The Heart Of Chaos

'I don't know what just happened…'

'It all happened so fast…'

'Right after that same familiar voice called out to me…'

'I froze in place, no matter how much I begged my body to move—it wouldn't listen…'

'Blood suddenly flooded the place, spilling everywhere…'

'And then, from the shadows, the Basilisks appeared. Now, I've lost the only person who kept me company through this harsh journey…'

'Yes… right in front of me, he's nothing but stone now, petrified forever in time—all because I'm too weak…'

'I had to watch someone I love die while trying to protect my pitiful, useless existence, and even then, I still failed…'

Abaddon stood in the middle of the shrine's altar, severely wounded as he clutched his stomach in pain.

Before him stood Orlan, arms outstretched in a final act of protection as he shielded Abaddon from the Basilisk's gaze.

With blurred vision, Abaddon dropped to his knees as blood continued soaking through his tattered clothing.

'What did I do so wrong? I've lost everything…'

'It's ironic. I never thought I'd end up like this. All I ever wanted was to live in peace with those I love…'

'But instead… all I've known is pain and suffering. Where is karma? I don't remember ever going against the heavens…'

'I had every reason to hate everyone who turned my life into a nightmare, but I never wished death on anyone. So… where is heavenly justice?'

'Why do the wicked go unpunished, while the good always suffer?'

With a sudden surge of rage, despite the pain, Abaddon raised his head toward the heavens and screamed with all his might.

"I WANT TO KNOW! gods"

"Where is karma? Why have you forsaken me? Why have you turned my life into nothing but suffering?"

Before him, the colossal Basilisk loomed, watching its prey's torment with cold amusement.

Meanwhile, in the besieged town, Arthur paused amidst the chaos, looking skyward as lightning split the stormy night.

In a quiet tone, he murmured.

"Why… why does the thought of you haunt me tonight, old friend? Are you cursing me even in the afterlife?"

Above, the battle in the skies raged on. The Elders, transformed into their respective classes, fought with desperation.

The combat-class rankers, led by Kaedryn, launched a frontal assault. Clad in golden armor and radiant astral plumes, Kaedryn was a blazing beacon of strength.

The mages provided ranged support from behind, while the herbalists brewed stamina-restoration potions. Clerics healed and bolstered their allies.

And yet, the Mourning Fiend did not fight back. Its eerie, ever-present smile remained as it repeated the same haunting question:

"Where is the Child of Destiny?"

Back in the sacred shrine, Abaddon teetered on the brink of death. Struggling, he stood once more.

'I've lived a life full of lies. Now, I want to die without regrets.'

Looking directly into the Basilisk's eyes, he tore the rags from his torso, revealing a scarred body and the infamous dragon tattoo on his back.

With all his strength, he took a step forward toward the mythical beast.

'Yes… I'm tired of this world. Once, I admired heroes—especially my father…'

'They were like the sun, spreading hope to the world. Just thinking of them brought me comfort… but…'

'This harsh journey has taught me lessons I never imagined in my fourteen years of life.'

'The more I endured, the clearer the harsh truths became. I started to understand villains more than I ever understood heroes.'

'Over time, I realized that heroes aren't saviors. Their justice is selective. Their mercy is a privilege. Villains are born from the shadows of a hero's failure—a life overlooked, a hand never extended.'

'Villains learn to think only of themselves because they've grown numb to the world's criticism. And when they finally fight back, they're branded as the enemy.'

'If only I could fight back… then none of this would have happened. My life wouldn't be ending in such a place.'

Stopping before the Basilisk, Abaddon clenched his fists and struck the serpent with everything he had, though it barely registered as a tap.

His hand began to turn to stone. Tears streamed from his eyes as he sighed.

"My suffering was caused by a hero. I lost everything because some so-called hero used my mother as bait…"

"Discarded his son as a disgrace…"

"Turned my life upside down…"

"Maybe… just maybe, I'll see my mother again. Perhaps the old man is waiting for me, too… All I can say is…"

'Forgive me, Eleanor. I couldn't keep my promise...I feel so sleepy..."

With that final thought, Abaddon succumbed to the darkness as his body begun to crumble to stone, then it shattered.

The heavens rumbled violently as though mourning his death. In that instant, the Mourning Fiend's eerie smile twisted into a snarl of rage.

Recalling its army, all one hundred of its eyes turned toward the shrine.

"The destined one… is gone."

And as it had appeared, it vanished, fading into the blood-red glow of the moonlight.

Hours passed. Archimedes and his elders expressed their gratitude to their saviors, promising aid should they ever need it.

The rankers boarded their ships and departed, leaving the once-great Arcane Citadel in ruins. Yet, what Archimedes sought had already perished.

The scene shifted to a plane of mass emptiness of a void, Abaddon's soul drifted, unconscious.

When he awoke, he muttered.

"Where am I? Is this Xerathar—the realm of the dead?"

From the darkness, a voice answered.

"No, you are not. Finally, we meet…"

"Destined one."

The void reshaped itself, revealing a cosmic expanse. Above, a black, spiraling sphere devoured everything around it, embodying pure chaos.

"We've met before, young Abaddon. Tell me, how does it feel to be dead?"

Abaddon, still floating, recognized the voice.

"It's you—the one who's been calling to me."

Anger surged within him.

"You froze me in place, didn't you? Who the hell are you? And why have you been tormenting me?"

The dark sphere chuckled.

"I am the first being to exist. Through me, life began. I am chaos incarnate. I am Kaelar, the Primordial of Chaos—father to the Eight Primordials."

Abaddon stared at the dark sphere before him in confusion.

"The very first being exist... Chaos. Are you telling me you're that concept?"

"Indeed, you are correct."

Kaelar responded. Without hesitation, Abaddon pressed on.

"What are the Primordials? Where am I? Why do you call me the destined one? I need answers to all this before I can rest in peace."

The dark sphere released a deep, rumbling laugh as it began to reshape. Slowly, it took on the form of a human silhouette—a dark figure with hollow white eyes now stood before Abaddon.

"I will answer all your questions, child of destiny."

"First, I will reveal the darkness behind the lie that rules your world. Mortals have been blinded by falsehoods, and that is all you have ever known."

Abaddon furrowed his brow and asked.

"What do you mean?"

Kaelar smiled faintly and continued.

"We Primordials are ancient, powerful beings that represent the very concepts of existence. To put it simply, we were the first gods at the dawn of time."

This revelation stunned Abaddon.

"First gods? How is that possible? The Erythrians have always been the gods and always will be. Never have I heard of beings like you."

Kaelar nodded, as though expecting this response.

"Indeed, the Erythrians are merely the descendants—and mistakes—of the Primordials. Our descendants: the Primogenitors."

Abaddon's eyes widened.

"Primogenitors? Those Cataclysm Class-IV myths were your descendants? Then why are they now nothing more than wandering beasts?"

Kaelar opened his palm, summoning a dark sphere that shimmered with images of the past.

"In the beginning, the Primordials ruled the Omniverse, embodying raw chaos and untamed forces. We created the Primogenitors as intermediaries to shape and govern the world. However, the rise of the Erythrian Pantheon—a new generation of deities—threatened our dominion."

Kaelar's tone grew darker as he continued.

"The gods, led by Zuryxal, viewed us as dangerous and destructive forces that would hinder their vision of order and progress. They waged war against us and the Primogenitors, who fought to protect their creators. This conflict, known as the Abyssaryth War, tore through the cosmos and reshaped existence itself."

Abaddon struggled to process this information.

"The Erythrians created tombs to imprison the Primordials, scattering them across existence. These tombs can only be opened by someone who possesses Primordial energy."

"And the Primogenitors?"

Abaddon enquired.

"Their primordial energies were stolen by the Erythrians who ascended as true gods, recognized by divine laws. Some of the Primogenitors were locked away in Xerathar's Abyss of Naraka, the most tormenting part of the underworld, where souls who defied the Erythrians suffer eternal torment."

Kaelar's voice dripped with bitterness.

"The Primogenitors were left as soulless titanic forms, roaming endlessly as punishment. The gods erased all memory of us from the mortal realm, ensuring that the Primordials and Primogenitors became nothing more than forgotten myths."

Abaddon's mind raced as he connected the dots.

"So, the Erythrians imprisoned the first deities, cast their parents into the depths of torment, and erased their history. Now all that remains are roaming titans."

Kaelar nodded solemnly.

Abaddon took a deep breath.

"All of this is intriguing, but it seems like a war among deities. What does it have to do with a mortal like me?"

Kaelar's smile widened as he leaned closer.

"Thousands of years after the Erythrians' victory, an ancient oracle of Klythara, the Weaver of Fate, made a prophecy"

"The reign of the Erythrians will end by the hands of a mortal. This mortal will plunge the Pantheon into chaos. For the first time, a mortal will be born with no fate written for them—a blank canvas upon which destiny itself will be rewritten. This mortal will be the vessel of Chaos, destined to ignite the Second Abyssaryth War.'

"This prophecy terrified the Erythrians. Zuryxal, defying heavenly laws, forced Klythara to reveal the mortal's identity. All they discovered was that this mortal would descend from the bloodline of the Dragons."

Abaddon's face twisted in disbelief.

"So you're saying that I'm the one destined to bring about the Second Abyssaryth War? Do you realize how absurd that sounds? I'm powerless! I can't even defeat a bronze-stage early ranker, yet you're saying I'm meant to face gods? Do you take me for a fool?"

Kaelar smirked at Abaddon's rage.

"You're bold for one so young."

Abaddon responded with confidence.

"I have nothing left to lose,besides am already dead what worse can happen to me?."

Kaelar nodded approvingly.

"Good. Fear is a luxury for the weak. But you are not weak, and you're not coward are you?. But before I proceed I want you to meet someone from your lineage —a truthbearer, he can testify as the first Drakon to be born."