A crimson mist hung over the ruins of Dravenmire, swirling like restless spirits whispering secrets of the past. The moon, fractured and bleeding light, cast jagged shadows that stretched unnaturally across the rubble. The air was thick, charged with an unseen force that clawed at the soul.

Lucien Voidheart stood atop the remnants of a shattered coliseum, his breath steady, his grip firm on Shadowfang. His once-burning rage had tempered into something colder—unyielding, unwavering. Below him, the abyss pulsed like a slumbering beast, waiting, watching.

A slow, deliberate clap echoed from the darkness.

"You walk a path few dare to tread, Forsaken Monarch."

Lucien turned, his crimson gaze locking onto the silhouette standing at the edge of the ruin. The figure was clad in obsidian armor that pulsed with veins of violet light. His presence was an abyss unto itself, a void that devoured even the flickering embers of dying torches.

"Valtheris." Lucien's voice was devoid of emotion, yet his heart thundered in his chest.

Valtheris, the First Tyrant, the one who had orchestrated the fall of empires, the being who had once held dominion over the Throne of Shadows. His presence in the ruined city was an omen of catastrophe yet to unfold.

"You remember my name," Valtheris mused, stepping forward. "Good. It means you remember what comes next."

Lucien raised his blade, its dark flames licking hungrily at the air. "Your time has long passed. You are nothing but an echo of the past."

Valtheris chuckled, the sound reverberating through the ruins like a death knell. "An echo, you say? Tell me, Lucien, have you never wondered why the Abyss calls to you so fervently? Why it whispers your name like a lost lover?"

Lucien’s jaw clenched, but he did not respond. He couldn’t. Because the truth was clawing at him, suffocating him.

Valtheris extended a hand, and the shadows convulsed, writhing into a monstrous form behind him. Tendrils of darkness coiled around ancient, shattered columns, pulling them into the void below. The city itself seemed to recoil in the presence of such overwhelming power.

"You think yourself its master?" Valtheris taunted. "You are but a child playing with a blade too heavy to wield. The Abyss does not serve. It claims."

With an explosion of force, the shadows lunged at Lucien. He reacted in an instant, Shadowfang cleaving through the living darkness, his body moving on instinct. The battle was unlike anything before. Every strike he delivered only seemed to feed the abyssal monstrosity, every movement a step deeper into the void’s embrace.

A voice, distant yet achingly familiar, whispered in his mind. "Lucien… the deeper you go, the thinner the line between power and oblivion."

He gritted his teeth. The weight of his past, of his choices, pressed against his very soul. If he was to survive, if he was to win, he needed more than strength.

He needed clarity.

With a guttural roar, he shifted his stance, focusing his entire will into Shadowfang. The blade pulsed, a deep resonance that sent a shockwave tearing through the ruins. The abyss recoiled for the first time.

Valtheris narrowed his eyes. "So, you have chosen defiance."

Lucien wiped the blood from his lips and smirked. "No. I've chosen myself."

The shadows stilled, as if the Abyss itself was holding its breath.

And then, the battle truly began.

To be continued…

       THE END