"Damn it!"

The demon prince Fabudi stared at the shimmering barrier before him, frustration burning across his face. The plane's crystal wall gleamed with stubborn resistance, even under the relentless corrosion of the abyssal power he had unleashed.

Although the breath of the Endless Abyss had already begun eating through the surface, the barrier held fast.

As one of the chosen demon princes, Fabudi knew the weight of his master's command.

Replaced, of course, meant devoured, stripped of bloodline, title, and authority. All of it consumed by another demon.

"No… that won't be me," Fabudi muttered, veins darkening across his face. "I earned this. It's mine. I deserve it!"

Driven by fury, he spun around, grabbed a nearby lesser demon, and tore it apart in one savage motion. Bone splintered between his claws. He chewed absently as he glared back at the crystal wall, his thoughts boiling.

"There has to be a way. Something faster… something the others haven't thought of."

He picked at his jagged teeth with a rib bone, a mocking smirk twisting his mouth.

"Everyone is equal in strength.. If I can breach the crystal wall first,then i can get an early advantage. But how?"

His rage rose again, spilling into sadism. He unleashed it on the weaker demons around him, his screams blending with theirs as he tore through flesh and bone. In his mind, pain was the language of creation, and cruelty the key to inspiration.

When it was over, he sat atop a mound of corpses, chest heaving, eyes gleaming with a faint clarity.

"Wait…" he muttered. "What if I don't need to tear through it entirely?"

He turned toward the other demon princes in the distance, each working furiously to corrode their own part of the crystal wall. He knew they were watching him too. Demons didn't cooperate, but they always observed, each waiting for the other to fail.

"They're all doing the same thing, corroding the wall, waiting for it to weaken. But what if… I send something through before it fully breaks?"

A sly grin crawled across Fabudi's face. "Just like that mortal researcher before… what was his name? Hayes? Yes. I corrupted him through a fracture in his soul. Why not do the same here?"

He raised a claw, channelling the power of the abyss, twisting its corrosive essence into a finer, more focused form. The air screamed as reality itself bent.

A thin crack appeared in the crystal wall, so small it was nearly invisible, yet enough.

"Perfect."

A whisper of black mist seeped through the gap and vanished into the unknown world beyond.

⸻———x——————

In the mortal realm-

"Patriarch! I've caught a Snow Rabbit during the hunt!"

A ragged boy stumbled into the chieftain's hut, clutching a rabbit-like creature almost as big as his leg. His clothes were torn, his arm hung limp and useless, and blood dripped freely from claw marks across his face.

The boy's name was Trulgren.

He knelt before the old man, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Trulgren again, hah!" a mocking voice rang from outside. "Another Snow Rock Rabbit?"

"He can't even catch one without getting himself half-killed!"

The laughter of the other youths cut through the air. They each carried far more impressive prey, scaled beasts, horned boars, and winged serpents, while Trulgren held his meager rabbit.

"And his sister didn't even catch anything," one of them jeered. "The two orphans are useless!"

The crowd laughed again, but Trulgren said nothing. His jaw tightened, his gaze lowered. He knew if he talked back, they'd make him pay for it. Beside him, his little sister clutched his torn sleeve, eyes glistening with quiet tears.

Then, from inside the hut, a deep voice broke the noise.

"Enough."

An old man with silver-white hair and sharp eyes stepped out. The patriarch of the mountain village. His presence silenced them instantly.

"Trulgren," the elder said softly, studying the boy's wounds. "You've done what you could."

He sighed, weary but not unkind. "The Mother of the World watches all. Let us hope she blesses your offering."

In this world, strength came from sacrifice. Hunters offered part of their prey to the Mother of the World, receiving her favor in return, from strength, to vitality and skill. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the blessing.

But those who could only offer the weak… received little in return, and would in turn fall even further behind than those stronger.

Trulgren and his sister knew this better than anyone.

"Prepare yourself," the patriarch murmured. "I'll begin the ritual."

He drew a circular mark beneath the rabbit, ancient patterns glowing faintly as the air thickened with sacred energy.

Trulgren knelt, his body trembling as he entered a trance-like state, his spirit reaching toward the unseen embrace of the Mother of the World.

And then, something felt wrong.

The space around him darkened, not with the usual divine warmth, but with an oily shadow that pulsed from beneath the sacrificial circle.

"Why… is it black?" Trulgren whispered.

The darkness crept higher, swallowing the light.

The ceremony begun—

but what answered his call was not the Mother of the World.

Their world lived operated under strange and sacred laws.

Here, every soul could receive the favor of the Mother of the World, a divine will that rewarded sacrifice. To become stronger, one only needed to offer up part of their "prey."

Those prey could be beasts hunted in the wild or enemies slain on the battlefield. The gifts varied, strength, vitality, longevity, and even rare abilities whispered to be born from the Mother's mercy.

But unlike the hollow faiths of other worlds, this "Mother" truly existed.

A living consciousness, a Gaia, pulsing deep beneath the earth, awake and aware, responding to every drop of blood spilled in her name.

Such a world was both a blessing and a warning. For any world that possessed a Gaia-consciousness was fiercely alive, capable of defending itself against invasion in ways that defied convention.

Yet now, in a small, primitive mountain village, a seemingly insignificant sacrifice, one too minor for the Mother herself to notice, was being intercepted.

And just like the fall of an immortal kingdom that begins in a forgotten corner, this corruption, quiet and unseen, would soon bloom into a calamity that would sweep the entire world.

⸻———x——————

"Where… is this?"

Trulgren opened his eyes and found himself suspended in a colorless void.

There was no warmth, no light, none of the divine embrace he had felt during previous sacrifices. The comforting hum of the Mother's will was gone.

"This isn't right…" he whispered.

Then, from somewhere in the darkness, a voice spoke—

"Do you have… a wish?"

The words crawled into his ears like worms burrowing into his mind. The moment he heard them, Trulgren felt himself falling into a bottomless pit.

Fear froze him where he stood.

"This… this isn't Gaia…" he murmured, trying to pull himself out of the trance. But the voice spoke again, slow and persuasive.

"What do you desire, little one?"

"Power? Magic? Knowledge? Strength enough to never be mocked again?"

Before his eyes, black-and-red whirlpools began to bloom like poisonous flowers.

Each one pulsed faintly, whispering promises he had never dared to hope for.

Trulgren's breath hitched.

During normal sacrifices, the Snow Rock Rabbit would yield nothing more than a meager blessing, barely enough to heal a bruise. The Mother's gifts were never chosen; they were bestowed at random, and weak prey meant weak blessings.

But this time, he was being given a choice.

A single vortex, swirling with black and crimson light, drifted closer.

He its promise.

With it, he could become strong…really strong.

"What's wrong, child?" the voice asked again, softer now, almost tender. "Can't decide? Or are you not satisfied with these rewards?"

Suddenly, the darkness flared. Countless red-black vortices bloomed around him, their glow washing over his face like the reflection of hellfire.

"No…" he whispered. "Are you really the Mother of the World? Why do you look… black?"

"Does it matter, my child?"

The air shifted. Behind him, a figure emerged, tall, twisted, and magnificent.

The demon prince Fabudi. His eyes gleamed with hunger as he gazed upon Trulgren, drinking in the scent of divine law and living Gaia that clung to his soul.

"I am the Mother of the World," he said, smiling. "Just… not the one you know. But that's unimportant. What matters is what you desire."

His voice coiled like smoke. "Don't you want strength?"

Trulgren's heart pounded. He hesitated only for a moment before whispering, "I want it."

Because only those who have lived powerless truly understand the meaning of strength.

And Trulgren, unable to even protect his sister, was one of them.

He reached out and seized the crimson vortex.

Agony tore through him. His soul convulsed as if ripped apart, every nerve in his body screaming in unbearable pain. He collapsed, barely conscious, his voice echoing through the void.

And then, amidst the pain, he heard the voice again, gentle, and terrible.

"Offer more sacrifices to me… and I will make you stronger."

"Your old ways of sacrifice need only a small… adjustment."

A fragment of his soul was torn away, replaced by a seed of darkness, power drawn from the Endless Abyss. It nestled deep within him.

⸻———x——————

"Brother! Brother, wake up!"

Trulgren's eyes snapped open. He was back in his hut, his sister knelt beside him, pale with fear. The old patriarch had brought him home after the ritual, assuming he'd fainted from exhaustion. Such things weren't uncommon, the weak often collapsed during communion with the Mother.

But none had ever screamed like Trulgren had.

He sat up slowly, head pounding, flashes of that black ceremony burning behind his eyelids. Strange symbols pulsed in his mind, sigils not of the Mother, but of something else entirely.

Yet all he could think about… was the promise.

"Little sister," he said, voice trembling with excitement. "I saw her. Gaia came to me. She blessed me herself! She gave me strength!"

His sister blinked, tears rising in her eyes, however, not from joy,. "Brother… you must be mistaken. Gaia doesn't appear to people like us. Not ever."

But Trulgren only smiled. He stood, trembling, and reached for the heavy rice jar in the corner. Then, in one effortless motion, he lifted it, and his sister, with a strength no one in the village could have believed.

The jar shattered against the floor. His sister gasped, eyes wide.

"See?" he laughed. "It's real! The Mother blessed me! From tomorrow onward, I'll hunt stronger prey, I'll make sure you eat meat every day. Real meat! And I'll buy you sweets, and"

"Brother…" she whispered, staring into his eyes.

For a brief second, she saw something flicker there, a scarlet gleam.

She forced a smile, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Because how could she be afraid, when her brother had finally gained the strength he always wished for?

Behind them, far beyond the mortal veil, Fabudi watched through the boy's shadow, licking the fragment of Trulgren's soul that now belonged to him.

"Yes," the demon prince hissed . "It is something worth being happy about…"

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