VOID PRIME, Eclipse Of The Lunaris Pack

CHAPTER 9: LEGION FROM THE ABYSS, TRIAL OF A SHADOW

Velmora’s third tier was the tomb of a forgotten civilization.

Unlike the upper levels, which were merely a labyrinth of natural caves, these depths revealed the silent, sprawling ruins of an ancient city. Towering obsidian structures, eroded by eons of darkness, reached up like the colossal skeletal fingers of dead giants trying to claw at a cavern ceiling that had never known light. The air here was heavy and oily, saturated with dense Void particles capable of shattering an ordinary human’s sanity within minutes. The only illumination came from the faint, pale-purple glow of corrosive crystals that snaked across the walls of the dead metropolis.

Aroan strode down the center of a cracked main road, his every step now steady and utterly soundless. Beside him, Nyx, in its full Shadow Primal Fenrir form, moved with an intimidating, predatory grace. Each exhale from the giant wolf released a plume of purple vapor that instantly froze the air, leaving a thin, black layer of frost on the ancient stones it tread upon.

"This place... it has life," Aroan whispered, his eyes scanning the absolute darkness.

"Not life," Sargon corrected from several paces behind him. "Merely the remnants of survival. Losers who refused to die. They hide down here like rats in a sewer."

Just as Sargon finished speaking, dozens of pairs of wary eyes materialized from behind the crumbling ruins. Within seconds, Aroan and Nyx were completely surrounded.

Dozens of figures in tattered rags emerged from the shadows. They were a pathetic yet undeniably dangerous sight. Their skin was as pale as parchment, their clothing mere scraps of rusted armor, yet their eyes burned with a fire of hatred that refused to be extinguished. They were the Exiles—former knights, healers, and craftsmen from various clans, all discarded and thrown into Velmora.

"Halt right there, Monster!"

An old man stepped forward. One of his eyes was milky white, sealed shut by a horrific burn scar. The faded crest of the Flame Clan was still emblazoned on his chest plate. Though his body was gaunt, he stood ramrod straight, gripping a broken sword with a steady hand. The man stared at Nyx with raw fear, but his gaze toward Aroan was filled with pure, unadulterated loathing.

"We know what you are," the old man snarled. "The aura of a Fenrir cannot be faked. You carry the same curse as that demonic woman from the Umbra Clan twenty years ago!"

Aroan stopped. "You speak of my mother, Luna Arlene?"

"Do not speak that name!" the old man shrieked, triggering a wave of angry growls from the other exiles. "That woman brought a plague to the surface! And now you, her son, have come down here with the same monstrosity! You are no longer human."

Aroan looked at the old man—Captain Kael, a legend of the Flame Guard rumored to have died on a secret mission. He did not feel anger. Instead, a chilling, bone-deep smile spread across his face.

"You are right. I am no longer human," Aroan’s voice echoed, amplified by the soul resonance of Nyx. "I am what all of you on the surface created. I am the prince you discarded to die, the knight you betrayed for a throne. I did not come down here to bring you the hypocritical silver light of the moon."

Aroan took a deliberate step forward, his gaze locking onto Kael's one good eye. "I came to offer you something far more precious than survival: a chance to rip out the throats of those who threw you into this hell."

Absolute silence descended upon the dead city's central plaza. The exiles were utterly stunned. In the distance, Sargon leaned against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding drama with his single, unreadable golden eye.

Suddenly, the ground in the center of the plaza began to tremble. The once-calm purple fog started to swirl into a violent vortex.

"Damn it all!" Kael cursed, leaping backward. "The phantoms are rising again!"

From within the swirling mist, three shadowy figures slowly materialized. They had no faces, only pitch-black silhouettes with burning purple eyes. Shadow Doppelgangers. Monsters born from the deepest fears and hatreds of the third tier.

But as the shadows solidified, their chosen forms made Aroan freeze in his tracks.

The first shadow took the form of Valerius, complete with his arrogant smirk and golden robes. "Well, look who's still crawling in the mud. You were always destined to be trash, dear brother."

The second shadow morphed into a weeping Elina. "Aroan, I'm so sorry... I was forced... Please, save me from that monster..."

And the third shadow, the one that cut the deepest, became Alpha Kaelor, his father. His face was a mask of pure regret. "Forgive me, my son. I was blinded by the throne. Come back, and I will give you everything."

The watching exiles took a fearful step back. They knew all too well that no one could defeat their own inner demons.

"You see, boy?" Kael sneered from a safe distance. "Even the abyss knows you are nothing but a spoiled child weeping over his past!"

Aroan did not move. His eyes were locked onto the three figures. A storm of pain, rage, and a sliver of longing threatened to tear his sanity apart. But then, he took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the cold, absolute power from his Dark Iron Bones and newly forged meridians.

He laughed. A hoarse, cold laugh, utterly devoid of any joy.

"So these are my greatest weaknesses?" Aroan whispered. "Memories?"

Without a single shred of warning, he drew the Eclipse Blade. The blunt obsidian was instantly wreathed in a thick, suffocating purple aura.

[Shadow Sync: Predator Mode Activated!]

"You are mistaken," Aroan hissed. "They are no longer my weakness."

He shot forward, completely ignoring the pleading Elina and the remorseful Kaelor. He went straight for the Valerius doppelganger.

"I will kill the real Valerius with my own two hands," Aroan growled. "You... you are not even worthy of being his imitation!"

SLAAAASH!

The Eclipse Blade swung horizontally. The Valerius doppelganger did not shatter. Instead, it let out a silent, soul-tearing scream as its shadow essence was violently siphoned into the blunt sword.

[Absorbed Essence of Hatred. +200 VP.]

Aroan spun around, now facing the crying Elina phantom. There was not a single trace of hesitation in his cold eyes. "Love? I traded that for absolute power."

He slashed again, severing the Elina shadow's very existence at its root.

[Absorbed Essence of Betrayal. +200 VP.]

Now, only his father's doppelganger remained. The figure looked at Aroan with eyes full of sorrow. "Aroan..."

"My father is already dead," Aroan replied, his voice as cold as a tombstone. "He died the moment he turned his back on me in the Grand Hall."

Aroan raised his blade high. "All of you... you are nothing but my PREY!"

With a single, brutal vertical slash, the Kaelor doppelganger vanished into a cloud of black particles, all of it greedily devoured by the Eclipse Blade.

[Absorbed Essence of Regret. +200 VP.] 

[Congratulations! 'Shadow Swordsmanship' has leveled up to Lv.2!]

Silence reclaimed the plaza. The exiles, including Kael, stared at Aroan with their mouths agape. They had never witnessed someone who didn't just fight, but actively devoured their inner demons with such insatiable hunger. They no longer saw a weak, discarded prince. They saw a monster far more terrifying than the darkness of Velmora itself.

Aroan turned, his sword still dripping with black smoke. He stared at Kael and the other exiles.

"Now," Aroan said, his voice now quiet yet carrying the weight of a mountain. "Who among you wishes to join me in collecting our blood debt on the surface?"

Captain Kael dropped his broken sword. The old man sank to one knee, a gesture immediately followed by the dozen other exiles. They did not bow out of fear. They bowed out of a terrifying, newfound hope.

"We will follow you," Kael declared, his voice trembling with a raw, new emotion. "My Lord. Lead us out of this hell, and we shall be your sword, your shield, and your shadow until our last breath."

Aroan looked at his very first legion. He knew they were not yet ready.

"Hear my command," Aroan's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I will ascend to the surface alone, a ghost they all believe to be dead. You will remain here. Train. Grow stronger. Let them feast and celebrate upon our suffering."

Aroan turned, his gaze aimed upward toward the unseen sky. "When I return, I will not come as a prince. I will come as a plague. And you... you will be my Shadow Guard. The bloodiest secret that will swallow Silver Peak from its very roots."

The exiles bowed their heads. An oath was forged in darkness.

Aroan strode over to Sargon. "The preparations are complete. Show me the way out. I miss the surface air... if only to defile it with their blood."

Sargon grunted from behind his iron mask. "The path is treacherous. You will climb the Cliff of Regrets alone. Remember, once you are on the surface, act like weak, pathetic prey, right until your blade is already at their throat."

Aroan smirked. "They won't even have time to smell the danger, Sargon. Because before they realize what's happening, they will already be exactly where I am right now."

With a single, explosive leap, Aroan shot toward a steep, jagged cliff face, followed closely by Nyx, who moved like a black thunderbolt. Behind him, the nascent ranks of his Shadow Guard slowly melted back into the fog, disappearing from sight, sharpening their fangs in the dark, awaiting the call of their Shadow Emperor. The real vengeance was just beginning.