The Demon King was dead.

  His body had turned to nothing but dust, and yet—

  Something was wrong.

  The purple sigil had flared in its final moments, a dying ember refusing to be snuffed out.

  Now, it was silent.

  Too silent.

  The air thickened, suffocating and unnatural, pressing against their lungs like an unseen force.

  A presence lingered—unseen, unheard—but felt in the marrow of their bones.

  It was as if the battlefield itself was holding its breath, waiting for something unspeakable to arrive.

  Then—

  A flicker.

  A strange blue screen shimmered into existence, its glow casting eerie light upon the blood-soaked earth.

  It pulsed, unstable, filled with cryptic symbols that flickered too quickly to decipher.

  [Warning! Warning!]

  Everyone froze.

  They barely had time to react, to question, before the sky itself began to tremble.

  A deep, guttural rumbling shook the heavens, like the growl of something immense, something otherworldly.

  The air vibrated, heavy with an unnatural resonance that gnawed at their sanity.

  The light above dimmed, the sun itself seeming to recoil in fear.

  Then, the portal tore open.

  A gaping, violet rift split the heavens apart, jagged and raw, wide enough to swallow a mountain whole.

  From its depths, a hand emerged.

  No—

  An arm.

  Massive. Colossal.

  A being of shifting flesh and shadow, so vast it stretched from the heavens down to the battlefield, its very presence warping the world around it.

  The sky twisted in its wake, as if reality itself was fraying at the edges.

  Darkness fell.

  Not the absence of light, but something deeper, more oppressive.

  The sun still burned in the sky, yet its warmth was gone, swallowed by an unseen force.

  A cold, primal terror swept through the battlefield, sinking its claws into the hearts of every living thing.

  Fear spread like wildfire.

  Some warriors staggered back, choking on their own breath, their minds unable to process what they were witnessing.

  Others collapsed to their knees, weapons slipping from numb fingers.

  The very air reeked of dread.

  Then, the arm fell.

  The impact shattered the earth, sending a shockwave through the battlefield.

  The ground split open, deep fissures devouring everything in their path.

  The thunderous crash was deafening, a sound that could break souls as easily as it broke stone.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Screams erupted.

  A group of warriors, healers, survivors—

  All crushed. Instantly.

  Flesh, bone, and metal reduced to nothing but splintered remains.

  Those near the impact were hurled through the air like ragdolls, their bodies slamming into the ground with sickening cracks.

  Some lay still, broken beyond recognition.

  Others twitched, their final moments slipping away as blood pooled beneath them.

  The warriors fought back, desperation driving them beyond the brink of hopelessness.

  Giren let out a battle cry, his axe arcing toward the massive limb—

  It shattered on impact. Splintered metal and wood scattered like dust.

  Asael gritted his teeth, forcing his exhausted body to move, to fight—

  But his limbs refused. His power was gone.

  Hemel and Sirius unleashed their most devastating spells, incantations burning with divine energy—

  But the magic was devoured, consumed by an unseen force before it could even reach its target.

  Lily’s arrows flew, precise and swift—

  They bounced off harmlessly, as if striking the surface of an endless abyss.

  It was unstoppable.

  Then, the hand moved.

  It gathered the dead.

  A grotesque, merciless scooping motion, collecting mangled bodies as one would gather fallen leaves.

  Corpses dangled from its fingers, lifeless and limp, some still twitching in death’s final mockery. It raised them high—

  And fed them to the blackened husk that remained.

  The bodies were squeezed, crushed, their very essence drawn into the abyssal sludge.

  Flesh melted away, bones dissolved, their final remains absorbed into the writhing void.

  The portal above slowly sealed, but the arm remained.

  It twitched.

  Then—

  Cracks formed along its surface.

  A sound filled the air, low and sinister. Not a growl. Not a snarl.

  Something worse.

  A chuckle.

  The massive hand split open, flesh peeling away like a broken shell.

  From within, something stepped forward.

  Something small. Something human.

  A young man.

  Black hair, black eyes. Ordinary features, unassuming.

  But his presence was wrong.

  Not monstrous. Not grotesque.

  Just wrong.

  The way he stood. The way he breathed.

  The way the air warped ever so slightly around him, as though reality itself rejected him but could do nothing to push him away.

  The blue screen flickered again.

  [Presence of Abyss detected.]

  Asael, despite the crushing weight of exhaustion, forced himself to his feet.

  His legs trembled, his breath was ragged, but he had to ask.

  “Who… are you?”

  The figure smiled.

  A bright, innocent, almost childlike smile.

  And then, in a voice too casual, too playful, too human—

  “Hello! I’m Abyss. Nice to meet you all!”

  The words should have been meaningless.

  But instead—

  A horrific realization dawned.

  The remaining survivors stiffened, their faces twisting into expressions of pure, unfiltered terror.

  Their eyes widened, breath hitching, bodies shaking violently.

  Then—

  The screaming began.

  Not in terror.

  Not in pain.

  But in madness.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Where are you?!”

  Their voices cracked, trembling, broken. Some clawed at their own eyes, as if trying to rip away the vision before them.

  Others collapsed, sobbing hysterically, shaking like children lost in the dark.

  One bit off their own tongue. A sickening gurgle filled the air as they drowned in their own blood.

  Another stabbed their own throat, hands trembling, eyes wide with an agony beyond pain as the blade slid in.

  Another slammed their head against jagged rocks. Once. Twice. Again and again—

  Until their skull caved in.

  One after another, the madness consumed them. In mere seconds, the battlefield, once filled with warriors, was now littered with the dead.

  Slaughtered not by battle—

  But by their own hands.

  And through it all, the young man—the Abyss—simply smiled.

  “What’s happening?!”

  Giren’s voice cut through the suffocating silence, but there was no answer—only the echo of the dead.

  Their broken bodies littered the battlefield, twitching, leaking crimson, their faces still frozen in that final moment of madness.

  Hemel clenched his staff, his aged fingers trembling, but not from weakness. Fear. Uncertainty.

  “It’s some sort of mental magic…” Hemel muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “But… there’s no mana flow. Nothing at all.”

  It didn’t make sense. Magic left traces, distortions in the air, a ripple in the natural order.

  This was something else.

  Something worse.

  Something fundamental.

  “Wrong, old mage.”

  The voice was lighthearted. Almost playful.

  And yet—

  It froze them to the bone.

  Abyss hadn’t moved.

  Or at least, they hadn’t seen him move.

  But now—

  He was in front of Hemel.

  So close, Hemel could see the reflection of his own wide, terrified eyes in Abyss’s pitch-black gaze.

  Those eyes were empty. Like a void.

  Not emotionless. Not cruel.

  Simply indifferent.

  And then the pain began.

  A crawling, suffocating weight pressed against their minds.

  As if a thousand voices had been poured into their skulls, whispering, screaming, weeping.

  They weren’t words.

  Not in any language they understood.

  But their meaning was clear.

  Memories. Nightmares. Regrets.

  They rose from the depths, overwhelming them.

  A suffocating flood of guilt, of suffering, of things they wished had stayed buried.

  Some endured—clenching their teeth, staggering back.

  But the weaker ones—

  They simply collapsed.

  Their breaths hitched, their bodies convulsed.

  Some clutched their own throats, choking on nothing but their own horror.

  Others clawed at their faces, trying to tear away the images burned into their minds.

  A woman screamed her son’s name before she twisted her own neck with a sickening crack.

  A man dropped to his knees, sobbing hysterically, before bashing his head against a rock until his skull split open.

  Blood poured freely, seeping into the dirt, adding to the ever-growing sea of the dead.

  [WARNING! WARNING!]

  The blue screen flickered again.

  But it was already too late.

  Hemel gritted his teeth, forcing the words out.

  “Authority…?”

  Abyss smiled.

  A simple, innocent expression—like a child showing off a new toy.

  “Yes. Like this one.”

  His fingers twitched.

  And then the world turned black.

  From the ground, it came.

  A forest of spikes.

  Massive, jagged black spears erupted from the earth without warning, without mercy.

  Flesh tore. Bones shattered.

  Screams filled the battlefield.

  Giren’s body jerked violently as a spike pierced straight through his chest, lifting him off the ground.

  He coughed blood, struggling, reaching—

  But there was nothing to hold on to.

  Nothing but the empty air.

  Hemel’s ribs were crushed, his old body impaled through the stomach, his staff slipping from his fingers as his strength vanished.

  Lily’s legs twitched, her mouth opening in a silent scream, her bow falling from her grip as a blackened spear drove through her abdomen.

  More and more were skewered—a grotesque display of impaled bodies, their blood dripping, pooling, mixing with the already ruined ground.

  And at the center of it all—

  Abyss laughed.

  It was light. Happy.

  “Isn’t it awesome?”

  The way he spoke, as if he were a child marveling at his own work—

  It made the horror worse.

  Asael’s hands shook.

  His mind filled with nightmare and regrets.

  Anne’s breath was ragged.

  Her condition was also similar.

  They couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t breathe.

  And then—

  Abyss turned to them.

  His black eyes locked onto theirs.

  And then—

  [INITIALIZING DISINTEGRATION SEQUENCE.]

  Abyss smiled.

  “Goodbye.”

  Darkness erupted.

  It spread like wildfire, engulfing everything in its path.

  Buildings crumbled into dust.

  Bodies withered away, reduced to ash before they could even scream.

  The land itself vanished—swallowed by the abyss, erased from existence.

  Everything died.

  And Abyss?

  He simply watched.

  Smiling as he himself slowly turned to black particles.