The crimson eclipse over Eldrin pulsed with a malevolent rhythm, its blood-red light now streaked with veins of shadow, as if the Abyssborn itself were weaving a shroud over the Realms. The air was thick with the scent of iron and void, a lingering echo of the Abyssal Crucible, and the ground trembled with a heartbeat that seemed to resonate in Beelzebub's bones—a call he could no longer ignore. At Level 31, with 18395 EXP, Beelzebub's stats were a towering force—Strength at 5579, Speed at 4638, Defense at 3071, Mana at 6024, Luck at 450, Charisma at 450 after absorbing the Abyssal Herald's essence. His aura, a twenty-meter storm of cold dominance amplified by his Devourer profession, shimmered with void-like tendrils laced with crimson and shadow, a visual testament to the Abyssal Sovereign bloodline and Abyssal Bloodstorm talent. The SS-tier Eclipse Scythe in his hand glowed with a blood-red hue (+100 Strength, +35% Blood Damage), its hum a constant reminder of the Abyssborn's final whisper: "The Abyssborn… waits."
The voices in his mind—Herald's abyssal storm, Wraith's shadow, Fate's starlight—clawed louder, a cacophony that threatened to unravel him. Blood… shadow… void… who am I? The strain of Gluttony pulsed harder, his identity a fraying tapestry woven with stolen wills. He clenched the Eclipse Scythe, its crimson glow reflecting in his void-like eyes—eyes that now flickered with a blood-red and shadow sheen, a physical manifestation of his evolving magic. He growled, "I'm Beelzebub," shoving the chaos down, but the doubt in his crimson gaze deepened. The Abyssborn's presence was a tempest now, its will pressing against his own, tempting him with power while threatening to consume him. A philosophical question gnawed at him, unvoiced: Am I the Devourer of chaos, or its herald?
Ryn walked beside him, her cloak stained with the blood and shadow of the Abyssal Crucible, her dagger sheathed but her posture alert. Her trust had risen to 56% after their shared moment in the crucible, and her eyes, though shadowed by her cursed past, held a quiet resolve as she glanced at the sky. "The eclipse… it's not just a sign anymore," she said, her voice soft but heavy with dread. "It's a veil… and it's breaking."
Beelzebub turned, Charisma weaving a flirty edge into his sharp tone, but his gaze softened with a rare vulnerability. "Then we'll shatter it, Blade. Stay with me—you'll see me tear it down." Her lips curved into a faint smile, her trust ticking up to 58%, the bond between them deepening with each shared trial. She stepped closer, her hand resting on his arm, the touch a quiet anchor against the storm within. "I'm with you," she whispered, her voice a thread of hope that warmed him more than he'd admit.
The streets of Eldrin were in chaos, NPCs fleeing in terror, players crowding the leaderboard crystal: "1. Beelzebub (Lv. 31), 2. Kael (Lv. 28), 3. Mira (Lv. 26), 4. Lia (Lv. 25), 5–10 TBD." Whispers of Beelzebub's SS-rank clears and the crimson eclipse's veil spread like wildfire, but the ancient murals on the walls—depicting a devourer breaking chains—seemed to writhe in the bloodlit light, as if alive. The symbol of shattered chains, a recurring motif of the Abyssborn's freedom, whispered of a past where the gods trembled before a primordial chaos. Beelzebub's gaze lingered on the murals, a flicker of recognition in his eyes—the same chains he'd seen in his visions, the same devourer the Mage Guild's tomes named him.
A vision flickered in his mind, unbidden—a parallel timeline from the perspective of an ancient warrior, a champion of the gods named Kaelith, who had fought in the war against the Abyssborn. He stood on a battlefield of shattered stars, his blade glowing with divine light as he faced the Abyssborn's chaos. "We seal it, but its will endures," he said to his comrades, his voice heavy with sacrifice. "A devourer will rise… and we will fall." The vision faded, leaving Beelzebub staggering, his breath ragged. The voices screamed—Chaos… blood… shadow… who am I?—the Abyssborn's will brushing against his own, a whisper of power that both tempted and terrified. The warrior's words echoed the Mage Guild's prophecy, naming him the Devourer, but also hinting at a cost—the fall of the gods, and perhaps his own humanity.
The Mage Guild's summons came with desperation, their trust at 95% but laced with fear. Beelzebub and Ryn entered the guildhall, the air thick with the scent of ancient parchment and the faint glow of enchanted tomes. Elaraen, the senior scholar, awaited them, her hands trembling as she opened the glowing tome. "The crimson eclipse—it's a veil between worlds," she said, her voice a whisper. "The Abyssborn is breaking through… and it's sent its strongest herald yet. It seeks to claim you, Beelzebub. To make you its vessel." Her eyes met his, a mix of fear and hope. "You must face it—or the Realms will fall."
Beelzebub's smirk was cold, but the philosophical question lingered, unvoiced: Am I the Devourer of fate, or its pawn? "I don't bow to heralds," he said, his tone a blade. The guild's trust ticked up to 96%, their desperation outweighing their fear.
A rift opened in Eldrin's eastern wastes, the crimson eclipse's light pouring through—a gateway to the Shattered Veil, an SS-rank dungeon born of the Abyssborn's will. Beelzebub's HUD pinged: "Clear the SS-Rank Dungeon: Shattered Veil. Slay the Veilbreaker Herald. Reward: 1300 EXP, 520 Copper, Achievement." The rift pulsed with a heartbeat, its edges lined with runes that bled crimson and shadow, their script a lament for the gods' hubris in sealing the Abyssborn. Beelzebub grinned, aura surging—parchment fluttering as he turned to Ryn. "Another SS-rank, Blade. Ready?"
She nodded, her trust steady at 58%. "With you, always."
The Shattered Veil was a hellscape of fractured reality, its ground a mosaic of obsidian and blood, the air thick with the scent of iron and void. The crimson eclipse hung overhead, its light casting jagged shadows that writhed like living things, the veil between worlds visibly cracking. Shadows surged: Veil Shadows, Level 80, spectral warriors with blades of shadow and blood, eighty strong, their forms radiating a darkness tinged with crimson. Beelzebub's aura erupted—ground cracking as he swung the Eclipse Scythe, Strength at 5679 (gear-boosted) cleaving the first Shadow's core. Blood damage flared, 35% bonus igniting—crimson spraying as Crimson Wave (Mastery to 6/10) slashed through another, bloodlight tearing through shadow.
They retaliated—blades slashing in a storm of shadow and crimson, their movements a blur of lethal precision. He weaved, Speed at 4668 (gear-adjusted) dodging a flurry, then Phantom Step (10/10) flickered him mid-strike—Eclipse Scythe arcing, Crimson Tide (Mastery to 10/10—maxed) carving twelve more, bloodlight clashing with crimson. A blade grazed his side—HP dipping 32%, Paladin's Crest ticking it back. Storm Call (10/10) erupted—lightning chaining through twenty-five, void sizzling, screams echoing. Horned Frenzy flared, Speed spiking to 7002—Eclipse Scythe whirled, Whisper of the Void (Mastery to 5/10) unleashing a shadow wave, Abyssal Resonance amplifying the darkness. The last charged—Void Grasp (10/10) pinned it, Strength snapping its core. Eighty fell, the veil trembling.
"Ding! 80 Veil Shadows defeated. Absorbed: Strength +400, Speed +320, Defense +240, Mana +480, Luck +80, Charisma +80."
The Veilbreaker Herald rose from the veil's heart—a Level 85 colossus of shadow and blood, its massive greatsword glowing with crimson and void, eyes blazing like twin eclipses. "The Abyssborn's will… you will break," it intoned, voice a storm of blood and void. Beelzebub grinned, aura surging—ground splintering—as he charged, Eclipse Scythe raised.
The Herald swung—greatsword arcing in a wave of crimson and shadow, reality fraying at its edge. He leaped, Speed at 4988 weaving through, then countered with Radiant Strike (10/10)—holy light slashing its arm, void hissing. It retaliated—crimson wave rippling, slamming him into a wall—HP dropping 60%. He laughed, aura pulsing, Mana Surge spiking Mana to 9042. Crimson Wave (Mastery to 7/10) roared—bloodlight clashing with crimson, Bloodlight Surge amplifying the damage.
The greatsword spun—Dark Aegis (10/10) rose, splintering under the blow—HP dipping 50%. Beelzebub darted, Shadow Bind (10/10) locking its arm—greatsword faltered. He lunged, Crimson Wave slashing its side—bloodlight cutting deep, a bleed igniting. The Herald roared—crimson storm erupting, throwing him back—HP falling 55%. He rolled, Speed weaving through debris, then Horned Frenzy flared—Speed at 7482—Eclipse Scythe a blur, Abyssal Strike (Mastery to 2/10) unleashing a void-crimson strike, Abyssal Bloodstorm amplifying the damage. Crimson Rage ignited as HP dropped below 50%, damage surging.
It thrust—crimson piercing stone. Void Grasp countered, tendrils snapping its wrist—greatsword clattered. Beelzebub leaped, Wraith Slash (10/10) carving its neck—mana flared, void damage searing. The Herald roared—Storm Call crashed lightning down, ground shattering. He gripped the Eclipse Scythe, Strength at 6079 driving it through its core—crimson and shadow exploded, HP dropping 60%. The Herald collapsed, blood and shadow pooling, its final whisper echoing: "The veil… shatters."
"Ding! Veilbreaker Herald defeated. Absorbed: Strength +700, Speed +560, Defense +420, Mana +840, Luck +30, Charisma +30, Bloodline: Veilbreaker (Reality Resistance +10%), Talent: Veilshatter Pulse (Boost reality-based skills), Veilshatter Slash (Skill). Loot: Veilbreaker Armor (SS-tier, Armor, +150 Defense, +30% Reality Resistance), Copper x2600."
Skills: Veilshatter Slash (Unleash reality-charged slash, Mastery: 1/10)
"Ding! Quest Complete. Reward: 1300 EXP, 520 Copper, Achievement: Veil Shatterer – First to clear the Shattered Veil. Reward: 1000 EXP, Title: Veilbreaker Sovereign (+5% Mana)."
"Ding! Level Up! Reached Level 32. EXP: 21195/6000."
The voices screamed—Blood… shadow… void… reality… who?—Herald's veilshatter, Wraith's shadow, Fate's light. His skull split—Veilbreaker's chill, Veilshatter Pulse's rhythm threading into him. He staggered, aura flaring—ground crumbling. "I'm Beelzebub," he growled, but Gluttony's strain pulsed harder—identity fraying further. His aura shifted, now a storm of void, crimson, and fractured reality, a visual cue of his evolving magic.
Ryn stepped closer, her hand on his chest, her touch a quiet anchor. "The veil… it's gone," she said, her voice soft, laced with awe and fear. "What comes next?"
He turned, Charisma weaving a flirty edge into his tone, but his eyes held a flicker of uncertainty. "The Abyssborn, Blade. It's coming." Her trust ticked up to 60%, the moment of vulnerability deepening their bond.