The silver light of the Imperial Inquisitors pierced through the unnatural darkness of Oakhaven like a cold blade. Five riders, clad in heavy obsidian-iron armor, brought their steeds to a halt at the edge of the blood-soaked plaza. The banners of the Crescent Moon flickered in the wind, a symbol of the Empire's absolute authority over "Abominations."
The leader of the squad, a man with a scarred face known as Inquisitor Malphas, looked at the carnage. He didn't flinch at the sight of Marcus's hollowed body or the disassembled meat that was once Elder Garen. He simply drew a silver-etched longsword, its blade glowing with a purifying Rank 6 light.
"By the decree of the Solar Throne," Malphas's voice was like grinding stone. "This village is under quarantine. And you, boy... you are a Level 4 Abomination. Your existence is a stain that must be erased."
Ashura stood in the center of the lake of blood, his white hair dripping with crimson, his eyes two bottomless pits of swirling void. He didn't say a word. He simply beckoned with a single, blood-stained finger.
"Arrogance is the privilege of the doomed," Malphas hissed. "Formation: Solar Cage! Purge him!"
The four knights behind him jumped from their horses, moving with a synchronized speed that surpassed human limits. They planted four silver stakes into the ground, creating a square perimeter around Ashura. Instantly, walls of blinding, holy white fire erupted, sealing Ashura inside a cage of pure light.
The holy fire hissed as it touched the shadows surrounding Ashura, the smell of burning ozone filling the air.
"Does it burn, monster?" Malphas asked, walking toward the cage. "This is the 'Light of Judgment'. It reflects the sins of the soul back into the flesh."
Inside the cage, Ashura bowed his head. His shoulders began to shake. At first, it looked like he was sobbing. Then, the sound reached Malphas's ears. It wasn't a sob.
It was a laugh. A deep, resonant, and soul-chilling laugh that made the holy fire flicker in fear.
"Sins?" Ashura looked up, his face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated madness. "You think your little candles can burn the darkness that birthed the world?"
[System Warning: Core Overload Detected.]
[Condition Met: Absolute Hatred.]
[Unlocking Sub-Skill: Void-Burst – Black Rain.]
Ashura didn't use the Abyssal Chains. He simply opened his mouth and let out a silent scream.
From the center of the Solar Cage, a shockwave of pure, liquid shadow erupted. The holy fire wasn't just extinguished; it was shattered like glass. The four knights were sent flying backwards, their silver stakes turning into molten lead.
But Ashura wasn't done. He raised his hand toward the sky, and the black clouds above Oakhaven began to weep.
It wasn't water. It was needles of condensed void-energy. The Black Rain.
Drip. Pierced. Squelch.
The rain hit the first knight. The obsidian needles ignored his heavy armor, sliding through the steel as if it were silk. Within seconds, the knight was riddled with a thousand holes. Blood didn't spray; it was sucked out of his body by the needles, feeding the shadows on the ground.
"What... what are you?" Malphas stammered, raising his longsword to deflect the rain, his Rank 6 aura flickering under the relentless assault.
Ashura moved. He didn't run; he glided through the rain, appearing in front of Malphas as if he had stepped out of the man's own shadow.
"I am the consequence of your 'Light'," Ashura whispered.
He grabbed the silver blade with his bare hand. The purifying light tried to burn him, but the black veins on Ashura's arm pulsed, and the silver steel began to rust and crumble in his grip.
Ashura's other hand plunged into Malphas's chest armor, his fingers sharpening into obsidian claws. He didn't just pierce the heart; he gripped the man's Spirit Stone through his ribs.
CRACK.
Malphas let out a wet, strangled cry as Ashura slowly pulled his hand back out, clutching the glowing Rank 6 stone, still dripping with hot, Imperial blood.
"This is the power you take pride in?" Ashura looked at the stone, then crushed it between his teeth, swallowing the shards and the power within.
Malphas collapsed, his eyes wide with a terror that would haunt him even in death. The Imperial Inquisitors, the elite of the world, were nothing more than appetizers for the Monarch of the Abyss.
Ashura turned his gaze toward the survivors of Oakhaven, who were huddled in the corners of their burning homes. He raised his hand one last time, ready to erase the village from history.
But then, a small, familiar voice cut through the silence.
"Ashura... please... stop."
It was a little girl, the younger sister of Marcus. She was holding a tattered doll, her face covered in soot and tears. She was the only one who hadn't cheered when he was beaten. She was the only one who had once shared her bread with him.
Ashura's black eyes flickered. For a split second, the swirling void slowed down.
[Notice: Host's Emotional Stability at 2%.]
[Warning: Humanity detected. Purging empathy...]
Ashura hissed in pain, clutching his head. "Get out..." he growled, the shadows around him erupting in a chaotic storm. "Get out before I burn it all!"
With a final, desperate burst of power, Ashura summoned a portal of shadows. He stepped into the darkness, leaving Oakhaven behind—a village of the dead, a village of ruins, and a village that would forever remember the name of the boy they turned into a god.
[End of Prologue: The Birth of the Monarch.]