Cold.
It wasn't the kind of cold that came from winter's breath or the chill of steel against skin.
This was deeper. Older. Hungrier.
Aarav couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.
The world had vanished—no sky, no earth, no arena. Just a suffocating, formless void pressing against him from all sides.
And then—a whisper.
"You should not be."
Aarav clenched his teeth, fighting against the weight crushing him. He had felt pain before—but this was different.
This was erasure.
Like the universe itself was trying to unmake him.
No.
Aarav gritted his teeth, forcing his fingers to move. Then his arms. His chest.
NO.
His body trembled, veins burning like molten fire. His heart pounded—fighting, resisting, refusing.
A memory flickered.
A rooftop. A promise. A sister's laughter.
Aarav roared.
BOOM.
The darkness around him cracked.
A light surged from within him—bright, golden, defiant. The mark on his arm blazed, splitting the void apart.
The voice whispered again, this time with something close to... amusement.
"You fight the abyss. Few ever do."
The void rippled. Shifted. And suddenly, Aarav wasn't alone.
Figures emerged from the darkness—distorted silhouettes, hundreds of them. Warriors, kings, beasts, all clad in shifting shadows. Their faces were blurred, but their eyes...
Their eyes burned with the same golden fire that had erupted from Aarav's own body.
One of them stepped forward.
A jagged crown of black steel sat atop his head, a long, curved blade resting against his shoulder.
His voice was calm. Unyielding.
"You who bear the mark.
Do you fear the abyss?"
Aarav's fists clenched. He looked at them—these remnants of warriors long lost.
Then he looked at himself. At his burning mark. At the chains still wrapped around his soul.
His lips curled into a wild grin.
"No. But the abyss should fear me."
The crowned warrior tilted his head, and for the first time, he smiled.
The figures raised their weapons.
The abyss shuddered.
And then—they charged.
The abyss howled.
It wasn't a sound of rage or pain.
It was a sound of hunger.
The figures—warriors of the forgotten past—rushed forward, their golden eyes burning through the void. Blades carved through the darkness, lances of pure defiance pierced the abyss.
Aarav's pulse pounded in sync with the war cries around him. He had no idea who these warriors were, but their presence sent a single message—
He was not alone.
The crowned warrior moved first. His curved blade sang through the air, cleaving a rip through the void itself. The abyss screeched, recoiling as if in agony.
Another warrior, a woman with a serpent coiled around her arm, struck next. Her spear glowed with golden inscriptions—a language older than the gods themselves.
Aarav felt it—power beyond time itself.
But the abyss did not retreat.
It fought back.
From its depths, tendrils of pure void surged forward, latching onto the warriors, trying to drag them down into nothingness.
Aarav barely dodged one before another wrapped around his wrist, pulling—
No. Not this time.
His mark blazed.
Aarav planted his foot, twisted his body—
And tore the tendril apart.
The abyss shuddered.
Aarav let out a breath. That's right. You're not the only one that can devour.
He grabbed another tendril and this time, he didn't just rip it away—
He absorbed it.
The darkness poured into his veins, not as poison, but as fuel. His golden mark pulsed brighter, the abyss's own power now becoming his weapon.
The crowned warrior laughed.
"Good. Now prove it."
Aarav's pulse roared.
He launched himself forward—faster than before. Stronger.
The abyss sent more shadows after him, but he slid past them, fists glowing with raw power.
The void tried to consume him—
But Aarav was done being consumed.
With a single punch, he tore through the abyss itself.
BOOM.
A shockwave ripped through the darkness. The howls of the abyss turned into screams.
Aarav grinned.
"I told you."
He raised his fist as the abyss collapsed around him.
"You should fear me."
The abyss shattered.
Where there had once been an endless void, now only pieces remained—floating ruins of darkness, fading into nothingness.
Aarav stood in the middle of it all, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His body ached—not from exhaustion, but from something deeper.
The power inside him was changing.
He clenched his fist, watching as gold and black swirled across his skin—his mark shifting, adapting, absorbing.
The crowned warrior sheathed his blade, stepping forward. "You are no longer just a contender."
Aarav met his gaze. "Then what am I?"
A slow smile spread across the warrior's face. "A defiance. A paradox."
The golden-eyed warriors behind him began to fade, their forms dissolving into streaks of light. A farewell, but not a loss.
Aarav exhaled, feeling something inside him settle. He had survived. No. He had conquered.
But the fight wasn't over.
The abyss had been a test—a gatekeeper.
And now, the real door stood before him.
A lone archway of ancient stone materialized from the remains of the void. It pulsed with the same energy as his mark, as if calling to him.
Aarav took a step toward it.
The crowned warrior's voice echoed one last time.
"Walk through that door, and you will no longer be the same."
Aarav smirked. "Good."
Then he stepped forward—
Into the unknown.
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