Awakening The Abyssal System

Rushing off the stage, stumbling over broken stones in the bizarre theater, a small, disfigured boy dashed away, utterly disoriented. The air around him was thick, carrying a strange metallic tang that burned his nostrils and made his shallow breaths even more ragged. His heart raced, pounding in his chest like the erratic beat of some forgotten drum, each step threatening to collapse beneath the weight of his fear.

He ran aimlessly, climbing over random ledges only to fall from them moments later, scraping his hands and knees on jagged edges. Shadows danced on the cracked walls, twisting into grotesque shapes that seemed to reach for him, mocking his futile escape. Panic surged through him as his feet skidded on the uneven ground, sending him sprawling into the dust.

He stumbled forward again, his vision blurred with tears and sweat, until his face collided with one of the ornate golden mirrors. Its surface was etched with intricate, labyrinthine patterns, pulsating faintly with a cold, otherworldly golden light. The reflection staring back at him wasn't entirely his own—it twisted, fragmented, and reformed, showing fleeting glimpses of a distorted, monstrous visage. His breath hitched, and a sharp chill crept down his spine as he felt, for the briefest moment, that something behind the mirror was watching him.

His bare body revealed skin marked by hypnotic spirals, evoking a sense of an addictive, tainted beauty. His face, though intact, now appeared more youthful than it had in his original form. However, what stood out the most were the crystallized black horns, tinged with a reddish hue, emerging from his frontal cortex.

Still dazed, Buck recoiled from his reflection and struck the metallic mirror with his fist. The impact echoed like a gong, reverberating for hundreds of meters.

The excruciating pain shot through his hand and spread across his nervous system. It reconnected disrupted pathways, restoring functions that had been scrambled during his incarnation into this body. Slowly, clarity returned—or at least what passed for normalcy in his new state.

— Argh! That old witch! I trusted her! She tampered with my memories—my memories! The knowledge, the most precious thing I had!

His enraged screams reverberated for kilometers, raw with betrayal and fury.

As his outburst subsided, leaving only the sound of his ragged breathing, a voice, neutral and absolute, spoke within him:

[The 'Abyss Core' hides from synchronization with the ruined ancient web.]

[Your awakening has begun.]

What does that mean? Did my synchronizer not get absorbed?

Buck tried recalling the status window he'd seen earlier. Focusing on the thought, he was met with a peculiar sensation—a vision not seen with his eyes but perceived in some other way.

Symbols emerged, cursive runes shifting rapidly before stabilizing into the common alphabet, adapting to what felt most comfortable for him, as Buck's eyes shines with it's colours, letting a dim light to entry into the room.

---

Name: Buccaneer

Stardust: 0/0

Awakening: Lesser

Bond: [Starry Garden]

Singularities: [Mystic Vessel], [False Incarnation]

Relics: [Abyssal Core], [Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora]

Destiny: —

What is all this? Where did all these things come from?

[Mystic Vessel] - Through a tenuous connection to ancient power, the user can produce various effects by manipulating Stardust. Sacrifices refine and temper these effects, making them less harmful to the user.

At first glance, this ability might seem weak—but that assumption would be entirely wrong.

Singularities, unique to each creature born in the Abyss, were often highly restrictive. Some could digest stones; rarer ones might generate fire or rock. Even then, such powers consumed immense Stardust and sacrifices, often injuring their users in the process. A flame-wielder, for example, might burn themselves as they summoned fire.

By contrast, Buck's Singularities hinted at limitless potential.

Wait, do I not require sacrifices to activate my abilities? How is that possible?

If true, this meant Buck could avoid hauling slabs of Abyssal meat or offering pieces of himself as tribute—a common weakness among Abyss Spawns. His power seemed to defy these limitations.

Yet the mention of harm to the user unnerved him. He couldn't test the ability's side effects just yet, but discovering them before a real battle seemed wise.

Now, what about this second Singularity?

[False Incarnation] - Through a ritual that shattered all taboos, your flesh and mind have been corrupted by your lack of proficiency with the relic. This maculated body and fractured mind interact strangely with Stardust, providing a glimpse of the relic's true potential.

This power seemed linked to his synchronization with the 'Tomb of the Shrouded Aurora', likely granting regeneration capabilities.

This is dangerous.

Singularities that altered the body were the most common and often improved regeneration. But they came with severe drawbacks.

Creatures with such powers would heal in erratic, unstable ways. Cuts became scars, which morphed into twisted flesh—slowly pushing the creature closer to the Abyss Queen's likeness. Madness always followed, consuming them entirely.

If Buck's regenerative power was too strong, it might thrust him into insanity after only a few injuries.

And what about this blank 'Destiny'? Does that mean the relic devoured it?

His memory blurred around the moment he had bled before the colossal tomb, but he recalled a voice mentioning the sacrifice of his destiny.

Buck considered the implications of this paradox. Even dust has the destiny of being swept away; a being without destiny defied the most unyielding laws of the world. It was as if he were a smudge in the fabric of existence.

What a way to tell me that even my creator have forgotten who I am. Maybe I should turn agnostic after this.

Sitting there, doubting his faith, Buck absentmindedly touched his horns. They were solid yet sensitive, like fingernails. The sensation brought an odd sense of calm.

I'd say my destiny is mocking me for giving deer antlers to a guy named Buck, but I don't even have one…

He began noticing the air—a dry, suffocating heat unusual even for someone accustomed to working near molten lava at Farad-ay's smelting plants. He wondered what place could be hotter than the searing metal rivers of that infernal factory.

Well, I guess I need to get out of here before I dry out and turn into a crispy insect snack. It's risky to leave without much information, even with my Singularities. They're basically useless as long as I don't have Stardust. I'm way too weak for this kind of thing. But I have no options.

Rising from the stage, Buck steadied himself against nearby pillars and walls. Wherever his hands touched, faint glowing marks remained on the stone before fading away.

As he wandered through the carved sandstone ruins, he realized this place was unlike the Abyss layer he had seen before.

If this isn't the Abyss… then where am I?

His hand caressed the intricate details on the stone, as if it were telling a story, while his insatiable eyes searched for answers at the end of the tunnel. The amount of light no longer seemed brighter but instead carried the familiar darkness of the caves, a comforting presence for him.

Slowly, he became aware of his situation once again. Lost in an unknown place, unarmed, and utterly alone. Was leaving truly the best option? He questioned himself.

But Buck knew there was little he could accomplish within an abandoned ruin.

Suddenly, he stopped walking, struck by an idea that might mean the difference between life and death. There wasn't much useful information inside an ancient ruin, but perhaps it held something far better than mere answers: relics buried in an uncharted place.

Uncharted?

Ruins were usually places that attracted creatures. If this one hadn't been explored yet, it meant something was here, guarding it.

His breathing grew more erratic as he slowly realized he hadn't fallen into a safer part of the Abyss. No, he was in the worst possible place—one that no one should venture into without a team of at least five Lessers. That was assuming he had landed on the safest floors. If not, much larger groups, composed of far more advanced Successions, would have been necessary.

His eyes widened, trying to absorb as much light as possible from the surroundings, and his ears strained to catch even the faintest sound.

He couldn't afford to expose himself in the open. To do so would be sheer suicide—there was no outrunning a creature of the Abyss, let alone multiple ones.

Quickly, he crept between the pillars and fallen stones that had once been part of the ceilings and broken walls. With every step, he became more aware of the pungent smell of ammonia that filled the place.

Then Buck heard it—just a few meters behind him—the sound of hollow stones breaking and shattering. Not only that, but a deep, resonating noise, the unmistakable impact of lungs inhaling. Something was in there with him, and it was enormous.

Slowly, he tried to catch a glimpse of whatever it was, praying it might be a creature he had heard of before. But as his eyes landed on the shadowy figure amid the dust, devouring massive bones as if they were nothing, he swallowed his prayers whole.