A city of light stood before him.
Ryojin looked at Solara, the grand citadel of the Celestial Order built on mortal land. Towering spires of white stone stretched toward the heavens, bathed in golden radiance. Divine energy pulsed through its streets, forming protective barriers that had never been breached.
It was a sanctuary. A fortress.
And soon, it would become a battlefield.
"Why are you following me?" Ryojin asked, holding the hilt of his katana, as he sensed a presence behind him.
Vaelin revealing himself exhaled, arms crossed. "Attacking the Celestial Order directly? You don't waste time, do you?"
Ryojin remained silent. His gaze lingered on the highest tower.
" That's the hall of judgment," Vaeline explained. " Every criminal's fate is now dictated their."
Ryojin did not answer, he simply just clenched his fists.
Vaelin sighed. "I assume this isn't just about revenge."
Ryojin's fingers brushed the hilt of his katana. "No."
Revenge was simple. A fleeting hunger. What he sought was correction.
The gods had built this world on chains and order, dictating who could rise and who must fall. But Ryojin had seen what lay beyond their grand design. He had touched the void, and now possessed abyssal energy , and now?
He would tear their order apart.
Vaelin gave him a knowing look . "I hope you survive"
Ryojin didn't respond
A gust of wind passed . Far ahead Solara's people continued their lives, unaware that their city stood on the edge of a knife.
But that would change.
Soon.
Very soon.
Ryojin then climbed a towering spire which was right outside the barriers of the city.
"When the dawn comes," he murmured to himself, "it will be black."
his black hair swayed in the night wind. Below him, Solare's streets were filled with golden light, its divine residents basking in luxury. Laughter echoed through the air, gods and demigods feasting, drinking, and celebrating.
His violet eyes burned with contempt.
These so-called gods. Arrogant. Self-righteous. Drunk on power.
His fists clenched as he gazed upon them, the memories of his past clawing their way into his mind.
And he remembered.
Fifteen-year-old Ryojin walked through the dirt-covered streets of his home village, Devilu, of the kingdom of Rigad ,wearing tattered clothes stained with filth . The whispers of the villagers slithered into his ears like venom.
"Look at his eyes. Violet. A devil's spawn."
"His mother died giving birth to him. He killed her."
"The scriptures of Lord Jeba spoke of this—he is cursed."
He had heard these words his entire life. Even his own father, Kiyo, regarded him with nothing but disgust.
Ryojin walked with his head held high. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him broken.
But that night, everything changed.
A mob gathered outside his house, their faces twisted with hate. Torches flickered in the dark, their flames licking the air hungrily.
"Burn the devil!"
"Ever since his birth, our village has had bad luck."
" How am I to blame for that?" Ryojin asked, his voice laced with defiance, from the inside. " You are all just lazy slums."
" This kid even has got the nerves to insult us," a man shouted. " Hey Kiyo bring that wretched son of yours out."
Ryojin turned to his father. "Help me drive them away!"
Kiyo's cold gaze met his. Then, without a word, he grabbed Ryojin by the collar and threw him out.
Ryojin's body slammed against the dirt, pain shooting through his limbs. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Father…?"
The mob descended upon him like wolves.
Fists. Boots. Stones.
Pain exploded in his body as they beat him without mercy . Blood filled his mouth, his vision blurred, but he never screamed. He refused to give them that satisfaction.
They dragged him through the village and tied him to a wooden pole and left him for the night.
" What have I done to deserve this?" he said his voice low tears falling from his eyes. " was it wrong for me to be born?" He looked up to the sky. " Why have you cursed me with such a life?"
The night passed, the next day His lips cracked. His body screamed for water and he was cold. People walked by, mocking him, spitting on him, throwing scraps of food just out of reach.
Then, salvation came—not from kindness, but from cruelty.
A group of warriors rode into the village, clad in black armor. The Abyssal Clans.
They were searching for recruits. Families sold their sons for coin.
One of the warriors, a towering man with dead eyes, spotted Ryojin. "Who's this?"
"My son," Kiyo said, stepping forward. "You can take him. Just give me a sack of rice."
The warrior sneered. "He's half-dead already."
"Then take half a sack."
A smirk. A nod. The deal was made.
They rode for days, a caravan of stolen sons, their futures sold like cattle.
Some boys boasted, dreaming of becoming warriors. Others remained silent, accepting their fate. But one caught Ryojin's eye—a boy with brown curly hair who shivered uncontrollably, drowning in his own fear.
As they reached a barren wasteland, hundreds of other recruits stood waiting. The air was thick with unease.
A high-ranking Abyssal warrior, with a scar running across his face, stepped forward. "If you want to be warriors, prove it."
Silence. Confusion.
Then, without warning—a boy with spicky hair grabbed a stone and bashed another's skull in.
Crack.
Blood splattered across the dirt. The dead boy's body twitched.
And the killer laughed.
The realization hit them all at once.
Kill. Or be killed.
Chaos erupted.
Fists met flesh. Teeth sank into throats. Rocks smashed into skulls. Screams filled the air as boys fought for survival.
Ryojin, weak and battered, was thrown to the ground. Six boys surrounded him.
"Easy target," one sneered.
They kicked him. His ribs cracked. Blood poured from his lips.
Ryojin refused to fall.
He grabbed a sharp rock and jammed it into a boy's throat. The boy gurgled, clutching at the wound as he collapsed.
One down.
Another lunged—Ryojin ducked, seized his arm, and twisted until bone snapped.
Two down.
A fist slammed into Ryojin's jaw. His vision blurred. He staggered, coughing blood.
Then, a voice boomed. "Enough."
The battle ceased. Thirty boys remained standing- including Ryojin.
The Abyssal warrior smirked. "The rest who are not on their feet will be sacrificed."
The boys who failed were dragged away, pleading, screaming, begging. Among them was the trembling boy from earlier. He knelt, praying.
Ryojin's fury ignited. "Stop praying! Your gods won't save you!"
But the boy smiled. "I thank the gods for this life."
Anger surged. Ryojin stormed forward and punched him.
The Abyssal warriors roared in laughter—until one raised his hand to strike Ryojin down.
Ryojin dodged, grabbed a jagged branch, and stabbed the warrior in the eye.
A scream. Blood gushed down the warrior's face.
But Ryojin wasn't fast enough. A fist slammed into his gut, then his face. Again. And again.
Pain. Darkness.
Before he lost consciousness, he heard a deep voice.
"Interesting. This one is Feisty. "
Ryojin awoke to the sound of chains. His wounds had been tended to. The high-ranking warrior stood over him, eyes filled with amusement.
"You have fire, boy."
Ryojin spat blood at his feet. "Screw you."
The warrior chuckled. "You want to prove that gods are nothing? Very well. You are forgiven for your earlier behavior."
Ryojin gestured at the praying boy - who was now tied to a pole outside awaiting to be beheaded. "He lives too."
"who told you that you are in any position to make requests?" Another warrior hissed.
"Because I want to show him that gods are nothing."
"Very well," the The high ranking warrior said as he got up to untie the boy. " I like your spirit."
The boy approached Ryojin his voice laced with curiosity. "Why did you save me?"
Ryojin's violet eyes burned. "Because I want you to see with your own eyes—your gods don't give a damn about you."
The boy chuckled, " Am Darius vael, and you are?"
" Ryojin Kurohane." He said his voice laced with confidence. " hey, from now on do not depend on your fake gods. I'll be your God and you be mine. I.."
"I will protect you when I must, and I will judge you when I need to." Darius finished his voice low
A faint smile lingered on Ryojin's lips after hearing Darius's words.
" Fair enough."
And from that day on, the Devil's path was carved in blood.
Back to Solare
Ryojin's fists unclenched as the memory faded. He looked down at the gods feasting below.
They had no idea of the monster standing above them.
A slow, sinister smile stretched across his lips.
Tonight…
They would remember.