The Abyss stretched before them like a sea of nightmares. The air was thick with whispers that clawed at the mind, and even the strongest warriors felt the pressure of unseen eyes watching from the dark. Kaien moved at the front of the army, his gaze fixed forward, his every step steady. Each moment felt like walking deeper into eternity, where light and darkness no longer meant what they once did.
Behind him, Reina kept her distance, her silver hair glimmering faintly in the dim light. She had not spoken much since the battle at the chasm. The farther they went, the stronger the pull of the Abyss became. It whispered to her, calling her name with a voice that sounded almost like her own. She clenched her fists and tried to focus on Kaien's back, using his presence as an anchor to keep herself grounded.
The army marched in silence. Even the demons among them, freed from Zarveth's control, avoided speaking. The ground was alive here—breathing, pulsing, whispering. Every step left behind faint trails of shadow, as though the realm itself tried to remember those who dared enter it.
Azrael walked beside Kaien, his silver armor dulled by the mist. "We are close, Sovereign. The first gate lies ahead," he said, his voice steady though his eyes darted warily toward the horizon. "The scouts say it is guarded by something ancient—something not born of this world."
Kaien's eyes narrowed. "The First Gate… the Gate of Shadows."
He lifted his gaze. Ahead of them, the landscape rose into a series of black spires that reached into the clouds like claws. At the center stood a massive archway carved from obsidian. It was taller than any castle wall, wide enough for an army to pass through, yet no light crossed its threshold. The darkness within it rippled like water, alive and waiting.
Reina felt a shiver run through her as they approached. The closer they got, the more her chest tightened. The whispers in her mind grew louder, now speaking in words she could almost understand. Come home… they said. You were born from the same light that fell.
She stumbled slightly. Kaien turned his head just enough to glance at her. "You feel it too," he said quietly.
She hesitated, then nodded. "It is calling to me. The shadows here… they remember me."
"They remember all of us," Kaien said, his tone calm but heavy. "The Abyss does not forget what it created."
Azrael stepped forward, raising his blade. "My lord, we can break through by force if necessary. The army—"
"No," Kaien interrupted softly. "The Gate of Shadows cannot be destroyed. It must be faced."
He stepped ahead of everyone else, Noxveil in hand. The black blade pulsed faintly, as though it too recognized the gate. Kaien felt a strange sensation wash over him—like the sword itself was reacting to the presence of something familiar.
He stopped at the base of the gate. "Zarveth built seven gates to guard his throne," he said, his voice echoing across the plain. "Each one forged from a sin that even gods could not erase."
As he spoke, the darkness within the arch began to stir. It rippled outward, forming a shape—a tall, slender figure cloaked in shadow. Two eyes glowed faintly within the void, ancient and sorrowful.
The being stepped forward, its form half real and half illusion. Its voice was soft but filled with echoing power. "You stand before the First Gate, bearer of Noxveil," it said. "Why do you come, mortal god?"
Kaien's expression was calm. "To end what began long before me."
The figure tilted its head. "To end something, you must first understand it."
The ground trembled as the figure raised its hand. The air around them shifted, and suddenly the entire army was gone—swallowed by the void. Kaien stood alone in a world of endless black. The gate was gone, the spires gone. Only silence remained.
He looked around, unshaken. "Illusion," he murmured.
"Not illusion," said the voice. "Revelation."
From the darkness, images began to appear—fragments of memory. Kaien saw flashes of battles, of gods falling, of realms shattering. He saw a younger version of himself standing before a mirror, holding Noxveil for the first time. But the reflection in the mirror was not him. It was Zarveth.
Kaien's breath slowed. "This sword…"
The figure appeared again beside him, watching the memory unfold. "You carry his power, Kaien Draven. The blade Noxveil was forged from the core of Zarveth's soul. It was not meant for mortals. Yet you wield it."
Kaien's hand tightened on the hilt. "Then why does it obey me?"
"Because you are what he was supposed to be," the figure replied. "Zarveth was born to balance creation, but he sought dominion instead. You, born of mortal blood, carry the same essence—but without his hunger. The Abyss recognizes you because you are its reflection."
Kaien was silent for a long time. He could feel Noxveil humming faintly in his grasp, its energy neither rejecting nor embracing the truth.
"Then tell me," he said finally. "If I am his reflection, what happens when I kill him?"
The figure's eyes glowed brighter. "When light kills its shadow, both cease to exist. Are you willing to pay that price?"
Kaien looked down at the blade. "If it ends the war, yes."
The figure smiled faintly, almost sadly. "Then prove it."
The world exploded into motion. From every direction, shadowy figures rushed toward Kaien—thousands of them, shaped like the memories of every life he had taken. He moved instantly, his blade cutting through the dark with precision and power. Each swing of Noxveil shattered entire waves of phantoms, light and shadow bursting in unison.
But they kept coming. For every one he struck down, another rose. The whispers became screams, each one speaking his name, each one begging him to stop.
Kaien's movements never faltered. His strikes were fluid, almost effortless. Yet inside, something began to burn—a heavy ache that pressed against his chest.
Then he saw it. Among the phantoms, one figure stood still. It was familiar. A man with silver eyes and a gentle smile—Ethan.
Kaien froze. The battlefield fell silent.
Ethan looked at him, his expression calm and sorrowful. "Still chasing balance, Kaien?"
Kaien lowered his sword slightly. "You're not real."
"Maybe not," Ethan said. "But neither are you, not entirely. You've become something else. Something that belongs to both heaven and hell. Tell me, brother… are you sure you're still fighting for the right side?"
Kaien's jaw tightened. "I'm fighting for life."
"Whose life?" Ethan asked softly. "Theirs—or yours?"
Before Kaien could answer, the image faded. The shadow figure reappeared, watching him quietly. "You hesitate because you still believe there is a difference between creation and destruction. But balance is not mercy, Kaien Draven. Balance demands sacrifice."
Kaien stood still, his breathing steady. Then he raised Noxveil once more. "Then sacrifice will be made. But it will be mine to choose."
He brought the sword down with all his strength. Light and shadow erupted together, filling the void with a blinding flash. The Gate of Shadows cracked, splitting open down the middle. The figure within it dissolved into dust, whispering as it faded, "Then pass, Sovereign… but remember this. Every gate you break brings you closer to what you fear most."
The illusion vanished.
Kaien found himself standing once more before the real gate, the army still behind him. The spires trembled as the massive arch split apart, its darkness folding inward. The way forward opened—a vast canyon of black stone leading deeper into the Abyss.
Azrael approached, his eyes wide. "My lord… what happened?"
Kaien sheathed Noxveil. "The gate tested me."
"And did you pass?" Reina asked softly.
Kaien's gaze turned toward her. "For now."
He walked forward, past the shattered remains of the gate. The air felt colder now, heavier. Each step echoed with a faint resonance that followed him like a heartbeat.
Reina watched him for a long time before following. Something in him had changed—something deep and quiet. The light in his eyes seemed dimmer, but steadier, as though he had accepted something no one else could see.
Azrael looked between them, uneasy. "What now?"
Kaien glanced toward the path ahead. "The Second Gate," he said. "The Gate of Memory. And after that… the Demon King himself."
As they marched on, the Abyss whispered once more, softer this time but filled with meaning.
He carries both ruin and salvation.
And only one will reach the throne.