Home / Eastern / The God-Slayer's Trash Manual / Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Author: Maddison

2026-09-11 23:54:54

The darkness of the Abyss was not merely the absence of light; it was a physical weight, a dense, suffocating pressure that pressed against Renvar’s eardrums until they hummed with the sound of his own erratic heartbeat. He lay sprawled upon the obsidian shards, his body a map of ruin. Every time he attempted to draw a breath, the air—bitter, cold, and tasting of sulfur—scalded his throat.

Above him, or perhaps it was below, he could not tell—the geography of this place defied logic. There was

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Chapter 35
The wind on the plateau did not just blow; it screamed. It was a rhythmic, mournful ululation that passed through the jagged teeth of the mountain peaks, turning the natural topography into a colossal, frozen pipe organ. For Renvar, the sound was not merely atmospheric—it was an assault on his frayed nervous system. Every howl reminded him of the silence of the Abyss, the void where he had spent weeks—or perhaps months, he could no longer be certain—tearing his own identity apart to keep the embers of his core from flickering out.He crested the final rise of the outer ridge, his boots, mere leather scraps bound with wire and frozen grime, crunching against the permafrost with a sound like snapping bone. He stood there, a specter draped in the ragged remnants of a Sect disciple’s training robes, his skin mapped with a network of purplish, frost-bitten veins. He was no longer the boy who had knelt before the Sect Elder, pledging his life to the pursuit
Chapter 34
The wind on the plateau did not just blow; it screamed. It was a rhythmic, mournful ululation that passed through the jagged teeth of the mountain peaks, turning the natural topography into a colossal, frozen pipe organ. For Renvar, the sound was not merely atmospheric—it was an assault on his frayed nervous system. Every howl reminded him of the silence of the Abyss, the void where he had spent weeks—or perhaps months, he could no longer be certain—tearing his own identity apart to keep the embers of his core from flickering out.He crested the final rise of the outer ridge, his boots, mere leather scraps bound with wire and frozen grime, crunching against the permafrost with a sound like snapping bone. He stood there, a specter draped in the ragged remnants of a Sect disciple’s training robes, his skin mapped with a network of purplish, frost-bitten veins. He was no longer the boy who had knelt before the Sect Elder, pledging his life to the pursuit
Chapter 33
The wind on the plateau did not just blow; it screamed. It was a rhythmic, mournful ululation that passed through the jagged teeth of the mountain peaks, turning the natural topography into a colossal, frozen pipe organ. For Renvar, the sound was not merely atmospheric—it was an assault on his frayed nervous system. Every howl reminded him of the silence of the Abyss, the void where he had spent weeks—or perhaps months, he could no longer be certain—tearing his own identity apart to keep the embers of his core from flickering out.He crested the final rise of the outer ridge, his boots, mere leather scraps bound with wire and frozen grime, crunching against the permafrost with a sound like snapping bone. He stood there, a specter draped in the ragged remnants of a Sect disciple’s training robes, his skin mapped with a network of purplish, frost-bitten veins. He was no longer the boy who had knelt before the Sect Elder, pledging his life to the pursuit
Chapter 32
The wind on the plateau did not just blow; it screamed. It was a rhythmic, mournful ululation that passed through the jagged teeth of the mountain peaks, turning the natural topography into a colossal, frozen pipe organ. For Renvar, the sound was not merely atmospheric—it was an assault on his frayed nervous system. Every howl reminded him of the silence of the Abyss, the void where he had spent weeks—or perhaps months, he could no longer be certain—tearing his own identity apart to keep the embers of his core from flickering out.He crested the final rise of the outer ridge, his boots, mere leather scraps bound with wire and frozen grime, crunching against the permafrost with a sound like snapping bone. He stood there, a specter draped in the ragged remnants of a Sect disciple’s training robes, his skin mapped with a network of purplish, frost-bitten veins. He was no longer the boy who had knelt before the Sect Elder, pledging his life to the pursuit
Chapter 31
The wind on the plateau did not just blow; it screamed. It was a rhythmic, mournful ululation that passed through the jagged teeth of the mountain peaks, turning the natural topography into a colossal, frozen pipe organ. For Renvar, the sound was not merely atmospheric—it was an assault on his frayed nervous system. Every howl reminded him of the silence of the Abyss, the void where he had spent weeks—or perhaps months, he could no longer be certain—tearing his own identity apart to keep the embers of his core from flickering out.He crested the final rise of the outer ridge, his boots, mere leather scraps bound with wire and frozen grime, crunching against the permafrost with a sound like snapping bone. He stood there, a specter draped in the ragged remnants of a Sect disciple’s training robes, his skin mapped with a network of purplish, frost-bitten veins. He was no longer the boy who had knelt before the Sect Elder, pledging his life to the pursuit
Chapter 30
The wind on the plateau did not just blow; it screamed. It was a rhythmic, mournful ululation that passed through the jagged teeth of the mountain peaks, turning the natural topography into a colossal, frozen pipe organ. For Renvar, the sound was not merely atmospheric—it was an assault on his frayed nervous system. Every howl reminded him of the silence of the Abyss, the void where he had spent weeks, or perhaps months, he could no longer be certain, tearing his own identity apart to keep the embers of his core from flickering out.He rose to his feet, not with the fluid grace of the cultivator he had once been, but with the mechanical, jerky movements of a marionette whose strings were frayed and rotting. His boots, mere leather scraps bound with wire and frozen grime, crunched against the permafrost. He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, where the distant spires of the Azure Cloud Sect poked through the low-hanging clouds like the jagged remnants of a broken crown.He was cold. No

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