡­is that what''s happening here?


    Lenny exhaled softly, "It''s a shame, really."


    The attack came without warning


    Lenny moved like a shadow, low and fluid, his footwork precise. He struck with the efficiency of a predator with no wasted motion.


    Rhys barely managed to sidestep the first blow, an attack aimed at his throat, but his balance was off ¡ªhis missing arm threw him off centre. His heart pounded. He gritted his teeth and backpedalled, his boots skidding against the stone.


    He reaches for the obsidian spike tucked at his waist and slashed upward, aiming for Lenny''s torso.


    Lenny shifted effortlessly, twisting just enough for the makeshift blade to slice through the air. Before Rhys could pull back, a sharp impact slammed into his ribs. Pain shot through his body as he staggered backwards.


    Is this kid really trying to eat me?! But this wasn''t the time to be thinking.


    Lenny was relentless. Before Rhys could regain his footing, another strike came, this time at his leg. His knee buckled.


    Rhys crashed to the ground, rolling quickly to avoid the next attack. He got up as quickly as he could prepare for the next strike. Sensing a strike coming for his neck again, he barely got his weapon up in time to block it. The impact sent a shock through his arm, nearly knocking the spike from his grasp.


    He countered with a desperate thrust towards Lenny''s abdomen but his opponent was too quick, sidestepping it with ease.


    Then, a blur¡ªLenny ducked low and swept Rhys''s legs out from under him and before he fell to the ground, Lenny connected a punch that sent him flying out the cave.


    Rhys hit the ground hard, his breath exploding from his lungs. The obsidian spike fell from his grip and the medical pouch he had been carrying flew to the side, landing with a loud crashing sound. He tried reaching for it but Lenny was faster.


    A crushing weight pinned Rhys'' chest, an iron grip tightening around his throat. He gasped, struggling, his hand clawing at Lenny''s arm, but he didn''t flinch. Lenny''s cold eyes, now glowing blue, along with the tattoo, looked unaffected as if he was merely completing a necessary task.


    The edges of Rhys'' vision darkened. His legs kicked weakly, his body screamed for air.


    Then¡ª


    A cacophony of voices could be heard, lamenting and crying in pain, accompanied by the sound of violently crashing waves. The same waters that pulled Rhys away in his nightmare were barrelling towards him, but given his current predicament they were a welcome relief.


    Lenny loosened his grip on Rhys and opened his mouth, "Looks like The Abyss is summoning you for your trial."


    While Rhys was coughing and gasping for air he felt a pull. Then something wretched him from the moment. The Abyss shattered around him like glass, and before he could comprehend what was going on¡ª


    Rhys was gone. And only a calm voice lingered from Lenny.


    "Make sure to come back alive."

 The Inheritance

    Vahari stood like a soldier inside a corporate looking office. The office was sleek and totally devoid of unnecessary decoration. A floor-to-ceiling window framed the sprawling cityscape beyond, neon lights flickering against the darkness like restless spirits.


    Behind a polished steel desk sat Adam Wayne, the man at the heart of the company¡¯s sudden appearance and meteoric rise. His name was spoken in hushed tones across Haloway, less a corporate figure and more a shadow looming over the world¡¯s shifting balance.


    Vahari stood at attention, hands behind her back, delivering her report.


    ¡°So a Reaper and a Brute appeared on the same day back to back, huh?¡± Adam Wayne spoke as he massaged his temples. His voice was calm, almost disinterested.


    Vahari nodded. ¡°And other companies also seem to have dealt with more Marauders in other parts of Haloway as well. In particular, Thralls have been appearing in larger numbers than before¡ª¡±


    ¡°And it seems their frequency is increasing as well.¡± Adam cut in.


    The room fell silent as he was now deep in thought.


    ¡°There is something else.¡± Vahari added.


    Adam raised his head and stared and stared at Vahari as if to signal her to continue.


    ¡°It looks like an Abyssal Zone temporarily tore through space today as well.¡±


    That got a reaction. His brow lifted slightly.


    ¡°All these incidents in one day? It¡¯s like the world is speed running its way to the apocalypse now¡± Adam leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. ¡°Did you get the Echo Level readings?¡±


    Vahari paused for a second before answering.


    ¡°Zero sir.¡±


    The silence that followed was almost deafening, only the bustling sound from the cityscape provided relief. Wayne tapped a single finger against his desk, considering.


    Then he inquired, ¡°Any civilians that got caught up?¡±


    ¡°The man who had previously engaged with the Reaper, along with the medical team that came to his aid.¡±


    ¡°Did you learn the man¡¯s name?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have any records in Haloway or any other metropolis in the Central, Eastern and Western continents.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, that must mean he¡¯s from the Independent Towns.¡±


    When Marauders and the Abyssal Zones became a reality, the world had changed. Borders, once the defining lines of power and identity, were erased in favour of something greater¡ªcontinents united by shared resources and knowledge.


    The Central, Western, and Eastern Continents thrived under this system, fuelling an era of rapid advancement. Wars dwindled, trade flourished, and science surged ahead unburdened by secrecy. But unity had its limits.


    Scattered across the world were Independent Towns¡ªvast enough to be nations in their own right. Some had rejected the new order outright, clinging to autonomy and old traditions.


    Others were formed by remnants of past governments or those wary of a world governed by giants. Without access to the same technological and economic strides, these isolated towns followed their own paths¡ªsome prospering through trade, others fading into irrelevance. They were a reminder that even in an era of unity, the past still had a pulse.


    Cases of Marauders were also non-existent there as they were more concentrated in the more populated areas.


    Adam Wayne wondered why someone would willingly move away from such a safer environment. But then¡ª


    He understood, it was like he suddenly remembered something.


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    ¡°If that is all, thank you for your time.¡± Adam dismissed Vahari with a casual wave of his hand.


    Vahari bowed slightly and turned toward the door, but something nagged at her. A loose thread in the conversation. She stopped just before exiting.


    ¡°What about the girl?¡± she asked without turning around.


    Behind her, Adam let out a soft hum, the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was amused or indifferent. ¡°What about the girl?¡±


    Vahari clenched her jaw. ¡°Surely you know what I mean. Why did you invite her to become a Revenant? She doesn¡¯t even know what an Abyssal Zone is.¡±


    Adam didn¡¯t answer. Instead, his chair creaked as he twisted away from her, now facing the sprawling cityscape beyond his floor-to-ceiling window. Neon lights flickered against the dark skyline like restless spirits.


    ¡°She had the Mark, didn¡¯t she?¡± he said at last.


    Another non-answer. Vahari exhaled sharply through her nose. Conversations with Adam Wayne always felt like walking through a maze, except half the walls moved when you weren¡¯t looking.


    ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t think she got it from escaping The Abyss,¡± Vahari pressed. ¡°And according to her, she has no idea what the whispers are.¡± She hesitated. ¡°Not to mention she¡¯s from the Independent Towns. A lot of things about her don¡¯t add up.¡±


    And that wasn¡¯t all. Adam finding Amara in the first place was¡­ suspicious.


    A beat of silence. Then, Adam¡¯s voice, calm as ever:


    ¡°Not even you can be privy to everything, Vahari.¡±


    Her fingers twitched at her side. He was keeping something from her. Again.


    ¡°But I will say this, the current state of the world will not last very long as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed yourself. I have deemed the girl a necessary piece in the coming events.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s going to die if you send her out there,¡± she said, her tone flatter than she intended.


    ¡°That reminds me,¡± Adam said, suddenly sitting up straighter. ¡°She¡¯ll be your shadow starting tomorrow.¡±


    Vahari blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re worried she might die, right?¡±


    ¡°Huh? No, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then she¡¯ll be in your care.¡± Adam turned his chair slightly, just enough for her to catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Thank you, Vahari. You may leave my office now.¡±


    Vahari stood there for a second, debating whether to argue. But there was no point. Adam Wayne had already moved on.


    With a stiff nod, she turned on her heel and left.


    The moment the door shut behind her, Adam slouched back in his chair, exhaling sharply. He rubbed his temples before glancing toward the city lights, his expression unreadable.


    ¡°Echo Level Zero, huh?¡± he murmured to no one in particular. The room remained silent, but it felt as if something unseen lingered in the air, listening.


    ¡°I thought I had more time.¡±


    A pause. Then, almost to himself, he muttered:


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how he overcomes the trials with The Inheritance.¡±


    The halls of Wayne Company were eerily quiet at this hour. Amara sat on a sleek, black bench near the elevator, arms crossed, eyes scanning the floor. She felt like a stranger in this place¡ªbecause she was.


    She had been told to wait, so she waited.


    Her thoughts spiralled as she replayed the events of the day. The subway. Vahari¡¯s battle. The way Adam Wayne had looked at her¡ªlike she was a puzzle piece he¡¯d been waiting to fit into place. None of it made sense to her.


    A sharp ding cut through the silence. The elevator doors slid open.


    Vahari stepped out, looking as composed as ever, but there was an unmistakable stiffness in her movements. Her dark eyes locked onto Amara, unreadable.


    "You¡¯re still here," Vahari said, less a question and more an observation.


    "You told me to wait," Amara shot back.


    Vahari sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Right. Come with me."


    She turned without another word, expecting Amara to follow. After a brief hesitation, Amara pushed herself up and did just that.


    They walked in silence down the dimly lit corridor, the distant hum of the city beyond the windows their only companion. Amara stole a glance at Vahari, taking in the way she carried herself¡ªrigid posture, clipped steps.


    "Are you going to tell me what is going to happen to me?" Amara finally asked.


    Vahari didn¡¯t stop walking. "You¡¯re my shadow now."


    Amara frowned. "What does that even mean?"


    "It means you follow me, you do what I say, and if you''re lucky, you might actually survive this."


    Amara slowed her pace. "Wait¡ªsurvive what?"


    Vahari halted so suddenly that Amara nearly ran into her. She turned, staring down at her with an intensity that made Amara''s stomach twist.


    "The apocalypse," Vahari said bluntly.


    Amara bristled. "So why did your boss bring me here?"


    Vahari¡¯s gaze flickered, just for a moment. Then she exhaled, shaking her head. "That¡¯s what I¡¯d like to know."


    They stared at each other, the silence stretching thick between them.


    Then, Vahari turned on her heel and kept walking.


    "Get some rest. Training starts tomorrow."


    Amara stood there, her fingers curling into fists.


    I was just living a normal life now, training, the apocalypse? What the hell have I gotten myself into?


    She had no answer. Only the quiet certainty that something in her life had shifted¡ªpermanently.


    And she wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d survive it.

 Silas and Goro

    Cough!


    "Ugh."


    Rhys woke up to the sound of dripping water.


    No. It was dripping on his face.


    Ouch!


    A white hot searing pain shot through him from his neck down to his torso. It felt like someone had pressed a branding iron against his skin. Crap! It must be the Mark.


    His mind was sluggish like he had been ripped out of unconsciousness by force. The air smelled of damp stone and rust from years of neglect.


    He was lying on a cold, uneven cot and his legs felt rather numb from the biting cold. His vision swam for a moment before sharpening just enough to take in his surroundings.


    A hoarse voice drifted in from his right, "You''re alive, boy. That''s something."


    Rhys wasn''t alone.


    A dim flickering light buzzed weakly overhead, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Forcing himself upright, Rhys noticed the iron bars just beyond his bare feet.


    Across from him, sitting on the edge of another cot, was an older man¡ªthin, wiry with tired eyes. His salt-and-pepper hair was unkempt, his beard rough but neatly trimmed. His gaze was fixed on Rhys with mild interest.


    Glancing over to his side, he was greeted by a massive figure looming in the shadows.


    The man was built like a fortress¡ªbroad shoulders, thick arms and hands like iron mallets. He was also extremely silent. For a second there, Rhys almost shouted "Monster!" but he managed to keep his composure. Thankfully, the tank of a man didn''t seem to pay him any mind.


    Rhys'' throat felt like sandpaper. "Is this¡­?"


    "Prison? Why of course." The old man was weirdly jovial.


    Rhys exhaled sharply. Of course.


    He rubbed his temples, trying to piece together what happened before he woke up here. The last thing he remembered was¡ª


    Lenny, that psychopath. I need to come up with a plan for that bastard.


    But first things first, he had to make it out of the trial first. He had no idea what it entailed. Was this all a dream sequence or reality? Are these people even real or are they also part of the so-called trial?


    A silence stretched out between them, save for the distant sound of rats skittering across the damp stone.


    Then the older man spoke.


    "Oh, where are my manners? The name''s Silas. Silas Montclair." He stood up and bowed briefly.


    That was a bit much. Sounds like a nobleman. Rhys thought to himself


    "The hulking gentleman to my side here is Goro."


    Rhys hesitated, then sighed. "¡­Rhys."


    Silas nodded slowly, as if tasting the name. Goro didn''t move, not even lifting his head. But Rhys could feel his attention, like a weight pressing down on him.


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    Rhys shifted uncomfortably. His wrist was sore¡ªLooking down, he noticed purple bruises from iron cuffs that closed on this neck and wrist, though they had been unlocked now.


    "How long have I been here?" he asked.


    Silas scratched his chin.¡°Three meals ago, the guards dumped you in here.¡± He thought for a second. ¡°So¡­ four days?¡±


    I''ve been asleep for four days! Rhys was shocked.


    ¡°That makes no sense,¡± he muttered.


    Silas shrugged. ¡°Goro and I helped ourselves to your share of food, hope you don¡¯t mind.¡± He grinned. ¡°In our defense, we thought you were dead.¡±


    Goro seemed to let out a low grunt in agreement.


    The last thing on Rhys'' mind now was rancid prison food. It probably tastes awful anyway. No. He was too busy thinking of a way to escape. He turned his attention over to Goro who sat hunched over like the cell itself could barely contain him.


    The old man seems rather useless but I''m sure ''The Thing'' here can bust outta here if he wants to!


    Then Silas'' dry and rough voice could be heard again.


    "Forgive me but If you don''t mind me asking¡­"


    Rhys griped internally. What now?


    Clang!


    Before Silas could ask, a loud banging and clanging filled the space. Rhys could also hear a man shouting.


    "Feeding time you animals!"


    Many prisoners responded with animosity, shouting, jeering and cursing at the guard. But the man seemed to deeply enjoy the exchange. Maybe it was false confidence he gained from feeling superior.


    Plus he knew they couldn''t do anything to him from inside the cell.


    A guard pushing a wooden cart with plates of food¡ªmore like grey slop resembling food¡ªwhile banging on the iron bars of the cells was drawing close.


    The sound kept growing larger until a man clad in dark, dented armour appeared in front of Rhys'' cell. His uniform seemed mismatched, bearing two insignia, with one of them stroked out. The guard placed three plates before kicking them in the cell through the space below the iron bars.


    Silas waited for the guard to leave before speaking up. "We may be prisoners but we aren''t to be treated like swine!"


    Where was that energy when he was standing in front of us man?


    "The nerve, I used to be a nobility , you know." Silas chattered on as he picked up the plates anyway.


    I knew it!


    He gave Rhys his plate, then Goro and he sat back down on his cot. Rhys just stared at his plate. He thought the days of settling for scraps had passed but here he is. Prison wasn''t even a place Rhys had set foot in before, nor did he ever wonder what it was like.


    Looking up, he saw Silas digging in with his bare hands since they weren''t given utensils. Not a single hint of nobility present.


    Who am I to complain if the nobleman doesn''t care? Rhys held his breath and swallowed the gray sludge given to him. ''Not too bad,'' he thought. Perhaps hunger really was the best sauce.


    He heard a grunt coming from Goro and turned to find him offering his plate to him.


    Silas commented. "It would seem he wishes to repay you for partaking in your share of food."


    "No, it''s fine. You should eat your fill," Rhys assured Goro. Normally he would have taken it without a second thought, but he needed these guys to view him as a magnanimous saint. People tend to trust you easier that way.


    The three men finished their meal in silence. But it wasn''t awkward, everyone was just hungry.


    After finishing the meal that barely satisfied him, Rhys sat back and noticed that old man Silas was still studying him.


    Oh yeah, he had something he wanted to say to me hadn''t he?


    "Silas, you had something you wanted to ask?"


    Hearing this, Silas sat up, licking his fingers and putting on a somewhat serious expression.


    "You are a user of Eshe, are you not?"


    Rhys froze.


    Eshe.


    Another term Rhys was not familiar with. But instead of revealing his ignorance, Rhys decided to put up a front by acting enigmatic.


    "Whatever do you mean, Silas?" Rhys purposefully acted that way in order to draw out more information from the old man.


    "There''s no need to be cautious with us, Master Rhys, the Marks on your neck betray you."


    Master Rhys, huh? That''s new. And by Marks he must be referring to the Mark of the Damned. I thought the mark was unnoticeable. Then that burning sensation must have been because it fully manifested.


    Rhys remained silent as Silas continued. "After the Dark Lord''s disappearance, the Emperor took that opportunity and declared all Eshe users to be taken in or put down."


    Suddenly, both Silas and Goro stood up.


    "My family, the Montclairs, were one of the few noble families that stood against the Emperor''s decree and as you can judge from my current situation, we paid dearly for it."


    Rhys was completely lost at this point. It got even worse when Silas kneeled in front of him. Goro followed.


    "Master Rhys, I would be honored if you would bestow upon us the privilege of serving you until we draw our last breath."


    All Rhys could do was blink repeatedly.


    Now what the hell is going on here!

 Arbiters of Existence

    Now what the hell is going on here!


    Rhys was dumbfounded as Silas and Goro knelt before him.


    For a long, awkward moment, the only sounds were the distant clatter of chains and the faint drip of water somewhere in the prison''s stonework.


    This was actually a good thing ¡ª Rhys realized. Locals of this wildly unfamiliar territory were pledging allegiance to him.


    He had no idea why, but it was clear they believed something about him that he didn''t understand. His mark still burned against his skin, a constant reminder that whatever power he was tied to, it wasn''t something he could control ¡ª or even explain.


    After thinking up a way forward, Rhys finally came to a resolution. He would fake it.


    "No," Rhys said flatly, shifting against the cold wall behind him.


    Silas opened his mouth to protest before Rhys quickly cut him off.


    "It doesn''t matter what you think I am, or rather what I used to be¡ª it''s a no."


    Silas blinked, his head still bowed, but the corner of his mouth quivered upward in a thin smile. "Ah, of course. Humility. A rare trait."


    You think too highly of me, nobleman. Humility isn''t the issue here.


    Goro remained silent, a solid, unmoving figure. His massive hands rested on his knees, but his head was still slightly lowered out of reverence.


    Silas finally rose, dusting off his ragged coat. "Forgive us, Master Rhys. We meant no offense. It''s simply¡­ unexpected to find an Eshe user here."


    There it was again. Eshe user.


    Rhys had no clue what that meant ¡ª but if these two thought he was one, then going along with it might not be a bad idea.


    He squared his shoulders, trying to look more confident than he felt. "I''m not exactly at full power," Rhys said, carefully choosing his words. "My abilities¡­ they''ve been sealed."


    Silas arched his brow. "Sealed, you say?"


    "Yeah," Rhys muttered, fingers brushing the Mark on his neck.


    Rhys flailed his arm in the air, as if displaying his body and missing arm.


    "I was involved in a great battle and as you can tell, I was not the victor."


    Goro let out a long, subdued groan while Silas grimaced.


    "And my mind also appears to have been fragmented since I awoke. So my memory is¡­ complicated."


    That part wasn''t a lie. Rhys had been off his game since he came to Haloway. It''s like his mind has been constantly foggy.


    Silas exchanged a brief glance with Goro, then stepped closer ¡ª his voice lowering. "I suspected as much. The Mark on your neck¡­ it has no glow to it."


    Maybe cause it''s still awakening but you don''t have to know that.


    Rhys'' heart thudded painfully against his ribs. He didn''t answer, hoping the silence would push Silas to fill in the gaps.


    Thankfully, Silas took the bait. "Eshe users," he began, "were once a race of people ¡ª set apart, gifted. They drew their strength from Eshe itself ¡ª the force that encompasses all aspects of life and existence. Creation, destruction, time, death¡­ all threads of the same tapestry."


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    Rhys listened attentively, trying his best to look stoic. Yes Silas, fill me in on the lore!


    Silas'' voice grew distant, his gaze far away as if remembering a world long gone. "The Eshe users were granted the authority to command certain aspects. Not only the elements ¡ª but the very fabric of reality. Some could summon fire as easily as some could slow a beating heart. They weren''t merely mages ¡ª they were arbiters of existence."


    The weight of those words hung in the air.


    "Arbiters of existence," Rhys muttered under his breath, trying to grasp the scale of what Silas was saying.


    Silas nodded solemnly. "Yes. And for a time, they thrived under the Dark Lord''s protection. Since the Empire feared Eshe users, he emerged as the most powerful of them all and became their guardian."


    The Dark Lord again.


    Rhys kept his expression neutral, though his mind spun. He had no desire to dwell on that particular name.


    From there, Rhys could piece together what happened based on what Silas already said before.


    The Dark Lord disappeared. And with his absence, the world turned on the Eshe users. They were seen as a threat ¡ª a force too wild, too dangerous without someone to keep them in check.


    "Let me guess," Rhys muttered. "People started hunting them down."


    "Correct." Silas'' smile didn''t reach his eyes. "Many were killed. Others¡­ well, those with stronger ties to Eshe found themselves in places like this." He gestured to the prison walls. "Caged, starved, broken ¡ª so their power would never rise again."


    Rhys'' Mark flared suddenly, the burn sharp enough to make him wince.


    Silas caught the movement. "It''s no wonder you''ve been sealed, Master Rhys. They must have feared what you could become."


    Rhys didn''t respond. All he had now was more questions. Was his Mark the same one that the Revenants in the real world have? And Lenny''s as well


    The silence was broken by the sudden clanging of metal against metal.


    "On your feet, you dogs!"


    A guard ¡ª clad in dark, dented armour ¡ª appeared at the bars, banging a wooden club against the iron. His face was hidden beneath a grimy helmet, but his voice dripped with cruel amusement.


    "Which one of you is the lucky bastard today?" the guard sneered, pulling a scroll from his belt. His eyes scanned the names, then stopped. "Ah. You."


    The cell door groaned open.


    The guard pointed directly at Rhys.


    "You''re up."


    Silas'' jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Goro remained still, his massive hands flexing slightly.


    Rhys'' pulse thundered in his ears. "Up for what?"


    The guard''s smile widened. "You''ll see."


    Thick, iron cuffs were placed on Rhys'' wrist and neck, agitating the bruises from the last time he was cuffed.


    Before Rhys could react, rough hands grabbed him and yanked him from the cell.


    Bastard! You''re lucky I never accepted their offer. Otherwise I would have told Goro here to mess you up!


    Tap. Tap. Tap.


    He was led through a maze of stone corridors ¡ª damp, dark, and reeking of rust. Chains clinked softly in the distance, a constant reminder that this place was designed for suffering.


    The Mark of the Damned burned hotter with every step, like it knew what was coming.


    Finally, they stopped before a thick wooden door. The guard pounded twice, and the door creaked open.


    The room beyond was vast ¡ª too vast for a prison chamber ¡ª with high ceilings lined with blackened torches. The air was heavy, stale, like something ancient was asleep beneath the stone.


    At the centre of the room stood a cage large enough to hold something far bigger than a man. The iron bars had purple rune-linings and were twisted, as though whatever had been inside had tried ¡ª and nearly succeeded at breaking free.


    And then Rhys saw it.


    The creature ¡ª if you could even call it that ¡ª was a twisted mass of muscle, sinew, and teeth. Its limbs were long and uneven, as though someone had stitched together parts of different beasts, leaving them to rot before forcing life back into the abomination.


    Claws scraped the stone floor with a rhythmic, maddening screech, each twitch of its misshapen fingers sending fine sparks against the damp ground.


    Its skin was a patchwork of blackened flesh and raw sinew, with tendrils visibly wriggling about under its skin.


    The moment the door swung open, its hollow eyes snapped to Rhys ¡ª unblinking, boiling and hungry.


    The guard shoved Rhys forward.


    "Survive," he said simply, his voice almost bored.


    The cage door groaned open.


    Rhys'' nose was instantly assaulted by the familiar acrid stench of scorched ash. This gave him flashbacks to the subway Reaper that sent a cold shiver down Rhys'' spine.


    The creature stepped forward ¡ª a slow, deliberate movement ¡ª and the click-clack of bone and claw echoed off the walls.


    It was big.


    Even hunched, it completely dwarfed Rhys ¡ª towering over him, its spine a jagged ridge pushing against the thin layer of burnt flesh. Strings of saliva hung from its crooked jaw, sizzling when they hit the stone floor.


    His heart slammed against his ribs.


    Not this again.

 No Matter What

    Not this again.


    Before Rhys could turn tail and run, the creature moved first.


    He barely had time to react before it lurched forward, closing the distance in a single, unnatural leap. The air rippled with the force of its movement, and the stench of burning flesh clawed at his throat.


    He twisted to dodge, his body moving on pure instinct¡ª


    Clang!


    The cuff¡ªthick iron, rusted but unyielding¡ªjerked him back, yanking his arm toward his neck.


    Damn¡ª


    Rhys staggered, the chain linking his wrist to his throat collar cutting his movement in half. His dodge fell short.


    Why do I have to be slow!


    The creature¡¯s clawed hand swiped past him, grazing his shoulder¡ªafter a flash of agony, he saw his own blood spray.


    Rhys hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through his bones. He scrambled backward, dragging the chain across the stone with a screech of metal. The Mark of the Damned throbbed against his neck, a burning pulse in time with his racing heart.


    The creature twitched.


    Its head jerked at an angle no neck should allow, a series of wet pops echoing through the chamber. Blackened flesh peeled as it moved, sinew shifting beneath the burnt skin like a nest of writhing worms.


    Its void-like eyes pinned Rhys in place.


    Rhys¡¯ chest heaved. He forced himself to stand, teeth clenched.


    Think man! Think!


    The chain was a problem.


    His right wrist was shackled to the iron collar around his neck, cutting his range of motion in half. His arm could only extend so far before the chain snapped him back again¡ªlike a dog on a leash.


    The guard could have at least taken this off. Make it a fair fight.


    Although it was clear that this wasn¡¯t meant to be a fair fight, but an execution.


    The creature lunged again.


    Rhys threw himself to the side¡ªhis movements clumsy and limited. The chain yanked him short again, and the creature¡¯s claws slashed down¡ªmissing his face by inches.


    The stone floor split beneath the force of the strike.


    The creature struck again.


    He whipped the chain up¡ªcatching it mid-swing¡ªand as the monster¡¯s claw came down, the chain wrapped around its wrist.


    For a brief, agonizing moment, he had control¡ªpulling the creature¡¯s arm backward and twisting its shoulder at an odd angle.


    I just moved but maybe this wasn¡¯t good idea¡ª


    The monster screeched, twisting violently and hurling Rhys across the room.


    He hit the floor hard again, pain flaring across his ribs. His wrist throbbed where the cuff had yanked him like a rag doll. Everything ached, his phantom arm; and the Mark that was now burning hotter than ever


    Get up.


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    Rhys¡¯ hand scraped against something rough¡ªa loose brick dislodged from the wall when the creature had slammed into it earlier.


    A weapon or as close to one as he could get in this situation.


    He lunged for the brick, his cuffed arm making it awkward, but his fingers closed around the rough stone.


    The creature charged.


    Rhys hurled the brick at its head.


    It hit the creature¡¯s face¡ªhard enough to crack the brick in two¡ªbut the monster didn¡¯t even flinch.


    ¡°Damn it.¡±


    But it seemed to block its vision temporarily at the very least. The creature stumbled towards Rhys and hit the wall.


    Rhys jerked back, the chain biting into his wrist and neck as he moved out the way.


    Tch! I have to get rid of this damn chain.


    That¡¯s when he remembered.


    The cage¡ªearlier he noticed that its iron bars were etched with glowing purple runes.


    The runes hummed softly¡ªan ancient whisper beneath the noise of the fight.


    It wasn¡¯t just a cage¡ªRhys assumed that it was some kind of magical seal.


    My chains are so hard to manoeuvre in, they must be magic as well. And magic can cut magic!


    Probably.


    Rhys didn¡¯t stop to think further. He ran for the cage, his movements sloppy with the chain holding him back, but he pushed forward.


    The creature recovered and followed closely behind, gaining on him fast.


    He hit the cage door, wrapped his head around the rune-etched bars, and dragged the chain against them.


    A sharp hiss¡ªthe runes flared brighter¡ªand the metal links began to sizzle and crack.


    The creature was right behind him. Rhys could feel its running steps drawing closer.


    He yanked the chain harder¡ªdesperately¡ª


    Break¡­break. Please break!


    The chain snapped just as the creature lunged. Rhys threw himself aside just in time, leading the monster to crash into the cage.


    The impact was deafening¡ªiron bars bending, stone splitting¡ªbut the runes lit up violently the moment the creature came in contact with them.


    A piercing shriek ripped from the monster¡¯s throat as the magic seared through its skin¡ªspreading purple burns across its shoulder and chest.


    One of the iron bars broke off from the impact, landing near Rhys with a loud clang.


    His eyes locked onto it.


    The bar still glowed faintly with purple runes, magic still pulsing within the metal.


    The creature staggered, disoriented from the burns.


    Rhys didn¡¯t hesitate.


    He grabbed the broken iron bar¡ªawkward in his one hand¡ªand lunged at the creature¡¯s back. Before it could react, he looped his severed chain around the bar, wrapping it into a crude garrotte.


    The creature¡¯s head jerked in his direction, eyes blazing¡ª


    Rhys thrust and held the bar across its neck but without an arm, he needed something to pull the chain tight.


    The monster thrashed, bucking like a wild animal, but Rhys held on, teeth gritted. He needed more leverage, more strength.


    Without thinking¡ª


    Rhys bit down on the loose end of the chain, clenching it between his teeth.


    With his one arm pulling back and his jaw clamped down on the chain¡ªhe used his entire body to tighten the iron bar against the creature''s throat.


    The runes flared.


    The creature screeched as the magic burned into its neck¡ªthe purple light spreading like cracks in glass across its blackened flesh.


    The bar didn¡¯t just choke it¡ªthe runes were unravelling the magic that held the creature together.


    Its movements grew more frantic, then slower, then jerky, like a puppet with its strings cut.


    Rhys yanked back harder¡ªhis muscles screaming, teeth grinding against the chain¡ªuntil the runes burned all the way through the creature¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Just die you bastard!¡± Rhys let out a guttural roar, voice muffled by the chain in his mouth.


    With a final, deafening shriek¡ª


    The creature collapsed, the bar still jammed into the side of its seared throat, smoke rising from its wounds.


    Rhys staggered back, the broken chain slipping from his mouth. His jaw ached, his arm throbbed, and the Mark of the Damned blazed hotter than ever.


    He stared at the lifeless monster¡ªits neck scorched black by the runes¡¯ magic, its head bent at a sickening angle.


    For a long moment, all he could hear was his own ragged breathing.


    He had won. But barely.


    The taste of iron and blood lingered on his tongue. And as he gazed at the creature''s smouldering corpse, he realized something unsettling:


    This isn¡¯t even part of the trial.


    If this was only the beginning¡­


    Rhys started laughing, almost maniacally.


    Nah, keep ¡®em coming. I¡¯m making it out of here alive!


    No matter what.

 Last Breath

    The creature''s lifeless body lay crumpled at Rhys'' feet, smoke still curling from the scorched ruin of its neck. The purple runes etched into the broken iron bar glowed faintly, flickering like dying embers.


    Rhys'' jaw was bleeding and throbbed from biting the chain, and his one remaining arm hung limply at his side. His ribs screamed with every shallow breath, and his shoulder ¡ª the one the monster had grazed ¡ª still bled freely. The stone floor beneath him was streaked with his blood, a grim mosaic of violence.


    And yet, despite the pain¡­


    He laughed.


    A raw, almost maniacal laugh ¡ª the kind that came when the only other option was to cry.


    "Nah, keep ''em coming," Rhys rasped, his voice hoarse. "I''m making it out of here alive¡­ no matter what."


    The words echoed through the chamber, swallowed by the stillness.


    But then ¡ª


    The Mark of the Damned began to flare again.


    A sharp, sudden burn radiated from his neck ¡ª way hotter than before ¡ª a searing pulse of crimson and violet light.


    "Gah¡ª!" Rhys staggered, clutching at the Mark as if he could rip it from his skin.


    The glow intensified, the Mark''s lines twisting and spreading from his neck, down to his upper back and towards his phantom arm, like cracks in molten glass ¡ª burning through his skin and carving into his flesh.


    He could feel it. The Mark was changing ¡ª no longer a simple brand, but morphing into something more complex.


    The pain was unbearable, fire and ice slicing through his nerves, carving a new symbol into his neck and shoulder. It was like it wasn''t just burning him ¡ª it was becoming a part of him.


    And then the pain exploded down his left side.


    Rhys fell to his knees, eyes wide as his phantom arm ¡ª the one the Reaper had torn from him days ago ¡ª began to take shape again.


    Though the process was not instant or smooth. Not at all.


    It started as a sickening writhing beneath the skin, muscle and sinew twisting into place ¡ª like something growing far too fast for nature to allow. Tendons slithered up from his shoulder, binding together, and bone cracked into existence ¡ª piece by jagged piece.


    His fingers were the last to form ¡ª nails sprouting from raw flesh, curling and flexing as the arm finally completed itself.


    Rhys gasped, his new left arm twitching involuntarily. It felt alien to his body¡ª the skin a shade a bit lighter than the rest of his body which made it feel like it didn''t quite belong to him.


    And running from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers were the same crimson and violet marks ¡ª the Mark of the Damned now burned into his skin like a twisting tattoo.


    "Wh-what the hell¡­" Rhys muttered, flexing his new fingers, the sensation a mix of pain and unfamiliar strength.


    But there was no time to process it.


    A clanking of metal boots echoed through the corridor beyond the chamber.


    The guards.


    "Hey! What the hell was that noise?"


    "Did the creature kill him?"


    "No¡­ he''s alive."


    The voices grew louder.


    Rhys forced himself to stand, the pain dulled by the lingering shock of what had just happened to his arm.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The first guard appeared ¡ª clad in dented black armour, his face twisted into a sneer. Behind him, two more followed, eyes narrowing as they took in the scene.


    Their gazes locked on Rhys'' glowing Mark ¡ª still pulsing violently ¡ª and then on his new arm, still raw, still smoking.


    "He''s a¡­ an Eshe user," one of them whispered, voice laced with fear.


    The sneer on the lead guard''s face twisted into something worse ¡ª a cruel smile.


    "Looks like we''ve got a fighter," he said softly. "Guess we should give him some more friends to play with."


    Hearing this, Rhys'' heart dropped.


    The lead guard slammed his fist into the wall, activating an insignia on the wall and a distant grinding of stone filled the air.


    More magic? Rhys remarked internally.


    Another gate was opening.


    Rhys'' blood ran cold as the sounds of snarling and clawed footsteps echoed down the corridor.


    The guards weren''t going to kill him themselves. They were going to watch him get torn apart.


    The guard with the glowing insignia opened his mouth to command the creatures.


    "Tear apart this filth, you beasts!"


    Two new monsters emerged ¡ª both smaller than the last but just as twisted, their bodies a chaotic blend of muscle and bone, their mouths brimming with teeth. One crawled along the floor like a spider, while the other dragged itself forward on misshapen limbs, its jaw unhinged and dripping with a dark, tar-like substance.


    After his previous battle, Rhys couldn''t fight. He was exhausted. His new arm still felt wrong, and his Mark was burning through his veins like molten lead.


    He wouldn''t survive a second round.


    But¡­ he didn''t have to win.


    He just had to get out of there somehow.


    His eyes darted around the chamber ¡ª the broken cage, the twisted bars, the creatures, the guards.


    The monsters aren''t even paying attention to the guards, probably because of the insignia. That''s why they are so confident about being here.


    A plan was formed.


    The guards were watching for a fight, not an escape. Rhys moved fast.


    He bolted toward the broken cage, grabbing the iron bar still faintly glowing with runes. His muscles screamed in protest, his newly formed arm twitching with unfamiliar strength, but he pushed the pain aside.


    The monsters snapped their heads toward him, their twisted bodies tensing like coiled springs.


    "Come on then!" Rhys roared, raising the bar high, its runes flickering in the dim light.


    The creatures snarled ¡ª jaws unhinging as they prepared to lunge.


    But Rhys wasn''t aiming for them.


    He spun, heart pounding and sprinted straight at the guards.


    "What the¡­?!"


    "He''s coming at us!"


    The lead guard took a step back, hand reaching for the sword at his hip ¡ª but it was too late.


    With a guttural cry, Rhys hurled the iron bar ¡ª not at the guards ¡ª but at the insignia on the wall.


    The glowing symbol ¡ª a jagged mark etched in silver and purple ¡ª flared as the bar struck it, runes clashing with runes.


    The sound was like shattering glass mixed with a deep, resonant thrum.


    For a split second, nothing happened.


    Then the insignia fractured ¡ª a web of cracks spreading out from the point of impact ¡ª and the purple light flickered violently.


    "No¡ª!"


    The insignia collapsed inward, the magic imploding in a burst of violet sparks.


    And the moment it did¡ª


    The monsters froze.


    Their eyes flickered ¡ª once, twice ¡ª before something shifted behind them. Their movements, once controlled and sharp, suddenly turned wild.


    The monsters were now unrestrained.


    One of the creatures, the spider-like one, let out a blood curdling shriek then whipped around and lunged at the nearest guard.


    "Get them back under control!"


    "They''re not listening!"


    The other monster ¡ª the one with the gnarled limbs ¡ª tore into a guard''s leg, teeth sinking deep into his thigh. The man''s scream echoed through the chamber as blood sprayed across the stone floor.


    The lead guard, the one who had taunted Rhys moments ago, stumbled backward ¡ª his confidence shattered ¡ª as the monsters turned their full, feral attention on them.


    "Fall back! FALL BA¡ª"


    He didn''t finish.


    The spider-like creature pounced ¡ª claws ripping across his chest, armour crumpling like tin.


    It was chaos.


    Just what Rhys needed.


    While the guards fought to contain the monsters, Rhys slipped through the open gate, making sure to swipe the guard''s keys ¡ª his body screaming with every step, but his mind racing ahead.


    Keep moving.


    He didn''t look back.


    The sound of the guards'' dying screams echoed through the prison halls as Rhys vanished into the corridor beyond.


    The sounds of battle faded as he moved further into the prison''s winding halls. The stone was damp, the air thick with rot and rust. Every breath burned.


    What he needed now was to find an escape route. But after that, then what? He was in an unfamiliar place and had no idea what the world of the trial ahead had waiting for him. But just then¡­he remembered.


    Silas and Goro.


    He didn''t care about them ¡ª not really. But he needed help if he was going to survive this place. And they were the only ones he could use.


    The next corridor opened into another holding area ¡ª the same cell where Silas and Goro had been.


    Rhys appeared in front of the holding cell, breathless.


    Silas'' sharp eyes flicked to Rhys ¡ª noting the new arm, the Mark''s fresh pattern, the blood on his clothes.


    "Master Rhys, you must have reawakened your power!" Silas said excitedly. "I take it that is the source of the commotion?"


    Rhys'' chest heaved, every muscle screaming for rest.


    "Yeah, sure man," Rhys said hurriedly. "We''re getting out of here."


    Silas arched his brow. "We?"


    Goro rose silently from his cot, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the stone wall.


    Rhys exhaled slowly, standing upright. "Silas Montclair. Goro. I beseech you to come serve and me."


    Silas'' eyes widened in shock.


    "Until you draw your last breath."

 The Essence of Eshe (Prologue)

    This chapter is meant to help readers understand the story a little more without revealing too much. Although, this is definitely not all and more will be explored within the story itself. Thank you for reading!


    **Eshe


    Eshe is the silent thread that binds existence ¡ª the invisible force that shapes both the seen and unseen. It is not a god, nor a wilful entity. It does not create, nor does it destroy.


    It simply is.


    All that exists ¡ª the flicker of fire, the passage of time, the weight of judgment ¡ª stems from Aspects of Eshe. These Aspects are fragments of existence itself, concepts made manifest.


    **Revenants


    A Revenant is a survivor.


    Not just of battle ¡ª but of existence itself.


    They are those who have escaped the horrors of Abyssal Zones ¡ª places where reality fractures, and Eshe, the force that binds existence, unravels. Within these chaotic voids, concepts twist, time collapses, and death is not always the end.


    But those who emerge are not the same.


    When a person survives an Abyssal Zone, they are forever marked ¡ª not just by trauma, but by Eshe itself. They awaken to an Aspect ¡ª a fragment of existence tied to a fundamental force or concept.


    This connection leaves its mark ¡ª literally.


    The Mark of the Damned etches itself into their skin, a glowing sigil that grows more intricate as their authority over their Aspect deepens. It is both a gift and a curse ¡ª a sign of power and a chain of responsibility.


    To be a Revenant is to be bound to Eshe ¡ª to wield a piece of existence while bearing the weight of its consequences.


    A Revenant''s power is not a blessing ¡ª it is proof that they have stood at the edge of nothingness¡­ and survived.


    **The Aspects of Eshe


    Eshe is vast and unyielding, broken into countless Aspects ¡ª each a fundamental concept of reality.


    These Aspects fall into four known categories:


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Physical Aspects ¡ª governing the elements and material forces: Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Lightning, Ice, Gravity.


    Abstract Aspects ¡ª tied to emotions and ideas: Fear, Will, Hope, and Despair.


    Existential Aspects ¡ª concerning life, death, and the nature of being: Life, Death, Oblivion, Time, and Space.


    Metaphysical Aspects ¡ª bending the rules of reality itself: Fate, Judgment, Paradox, Potential, Chaos, Order.


    Each Aspect is a reflection of Eshe ¡ª not bound by morality or purpose ¡ª but simply existing as part of the world''s fabric.


    **Tiers of Mastery (Eshe User Progression)


    An Eshe User starts at Awakening and progresses through deeper levels of understanding until they reach Enlightenment.


    Awakening (Basic Control) ¡ª The Eshe User first connects with their assigned aspect and gains rudimentary control over it.


    Resonance (Intermediate Mastery) ¡ª The User''s understanding deepens, allowing more refined and powerful applications.


    Manifestation (Advanced Mastery) ¡ª The User internalizes their aspect, allowing them to embody it on a fundamental level.


    Transcendence (Near-Absolute Mastery) ¡ª The User''s authority expands beyond natural laws, allowing them to apply their aspect to unconventional things.


    Enlightenment (Ultimate Mastery) ¡ª The User achieves a complete, fundamental understanding of their aspect, making them a living embodiment of it.


    **How an Eshe User/Revenant Progresses


    Harsh Experience: Users grow by enduring extreme experiences related to their aspect. A fire User might have to burn endlessly. A time User might be trapped in torturous time loops.


    Philosophical Growth: The deeper their understanding, the stronger their control. Understanding "what it means to destroy" could make a destruction User transcend mere physical obliteration.


    Mastery over Laws: At higher levels, Users don''t just control aspects¡ªthey rewrite their fundamental rules in existence.


    **Categories of Authority (Types of Aspects and Concepts)


    Each Eshe User''s power fits into a Category of Authority, determining the fundamental nature of their abilities.


    Physical Aspects (Control Over Material Forces)


    These aspects govern tangible, natural elements and forces of existence.


    Elements: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Lightning, Ice, MetalForces: Gravity, Inertia, Motion, VibrationSubstances: Poison, Corrosion, Radiation


    Abstract Aspects (Control Over Intangible Concepts)


    These aspects allow manipulation of non-physical ideas and principles.


    Time ¨C Accelerate, slow, or rewind time.


    Space ¨C Fold distance, create voids, and manipulate spatial laws.


    Fear ¨C Manifest fears as reality, cause overwhelming dread.


    Sacrifice ¨C Exchange things of equal or greater value for power.


    Existential Aspects (Control Over Life, Death, and Being)


    These aspects govern what it means to exist or cease to exist.


    Life ¨C Enhance, restore, or manipulate life force.


    Death ¨C Decay, erasure, and entropy.


    Oblivion ¨C True destruction that leaves no trace.


    Rebirth ¨C Regeneration, reincarnation, revival.


    Metaphysical Aspects (Control Over Reality''s Structure)


    These aspects allow Users to redefine fundamental truths.


    Judgment ¨C Determine consequences and enforce laws of cause and effect.


    Potential ¨C Manifest possibilities into reality.


    Paradox ¨C Break and rewrite the logic of existence.Influence ¨C Control thoughts, emotions, and destiny.