The moment Damian stepped onto the desolate land of his abyssal talent tree, an oppressive weight pressed down on him. It was suffocating, heavy, and absolute, the kind of presence that would have made his past self freeze in place.
But that version of him no longer existed.
He had stood beneath this pressure before when he was weaker. Now, he was stronger, the same presence that once inspired fear now felt lesser.
It had not weakened…. He had grown.
The abyssal talent tree towered before him like an endless wall, its dark structure swallowing everything around it. Behind it, partially hidden, stood the smaller Asura tree, silent and untouched.
Beyond them stood two figures.
Duke Haborym, still and empty, and Bathin mounted on his gray horse, both frozen like puppets waiting for a command that had yet to come.
