Kael stood at the edge of the Red Vale, the heart of the Abyss far behind him, yet the weight of its darkness still pulsed within his veins. The sky overhead was a murky shade of crimson, casting long shadows over the blackened stones that marked the path ahead. He had walked through fire, pierced the veil of the unknown, and come out the other side not as a man, not even as a god—but as something entirely new.
His body still ached from the transformation. The raw, overwhelming force of the Abyss churned within him like a restless storm. His skin bore markings now—etched lines of shadow that moved subtly, like living ink trailing beneath the surface. Each mark pulsed with quiet power, reminders of what he had done and what he had become.
The wind carried a chill, but it wasn't cold. It was hollow. Empty. The kind of breeze that reminded Kael that the world he knew was gone. He had crossed a threshold few dared to approach and none had survived. The price had been steep. And yet, as he looked ahead at the twisted horizon, he felt no regret—only purpose.
Every step he took away from the Abyss was a step toward a future that didn't yet exist. His path was unwritten, but his will was iron. The world beyond Hollowpeak would never be the same.
---
Kael's first days out of the Abyss were brutal. His body, adapting to the new power, often fought against him. At night, he would wake drenched in sweat, gasping for air, shadows writhing around him like smoke. He couldn't always tell if he was awake or dreaming. In some of those dreams, the figure from the altar returned, whispering warnings, riddles, or sometimes just watching.
Other times, Kael saw himself—reflected in black glass—burning. Not with flame, but with something deeper, more destructive.
He avoided settlements at first. His presence caused animals to flee, and once, when he passed too close to a group of travelers, one of them fainted without Kael even touching him. The power inside him wasn't just energy—it was presence. And the world was not ready for it.
But Kael was not afraid. No, he was learning. He spent those early days wandering the ruined landscapes at the border of the Abyss, hunting the corrupted beasts that dwelled there. They came in many forms—some half-formed, others monstrous in size and strength—but all bore the mark of the abyssal taint.
Kael fought them not for survival, but for understanding.
Every battle honed his instincts, tempered his power. Void Fang, too, had changed. The blade had absorbed some of the abyssal energy and now seemed to hum with a will of its own. It whispered more clearly, no longer shrouded in riddles. It guided Kael, teaching him how to harness his new strength—how to twist shadow, bend space, and slice through the very essence of magic.
One night, he stood on a cliff's edge, looking out over a wasteland below. Fires flickered in the distance. Smoke rose in thin columns toward the sky. Somewhere, a village burned.
Kael narrowed his eyes. The world wasn't waiting for him—it was tearing itself apart.
He needed to move.
---
It was on the seventh day that Kael encountered another human.
The girl was no older than sixteen, half-starved, dirt-smudged, and barely conscious. She stumbled into his path with wild eyes, mumbling something about "the veiled ones" and "a storm of blades." Kael knelt beside her, and despite the pain that washed over her face when she looked at him, she didn't run.
He touched her forehead, and for a moment, he saw. Images flashed in his mind—flames, screams, armored men wielding unnatural weapons. A village razed. Children taken. The girl had escaped, but only barely.
"Where?" he asked.
She pointed north.
Kael looked at the direction, then at the girl. He didn't speak again. He simply stood, lifted her gently into his arms, and began walking.
That was how it began. The Black Road.
---
The path north led Kael through places untouched by sunlight. Shadow-twisted forests where trees groaned with age and pain. Fields where the earth itself bled a black, oozing ichor. He began to encounter others—refugees, survivors, broken souls crawling away from the chaos consuming their homes.
Word spread quickly.
A shadow-cloaked figure wielding a cursed blade. A man who walked unharmed through fire and darkness. A stranger who healed the wounded not with light, but with silence and stillness. They called him many things: Shadebearer, Lord of Ash, the Abysswalker.
Kael ignored the titles. He wasn't their savior.
But he would be their reckoning.
---
The girl—whose name was Renna—recovered slowly. Her presence grounded Kael in a way he hadn't expected. She was too frightened to speak most days, but she followed him, often clinging to the edge of his shadow like it offered protection.
One night, as they camped near an abandoned shrine, she finally spoke.
"Why do you help them?"
Kael didn't answer right away. He stared into the dying fire, his expression unreadable.
"Because someone has to," he said eventually.
She frowned. "But… you're not a hero."
"No." He looked at her. "I'm not."
"Then why?"
Kael's eyes reflected the firelight. "Because I'm the only one who can."
---
The road became darker with every step. Kael found himself hunted—not just by beasts or bandits, but by cloaked figures who wielded powers similar to his own. They were called the Abyssborn—fragments of a forgotten cult that worshiped the chaos Kael now carried inside him.
But they were not allies. They wanted to claim him, chain him, bend him to their will.
They failed.
Every encounter pushed Kael further, made him stronger. He learned to speak the tongue of shadows, to walk through walls of darkness, to manipulate time in slivers and moments. His control grew—so too did his burden.
With each power he mastered, a part of him slipped further from humanity. Renna saw it. She tried to pull him back, but Kael had long passed the point of return.
He wasn't Kael the boy anymore.
He was becoming something else.
Kael, the Abyssborne.
Kael, the Flame of Shadow.
Kael, the Reckoning.
And the world would learn to fear him—or fall before him.
---
By the time Kael reached the ruins of the village Renna had fled, only ashes remained.
Bodies littered the streets. Smoke drifted lazily from the charred remains of homes. In the center of the town square, someone had erected a totem of bone and flame.
Kael stood in silence. Void Fang pulsed at his side.
They would pay. All of them.
He raised his blade, and from the shadows of the ruins, a hundred forms began to rise—warriors, rebels, survivors drawn by his presence. Each had seen what he had done. Each had chosen to follow.
Kael said nothing.
He simply pointed forward.
The Black Road would continue.
And this time, the world would burn.
---
End of Chapter 14.