The skies above Vireon Empire wept like the gods themselves mourned, thunder crackling as lightning split the horizon. Rain slashed through the air, soaking the marble courtyard of the royal palace where a young man knelt, chained and broken.
Prince Kael Vireon, second son of the Emperor, stared ahead with blood pooling in one eye. His once-golden armor was stripped away, replaced by tattered linen stained in crimson and mud. The same nobles who had toasted to his victories now whispered behind fans, eager to see him fall.
Across the dais, high on the Imperial steps, stood his brother — Crown Prince Cyrus — gleaming in gold and arrogance.
"You were always too righteous for your own good," Cyrus said, voice calm and dripping with contempt. "The empire doesn't need honor. It needs obedience."
Kael's jaw clenched. "You lied. You forged those letters—those accounts with the Crimson Order. I never conspired against Father."
Cyrus smiled. "Perhaps. But history won't remember the truth. It will remember what I tell it."
The royal court watched in chilling silence as the High Chancellor stepped forward with a sealed scroll.
"By imperial decree," he read aloud, "Prince Kael Vireon is hereby stripped of name, title, and right of succession. Let him be exiled to the Abyss Gate for high treason."
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
The Abyss Gate.
A place of myth. A realm where only monsters roamed. A death sentence masked in ritual.
"No one returns from there…" a voice whispered.
Cyrus descended the steps slowly, every stride deliberate as he approached Kael. He crouched down so only Kael could hear his words over the falling rain.
"I warned you, brother. This empire is mine. And you? You're just a footnote in the prologue."
With a swift motion, he stood. "Do it."
Two guards stepped forward and seized Kael by the arms.
The sky rumbled. The wind howled. As the guards dragged him toward the ancient archway of the Abyss Gate — a blackened stone relic humming with old, forbidden magic — Kael raised his head for one final look.
His uncle turned his gaze away. His friends stood frozen. No one spoke.
Not one voice dared defend him.
His mother was already long dead.
His father… had never truly looked at him as a son.
As the swirling darkness opened beneath his feet, Kael spat the blood from his mouth and smiled bitterly.
"Mark this day, Cyrus. You may have stolen the crown… but I'll take your kingdom."
And then—the world fell away.
---
He woke to screaming.
Not his own—but something far worse.
The sound of a thousand lost souls shrieking in a world without time.
Kael gasped, coughing black dust from his lungs as he rolled over. He lay on cracked obsidian stone, beneath a sky of swirling purple void. The air was thick, dry, and wrong.
Around him, shadows moved without form—creatures of nightmare, twisted remnants of forgotten beasts.
A low voice echoed, not from the sky, but from deep inside his mind.
> [SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Welcome, Kael Vireon. Shadowborn Protocol initializing…
Syncing soul with Sovereign Core. 12%… 56%… 100%.
Host confirmed: Forbidden Bloodline—Shadow Lineage.
You have entered the Shadowrealm.
Kael sat up, heart pounding. "What… what is this? A system?"
> [Primary Quest: Survive the Nightmares]
Duration: Until Dawn (if dawn ever comes)
Reward: Core Awakening – Shadow Flame Tier 1
Penalty: Permadeath
A low growl emerged from behind a jagged spire.
Kael turned slowly.
A creature the size of a warhorse crawled forward, its skin pulsing with violet light, mouth splitting into four jaws.
A Nightreaper.
Kael's limbs trembled, but not with fear.
With fury.
"You think this will kill me?" he whispered. "No. I was killed already… back there."
His hands tightened into fists.
A pulse of black fire ignited from his palms.
Not warm… but cold. Cold as vengeance. Cold as betrayal. Cold as truth.
The Nightreaper lunged.
Kael screamed—not in fear—but in power.
The black fire consumed the beast as it crashed into him. The shockwave rippled through the obsidian canyon.
When the smoke cleared, Kael stood alone—bloodied, burned, but alive.
He stared at his hands, still flickering with ember-like darkness.
His voice was low, calm, dangerous.
"They threw me into a pit."
He looked up at the swirling purple sky.
"But they should have buried me."