The portal spat them out onto the rocky shoreline like cherry pits.

Edward hit the wet stones hard, rolling to a stop. The air here was different. It didn't taste like salt and crushing pressure anymore. It tasted like rain and ozone. It tasted like the surface.

He lay there for a moment, face pressed against the cold gravel. His body felt heavy. Not the kind of heavy you feel after a long workout, but the kind of heavy that belongs to mountains. He felt dense.

"We made it!" someone shouted. It sounded like Kira.

"Check the perimeter!" Selene's voice was sharp, cutting through the sound of the crashing waves. "Defensive formation! We don't know where we landed!"

Edward pushed himself up. His hands sank into the stone. He didn't mean to, but the rock crumbled into dust under his fingers like dry cake. He stared at his hands. The dark blue scales on his knuckles shimmered in the grey morning light. The shadow-armor that covered his chest and shoulders seemed to breathe, shifting slowly like oil on water.

He stood up.

The chatter around him died instantly.

The surviving members of The Unchained, who had been checking their weapons and helping the wounded, froze. They looked at him. They didn't look at him like he was their leader. They looked at him like he was a boss monster that had just spawned in their camp.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Edward?" Sarah stepped forward. She was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face. She looked small. Fragile.

Edward took a step toward her. The ground cracked under his boot. A wave of cold—palpable, freezing cold—rolled off him. Sarah flinched. She didn't mean to, but her body reacted instinctively to the apex predator standing in front of her.

Edward stopped. He saw the fear in her eyes. It was a tiny thing, hidden behind her concern, but he saw it. His new eyes saw everything.

"I'm fine," Edward said.

His voice was a disaster. It was deep, scraping against the air like a cello played with a jagged rock. It vibrated in everyone's chests. A few of the younger guild members took a step back.

"We need to move," Edward said, looking away from Sarah. He couldn't bear to see her flinch again. "Get to the Asylum. We're leaving."

The return to the fortress was a grim parade.

Usually, after a raid, there was noise. People bragged about their kills. They compared loot. They complained about the food.

Today, there was only the sound of marching boots and the rumble of the fortress's engines starting up.

Asylum, the massive mobile golem-fortress, knelt on the cliffs above them. It was a sanctuary. It was home. But as Edward walked through the main gates, he felt like an intruder.

He walked down the main corridor. Guild members pressed themselves against the walls to let him pass. They averted their eyes. He could hear their heartbeats. He could smell their sweat. It smelled like terror.

They are afraid of you, a dark corner of his mind whispered. It wasn't the Whispering Blade. It wasn't the Abyss. It was just a cold, hard fact.

He reached the central command room. His lieutenants were there—Fenris, Selene, Kira. They were huddled around the map table, looking exhausted.

When Edward entered, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

Fenris was the only one who didn't look away. The wolf-girl watched him with intense yellow eyes. She didn't smell fear on him anymore. She smelled power. Too much power. She looked like a dog that didn't know if its master was going to pet it or kick it.

"Status," Edward grunted. He kept his distance from the table. He was afraid if he touched it, he might accidentally snap it in half.

"We... we are the only ones who made it out with anything," Selene said, her voice steady but tight. "The other factions... most were crushed when the city collapsed. The Inquisition took heavy losses. The Iron Vultures are scattered."

She paused, looking at Edward's armored chest.

"We won, Edward," she said softly. "We secured the objective. We survived. We are the strongest faction on the board right now."

"We won," Edward repeated. The words tasted like ash.

He looked at his hands again. The power coursing through him was violent. It wasn't a steady stream; it was a raging river trying to burst a dam. Every muscle in his body was tense, fighting to keep the abyssal energy contained. If he let go, if he relaxed for even a second, he felt like he might explode and take the whole fortress with him.

"Set a course for the Badlands," Edward ordered. "We need to disappear for a while. Let the world think we drowned."

"Edward," Sarah said, stepping into the room. She had dried off, but she still looked pale. "You need to rest. You... you need to see a healer. Your skin..."

"No healers," Edward snapped. The double-voice boomed, causing the map on the table to rattle.

Sarah froze.

Edward closed his eyes. He took a breath, trying to dial back the intensity. "No healers can fix this, Sarah. This isn't a wound. It's... an evolution."

"You're hurting," she insisted, stepping closer. She reached out to touch his arm.

Edward pulled away sharply. "Don't touch me!"

The shout echoed through the fortress.

Sarah recoiled as if he had slapped her.

Edward looked at her face—the hurt, the confusion—and he felt something break inside him. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to hug her and tell her it was okay. But he looked at his arm. The shadows were swirling violently around his limb, reacting to his emotional distress. If she touched him right now, the necrotic energy might rot her hand off.

"I'm dangerous," Edward whispered, the sound like grinding gravel. "I can't control it yet. Just... stay away. Please."

He turned and walked out of the room. He didn't look back. He couldn't.

Edward's quarters were deep in the belly of the fortress. It was a simple room—a bed, a desk, a chair.

He locked the heavy iron door. Then, for good measure, he welded the lock shut with a touch of his finger, the metal melting like wax under his abyssal heat.

He was alone. Finally.

He leaned against the wall and slid down until he hit the floor. He put his head in his hands.

The silence of the room was deafening. For months, he had lived with voices in his head. The souls he ate always chattered. They screamed, they bargained, they cried.

Now, there was nothing. The Heart of the Abyss had eaten them all. It was just him and the void.

He looked at the mirror on the wall. The reflection stared back.

He didn't recognize himself.

The boy who had been kicked out of the academy was gone. The scrappy survivor who bought a bone dagger was gone.

The thing in the mirror was a monster. The scales on his neck pulsed with a faint blue light. His eyes were voids. The shadow armor seemed fused to his skin, shifting and turning as if it were alive.

He tried to dismiss the armor. He focused his will, trying to un-equip it like he used to.

Nothing happened.

He grabbed the chest plate and pulled. He felt pain—real, physical pain. It was his skin now. He was the armor.

"God," Edward whispered.

He picked up a metal cup from his desk to get a drink of water. He tried to be gentle. He barely applied any pressure.

CRUNCH.

The steel cup flattened in his grip like a piece of paper. Water splashed over his hand, sizzling as it hit the dark energy radiating from his palm.

He stared at the crushed metal.

This was his life now. He had the power to kill gods, but he couldn't hold a cup of water. He had saved his friends, but he couldn't touch them. He had won the war, but he had lost himself.

A knock came at the door.

"Alpha?" It was Fenris. Her voice was muffled by the thick iron.

Edward didn't answer.

"Alpha," she said again. "I brought food. Meat. Good meat."

"Go away, Fenris," Edward said.

"Pack eats together," she said stubbornly.

"Not tonight," Edward said. "Leave it."

He heard her hesitate. He could hear her sniffing at the door, trying to smell his mood.

"You smell... sad," Fenris said. "Like rain."

Edward closed his eyes. "I said go away."

There was a long silence. Then, he heard the sound of a plate being set down on the floor outside, and heavy footsteps walking away.

Edward stayed on the floor. He felt an immense, crushing loneliness. He had reached the summit. He was SS-Rank. He was an Abyss Knight. He was the most powerful individual on the continent.

And he had never been more miserable.

Hours passed. Or maybe days. It was hard to tell in the dark room.

Edward sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He was meditating, trying to build a mental cage for the energy raging inside him. It was like trying to hold back a tsunami with a picket fence.

Every time his focus slipped, the shadows in the room would lash out, slicing scratches into the stone walls.

Suddenly, a sound cut through the silence.

Ding.

It wasn't a sound from the room. It was the sound of the System.

Edward looked up. A blue holographic window appeared in front of his face. But as he watched, the blue flickered. It turned grey. Then black. Then, finally, a deep, blood red.

The text wasn't the usual font. It looked jagged, angry.

[SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED]

[Source: Oblivion Core Primary Matrix]

Edward narrowed his eyes. The Core never spoke directly. It usually sent quests through the automated system. This was different. This was personal.

[Entity: Edward Ross]

[Designation: Abyss Knight / Anomaly / Primary Asset]

[Message: You have consumed the Heart. You have proven your capacity. You are no longer a bug to be crushed. You are a tool to be used.]

Edward stood up. "I'm not your tool," he growled at the floating text.

The text scrolled, ignoring him.

[The Core requires stability. The Core requires Order. Chaos must be pruned.]

[You have the power of the Abyss. Now you will do the work of the Abyss.]

[MAIN QUEST UPDATED]

[Old Objective: Survive.]

[New Objective: Enforcement.]

A map appeared on his HUD. It showed the Kingdom of Sunstone. It zoomed in on the capital. It zoomed in further, onto the Royal Palace.

Edward's stomach dropped. He knew what was coming before the text even appeared.

[First Mandate: The Princess of Sunstone, Seraphina, has been designated a System Anomaly. Her resistance disrupts the flow of fate.]

[Directive: Eradicate Seraphina.]

[Reward: Removal of Soul Corruption. Restoration of Human Form.]

[Failure Penalty: Total Existential Erasure.]

Edward stared at the mandate.

The system was offering him everything he wanted. It was offering him a cure. It was offering him his life back. He could look in the mirror and see Edward Ross again. He could hold a cup without crushing it. He could touch Sarah without hurting her.

All he had to do was kill Seraphina.

He thought of the princess. He thought of her standing back-to-back with him in the cultist catacombs. He thought of her defying the Inquisition to save his people. He thought of the trust she had placed in him when the rest of the world called him a monster.

She was his ally. She was a good person.

The system knew exactly what it was doing. It wasn't just asking him to kill someone. It was trying to break him. It was trying to turn him into a true monster—one that betrayed its friends for personal gain.

"Restoration of human form," Edward read aloud. He looked at his clawed, scaled hands. He looked at the shadow armor that bound him.

It was a tempting lie.

Edward swiped his hand through the air, shattering the holographic window. The red pixels scattered like sparks.

"No," Edward said into the empty room.

The air in the room grew heavy. The shadows stopped moving.

A new notification appeared. It didn't ding. It screamed.

[Rejection Acknowledged.]

[You have chosen treason.]

[Initiating Punishment Protocol: CORRUPTION CASCADE.]

The red light of the notification filled the room, bathing Edward in the color of blood. He walked to the window of his quarters and looked out.

Above the fortress, the sky wasn't blue anymore. It was tearing open. A massive, jagged rift was forming in the clouds, swirling with red lightning.

Edward watched as the first monsters began to fall from the sky. They weren't goblins or wolves. They were twisted, red-eyed horrors made of pure system malice.

Edward drew the Sovereign blades, Regret and Resolve. He didn't feel fear. He didn't feel sadness.

He felt the familiar, cold comfort of a target rich environment.

"Fine," Edward said, his abyssal voice rumbling. "If you want a war, come and get it."

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