Cillian sat at the core of the Endless Abyss, silent, watching through the will of the domain itself. Above him, far removed from the chaos, the two faculty members observed from their own divine domains, Warren and Elara both watched in silence, focused on the same scene but with very different moods.
The Thirteenth Legion, led by Commander Magnus, had reached the fifth layer of the Abyss. Under his command, they tore through the early floors like it was routine. Unlike the orcs or the dragon-blooded who had fumbled through it before, the angel-blessed soldiers held their formation the whole way down and even in the cursed environment of the fourth floor and its frost-bound horrors had not caused the split of the formation.
Warren clenched his jaw as he watched the legion press forward. "That army… they're protected by real divine blessings. Their magic works is at its strongest as a group,be careful Cillian. If they cast together, they'll tear through everything."
He paused, staring at the dark spiral below, unease growing in his chest. "That kind of power was designed to cleanse entire dark worlds."
Elara didn't share his anxiety. She leaned back, almost amused, her eyes glowing faintly as she stared into the abyss. "Still no response from him? Interesting." She tilted her head. "Is he unable to fight them, or is he just planning something else?"
She waved her hand, and a string of miniature stars appeared behind her. Each one a condensed projection of real stars from her domain. They weren't for show, they were her calculator, a divine tool to simulate what was happening inside Cillian's domain.
Her voice dropped to a murmur. "if faith magic is truly affecting his world, the dimensions should shift."
After a few seconds, her eyes narrowed. "It's happening. Magnus's forces pushed into the fifth floor… and the Abyss lost 1.2% of its volume."
She snapped her fingers, and more calculations formed in light. "Even the overall dimensional level went up. The whole domain is shifting closer to mid-latitude alignment."
Elara blinked. "So… order and faith magic can slowly undo the distortion of a low-latitude world?"
She shook her head. "No. That's too simple."
She stood from her seat, annoyed. "This place isn't stable, I can't make any assumptions, at least not yet."
Then she glanced down toward the black spiral again. "You still haven't made a move, Cillian. What are you doing?"
"Are you planning to let that blessed army walk through your layers untouched?"
Down in the depths, Cillian finally opened his eyes and a red-black swirl passed through his gaze, mirroring the vortex above. He wasn't meditating, he was watching everything above.
"There's still no breakthrough," he muttered. "Not a single abyss creature has pushed past the tenth stage."
He exhaled slowly, frustration in his voice. "Even the original Devils haven't evolved to the eleventh, not even a single one."
"Is it because it's not dangerous enough?" His eyes narrowed. "Or are they capped out in some way?"
Cillian stared at the void beneath him. He knew the Abyss was chaotic, but it still annoyed him that even after all this time, the system resisted full control.
He let out a small laugh. "I keep forgetting. This world isn't like the others. The life forms, the rules… even the way it evolves. To tame this place won't be a simple job."
He stood, brushing the dust from his cloak. "I wanted the pressure from Magnus's army to push the Devils further and force them to evolve but nothings changed."
He paused, glancing at the projection of the battlefield again.
Not once had he truly been worried about the Legion. As far as he was concerned, they were another experiment, just another tool to prod at the Abyss.
He knew this world better than anyone. Sixty-six layers deep, and the lower they went, the worse it got. Beholders, hundred-armed giants, Leviathans — all of them could be pulled in by the Abyss's twisted logic at any moment.
He could have ended it already, but he didn't, because every invasion, every battle, was a chance to push the Abyss toward true evolution.
He turned back toward the screen, and then his eyes sharpened.
"Wait—"
His expression changed.
"One of the Devils on the fifth floor just grabbed a piece of someone's faith…"
He clenched his fists.
"…and in that moment, my divine fire surged."
"What's going on!"
Cillian and Magnus both sensed it at the same time, yet the sentiments were complete opposites.
One felt joy.
The other felt pure outrage.
~~~~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the fifth floor of the Endless Abyss, under layers of thick, poisonous mist, a battle was raging. Magnus and his Thirteenth Legion were locked in a brutal fight against monsters warped by chaotic evil. Compared to the frozen wastelands of the fourth layer, the fifth was more alive—swamps, heat, and poison and that also meant more monsters.
And they were everywhere.
The environment was completely different yet equally deadly, a swamp air thick with toxins made it hard for the Magnus soldiers to breathe. The locals, like the native Devils and creatures of the Abyss, were used to it. But the Legion wasn't.
Soldiers would be fine one second—then drop, screaming, their flesh melting off. Some began to mutate. Organs vanished or grew in the wrong places and others lost their minds completely. A few even turned into monsters right in front of their comrades.
It was a bloodbath from the start.
Magnus, covered in white armor blessed by angels, reacted fast. He pushed to the center of the battlefield and shouted toward the priest squad holding the line behind him.
"Field priests! Use magic to clear the air! Our men are dying!"
The mist may not have hurt the strongest among them,but it destroyed the ordinary soldiers.
The priests raised their staffs and called to the heavens.
"Holy one, send us wind!"
Over and over they chanted, and soon a powerful gust swept across the battlefield, thinning the poison. Then light rained down from the sky—tiny specks of divine glow that merged into the shape of an angel floating above. Wherever the illusion touched, the poison burned away. For a moment, the air was clear and the soldiers took their first deep breaths.
For the first time, they could see what they were fighting.
Twisted monsters, mutated beasts, and ugly, chaotic creatures rushed forward. The Magnus Legion met them with steel and flame.
But in a quiet corner of the battlefield, something strange happened. Something both Magnus and Cillian noticed.
A priest, a soldier from Magnus's own side, was on his knees in front of a blood-soaked Devil.
The priest was nearly blind and his body was filled with poison. He was moments from death. Captured by one of the Original Devils, he lay helpless, his breathing shallow and strained.
But something inside him stirred him. Something deep, buried in the soul.
"Live," it whispered.
His heart beat once.
"I must…"
"Live," it said again.
Another beat.
And suddenly he wanted to live more than anything. To breathe. To stand. To see the sun again. To go home—just one more time.
"I'll give anything," he whispered. "Just let me live. Even one more breath."
And in that moment, something snapped, his connection to the divine, a golden link that tied him to justice and order, broke.
It shattered completely .
In its place, a black-red chain wrapped around his soul.
He looked up at the Devil in front of him.
"Kneel," the Devil said, or maybe it didn't, perhaps it was all in his head. But he dropped to the ground anyway.
Then, above the battlefield, a black-red vortex opened in the sky.
Magnus and the army looked up.
The vortex was Cillian's will. He had turned his full attention to that one priest. A soul ready to give up everything for one more moment of life.
"I bow to you! Please! Let me live!" the priest cried out.
The Devil didn't move.
But a voice echoed from within its soul. Not his own voice, but something—more.
"You should bow, not to me, but to the one I serve."
"The Lord of Chaos."
The sky spun and the vortex churned.
Magnus heard it in his mind.
"You should bow…"
Cillian's voice rang clear.
"to me.."
The next second, the priest was gone and in his place stood something else. No longer a man. A new monster, twisted by the Abyss.
Magnus shouted, "No!"
But it was too late.
The chain had already taken hold.
The priest had fallen—and the Abyss had claimed another soul.