The scent of blood still clung to the air.
Raine stood over the massive corpse of the beast, his breath heavy, his muscles tight. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from something else. Something deeper. Something hungry.
His mark still burned, pulsing against his chest like a second heartbeat. The sensation was addicting. That brief moment when he had plunged the bone into the monster's skull—he had felt something flow into him. Strength, energy, power.
He had never felt so alive.
But the moment was short-lived.
The iron gates at the far end of the coliseum creaked open, revealing a group of armed guards. Their dark armor gleamed under the dim torchlight, their expressions unreadable behind helmets carved with grotesque faces.
One of them stepped forward, clad in armor heavier than the rest. He looked down at the handful of survivors—less than a dozen left from the original group. The others lay in pieces, their blood seeping into the sand.
Raine clenched his jaw. Only half survived.
The guard's gaze landed on him.
"You," he said. His voice was rough, filled with disinterest. "You killed the beast."
Raine didn't respond immediately. Something about the way the guard spoke made his instincts scream.
Is this a test?
But what choice did he have?
"Yes."
A pause. Then the man grinned.
"Good. That means you're useful."
The other survivors weren't acknowledged. They weren't given time to recover. The guards herded them forward, deeper into the fortress. Raine took a final glance at the arena before stepping past the threshold.
The coliseum was behind him. But the real trial was just beginning.
---
The March into Darkness
The path was narrow, carved from black stone, the walls lined with flickering torches that barely held back the shadows. The deeper they went, the colder it became.
Raine stayed alert, his mind racing. Where are they taking us? Another trial? Execution?
He glanced at the others. Some were barely able to stand, their bodies trembling from exhaustion or shock. Others had the same look in their eyes that he did—calculating, thinking, searching for a way to stay alive.
One of them, a thin man with sharp eyes, leaned toward Raine as they walked.
"You're not like the others."
Raine tensed but didn't answer.
The man chuckled under his breath. "That thing you did back there... the mark, it reacted, didn't it?"
Raine stopped walking.
The guards noticed the hesitation. A hard shove to his back forced him forward again.
But now, his mind was racing.
How does he know about the mark?
The man smirked. "Careful, killer. You're not the only one with secrets."
Raine narrowed his eyes. Who the hell is this guy?
But before he could press further, the path opened up into a vast underground chamber.
His breath hitched.
Rows upon rows of prisoners were lined up in the cavernous hall, their bodies bound in heavy chains, their faces hollow. Some were whispering to themselves. Others sat completely still, their eyes lifeless.
And above them—watching—stood figures in dark robes, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods.
Raine's stomach twisted.
This isn't just a prison.
This is a slaughterhouse.
---
The hooded figures stepped forward, their presence silencing the entire chamber. The one in the center raised a gnarled hand, and the torches dimmed as if the darkness itself had grown stronger.
"You are no longer men and women. You are no longer free."
His voice was like a whisper that carried through the entire hall.
"You have been Chosen by the Abyss."
A chill ran down Raine's spine. Chosen? By what?
The hooded man gestured, and several prisoners were dragged forward.
They thrashed. They screamed.
It didn't matter.
Raine watched as something moved in the shadows.
The darkness itself twisted, writhing like a living creature. And then, from its depths, a black tendril lashed out, piercing through the first prisoner's chest.
The man convulsed. His screams turned to gurgled gasps as the tendril burrowed into his skin, carving a mark—the same mark Raine had.
Then, just as quickly, it released him.
He dropped to the ground, unmoving. His body twitched.
Then, his eyes snapped open.
But they were no longer human.
The hooded figure turned toward the rest of the prisoners.
"This is your fate."
Raine's breath turned shallow.
What the hell is this place?
---
More prisoners were pulled forward. Some survived the branding, their bodies marked, their expressions vacant. Others… weren't so lucky.
Some screamed until their throats bled. Some burst into flames, their bodies unable to withstand the process.
And then—
It was Raine's turn.
The guards grabbed him, shoving him toward the center. The hooded figures loomed closer. The torches flickered as the darkness itself stirred, reaching for him.
A voice echoed in his mind.
"You are not meant to be here."
His vision blurred. The mark on his chest burned hotter than ever.
Then—
Pain.
A deep, soul-tearing pain that spread through every inch of his body. The tendrils burrowed into his flesh, carving deeper, twisting, writhing. It was like something inside him was being ripped apart and rebuilt at the same time.
His breath hitched.
Then—
The pain stopped.
Raine gasped, collapsing to his knees. His body was drenched in sweat, but… he was alive. His mark was still there, but something felt different.
The hunger was stronger.
The hooded figure studying him tilted his head.
"Interesting."
Then, he turned away.
Raine had survived.
But something inside him had changed.
---
The ceremony ended. The survivors were pulled back into line.
Raine's mind was still spinning. What did they do to me?
The sharp-eyed man from earlier nudged him again.
"Looks like you're still breathing."
Raine exhaled slowly. "For now."
The man chuckled. "You don't even know what you've become, do you?"
Raine's gaze darkened. "Then tell me."
The man smirked.
"Welcome to the Abyss, Shadowbearer."