After his crushing defeat at Soren's hands, Mephisto once feared as the Lord of the Abyss, dragged himself away in humiliation. His body was half-ruined, his mind shredded by the backlash of Soren's power.
And in his desperate flight, he had been forced to use forbidden strength, almost destroying himself in the process. With what little remained of him now, even an ordinary Demon Lord could snuff him out with ease.
"Soren… Soren!"
Deep beneath the earth, buried under molten stone, Mephisto howled.
Rivers of lava poured over him, not burning but barely holding his collapsing body together. His voice trembled with bottomless hatred, hoarse, and obsessive.
He had fought Soren again and again and tasted nothing but humiliation, but this defeat… this defeat broke him.
Even the waters of the Three Rivers couldn't wash this hatred away.
"No! I refuse! I am the Lord of the Abyss chosen by fate itself! How, how can a mortal defeat me?!"
His injuries slowly knit themselves back together, but the process could not restore what he had lost. His aura had withered, fragile, almost pitiful.
Only his hatred kept him from slipping into true death. But his strength was shattered beyond recognition. To rise again seemed almost impossible.
When he finally crawled from the depths, Mephisto was no longer the dread lord he once was. His body had turned pitch black, as if charred by divine fire.
The scorpion-like spikes that once crowned his form were broken and cracked.
His skin was warped and smooth like melted obsidian. His eyes once burning with hellfire, had hollowed into deep skeletal pits, empty of all light.
Barely healed, Mephisto stood there overflowing. Something inside him had snapped. Whatever ambition, pride, or reason he once held had rotted away.
What remained was a creature driven by a single, jagged thought.
Kill Soren.
Even if it cost him his life.
Even if it meant tearing down the Abyss itself.
Long before he became Lord of the Abyss, Mephisto had wandered into a strange region during the wars of succession, a place steeped in an ancient, suffocating presence.
Just standing there had nearly erased him, crushing his consciousness with a mindless bloodlust. It had taken ages for him to recover, and he had never dared to approach it again.
But now… he had nothing left.
Nothing but hatred.
And hatred is the one thing that doesn't fear death.
Mephisto began his journey, forcing his broken body through hostile territories, slipping past the domains of powerful demons who would devour him on sight.
While Soren and the succubus elder moved toward the succubi lands, Mephisto lurked in the shadows, dragging himself toward that forbidden place he once discovered.
The Fallen Land.
A dead zone. A taboo even among the Abyss. A place demons only spoke of in trembling whispers.
Standing at the edge of that bleak territory, Mephisto stared into the roiling, twisted aura churning within. Despite the hatred burning in his hollow chest, fear still flickered in his empty eyes.
But hatred always wins.
With his teeth clenched and mind already halfway gone, Mephisto hurled himself into the Fallen Land toward the terrifying power he would claim, even if it damned him forever.
"Ahhh~!!!"
The sound was unnatural, like something being stretched and snapped all at once. The entire Fallen Land trembled in response, its once-vast territory folding inward.
Waves of distorted energy rippled out as the cursed region began collapsing, shrinking toward its abyssal core as if something inside was devouring it from within.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
Far away, in the forests of the succubi territory, life went on with eerie normalcy.
Succubi moved through the trees in small groups, but when they caught sight of the great elder, each one stopped immediately, bowing with a respectful hissed greeting. Their gazes, however, drifted quickly to Soren.
Most abyssal demons were either towering monstrosities or twisted in shape. Soren being human-shaped, carrying that strange, aura was a shock to them.
That aura of his… it tugged at them, instinctual whispering in the back of their minds, a fatal kind of allure.
After weaving through the forest, the trees abruptly parted.
A broad clearing opened before them, and in its center stood an ancient structure made of massive, polished stone slabs. Weathered by years uncountable, it radiated a quiet, oppressive reverence.
"This," the great elder said, her voice layered with emotion Soren couldn't decipher, "Is the origin of the succubus clan."
"Countless secrets were sealed here. Today, I will show you a prophecy. After that, you will understand why I call you… the prophesied one."
Soren stared at the structure, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine. The aura wasn't strong, but it was old, so old that its presence felt sturdy and impossible to ignore.
"According to human terms," The elder continued, guiding him inside, "This place is an altar."
The moment they crossed the threshold, the light dimmed. Shadows clung to the walls, and the blurred carvings seemed to shift when Soren wasn't looking.
The air grew thick, almost suffocating, as they walked deeper and deeper until finally they reached the altar at the far end.
"This is where the final prophecy was cast."
The elder's voice softened, tinged with both pride and sorrow. "Long ago, the succubus clan produced a great elder so powerful she made even the abyssal plane bow to her."
"In her era, even the title 'Lord of the Abyss' was just a symbol. The abyss races ignored the Lord's commands but none dared to defy hers."
Soren felt his heartbeat quicken.
He had assumed succubi were a race of charm, not dominance. He hadn't imagined such a figure existed among them.
"Though she held unimaginable power," the elder continued, "She devoted her entire life to freeing the abyss demons from their innate inferiority."
"And at the end of her life, she used this altar to cast a prophecy… her last act. The prophecy that our clan calls the Final Chapter."
Soren listened in silence, absorbed.
Then the elder turned to him, her expression solemn.
"And this prophecy… is about you. You are the key to it."
"Me? How am I?"
"You," she said softly but firmly, "Are the prophet."