“I will change… this damn world!”

  That was the only certainty left to Tempest.

  For two months in the Abyss, every day had become a mix of survival, grueling training, and a growing hatred for those who had abandoned him… all because of the ability he was assigned.

  “Hey, Kael… these Erase are getting stronger every damn day.”

  “That’s how it works here,” Kael replied, his voice hoarse and hard as stone.

  “But if you want to become something that no one has ever even imagined… you need to improve yourself. Every. Damn. Day.”

  Kael was not just a survivor: he was the one who had saved Tempest on his first day in the Abyss, when he was about to be torn apart by an unknown creature. That was the beginning of it all.

  But what was this "Abyss" really, feared by every human being?

  The Abyss… described by some as the “real Hell.”

  A rift dividing two radically different worlds.

  It was discovered during what scholars called the “Global Era,” the moment when humanity changed forever.

  At sixteen, every individual received a unique ability, which determined their value, status… and destiny.

  A gift, or a curse.

  That’s how the world began to be ruled not by laws, but by pure power.

  “That one must be pretty tough…” Tempest muttered, his sharp gaze fixed on the latest Erase he was fighting.

  “Maybe… maybe he’ll manage to extinguish, at least for a while, this hatred that consumes me.”

  His gaze rested on the enemy: a gigantic creature crowned with a garland of broken bones and human remains.

  A symbol identifying it: the Greater Erase.

  Tempest lunged into the battle.

  He dodged. Struck. Got back up.

  He used that ability, considered useless, the only reason he had been condemned to the Abyss… and now he was turning it into a weapon.

  Into a scream.

  “One day… I swear to you… I’ll show you… who I really am!

  That day, I’ll be the one laughing… while you beg for mercy!”

  Each punch, each scream, was a fragment of his pain, the accumulated rage…

  Toward humans. Toward himself. Toward the world.

  But to truly understand why Tempest hates so deeply…

  To understand what he lost, who he was, and what he has become…

  …we must go back.

  Two months earlier.

  When Tempest was still Tempest.

  A kind boy, ready to sacrifice himself for the good of others.

  A boy who never wanted to become the monster that now resides in the Abyss.

  Two months earlier.

  The sun was setting, painting the sky with orange and purple hues.

  In the village of Loria, among dirt paths and houses weathered by time, the people gathered in the large central square.

  It was the “Day of Revelation” — the day when every sixteen-year-old boy discovered the gift that fate had chosen for him.

  Tempest was there, among the crowd, his heart pounding beneath his worn-out shirt.

  “I wonder what power I’ll have…” he thought, clutching a small stone his mother had given him that morning.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll use it to protect others… just like my father wanted.”

  Beside him, his peers laughed, joked, boasting already about abilities they didn’t even know yet.

  “I’ll become a fire master, you’ll see!” said Jarven, a tall and arrogant boy, looking at Tempest with a superior gaze.

  “Pfff… Tempest? I bet he’ll get something like… peeling potatoes with his mind!” laughed another, while the group burst into cruel laughter.

  Tempest lowered his gaze, remaining silent.

  “It doesn’t matter what they say…” he thought. “I… will make a difference. I swear.”

  The great priest, an old man with glassy eyes and a dark velvet robe, rose above the stone podium.

  Silence fell like a heavy blanket.

  “Today,” he proclaimed, “you will discover who you are… and who you will become.”

  One by one, the boys were called, and as they approached the Stone of Emanation, they revealed their abilities.

  “Kaelan of Loria — Master of Blades!”

  A roar of approval erupted from the crowd.

  “Mira of Loria — Storm Summoner!”

  More applause. Flowers were thrown toward the stage.

  Tempest waited for his turn, every second like a cold blade against his skin.

  “Tempest of Loria…”

  An unreal silence enveloped everything.

  His name already seemed like an omen.

  He climbed the stairs. Each step felt as heavy as stones tied to his ankles.

  He placed his hands on the Sacred Stone.

  A dim, flickering light barely emanated.

  The priest approached, scrutinizing the mark that had formed.

  "...Minimal Control of Air Currents..." the old man whispered, almost incredulous.

  The voice echoed in the square, and soon after, it was drowned by a wave of cruel laughter.

  "Air currents?! Hahahaha! What kind of ability is that?!"

  "He could’ve been the king of fans!"

  "Better throw him straight into the Abyss, save us the trouble!"

  Tempest remained motionless.

  The stone in his hand trembled, just like his heart.

  "Is this... all I’m worth?"

  His older brother, who should have been there to support him, did nothing.

  Just a look of pity, then he turned away, blending into the crowd.

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  His mother, who knew where, wasn’t there.

  Tempest clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

  That evening, alone on the edge of the cliff overlooking the Abyss, he gazed at the stars without truly seeing them.

  The warm wind ruffled his hair.

  "Maybe..." he thought. "Maybe I don’t even deserve to be here..."

  Behind him, heavy footsteps drew closer.

  "Hey, worthless."

  It was Jarven, accompanied by three other bullies.

  "We talked to the elders. And you know what? For people like you... there’s no place among us."

  Tempest slowly turned, his eyes empty.

  "What do you mean..." he murmured, his voice broken.

  "Want to see? Look."

  One of the boys grabbed a metal sphere — a forbidden artifact.

  With a cruel grin, he threw it at Tempest's feet.

  An explosion of light and wind.

  The ground beneath him trembled.

  And then… nothing.

  Tempest felt only the void beneath his feet.

  An endless fall, as the echo of cruel laughter faded above him.

  "It’s not fair..."

  "I just wanted to... be someone..."

  His mind went blank, swallowed by the darkness.

  When he opened his eyes again, the sky above him was black, without stars.

  The air smelled of blood and iron.

  Deformed creatures moved among the shadows.

  He was in the Abyss.

  And Tempest… was no longer the same boy he had been just hours before.

  The ground beneath his body was rough, sharp like broken glass.

  Tempest slowly opened his eyes, his mouth filled with blood and black sand.

  The smell was unbearable: rusted iron, rotting flesh, dust of death.

  A distant growl, like that of a beast never seen, echoed between cracked canyons and trees dry as bones.

  “Where… where am I...” Tempest whispered, clutching his chest with a trembling hand.

  Every part of his body screamed in pain.

  Every breath felt like inhaling poison.

  But the real blow came when he sat up and saw what surrounded him:

  Faceless bodies, shadows crawling, skies red as coagulated blood.

  It was the Abyss.

  “Did… did they really throw me here?” he thought, his heart tightening in a cold grip.

  He didn’t even have time to cry or despair.

  Out of nowhere, a creature lunged at him.

  It was huge, with torn skin and teeth that looked like rusted knives.

  The eyes — if they could be called eyes — were two black holes full of hatred.

  Tempest jumped up suddenly, but the pain in his legs made him collapse again.

  The creature growled, preparing to finish him off.

  "No... I can't die here... Not now!"

  Driven by desperation, Tempest reached out a hand.

  A small whirlwind of air rose, weak as a newborn's breath.

  The creature seemed annoyed but not hurt.

  With a swipe of its paw, it threw Tempest against a boulder.

  "Not… enough..." Tempest coughed, trying to rise.

  "You can’t just have willpower… you need strength..."

  As the creature approached for the final blow, a hiss cut through the air.

  A blade.

  A sharp strike.

  The creature's head rolled away like an empty sack.

  Tempest, lying on the ground, saw a tall figure, wrapped in a long jacket, with a battered mask on its face.

  The eyes, behind the broken lenses, glowed like embers in the dark.

  "Tsk... Another idiot thrown here without knowing anything."

  The voice was hoarse, marked by years of struggle.

  The figure bent down to him, pulling him up by the collar.

  "What's your name, kid?"

  Tempest, barely conscious, could only whisper:

  "T-Tempest..."

  The man stared at him for a long time, as if searching for something inside him.

  "Good, Tempest. From now on, either you learn to survive... or you become food for the Erase. There’s no third option."

  With a firm shove, he set him back on his feet.

  "My name is Kael."

  "I’ll teach you not to die."

  Tempest staggered, the pain still alive within him, but something — something new — began to shine in his eyes.

  It wasn’t just despair.

  It was anger.

  It was hunger for justice.

  It was thirst for power.

  "If this is hell..." he thought, "then I’ll become the devil."

  Tempest walked beside Kael, or perhaps it would be better to say that he dragged himself behind him, his legs giving way with every step.

  Each meter felt like an eternal journey, through fields of debris, forests of twisted metal, and rivers of black fog.

  Wherever he looked, the Abyss seemed... alive.

  Alive with hatred.

  Alive with pain.

  "This land..." Tempest muttered to himself, "it’s as if it breathes despair."

  Kael stopped in front of a giant carcass: an ancient building, half swallowed by the sand, like a relic from a forgotten era.

  "Listen closely, Tempest," Kael said, without turning.

  His voice, rough but steady, echoed like a drum in the thick air.

  "The Abyss is the result of human arrogance.

  A world we created ourselves, casting away those who were no longer useful."

  Tempest stared at him silently, trying to hold back the bitterness rising in his throat.

  "Every creature you see here..." Kael continued, pointing to the shadows moving in the distance, "...wasn’t born to be a monster.

  They were men, women, children... crushed by the madness of this system."

  The boy felt his chest tighten.

  "They became Erase," Kael explained, "when they lost all reason to exist. They forgot who they were. They survived... and then they broke."

  Tempest lowered his gaze, clenching his fists until they turned white.

  "I won’t become like them."

  The thought burned inside him like a sacred promise.

  Kael laughed dryly, almost amused.

  "Not yet, at least."

  They continued their journey, stepping over debris, crossing crevices that seemed like bloodthirsty mouths.

  Finally, they reached a small clearing: in the center, a dilapidated house, built hastily with pieces of rusted metal and bones.

  That was where Kael lived.

  Or rather: where he survived.

  Entering, Tempest noticed that inside there was nothing: just a mat, some makeshift weapons, and a pile of worn books.

  Kael turned sharply.

  "If you want to survive..." he said, staring at him with eyes that had seen too much, "...you have to become stronger."

  He stepped closer, pointing a finger at his chest.

  "Hatred isn’t enough. Revenge isn’t enough."

  "You have to learn to fight... to kill... to decide who deserves to live and who doesn’t."

  Tempest swallowed, feeling a chill run down his spine.

  "Tomorrow at dawn, your real training begins."

  Kael grabbed a half-broken sword and threw it at Tempest's feet.

  "Welcome to hell, boy."

  Tempest bent down slowly, picking up the weapon.

  It wasn’t heavy.

  Or maybe it was his heart that was heavier.

  Gripping it with both hands, he raised his gaze to Kael.

  In his eyes, there was no longer just fear.

  Not just anger.

  There was hunger.

  Determination.

  "I won’t fail." he thought, feeling a promise grow inside him like a flame.

  The promise of someone who has nothing left to lose.

  "He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he become a monster himself."

  — Friedrich Nietzsche