Chapter 108 - Preparation

  Inside the Abyssal Fortress, a dark and oppressive atmosphere loomed over its vast halls. The structure exuded an ancient, almost eldritch presence, as if it had been carved from the abyss itself. Towering obsidian pillars lined the corridors, their surfaces etched with pulsating runes that emitted a ghostly blue glow. Shadows danced along the cold stone walls, shifting unnaturally as if they were alive. The air was thick with a strange energy, an overwhelming mixture of authority and dread.

  Eo had meticulously designed this fortress based on the knowledge he acquired from the books found in the Underground Chamber. He had also studied the texts from the ruined Magical Academy, absorbing every fragment of wisdom. Yet, even with all this information, he found it insufficient. There was more—something deeper, hidden beyond the known world, waiting to be uncovered. The abyss called to him, whispering secrets buried beneath layers of forgotten history.

  But Eo did not neglect the surface. He understood the importance of a stronghold, a place to consolidate power before his descent into the unknown. The Abyssal Fortress would serve as that foundation, a beacon of dominance for the coming era. As he sat upon the grand throne, his presence radiated an undeniable pressure—one of absolute authority. The massive chair, forged from an amalgamation of dark metal and infused magic, seemed almost alive, pulsing faintly with a sinister glow.

  Without shifting his gaze, Eo gave a simple command.

  "Bring them."

  Frid obeyed without hesitation, dragging the three captives—Aelith, Thorne, and Antru—into the throne room. The trio, once proud and mighty in their own right, were now reduced to shadows of their former selves.

  Aelith, the once-pristine priestess, looked nothing like the symbol of divine grace she had once been. Her clothes were torn, her face smeared with dried blood and dirt. Her usually sharp and cunning eyes now held only fear and desperation.

  Thorne, who had been on the brink of death, seemed to stir, his consciousness flickering back to reality. Though he was alive, his body remained weak, frail, and trembling at the mere presence of Eo.

  Antru, the former High Grandmaster Mage, was silent. His head remained bowed, his posture slumped in quiet defeat. The once-arrogant mage had been utterly broken.

  Eo regarded them for a moment, his expression unreadable behind his white mask. Then, his voice cut through the air like a blade.

  "Freedom or power?"

  The three captives exchanged hesitant glances, their bodies tense. The choice presented before them was simple yet terrifying. Freedom meant escaping this nightmare—but what awaited them beyond the fortress? Weakness? Humiliation? Death? They had sought power, pursued it relentlessly, and in doing so, they had been reduced to this state. And now, power was being offered to them once more.

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  Aelith clenched her fists. She hated this. She hated being at the mercy of something far beyond her understanding. But she also knew that she could not go back to the way things were. Thorne hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to refuse, yet something inside him—perhaps his unyielding ambition—pushed him forward. Antru, the once-proud mage, no longer had anything to lose.

  One by one, they spoke the same word.

  "Yes."

  Eo remained unmoved by their decision. He simply raised a hand, and the throne room pulsed with an ominous energy. The air crackled, charged with an unseen force. The very walls seemed to tremble as raw, unfiltered magic surged from Eo’s throne.

  The trio convulsed violently, their bodies writhing in agony as the overwhelming power tore through them. Their veins burned, their muscles twisted, and their very essence was reshaped by the unfathomable force. They wanted to scream, but no sound escaped their lips. The pain was beyond anything they had ever experienced—beyond what any mortal should endure.

  Fainting was not an option. To lose consciousness meant death. They knew this instinctively. And so, they endured, clutching onto whatever fragments of their sanity remained.

  When the surge finally subsided, the three collapsed, gasping for breath. But they were no longer the same.

  Aelith rose first. Her once golden-blonde hair had turned completely white, cascading around her like strands of moonlight. Her eyes glowed faintly, and an unsettling aura surrounded her. She looked into her own reflection in the dark metal of the floor—she was different. Stronger.

  Thorne was no longer the malnourished shell of a man he had been moments ago. His body had transformed—he was now a towering giant, standing at nearly four meters tall. Thick veins bulged beneath his skin, pulsating with a newfound strength. His muscles were packed with an unnatural density, and the very air around him seemed to tremble with each of his movements.

  Antru, once a withered old man, now stood with the vitality of a middle-aged warrior. His skin was smoother, the wrinkles of age wiped away. But the most noticeable change was his eyes—completely black, devoid of whites, like twin voids absorbing the light around them.

  A strange pattern, like veins of dark energy, had formed on their skin. Though similar to the markings on Frid and Caelum, theirs were fewer in number. Yet none of them cared about the difference. The raw power surging through their bodies made them forget any concerns they once had.

  And then, as if driven by an instinct beyond their own will, they fell to their knees.

  They bowed deeply before the being seated upon the throne.

  Eo gazed at them, his otherworldly eyes piercing into the very core of their existence. His white mask made his expression unreadable, yet his presence alone was enough to drive the message deep into their souls.

  He had reshaped them. He had given them a power they could never have achieved on their own.

  They belonged to him now.

  After a moment of silence, Eo finally spoke.

  "Once the children complete their trial of talent… train them."

  Aelith, Thorne, and Antru dared not question him. They simply lowered their heads further, their reverence cemented in that moment. They had chosen power over freedom, and in doing so, they had willingly walked into the abyss.

  Eo leaned back into his throne, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest. His gaze lingered on his new subordinates before shifting beyond them—to the abyss, to the unknown depths that called to him.

  The surface was merely a foundation.

  What lay beneath would be the true test of his evolution.

  And he would claim it all.