Chapter 13: Whispers from the Deep

The gate pulsed like a living wound in the air. Darkness spilled into the chamber—not absence of light, but a presence of something else. Something ancient. Watching. Listening.

Kael Draven stood before it, unfazed.

Behind him, the core members of the Abyss Order looked on—silent. Even Myrr, usually unshaken, felt his demonic blood stir uneasily.

From the depths of the portal, a voice slithered through reality.

“You wear the shell of a forgotten knight… but your soul—it burns.”

Kael closed his eyes, letting the void seep into his mind.

“Name your price,” he said aloud. “In exchange for power.”

“We are not merchants. We are not gods. We are the first storm… the entropy that dreamed before time. And you... are interesting.”

The darkness coalesced into a shape—vague, rippling like oil over a mirror. Not solid, not shadow. A thought given mass.

“You seek dominion. But dominion is a weight. Can you bear it?”

Kael’s eyes glowed violet.

“I’ve carried worse.”

There was a pause. Then laughter—echoing from within every wall, every breath, every heartbeat in the chamber.

“Then take a gift, Kael Draven. Our mark. Our hunger. Let it feed you.”

A single tendril of void light darted forward—piercing Kael’s chest, straight into the Abyss Driver. The armor crackled violently, his body lifting into the air as glyphs spun like stars around him.

Kael didn’t scream. He welcomed it.

When he dropped back to the ground, he rose—changed.

The armor had shifted. Sleeker, darker, veins of living void-light pulsing beneath the surface. His visor flickered between dimensions.

Kamen Rider Abyss – Voidborne Form.

Elsewhere in Arcanis, the world trembled.

At the Arcane Citadel, their high seers convulsed mid-ritual, their eyes turning pitch black as visions flooded in.

“He’s done it,” one whispered. “He’s made contact.”

“With what?” the Grand Arcanist demanded.

The seer shook her head, weeping.

“Not what. When. He’s touched a hunger from before time.”

In the deepest halls of Darkveil, Lord Varrick felt the shift like a pulse of pain in his bones. He clutched his head, snarling.

“That fool. He doesn’t understand what he’s invited in.”

He turned to his generals.

“We attack now. Before that power finishes blooming.”

Back in the Abyss Order citadel, Kael stood before his army.

Many had once been exiled mages. Former soldiers. Monsters. Outcasts. But now they were united under one name. One banner. One future.

Kael raised his hand—and the Rift Engine howled behind him like a broken universe.

“We are done hiding,” he declared. His voice echoed with something unnatural. Something deep.

“We will show this world what it means to be unbound. To reclaim it from those who think they own it.”

“Abyss Order, rise.”

The army roared back in one voice.

“RISE!”