Two years had passed in the Abyss.
Days blurred into nights, and seasons held no meaning. The sun never rose. The sky never changed. But Rey changed—completely.
He had grown taller, his muscles lean but firm from constant survival. His eyes were sharper, movements precise. Every action was calculated, honed through hundreds of life-and-death moments. He no longer resembled the panicked teenager who first fell into this cruel world.
Now, he was a survivor.
Each day, he moved slowly north, using wet soil and monster fluid to mask his scent. He had learned much from observing. Weak monsters gathered in packs—strength in numbers. Stronger ones were solitary, territorial, always lurking in the shadows of deeper caves or towering trees.
He mapped their behaviors, memorized their habits, and adjusted his path accordingly.
But even with all his knowledge and preparation, there were times when luck was the only thing keeping him alive.
The first time was a cold night, when he stumbled into a seemingly empty hollow and was caught in the sticky, invisible threads of a giant spider's web.
He had struggled silently, heart hammering, as the web tightened around him. Just when he thought it was over, the spider returned—massive, fanged, and blind. But Rey noticed something: the creature followed vibrations.
Holding his breath, he twisted just enough to pull out a small shard of bone and cut a tiny thread. The vibration lured the spider to the other side of the web—and Rey escaped.
Afterward, he harvested the spider's threads, learning to spin them into makeshift rope and stitch his first crude clothing. The silk was tough, resistant, and lightweight. It became a symbol of his first craft, not just survival.
The second incident came weeks later.
A group of armored monsters had caught his trail. They were faster, more intelligent—almost strategic. They surrounded his temporary cave and waited, sensing movement.
For two nights, Rey didn't move.
Then, under the cover of falling ash from a distant explosion, he slipped out through a tunnel he had dug for emergencies. He never returned to that place again.
But these events etched something deeper into his mind.
Loneliness.
One night, under a collapsed tree, with a fire barely warm enough to comfort him, Rey sat clutching the only photo he had left—faded and torn.
His mother's smile.
His sister's laugh.
His father's hand on his shoulder.
He traced their faces with shaking fingers.
"I wonder what they're doing now," he whispered.
Did time pass the same in the human world? Were they still searching for him? Had they moved on?
Tears rolled down his cheeks silently.
Not from pain.
But from the weight of longing.
He had come to understand something brutal about this world—it wasn't just trying to kill him.
It was trying to make him forget who he was.
But Rey refused.
He began carving symbols into every shelter he built—a name, a line, a memory.
Each one was a vow.
That he would survive.
That he would return.
And that this cursed Abyss would not break him.
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Arc One: End
[Survivor] - Title Acquired
Effect: Increases resistance to despair and mental breakdown.
Unlocked Trait: Memory Bound
— "You carry the weight of the past through the darkness. Never forget."
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