VOID PRIME, Eclipse Of The Lunaris Pack

CHAPTER 10 VELMORA'S CREST, REPORT OF A DEMON

The air at the precipice of the Cliff of Regrets was both poison and medicine.

It was no longer as heavy and suffocating as the lethal gas at the bottom of the abyss, yet it carried scents Aroan's senses had nearly forgotten: the crisp aroma of pure oxygen, the sharp tang of snow pine sap, and the faint, disgusting stench of the Lunaris Clan's arrogance carried on the wind. High above, beyond the thick, impenetrable clouds that perpetually guarded Velmora, the surface world was waking up, completely oblivious that a soul they had discarded as trash had just clawed its way out of its own grave.

Aroan stood on the jagged edge of the cliff, his gaze cast down upon the endless vertical path he had just conquered. His breathing was perfectly stable. Beside him, Nyx in its full Shadow Primal Fenrir form kept a low profile, its black-fire fur fluttering violently in the piercing mountain winds. The giant wolf let out a low, guttural growl, its purple eyes staring up at the faint glimmer of dawn—a light that now felt like a primordial threat.

Sargon materialized from the shadow of a colossal stone pillar as if he were a part of the darkness itself. He showed no signs of fatigue. The iron-masked giant produced a small, obsidian dagger from beneath his cloak. The blade did not shine; it actively devoured the dim light around it.

"Approach, Aroan," Sargon commanded. His voice was heavier than usual, as if preparing for a sacred, ancient ritual.

Aroan stepped forward without hesitation. He had already survived the hell of meridian expansion and bone marrow annihilation; physical pain was now nothing more than a number in his mind.

Sargon gripped Aroan's upper arm with a strength that could crush solid steel. Without warning, he sliced the obsidian dagger across Aroan’s skin.

It was not a random cut. Sargon moved his hand with the deadly precision of a master calligrapher, carving a twisting, complex symbol that resembled a chained eclipse. The blood that welled up was not red; it was pitch-black, viscous, and emitted a cold, dark vapor. Before a single drop could fall, it was pulled back by a strange, internal gravity, reabsorbing deep into Aroan’s flesh and bone.

[System Warning! External entity is attempting to carve a 'Rune' onto Host's body!] [Analyzing Rune... Compatibility with Void System: 98%.]

[Engraving Successful! You have acquired 'Seal of the Void Sovereign' Lv.1!] 

The wound instantly sealed shut, leaving behind a raised, jet-black permanent scar. The symbol pulsed rhythmically in perfect sync with Aroan’s heartbeat, radiating an incredibly dense Void aura before finally fading from normal sight.

"This is a seal of concealment," Sargon said coldly, his single golden eye staring at the symbol with a deep, almost fanatical obsession. "It will mask the Velmora aura on your body, making you appear as nothing more than a common Rank-D shifter to their pathetic Elders. But this seal is also a reminder..."

Sargon leaned in close, his voice a chilling whisper that crawled down Aroan's spine. "That you belong to the darkness. Should you ever try to betray the destiny I have written for you, this seal will be the first thing to devour your soul from within."

Aroan touched the new scar. He felt a strange, primal connection, as if the symbol were an anchor tethering his wild, untamed power. "I understand," Aroan whispered hoarsely. "This darkness is no longer my enemy. It is me."

He then turned, looking back down into the purple-fog-choked depths of Velmora. Closing his eyes, he felt the soul-deep connection to the hundreds of lives that had sworn fealty to him in the third tier.

"Return to the darkness," Aroan commanded in his mind, a silent decree that crossed thousands of meters in an instant. "Become shadows. Do not rise until I call your names with blood."

At the bottom of the impenetrable abyss, hundreds of pairs of purple eyes dimmed in perfect unison. The Shadow Guard retreated back into the ruins of the dead city, becoming a living myth that would haunt the abyss, awaiting the call of their Emperor.

Now, his task in Velmora was complete. Before stepping forward, Aroan did one last thing: he checked his results.

"System, display status."

A semi-transparent, dark-blue interface materialized before his eyes. It was not a game screen; it was a raw, unfiltered report card of his suffering and evolution.

[CURRENT STATUS PANEL]

* Name: Aroan

* Bloodline: Lunaris (Receding) / Umbra (Dominant)

* Title: The Exiled Prince, The Abyssal Sovereign

* Meridian Rank: D+ (Capable of withstanding C-Rank energy)

* Physique: Dark Iron Bones

* System: Void Prime System Lv.2

* Total Void Points (VP): 2,100

* Bound Entity: Nyx (Shadow Primal Fenrir - Infant Stage)

* Entity Rank: C+

* Main Skills:

    * Shadow Step Lv.1

    * Devour's Touch Lv.2

    * Shadow Sync Lv.3

    * Shadow Swordsmanship Lv.2

* Legion: Shadow Guard (17 Warriors)

Aroan stared at the panel with cold, absolute satisfaction. From a pathetic Rank-F Prince spat upon by everyone, he was now a D+ Rank Abyssal Sovereign with a ghost army and a living legend at his side.

He pulled his tattered black cloak tighter, shrouding his old identity. "Let them have one last feast," Aroan hissed. "Let Valerius believe he has truly won. An uninvited guest is walking toward their gates with newly sharpened fangs."

Nyx drastically shrank its size, reverting to the appearance of an ordinary, small black wolf before leaping gracefully onto Aroan's shoulder. They were ready.

Aroan looked at Sargon one last time, at the very border between hell and the living world. "I will do this my way, Sargon."

Sargon simply nodded, his colossal body slowly melting into the shadows, becoming one with the Cliff of Regrets. "Do it, Aroan. Show the world above that the sun never truly rises without the permission of the dark."

With a single, decisive step, Aroan crossed the invisible threshold of Velmora’s final gate.

The pale morning sunlight struck his face for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It was like being slapped by a hot, spiked plank. He squinted, his skin, now hyper-sensitive to light, feeling as though it were being scorched.

But he did not turn back. He strode forward, leaving the abyss behind, ready to begin his nameless infiltration.

In the far distance, the great bell of Silver Peak tolled, signaling the start of a brand new day.

They had no idea that bell was a death knell, counting down the final hours to their own destruction.