The Bottomless Abyss—the convergence of all malice in the multiverse—was the antithesis of everything good, beautiful, or pure.
This realm had no friendship, no kinship, no love. Only betrayal, carnage, and ruin thrived here.
At its heart flowed the Crimson Vein, a river of death stretching through countless planes of the Abyss. Its waters consumed everything that came near; even gods would vanish in its depths. And yet, it was also a cradle—a birthplace of demons, teeming with nascent life.
Crimson light radiated from several blood-red celestial bodies above, illuminating the riverbanks where the tide had receded, leaving behind countless eggs.
They were half the height of a human, patterned in swirling crimson and black, their forms swelling and contracting with primitive, savage movements. If one listened closely, faint roars could be heard from within.
From one egg, a consciousness stirred.
"Kill… kill… hungry… kill…"
"Who… am I…?"
Primal instinct slowly gave way to rational thought. Fragmented memories surfaced—echoes of a life once lived. They were hazy, unremarkable, a fleeting existence with nothing notable, nothing worth clinging to.
The new being rejected such mediocrity instinctively, as if rebelling against a meaningless fate.
Then, a voice resonated deep within his soul:
"Your true name: Azaroth… Malion… Orsaga."
Inherited memories flooded his mind, carrying the essence of a demon. Clarity struck.
"I… am not that other life. I am Azaroth… Orsaga!"
"I am a demon!"
Barbed claws tore through the eggshell with a violent snap. Orsaga emerged, the first of this batch to hatch.
He stood 1.4 meters tall, a strange blend of human and wolf. His long, sharp canines gleamed as he bared them. His eyes were entirely blood-red, pupils absent. His three clawed fingers were covered in black scales tipped with barbs, and a whip-like tail lashed behind him, its sharp tip glinting like a blade.
Gazing at the crimson sky, he growled:
"I, Orsaga, will never live a mediocre life. I will rise above all demons! I will live wilder, freer, and stronger than anyone! Even if I die, I will never vanish into obscurity!"
A demon's true name is sacred, a cornerstone of their existence. To reveal it fully is to invite vulnerability. Orsaga had chosen "Orsaga"—meaning Black Sky in the demonic tongue.
Hunger gnawed at him, his stomach burning with acidic fire. His instincts urged him toward the broken eggshell at his feet—his first meal.
Though vestiges of human memory made him hesitate, he understood necessity. He devoured the eggshell piece by piece. As he fed, the soft scales of his newborn body began to harden, undergoing a primal transformation.
Then, a voice spoke within his mind:
"Ascension Matrix Activated: Welcome, host."
Information appeared before his eyes:
Host: Azaroth… Orsaga
Race/Level: Demon / Young Demon
Strength: 5 (5)
Speed: 6 (5)
Constitution: 5 (5)
Magic Power: 6 (5)
Soul: 8 (5)
Talents:Soul Feast Evolution (grows by consuming souls), Carnage Growth (grows by killing), Combat Instinct (innate martial aptitude)
Skills: None
Evolution Points: 0
Note: Values in parentheses represent standard levels for a newly born demon. Each point above this increases attributes by one-fifth.
Studying the interface with his demonic awareness, Orsaga understood immediately. His strength, speed, and magic were gifts of a hybrid soul, blending remnants of humanity with demonic essence.
Testing the system, he smashed a nearby egg with a stone. The fledgling demon inside struggled but was quickly destroyed. Orsaga absorbed its soul, feeling the primal surge of Carnage Growth—the innate ability to evolve through slaughter.
Activating the Ascension Matrix fully for the second attempt, he repeated the process, gaining fifteen evolution points from the demon's soul and flesh. Distributing them carefully, he felt his power spike far beyond that of ordinary demons. His growth rate now outpaced any natural demon by twentyfold.
Orsaga's crimson eyes deepened, and his mind sharpened. With every life devoured, with every egg crushed, he strengthened himself. Survival in the Abyss was ruthless. Only the strong could advance; the weak became stepping stones or were remade in the next tide of the Crimson Vein.
He was no longer human—he was Abyss incarnate. Brutality, greed, destruction—they were not flaws. They were his foundation.
There was no morality here. No innocence. No compromise.
He was the mud. He was the abyss. And he would rise.