Translator: CinderTL
Gaze from the Abyss
A wisp of malice, originating from the darkest depths of the abyss, has pierced the planar screen, marking you as its eternal plaything and prey.
An indescribable abyssal being, amidst its endless madness and strife, glimpsed a faint glimmer of dawnlight within you. To certain abyssal overlord who despise all order and life, this light is both blindingly offensive and... intriguing.
This gaze is not merely a curse; it is more akin to a twisted "gift." Rather than outright destroying you, the abyssal overlord has imprinted a fragment of its power onto your soul—a slow corruption and mark, yet also a perilous and dark road to empowerment.
It relentlessly warps your connection to the mortal realm, seeking to drag the very essence of your being into the abyss's laws, while simultaneously opening shortcuts to abyssal power.
Mundane purification methods prove largely ineffective against this mark. Whether sacred prayers, arcane exorcisms, or the blessings of lesser deities, they can only temporarily suppress the abyssal howl at its source, failing to eradicate the corruption's roots deeply embedded within your soul. This gaze is the materialized malice of a cross-planar entity, its sustaining force drawn directly from the demon overlord's will.
The only way to completely sever this malevolent connection is to utterly destroy the detestable source that cast this gaze. Only when the abyssal being's foundation of existence is shattered, its true name's power dispersed, and its abyssal authority pulverized, will the mark sustained by its will vanish like morning mist before the blazing sun. Only then can the stolen and corrupted fragments of your soul possibly return to purity.
The pitch-black words slowly faded from view, yet their impact seeped into Roland's awareness like ice water into earth, silently taking root in his perception.
At first, there was no sharp pain or intense discomfort, only an extremely subtle yet undeniable sense of wrongness.
It felt as though a cold, eternal mark had been branded onto the outermost layer of his soul.
A faint, almost imperceptible whisper buzzed not through his ears, but directly at the fringes of his consciousness, speaking in a language he couldn't understand yet instinctively recognized as profane and chaotic.
It wasn't in a rush to immediately destroy or possess him. Instead, it seemed to be a slow infiltration, subtly twisting his perception of reality and drawing him toward a set of dark laws belonging to the abyss, utterly alien to the mortal world.
Yet, parallel to this slow erosion, another, clearer, almost tangible "gift" was emerging.
He could sense that a shortcut to dark power had indeed opened before him.
At that moment, a cold, emotionless stream of information abruptly flooded his mind:
High concentration of heterogeneous dark energy detected...
Analyzing energy source tier... Analysis complete.
Energy Source Tier: Low
Nature: Abyssal
Recalibrating...
Simulating energy characteristics... Reconstructing perception module...
Calibration complete.
Trait: Shadow Perception, advanced
Abyssal Touch
Abyssal Touch: Your perception has deeply merged with the fabric of darkness, transcending mere observation of shadows. You can now clearly sense the 'emotions' and 'flow' of the surrounding shadows, and with your will, you can exert rudimentary guidance and shaping over them, transforming them into extensions of your senses.
You can more easily detect entities and passages hidden in darkness, and even draw trace amounts of energy from them to replenish your own reserves. The effectiveness of this ability is directly related to your mental attribute and makes you highly susceptible to the attention and influence of higher-tier dark entities.
As this chilling information settled into his mind, Roland felt a palpable shift.
The shadows around him were no longer merely objective presences to be "perceived."
They now seemed like viscous fluids, each possessing a faint, almost imperceptible life of its own.
He could vaguely sense whether they were in states of "dormancy," "agitation," or "hunger."
With a mere flicker of his will, he could cause a small patch of shadow to writhe slightly, coalesce, or disperse.
This was no longer a simple reconnaissance ability; it had granted him a rudimentary capacity to "interact" with and even "command" the darkness itself.
Yet Roland didn't revel in the newfound perceptions granted by the Abyssal Touch.
Instead, his brow furrowed in grim concentration, a cold sense of impending crisis swiftly eclipsing his curiosity about this new power.
All it had taken was a single, fleeting glance during combat.
A momentary exchange of gazes with the abyssal phantom clinging to Arno, not its physical form.
How could such a bizarre and malevolent mark be inflicted?
It defied comprehension.
The dangers of this world far exceeded imagination. The malice and methods of certain entities were unfathomable, impossible to guard against.
Even with his dragon bloodline and its myriad traits, he was far from invincible.
A seemingly insignificant contact could unleash a plane-level catastrophe.
It was like walking on the edge of a cliff—one misstep meant eternal damnation.
An invisible sense of oppression quietly permeated the air, the instinctive awe and vigilance one felt when confronted by the vast, malevolent unknown.
With this realization, Roland took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and carefully examine the changes within himself.
The chill branded deep within his soul wasn't intense, but it clung like the most stubborn stain, impossible to dispel.
Even more unsettling were the incessant, blasphemous whispers emanating from the fringes of his consciousness.
Fine as gossamer threads, they were nonetheless insidious, relentlessly attempting to subtly distort his perception.
He understood clearly that this was no trivial matter to be ignored.
If left unchecked, this tendril of malice from the abyss would spread like ink in clear water—slowly but irreversibly corrupting and consuming.
One day, he might no longer be himself.
His will would be dragged into eternal madness, his soul would sink into the darkness that hated all light, and ultimately...
"Rest" within it.
Becoming another lost shell under the command of the abyssal being.
As Roland focused inward, suppressing the dread and oppression that had surged within him from the abyss's gaze, the turbulent energy currents around them had completely subsided.
"Roland! By the gods! You were... you were like a walking epic, the dawn incarnate tearing through the long night!"
Galvis rushed forward first, his face alight with near-fanatical adoration and excitement, gesturing wildly with his hands.
"That sword! And that colossal blade forged of light! My poems must be rewritten—I'll make the entire continent sing your name!"
Theresa followed quietly behind him.
She didn't speak, but hurried closer, her eyes filled with clear concern as she swiftly and meticulously scanned Roland for injuries.
Only when she confirmed he had no visible wounds did the tension in her shoulders ease imperceptibly.
After a moment of silence, she spoke softly, her voice still calm but with a hint of tenderness.
"Mr. Roland, I'm relieved you're unharmed... What should we do next? Should we leave the Golden Valley Kingdom now?"
Roland snapped out of his deep thoughts, his gaze sweeping over his two companions before he shook his head with a complex expression.
"No, I plan to pursue Arno and end him once and for all."
He paused briefly but continued bluntly, "This decision... concerns only me. There's no need for you to get involved. Leaving here would be the safer choice for you both."
"Safe?" Galvis exclaimed, his voice ringing with the poet's characteristic dramatic flair, yet carrying an undeniable sincerity. "An epic hero stands at the turning point of a legendary saga, and you want me, the poet destined to immortalize this moment, to leave? Never! Roland, danger is the finest seasoning for legends! I'm not going anywhere."
Theresa remained silent, but she took a small step forward, drawing closer to Roland. Her expression remained impassive, but her resolute stance spoke volumes. Her deep blue eyes met his gaze steadily, and she shook her head gently.
Seeing his companions' unwavering resolve, Roland paused, then shook his head in helpless resignation. Yet a warmth he couldn't quite describe quietly seeped into his heart, dispelling some of the chill that had crept up from the abyss.
Just as he was about to speak again, a clear, slightly petulant voice drifted from the shadows nearby.
"Hey, Roland? Discussing such dangerous and exciting plans with only those two... Have you forgotten about me, your important companion?"
(End of the Chapter)
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