Stephan had taken off his coat and draped it over his new, and first ,Soul Servant.
Even with the shadows clinging around her, the sight of her figure stirred something primal in him.His male beast.
"I shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts," he muttered under his breath, heat prickling at his neck. "Not about my own servant, anyway."
She stood there quietly, head slightly bowed, white hair spilling across the coat's shoulders like moonlight.
"'Your Grace,' huh?" Stephan said after a moment, rubbing his chin, trying to mask the awkward churn inside. "Do you really have to call me that?"
"I'm your most humble servant, Lord Stephan," she replied softly, voice carrying that haunting echo of the soul‑forged. "My purpose is to serve you… and ensure you receive the respect you deserve."
Lord Stephan?
Well, that was new. The title sat strangely on him, a mix of pride and discomfort twisting in his chest. Cringe, even. But then again… he had a servant. And servants had masters.
His gaze lingered on her face, the gentle calm there, then dropped again to the shadows barely hiding her curves.He forced his eyes back up, throat tight.
"Do you… have a name?" Stephan asked, voice quieter now. "...Heh. Most humble servant."
She shook her head gently, white hair stirring. "Not yet, Your Grace." Her blue eyes lifted, gaze unwavering. "But I would be honored if you gave me one."
What the actual fuck? Stephan thought, caught off‑guard by the earnestness in her voice.
"Didn't your parents… give you one?" he pressed, a little awkward.
"They did," she said softly, eyes distant, as if staring through the crumbled walls. "But that was a long time ago… before I died."
Then she drew in a breath she didn't need, bowing her head again. "The name they gave me died with me. I'm something new now, reborn as your servant. And as your servant…"
She lifted her gaze, voice steady, "I would be honored if you named me, Lord Stephan."
Stephan frowned,"Hmm… what was your name, servant," he began, then winced at his own choice of words, voice dropping. "...Before you died."
She bowed her head, white hair spilling forward like silk."My name was Yukari, my Lord."
The syllables clung to the broken air, soft, foreign, strangely elegant.
"Yukari…" Stephan echoed, rolling it over his tongue.
For a moment, his crimson gaze softened, curiosity pushing past the predator's mask.
"And what about your past life?" he asked, voice low but steady. "What were you… before all this?"
She raised her head slightly, spectral blue eyes catching the scattered light. "I was… a samurai, my Lord," Yukari began, voice tinged with the faintest regret. "In the Land of Tawo."
"Female samurai?" Stephan pressed, surprise flickering in his eyes.
She nodded once, slow and solemn. "Yes, my Lord. My clan was… different. We trained daughters as well as sons to fight, to serve, and..." Her voice faltered for half a breath. "...to protect the clan head, no matter the cost."
Stephan listened in silence, the shadows whispering faintly at his back.
"Our duty wasn't only on the battlefield," Yukari continued, gaze distant now, as if peering across lifetimes. "We existed to serve the will of the clan head....in blade, counsel, and sometimes…" Her eyes lowered, words trailing into a silence that weighed heavy in the ruined chamber.
She drew in a breath she no longer needed, then went on, "I died in a war between rival clans. Struck down defending my lord on bloodied stone steps. That was my end… until you summoned me back, my Lord."
For a moment, only the crackle of dying soul‑flame filled the air.
Stephan's red‑lit gaze stayed on her, seeing not just the pale figure draped in his coat, but the weight of centuries and a life given to loyalty, service, and death.
"Yukari…" he murmured again, quieter this time. A name born in another land, another life, now reborn, bound to his own shadowed path.
"Do you remember how you ended up in the Abyssal Realm…?" Stephan asked, voice low, crimson gaze locked on hers.
Yukari's pale lashes lowered. She shook her head, a faint ripple stirring the shadows at her shoulders.
"The only thing I remember from this realm… was being a monster, my Lord," she murmured, her voice soft but edged with ancient sorrow. "Driven only by grief and rage. I preyed on weaker souls, cut them down with my blade… until, eventually, I became a Warden of the Outer Layer."
Stephan's brow furrowed, curiosity flashing behind blood‑lit eyes. "And how exactly, did you become a Warden? Who gave you that position?" he pressed, voice sharpening with interest.
"It was granted by the King of the Abyssal Realm, my Lord," Yukari replied, head bowing slightly.
"The King…?" Stephan echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Yes, my Lord."
She raised her gaze, the pale azure in her eyes flickering faintly. "Do you not know anything of this place?"
Stephan shook his head."Not much," he admitted.
"This realm…" Yukari began, her voice taking on a tone of reluctant recitation, as though repeating something carved into her spirit.
"…is divided into four layers: the Outer Layer, the Mid Layer, the Inner Layer, and at the very bottom, the Black Crown."
"The Black Crown…?" Stephan murmured, brow arching.
"Yes, my Lord," she said. "Each layer is ruled by a powerful soul eater, beings forged from corruption, grief, and hatred, each commanding countless lesser spirits. These soul eaters are appointed by the Void Emperor himself… who dwells within the Black Crown at the pit's deepest point."
Stephan's eyes gleamed, the hunger for power clawing just beneath the surface.
So… if I descend… if I can beat them…
A dark grin curled across his face. I could turn them into my servants… imagine that power…
"This Void Emperor…?" Stephan asked, voice low, almost tasting the name. "What's he like?"
Yukari's form stiffened, a faint tremor rippling across the shadows swirling at her feet.
"He is a natural calamity, my Lord," she whispered, the words leaving her lips like a prayer laced with dread. "Older than memory, born from the first souls that fell into this pit of grief and rage. No one knows his true shape… only the endless hunger and the black flame that follows in his wake."
For a moment, even the cold ruin around them seemed to tighten, shadows shrinking from the echo of that name.
Stephan's breath hissed between clenched teeth, red eyes narrowing.
"Void Emperor…" he repeated under his breath. A calamity… or the ultimate prize waiting at the bottom?
The thought of it made the darkness within him stir, hungry, restless, alive.
He wanted to keep going, deeper into the pit, where the shadows whispered promises of power. Right there, he could almost taste it: harvesting every soul in his path, crushing wardens, devouring the soul eaters themselves… until finally, his hand closed around the black heart of the Void Emperor.
A low chuckle slipped from his cracked lips.
"Maybe soul harvesting is finally starting to alter my essence, just like the system warned…"
The thought didn't frighten him. If anything, it thrilled him.
His blood still hummed with fresh power, but reason coiled back into his gaze.
"I'll have to end my campaign here… for now."
He turned to Yukar, the Warden reborn, now his soul-forged servant.
"Alright," he rasped, voice low but resolute. "Since you're bound to me, you're coming with me… back to my world."
She bowed, white hair spilling forward.
"I would love that, my Lord."
Stephan's crimson gaze lingered on the abyss before him, the deeper layers that pulsed like a living invitation, darkness that felt both alien and achingly familiar.
"I'll be back soon," he whispered, voice edged with challenge, as if the pit itself could hear him.
Then he turned, stepping into the shadows.
"Let's go," he ordered, hands sliding into his pockets. "And bring that sword with you."
Yukari, the soul servant, stooped to retrieve the spectral blade, its azure fire swirling faintly as if remembering its old master.
"My Lord!" she called softly after him. "You forgot to give me a name…"
Stephan paused, turning back, his silhouette sharp against the shifting gloom.
A dark smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, shadows curling like living smoke at his shoulders.
"Your name…" he rasped, voice as cold and final as a sealed grave, "…shall be Grief."
The name hung in the stale air, sinking into the soul-bound shell before him. The spectral lights in her eyes flared faintly, as if the word completed something broken inside.
"Now come, Grief," Stephan said, shadows curling behind every word. "You'll lend me your sword… and help me chop a few heads in my world."
Hands sinking into his pockets, a slow grin cut across his face.
"We've got some players to eliminate… and a tournament to win."
Then the abyss itself answered, swallowing them both in curling darkness, and they were gone.