Word of the massacre at the Academy spread like wildfire.
Not through the news.
Not through official channels.
But through the underground.
The Abyss had eyes everywhere.
And those eyes were afraid.
Inside a hidden council chamber deep beneath the city,
darkness gathered.
Twelve seats, each occupied by a Guild Master —
the ruling leaders of the Abyss Guilds.
Each one a nightmare wrapped in human skin.
Each one powerful enough to topple cities.
Each one now focused on a single problem:
A name.
A shadow.
A rogue.
"Asura," growled the first Guild Master — a woman cloaked in chains made of bone. "The child the Academy discarded."
"The child who now walks through fortified Sigil barriers like mist," muttered another — a man with cracked crimson skin and soulless eyes. "The one who devours Sigils instead of simply using them."
"The one who can't be controlled," finished a third — his voice like broken glass.
Silence.
Heavy.
Oppressive.
Even among monsters, even among those who had crushed kingdoms under their boots,
Asura's name carried weight.
He wasn't following the rules.
He wasn't building alliances.
Or recruiting.
Or pledging loyalty.
He was moving alone.
Feeding on everything in his path.
Becoming something new.
Something terrifying.
One of the Guild Masters slammed a hand down on the stone table, cracking it.
"We should strike first!" she snarled. "Hunt him while he is still growing!"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.
Another Guild Master leaned back in his throne of writhing roots.
"Or… we could recruit him."
Silence again.
Recruit Asura?
Risk bringing a weapon like that into their ranks?
Risk trying to control a living abyss?
"No," came a cold, final voice from the shadows at the head of the table.
The Prime Guild Master.
The one they all feared.
He rose slowly, his body wrapped in living darkness —
his face hidden behind a mask etched with thousands of screaming faces.
His voice was iron.
"We do not control storms," he said. "We survive them… or we are swept away."
He turned to the others.
"Let the boy grow.
Let him taste more power.
Let him become drunk on it."
"And when he is at his strongest…"
The masked leader's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Then we tear him apart."
The others bowed their heads in grim agreement.
A silent decree passed between them.
Asura was now marked.
Hunted.
Feared.
Targeted.
Back in the ruins of the Academy,
Asura stood atop a collapsed spire,
watching the city below.
The System whispered warnings into his mind:
[Status Update: Hostility Level: EXTREME.]
[Threat Detected: Abyss Guilds Mobilizing.]
[Warning: Host is now classified as a Tier 0 Catastrophe.]
Asura smiled coldly.
They feared him now.
They should.
Because he had no intention of slowing down.
If the Guilds wanted war…
Then war was what they would get.
The Abyss whispered at his back.
And Asura stepped forward into the coming storm.