The Dark Abyss: Forever Lies

Sovereign of Hellroad

The Hell road Beckons The sky was black, not with night, but with something worse” something thick and heavy, creeping through the air like a curse. It sank into the ground, into flesh, into the soul. The road beneath him was not stone but shifting bodies” faces twisted in pain, arms reaching, mouths open in silent screams. He walked. Each step crushed bones, marrow spilling like thick, rotten honey. The underworld breathed around him, thick with the stench of burning flesh and decay. Black rivers swirled with drowned corpses, their empty eyes watching, waiting. Jagged cliffs above whispered madness, their sharp edges like broken teeth. And he laughed.

Not with joy, but with disgust. With mockery. How pathetic, how weak, to believe in kindness. To whisper of loyalty as if such things could stop death. Lies. Foolishness wrapped in empty words. A sound. A scrape. Something alive. A trembling hand clutched his ankle. A mistake. He knelt. Bloodied lips parted, trying to speak, trying to beg. Hope flickered in those eyes. Hope. How vile.

Slowly, he reached out, fingers pressing into the wretched™s arm. The skin peeled away like paper, flesh beneath twitching, nerves exposed. A screamed” sharp, cracking into sobs. He listened, savoring the sound. Then the needle. A thin, blackened spike filled with something worse than poison. He pushed it deep into the torn flesh. The venom rushed through the veins, burning, rotting, destroying from within. The body convulsed, limbs jerking like a broken puppet, eyes rolling back to show nothing but white. But it wasn™t enough. Not yet. His hand moved lower, pressing against the chest. Fingers curled. Ribs cracked under his grip, flesh splitting as he reached deeper, deeper” warmth, wetness, something pulsing. He wrapped his hand around it. The wretch twitched, spasmed. Lips moved, begging. He ripped the heart free. A wet, sickening squelch. Blood poured over his fingers, thick and steaming. The body shuddered” then collapsed. Lifeless. Useless. He stared at the heart in his palm, feeling the last, weak beats. Then, without hesitation, he clenched his fist.

A Sickening crunch. The organ burst between his fingers, dark blood dripping through the cracks, pooling at his feet. The Hell road swallowed it eagerly. He exhaled, slow, controlled. Then, his voice, calm and final "Death." The abyss trembled. The underworld opened. And he stepped forward, where only oblivion waited.

He stepped forward, his boots sinking into the shifting remains beneath him. The blood-drenched road twisted and groaned, whispering of torment, of submission. The underworld pulsed, a living, writhing thing, waiting” watching. A throne rose from the abyss, a grotesque masterpiece sculpted from bone and blackened iron. The twisted remains of long-forgotten rulers clung to its base, their hollow eyes filled with eternal suffering. Sharp, jagged spines jutted from its arms, stained with the dried blood of those who had dared to sit upon it before him. He ascended. With slow, deliberate steps, he climbed the blackened dais, each movement a proclamation of power. Shadows clung to him like a second skin, the air thick with the scent of decay and something older, something that had never belonged to the world of the living. He sat.

The throne groaned beneath his weight, the bones shifting, cracking, as if kneeling in reverence. Around him, skeletal sentinels stirred” twisted creatures of death and ruin, their empty sockets glowing with an eerie, cursed light. They knelt as one, their jagged spines bent low, awaiting his command. He lifted his hand. The underworld trembled. Darkness coiled around his fingers, slithering like a living thing, feeding on the despair that clung to the air. He exhaled, the breath carrying the weight of a thousand forgotten souls. Then, his voice, cold and absolute” "From this moment forth, this road, this abyss, this world of the damned” It belongs to me."

A Deafening silence. Then chaos. The underworld roared. The Hell road cracked and writhed, black rivers surging, cliffs crumbling, the very air burning with the weight of his claim. The skeletal horde howled, their twisted bones rattling in feverish submission. Hell had a new ruler. And the damned would learn the meaning of true despair

Someone was waiting for him to stop since he is not much cultivated and when he saw his memories started to occupy his soul sea where he didn't intend to go,, but destiny always makes us believes unpredictable. He than consumes pill to regain his unsteady breaths but the scent of formation pill spread like wildfire and lord was first one to notice,, and he frowns.

The black aura starts to surround and then he taps his fingers while shattering whole hell." Who disobeys me and didn't bow before me" ask whole dark black aura was dropping from mouth and his devilish smirk is adding thrillers in it.

"Hahahaha , Don't you know my so called sire that your well honoured member of hell is having disruption in his soul sea." he relied in coldest voice without sparing him a glance

"Death"

Heavenly clamity

"This word, holds no authority as well as the owner of this voice. Do you think l don't know ? So naive, my lord?" continue with his deep cold voice. He then grabs his head while breathing heavily and crying. Pain was getting worse.

A silent shatter. Then—agony. His soul sea fractured, waves collapsing into void. The essence of his being torn apart, memories splintering, thoughts dissolving into screams. The pain wasn’t physical—it was existence itself unraveling. Meridians burned. Consciousness withered. A force ripped through him, leaving behind only an abyss—a hollow shell where a soul once thrived. And in that void, only suffering remained.

"Soul sea, interesting"

"I'll grant you with spiritual power and enough mental energy at one condition. Dear Dead" said in rough voice with dark smoke was dripping from his mouth

"Spit out...... Damn...it"

Suddenly a chain with thorns on it, covered with blood and scent of withered skin and flesh. Red energy was emitting out. Chain grabs his throat and started to twist. His eyes rolled back while painful screams and cries were coming out from his mouth. "You dare to disrespect your lord ? Never mind"

"AHHHhh ......hhh" again cried "Do you agree ? Dear rose" ask while grinning like devil

"Indeed , l agree on one condition which is_" Grip was tighten more on his throat and blood started to oozing out from his mouth and throat "Don't , gamble. My rose " "It's useless." "First listen to me you fucker or consequences will led you to your soon death" "Don't forget. My dear lord"

He was at the verge of dying which was referring to his disappearance in underworld.He smirks

"Ok , I'll process it" . He loosed his grip and ask him while raising his brow.

"You can't .... indulge wi..TH my soul sea and spirit. You won't vanish... my memories and lock me under..groun..’d while generating my clone different to me . The clone…. will hold his own consciousness and mentality. You won't… ..inter...fere in his life while he'll cultivate on his own from Vein awakening. You agree and no.... bar.. Gaining " smirks while saying in cold voice

"Sounds good . My rose." smirk while pull him towards himself. He was staring deeply in those lifeless, full of emptiness orbs . They hold undiscovered galaxies. He was lost in those eyes.

He then starts to trace his fingers on his wounded cheeks while heeling them. Furthermore, he was drowned in this ethereal beauty. "Close your eyes. My rose". Latter close his eyes and fell into deep slumber. The warmness he was having while feeling his skin under him, did wonder

He pressed his two fingers on his forehead softly and inject his soul power with him and fuse his self with his clone.

The air twisted, reality bending as dark essence coiled like liquid shadow. From the abyss, a figure emerged—not birthed, but forged. His skin, flawless yet unnatural, gleamed like polished obsidian, reflecting the endless void. His hair, black as a starless night, flowed in silent defiance of gravity. Eyes—not human—held the abyss within, swirling with the remnants of shattered souls. His form was perfect, sculpted by forces beyond mortal comprehension. Elegance and terror intertwined, beauty carved from the fabric of death itself. The abyss breathed, whispering his name. And as he opened his eyes, the world shuddered.

" It can't be". No......No . "

The spiritual sea of Kazimir Zaystev was unusually calm . The soul sea was boundless—a vast, ethereal ocean stretching beyond mortal comprehension. Its waters shimmered, reflecting memories, emotions, and the very essence of one’s existence. Each ripple carried whispers of the past, every wave a surge of untamed power. For some, it was calm, a tranquil abyss where thoughts flowed like gentle tides. For others, it was chaos—a storm of fractured memories, violent and restless. At its depths lay the soul core, the nucleus of one's being, glowing like a dying ember or a raging sun, depending on the strength of the cultivator. If fractured, the sea would become a maelstrom of agony, its currents twisting, consuming, leaving only emptiness. To shatter the soul sea was not just to kill. It was to erase.

His soul sea was unlike any other. Dark and red, it churned with an eerie, unnatural stillness—not lifeless, but waiting. Unlike raging tempests or radiant waves, his ocean remained stagnant, an abyss untouched by time. Yet, beneath its surface, an ominous ethereal glow pulsed—not light, but something deeper, heavier, suffocating. The very essence of the sea radiated an oppressive charm, drawing in those who dared to gaze upon it, yet offering them nothing but madness and decay in return. It did not rage. It did not yield. It simply existed—a void that consumed, a power that defied comprehension. And in its depths, something ancient slept, waiting for the day it would awaken.

"Though his soul sea is not only calm but also hard to cultivate . He had to face many hardships. " he sigh and place ancient seal on his spiritual sea containg from disruption and heavenly clamity

"The clone is indeed hard to cultivate , indeed he choose to hide himself and make his clone to cultivate in human world , despite knowing it's deadly consequences . He can't leave.".says dryly.

Arrival in mortal realm

The clone was finally created with bloodshed. He open his dark orbs with mix of black and red color, soon they change into dark brown honey coated orbs. It is strange, for him to see his very own clone

However, the silence hot disturbed by dark and crisp voice.

？？？

Are you ready. My rose? Your cultivation level is on peak of vein awakening, and you'll break through

??????

l shall follow you. My lord* said in crisp voice while bowing*

Vaelgor Duskbane

My necromancy will be soon inherited by you, as l need a willing successor for myself. I hope your answer will be affirmative statement and remember you need to come back. Moreover, the memories were transferred to your clone. * said coldly while raising his brow *

Kazimir Zaystev

****Processing his words for affirmative answer , he is clever enough to not risk his life to death again****

Vaelgor Duskbane

"Walk among them, but never belong. Let kindness be a mask, not a weakness. Remember the past—not to grieve, but to sharpen your blade. The world is a stage, and you are both the actor and the executioner. Cultivate, endure, and when the time comes—remind them who you truly are."

Kazimir Zaystev

"The past carved my soul, the world shall temper my blade. I will walk unseen, smile without warmth, and rise without mercy. When the time comes, they will not recognize me—until it is far too late."

Vaelgor Duskbane

I bless you. Come back soon and snatch what truly belongs to you"***said while walking towards him and place is hand on his cheeks . He was caressing his cheeks softly while smiling coldly**

Kazimir Zaystev

l promise on everything l love and holy. l'll come back soon as you desired for me . My lord *said in rough voice with dark orbs shining under red moon light*

Vaelgor Duskbane

l hope so.My rose * said coldly while turning his back and sitting on his throne *

Descent into the Mortal Realm The sky split. A figure emerged, draped in the silence of the abyss, his arrival unseen yet felt—a ripple in reality itself. The winds carried whispers of a presence foreign to this world, unnatural, unfathomable. His eyes, cold as shattered obsidian, swept over the land—a world bathed in false light, teeming with fragile lives, oblivious to the abyss that had just stepped among them. The air here was lighter, the energy dull, restrained—disgusting. Yet, within this weakness lay opportunity. He exhaled. The mask slid into place. With measured steps, he walked forward, blending into the mortal tide, his presence as harmless as a shadow at dusk. For now.

Kazimir Zaystev

l am back.*Grinned widely like evil himself*

He do not belongs to Mortal world yet feel connected to it. Strange right ? He then flies away and disappear in wide sky.

Journey to become immortal and lord of Lords and king of kings . What do you think , he will succeed or fate will play it's cards to mention itself on his soul

Think , read and know

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