The world smelled of decay. Kael—or whatever he had become—opened his compound eyes and immediately recoiled from the stench of rot. He did not understand fear the way he once had, but the instinct to survive pulsed stronger than any thought. Hunger gnawed at him from the inside, sharp and unrelenting.
His body was alien. Segmented, blackened, chitinous, yet surprisingly strong. Limbs that had once wielded swords now flexed with precision he did not yet comprehend. Six small legs carried him across the jagged stone floor with terrifying speed, while delicate antennae twitched at every vibration in the air. His once-human senses had dissolved into something new: a spectrum of perception that registered heat, chemical traces, air currents, and danger all at once.
The chamber above—the place where he had died—was gone. Only the abyss remained: an alien expanse of shadow, faint light, and unending surfaces that defied normal geometry. Red luminescent fungi clung to the walls, pulsating softly like veins pumping with a strange life. The spores from the fungi hung in thick clouds, drifting downward, and each breath stung like fire in his new respiratory organs.
The air carried voices—or rather, vibrations. The faintest hums and scrapes of movement far beyond his range of sight. Predators lived here, predators that knew only instinct and hunger. Kael's mind grasped this truth almost immediately: Eat or be eaten. The world does not forgive weakness.
He crawled forward instinctively, legs scraping against the uneven stone. The chitin of his body gave him armor against jagged rocks and sharp fungal thorns, but he still recoiled from the splintering sounds of brittle debris beneath him. His antennae twitched rapidly, scanning the environment. Every pulse of air, every whisper of chemical scent told him something about the abyss.
Above, the ruins of the altar glimmered faintly, fragments of Core energy lingering in tiny motes. They drifted like sparks in the darkness, and Kael could feel them coursing in some way through his body. A strange resonance echoed in his mind, not conscious thought, but awareness—a memory of power and hunger intertwined. The Core had changed him, fused him with its essence, and it whispered faintly, urging him to move, to grow, to conquer.
He turned his compound eyes toward a tunnel where spores floated thickly, red mist drifting from cracks in the stone. Something shifted beneath the surface, and instinct screamed at him: danger, potential food. Kael paused, legs tensing, antennae quivering. Hunger pressed harder. The small, alien mind processed the situation quickly: he could attack, feed, or retreat. Retreat was weakness. Survival demanded action.
Without hesitation, he leapt toward the vibrations, tiny claws gripping stone and fungal threads alike. Below him, shadows shifted in the blackened mist. A small creature, no larger than a rat had been, scuttled into view—a body composed of soft tissue, vulnerable yet alive. Its instincts were crude, simple, and predictable. Kael's mandibles opened, instincts guiding him.
He struck.
The scuttling creature did not scream in human terms, but the sound of its body tearing and its chemical signals flooding the air reverberated in Kael's antennae like an alarm bell. He consumed rapidly, feeding on the flesh and absorbing the energy. With each bite, his strength increased, his reflexes sharpened, and the Core's pulse within him grew more insistent, faster, brighter.
Hunger, Kael realized, was more than necessity. It was pleasure, awareness, survival—the foundation of life in this new form. The fear that had once held him captive as a human was gone, replaced entirely by calculation and instinct. This was pure life, stripped to its essence.
---
The Abyss Rift revealed itself gradually. Red fungi clung to every surface, some delicate, others thick and bark-like, their luminescence faintly illuminating the cavern. Massive roots descended from cracks in the ceiling, coated with slime that burned weakly against his chitin. The air was heavy with spores and chemicals so potent they could disorient a human in moments. Yet Kael inhaled, processed, understood. Every toxic particle was data, every vibration a map of predators, prey, and obstacles.
From far ahead came a low hum—a vibration in the stone that could only belong to something much larger. The creature paused, antennae twitching. A pulse of Core energy surged within him, a subtle reminder: adaptation. He was not human anymore; the Abyss would teach him, force him, reshape him. He would learn to move, to strike, to survive.
Kael's body adjusted automatically. Muscles flexed in unfamiliar ways, chitin reinforced, sensory organs sharpened. He felt his mind stretching, synapses firing faster, instincts overriding thought in a seamless, terrifying flow. The hunger did not diminish—rather, it grew, shaping every motion. He no longer thought about food, only the act of consuming, understanding that energy, strength, and life were one and the same.
---
Time passed in a rhythm he did not measure. The Abyss did not care for hours, days, or months—it only demanded survival. Kael crawled across the jagged terrain, leaping over fungal growths that glowed faintly red, sliding under roots dripping acidic slime, pausing only when the vibrations beneath the stone suggested predators too large to risk. Each encounter honed him. Small prey strengthened his body; near-misses with predators sharpened his reflexes.
A rustling sound came from the walls themselves. Roots shifted. The fungus pulsed. And somewhere in the distance, a roar—low, guttural, a vibration that made the stone itself tremble. Kael froze. The instinct to flee warred with the instinct to hunt. Hunger, sharper than fear, pushed him forward. He crept closer, sensing the source not with eyes but with vibrations in the air. Every leg, every mandible, every fiber of his being registered it.
Then, the ground beneath him trembled violently. Dust and spores rose in a red mist, stinging his sensory organs, but Kael did not retreat. Instead, he crouched, legs tensing, antennae twitching. His instincts, honed by hours in the Abyss, whispered clearly: Prepare. This is not food. This is a test.
The soil cracked, a small fissure opening. From it emerged a hulking shape. The smell of decay and earth rolled outward as it rose—black, glistening, segmented. Its body was massive, dwarfing Kael's tiny form. A worm-like monstrosity, slick with slime, eyes small but intelligent, mandibles gnashing instinctively. Its vibrations throbbed through the ground like a drum, a rhythm of predator and power.
Kael's six legs braced. His chitin hummed with Core energy, reinforcing his body. Hunger surged, yes—but it was now tempered by instinctive awareness: this was a rival, something that could kill him if he faltered. Yet the prospect excited him, stoked the same fire that had awakened in him when he first consumed his prey.
The black worm rose fully from the ground, its body curving, mandibles snapping, eyes fixed on him. The pulse of its presence reverberated through the cavern, mingling with the Core's faint heartbeat inside Kael. The Abyss itself seemed to acknowledge the encounter—the fungi pulsed brighter, the spores swirled violently, the red mist thickened as if holding its breath.
Kael's mind—or what remained of it—focused. Instinct sharpened. Hunger tempered itself with strategy. The Core's energy inside him surged once more, illuminating his chitin in faint red pulses. The small predator that he had become would not perish here. Survival was the first law, but domination, adaptation, evolution—it was the only law.
He advanced cautiously, legs moving in precise, silent rhythm. The worm's mandibles snapped close enough to feel the rush of air. Kael darted, rolling across the stone, wings of his body balancing with fluid precision. The Core pulsed again, urging him, whispering strategies in ways his alien mind could comprehend. Instinct and intelligence merged into something new, something dangerous.
The black worm paused, sensing a challenge. Its vibrations were hesitant, analytical, but Kael did not falter. Hunger roared inside him, no longer simple need, but the clarity of purpose: adapt or die. Strike or be struck.
Kael's legs shifted. His mandibles opened wider, muscles tensing, Core energy flaring faintly like molten veins beneath his chitin. The first battle of his rebirth had arrived.
---
He barely noticed the fungus glowing brighter around him, the mist thickening, the abyssal air humming with tension. This was a world of predators and prey, of instinct and strategy, of life born from death. Kael—no longer human, no longer bound by frailty—embraced it fully.
The black worm lunged.
Kael's mind whispered only one truth: I was born from corpses. I will consume or be consumed.
And he struck first.
The cavern shook as predator met predator. The abyssal night seemed to hold its breath.
From beneath the soil, more vibrations stirred—ominous, massive. Kael paused mid-strike, mandibles clicking, antennae quivering.
Something else had come. Something far larger, far more dangerous.
A long, black shadow emerged from the ground, coiling like molten earth. Its massive bulk rose slowly, segmented body slick with black slime. Eyes glinting faintly in the red mist. A test. A challenge. A threat.
Kael felt the Core pulse violently inside him, excitement mingled with anticipation. His first real test of survival in this world—the Abyss—had only just begun.
The black worm's hiss mingled with the low rumble of the new creature. Kael's six legs dug into the stone, antennae quivering. Hunger, instinct, survival, and power converged into a single moment of clarity.
This was the Abyss. This was life.
And the trial had begun.
---
"So… this is my first trial… in a new world," Kael thought—not as a human, but as a creature reborn from corpses, darkness, and Core energy, ready to face whatever horrors the Abyss would throw at him next.