Shining faintly above them, the golden, starry sky of Atheo signaled the beginning of a new day—a new era.
Within a single day, a Divine-level Order Break was reversed, restoring an entire city back from the Abyss back into Atheo.
It was a feat rarely, if ever, achieved in the history of Atheo.
Many praised Empress Meridia—the conqueror of the Abyss—for slaying the Nexus Guardian so swiftly and saving countless lives.
A few whispered mocking jests, questioning why she didn’t conquer it sooner, but they were a silent minority as her authority and popularity skyrocketed.
In the streets, the Royal Army of Vulcanis quickly seized control of the Genesity, sweeping the streets clear of any stray Abyssal Creatures that managed to sneak into the city through the Order Break Reversal.
Spearheading the hunt herself, the Empress took firm reins of her newfound authority.
Without the interference brought by the Abyss and its perilous nature, the humans quickly exterminated the lurking Abyssals.
The survivors were rounded up and sent off to inspection to verify that they weren’t infected with any diseases carried by some Abyssals or that they weren’t a mimic entirely.
Soren sighed, pulling his hood low.
He stood, tensing his legs as he looked out across the gap.
The devastating blast from the Abyssal Titan annihilated the entire district behind him but due to the interlocking of islands back to a crudely unified city, the gap between him and the edge of the crater was merely dozens of feet.
While that distance would be impossible for a normal like he previously was…
He felt a firm tug on the back of his cloak before a warmth filled his body, soothing his wounds.
“Stop,” Meric commanded firmly, his grip tightening.
“You can’t run away from this.
An unknown Ascender must be identified.
Angels know that Rivor has already reported you.”
Soren paused before shaking his head and tugging the firm grip off.
“I have a debt to settle.
Then, I’ll come back and face my punishment.”
A heavy, resigned sigh echoed behind him.
“Fine,” Meirc relented, stepping back.
“You settle this ‘debt’ of yours and I will try to cover your ass.
But if you don’t turn yourself in… I will hunt you down myself.
Oh, Angels know I want to tear you to pieces right now.”
Soren nodded tensely, the cold grip on his heart stifling everything except the burning fury at the moment.
Taking a deep breath, he drove his foot into the cracked stone below him and channeled strength into his legs.
A surge of power filled his legs to an extent he had never felt before and he leaped.
The shattered stone scattered under the force of his launch, shards spraying everywhere as he flew across the chasm towards the crater’s edge.
For a fleeting moment, Soren felt truly free, soaring through the air with a strength he never once possessed in his entire life until now—a strength to seize control of his life.
He landed with a thud, stone fragments flying everywhere as he easily cleared the wide gap with his Awakened strength alone—a stark testament to how much stronger Ascenders were.
Straightening from his crouch, Soren looked around.
Streets that had been desolate in the Abyss were now bustling with activity.
Imperial soldiers escorted shaken citizens while some ran around, rushing to exterminate the Abyssals and claim the riches themselves.
A soldier who spotted Soren clearing the chasm marched up to Soren, likely intending to demand identification due to his odd appearance.
“You there,” the soldier yelled, drawing the eyes of nearby onlookers.
“Who are you, Awakened sir?”
Soren ignored his call, walking past with cold, resolute eyes that warned anyone with the pain of death if they stood in his path.
“I asked who you were?
Identify yourself!”
Soren’s cold fury spiked, the unrefined aura of an Awakened bleeding out of him in a violent wave.
The pressure hit the soldier like a stone wall, freezing him mid-step and hand locking up on his scabbard.
The soldier gritted his teeth before he brought his hands to his ears, pressing on a high-quality crystal in his ear.
“We have an uniden—”
Before he could finish, a stone cut through the air with deadly accuracy and hit the soldier’s hand, knocking his fingers away from the communicator in his ear.
Soren didn’t bother checking if the soldier was okay, nor did he care to figure out the consequences.
He simply pulled strength to his legs and ran.
He ran beyond a speed a normal could run, the wind pushing against him as he cut through the streets of Genesity and into the comfortable alleyways.
There, he jumped, clearing two and a half stories in a single leap before he pushed off the building’s side and scaled up the walls.
There, on the rooftops, he felt free.
Unburdened by the busy streets of Genesity filled with soldiers that were inevitably searching for him and Abyssal Creatures that lurked in the shadows, he ran.
Soren didn’t care about what happened to him as long as he got to live and get stronger, which he could easily achieve by joining the royal guards.
However, what he cared more about was the principle of equivalent retribution—his mind fixated to a single, burning destination: the Undercity.
Down in the deep underbelly of the city sat the Scavenger Headquarters, one of the main forces of the Undercity and the home of Soren.
And that was where Malphas would be.
Malphas.
The rat who handed Soren and Shindo with false intel for their heist during the Grand Coronation.
The one who guaranteed the guard would be asleep, who swore the route was clean, who swore the guard was a simple, normal guard, and who sent them straight into the trap that dragged them into the lightless jaws of the Abyss.
Of course, Soren doubted that Malphas anticipated any of this—that an assassination of the Divine Emperor would ever occur.
Yet, it did and Soren swore Malphas would pay the price.
If they never pulled the heist, they wouldn’t have been near the Abyssal explosion and caught within its clutches.
The explosion was around ten miles in diameter while the Scavenger Headquarters was beyond its range.
Soren tucked his hands into his cloak, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of the Dream Sword as he finally landed in the entrance of an abandoned building, one of the many entrances to the Undercity.
He contemplated using the Dream Sword to find where Malphas was before dismissing the thought, wanting the satisfaction of finding the scum himself.
Soren walked through the broken door and into the ruined building filled with dust and mold and stopped when he reached one of the back rooms.
He crouched before he pulled the carpet that covered the floor, revealing a trapdoor.
When he pulled the hatch, a dark tunnel appeared, filling Soren with a sense of nostalgia before he squashed it down, embracing the fury that burned more fiercely the longer it simmered.
Without hesitation, Soren dropped into the shaft, landing soundlessly on the damp stone below.
The air down here was thick with the stench of stagnant runoff and the familiar tang of rusted iron.
His eyes immediately adjusted effortlessly to the gloom, strengthened by years of living in this environment and his Awakening.
Shadows that once could have hidden lurking dangers now seemed less dark.
Even the ambient noise of the Undercity reached his ears with startling clarity.
Back then, every turn in these tunnels required caution and constant vigilance against rogue gangs.
Now, as he moved, a confidence welled inside him as he moved from one of the lowest of the Undercity to one of the few elites—an Awakened.
After a minute of walking across the tunnels, the drainage conduit opened into the cavernous expanse of the Undercity.
Lanterns fueled by cheap Abyssal Creature fat cast a flickering, sickly yellow glow across the subterranean plaza.
Crowds of scavengers, black-market merchants, slavers, assassins, and the numerous other gangs shuffled between the organized chaos, trading and bartering services and goods.
News of the Order Break Reversal had clearly reached down here as the air was thick with panicked chatter about the Empress’ patrols and increased vigilance.
Anyone who accidentally bumped shoulders with him recoiled instantly, sensing the suffocating fury radiating off him before they could utter a curse.
Ahead stood a heavy, iron doorway in a janky, spiraling tower.
Flanking the doors stood two armed scavengers who were sharpening their knives and playing cards.
The Scavenger Headquarters—a place where he frequented heavily when he was a scavenger.
As Soren approached, the two grunts paused their game as they twirled their knives, looking as menacing as possible.
“Halt,” one grunted, looking at Soren’s cloaked figure.
“Headquarters is closed to outsiders today.
Boss’s orders until the Royal Army clears out—”
The grunt stopped mid-sentence as Soren pulled back his hood just enough for the lantern light to catch his light.
The guard’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
“S—Soren?
You’re alive?
I thought you went to the Grand Coronation after Malphas—”
A threatening presence flared from Soren, empowered by the raw, unbridled fury he was feeling right now—one of the many passive abilities an Awakened gains.
The two grunts gasped as the air outside the tower turned heavier, taking a step backwards until their backs hit the door behind them.
Soren took a measured breath before he stepped forward, his cold eyes locked on the heavy doors.
The grunts couldn’t even raise their voices to tell him off as Soren walked right past them, placing his palm flat against the iron door.
With a heavy push of his strengthened arms, Soren shoved.
The thick iron bolt locking the door groaned under the immense force being applied to it.
Soren simply applied more strength, his arms straining until the iron bolt snapped, slamming the iron doors open and crashing against the interior walls.
The violent crash echoed throughout the tower before Soren walked in, entering the Scavenger Headquarters.
Dozens of scavengers froze mid-conversation as they stared at the disturbance.
Cards slipped from fingers, ale mugs hovered halfway to open mouths, and friendly brawls paused as their eyes turned in unison towards the entrance.
Soren didn’t say a word.
He didn’t need to.
Scavengers were an unconfrontational and selfish bunch.
If they saw something they shouldn’t see, they’d ignore it—which is precisely what they did.
They simply resumed back to their cardplaying, drinking, and brawling as they found out it wasn’t the Royal Army.
He controlled his aura that threatened to leak out as he reached the back and climbed the spiraling stairs.
As he climbed the stairs, he finally reached one of the middle layers where scavengers who paid the rent could live.
He kicked the wooden doors down.
The flimsy wooden door shattered into splinters as it crashed inwards with a deafening bang.
Inside the decently furnished room, a skinny man jumped out of bed, jolted from the sudden intrusion into his room.
He blindly scrambled for his glasses on his bedside before he looked at the culprit, a knife poised forward in his right hand.
“Who the hell—” Malphas started, finally putting his glasses on.
But as his eyes focused on the figure standing in the doorway, the words died in his throat.
Soren stood motionless amidst the settling dust, his tattered cloak hanging loosely over his body.
Slowly, he reached up and pulled his hood back, revealing new white hair, cold eyes, and a face hardened by the horrors of the Abyss.
Soren walked into the room, bloodlust emanating from him as he towered over Malphas with the promise of death in his eyes.
“We need to talk… rat.”