The Dark Abyss: Forever Lies Sovereign of the Abyss

In evening

Setting: The Enormous Gala Garden The garden is vast and breathtaking, a masterpiece of design meant to impress the elite. Tall, ancient trees stand like silent sentinels, their branches weaving a natural canopy over the guests. Elegant lanterns and golden chandeliers hang from intricately designed iron structures, casting a warm, surreal glow over the expanse. A long marble pathway stretches from the grand entrance, leading to a fountain centerpiece—a towering sculpture of intertwined figures, representing power, victory, and control. The sound of cascading water mingles with the soft hum of conversation. Tables draped in royal velvet line the sides, adorned with crystal glassware, golden cutlery, and exotic floral arrangements. A private orchestral ensemble plays a haunting melody in the distance, its tune both enchanting and unsettling. At the farthest end, a highly secured VIP section is separated by a subtle yet imposing design—no barriers, just a silent understanding that only those of true status can cross into that space. Yet, despite the glamour, an undercurrent of tension lingers in the air. The arrival of certain guests—Vyre and his group—has turned this place into more than a celebration. It’s now a battleground of silent dominance.

The Kims entered the gala without KtH, yet their presence alone sent a ripple through the air. There was no grand display, no unnecessary gestures—just a silent, unshakable authority that needed no announcement. Moving with effortless precision, they carried an air of unity so seamless that it was almost unnerving. A few guests stole quick glances, only to look away just as fast, as if sensing that prolonged attention might invite something beyond their understanding. From across the garden, the Jeons and Parks noticed. No words were exchanged, yet in that brief moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them—power had arrived. But the Kims did not linger in one place. Like shadows, they dispersed effortlessly into the crowd, each settling into their own position, watching, waiting. It was only the beginning—the real storm would come.

Kim Seokjin(Criss Lazaro)

* Walked towards his father * Will he come ?

Kim daewook(Criss Lauren)

Yeah , l thought so cause Russians are also present here . *said in cold voice*

Jeon Dodohee(De lrina)

Would he come . He was gravely injured* said in rough voice*

Jeon Song Kang(De Ruslan)

l think he would * said in aloof voice*

As the Kims entered the gala, slipping seamlessly into the grandeur of the night, a quiet conversation unfolded between two cousins from the Jeon and Park families. Standing near one of the elegantly decorated tables, their words were hushed, yet laced with a subtle edge of curiosity and disdain.

Park Chaeyoung(Rossie)

I wonder , * said while sipping her tea.*

Park Irene

You know sis , he is very handsome. * said in aloof voice*

Jeon Lalisa(De Lucia)

Yeah , but he is arrogant . He doesn't speak that much . * said in a gentle tone * I wonder , he is like this usually or just pretend * said in amusement*

Park Irene

I didn't even see him yet so l can't tell* said in a cold voice*

Park Chaeyoung(Rossie)

You are right , let's see

Min yoongi

Master didn't come yet * mumbles*

Park Jimin ( lee Valerio)

He would come l believe . * said while sipping Irish coffee*

Min yoongi

I hope too * staring at him intensely*

Park Jimin ( lee Valerio)

*Share the same fire silently*

Park Jimin ( lee Valerio)

Then do you know about him ? l wonder if he is not very expressive . * said in cold voice while shifting his gaze*

Min yoongi

He is what he is , Unpredictable. * said in aloof voice while staring at him*

The gala had settled into a steady rhythm—glasses clinking, hushed conversations, the faint melody of the orchestra weaving through the air. Yet, beneath the elegance, there was an unspoken anticipation. Then, it happened. A deep, commanding roar of engines shattered the delicate harmony. Heads turned instinctively, conversations faltered, and for a brief moment, even the music seemed to dull. Two sleek, black cars came to a halt at the entrance, their polished exteriors reflecting the golden glow of the chandeliers. The silence that followed was deafening. The Kims, already inside, made no move. The Jeons and Parks, mid-conversation, exchanged glances—some amused, some wary. They knew who had arrived. But the real question lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge. Who came ?

As Criss Vyre (KtH) stepped out, his long black coat trailing behind him, the air itself seemed to shift. One by one, his friends followed, all dressed in their signature black attire, moving with a precision that made them look more like an unbreakable force than mere individuals. The weight of their presence was undeniable—a silent storm rolling into the heart of the celebration. With each step they took into the grand hall, the noise dwindled. Murmurs faded. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the orchestra hesitated. By the time they reached the center, an eerie silence had fallen over the entire gala. No words were spoken. None were needed. Everyone was watching—some in awe, some in fear, and others in unreadable intrigue. But one thing was certain—the night had just shifted, and power had arrived.

Note :Use headphones and listen darkside by neoni and royalty by ezgod . To add chill.

Mikhail Koldun

Quite famous huh ? .* said in barely whisper , inaudible but the three of them heard it.*

As Criss Vyre and his group stepped into the grand hall, their movements were smooth yet deliberate, like shadows weaving through the golden glow of the chandeliers. The silence that had fallen remained unbroken—not out of respect, but out of sheer intimidation. No one dared to speak as they passed, their all-black attire creating a stark contrast against the lavish surroundings. With every step, the weight of their presence grew. No one directed them where to go—until one man, carefully composed yet visibly cautious, stepped forward. A designated official, tasked with the impossible job of leading this unshakable force through the hall. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "This way, please." Without hesitation, Vyre’s group followed. The crowd instinctively parted as they moved toward the heart of the gala, where the President and Military Chief awaited. Eyes lingered on them, filled with curiosity, fear, and silent questions. As they approached the highest-ranking officials in the room, the real game was about to begin.

Jong suk(Vecter lau)

Nice to meet you again , You surprised me again* said in cold voice*

Kim Taehyung (Criss Vyre)

...

Jong suk(Vecter lau)

Are you alright * concerned while in cold voice*

Kim Taehyung (Criss Vyre)

...

Park Jimin ( lee Valerio)

He is alright.* said in cold voice *

Jong suk(Vecter lau)

Then l won't take your time * said in whisper*

Kim Taehyung (Criss Vyre)

*Walked away*

After the brief yet impactful meeting with the President and Military Chief, Criss Vyre’s attention was pulled elsewhere. A discreet yet deliberate presence approached—one of the maids sent by his parents. She bowed slightly, keeping her voice steady despite the overwhelming aura surrounding him. "Your presence is requested." Vyre said nothing. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his cold gaze, but he merely gave a slight nod. Without hurry, without urgency, he and his group resumed walking, their movements unbroken in their seamless coordination. Exactly three minutes later, he arrived. Not alone. Never alone. His group stood with him, a silent testament to the force he carried wherever he went. As his eyes met his parents’, there was no warmth, no sentiment—only the weight of unspoken expectations and an unreadable history.

Kim Joo young (De iris)

*Hugs her son very tightly like there is no tomorrow *

As Vyre approached, his mother did something no one expected—she stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. His group—always composed, always unreadable—visibly stiffened. Their eyes widened ever so slightly, shock flickering across their faces. No one touched him. Ever. Not unless he allowed it, and even then, only they had that privilege. Yet here she was—his mother. The only person who could do so without consequence. Vyre didn’t pull away, but he didn’t return the embrace either. He simply stood there, unmoving. His cold, unreadable gaze remained over her shoulder, as if he was somewhere far beyond the moment. The silence stretched. The weight of his group’s disbelief was almost tangible. They had seen him command, destroy, and dominate, but this—this was something different. Something they couldn’t decipher.

As his mother held him, a quiet tremor ran through her frame, and before she could stop herself, tears slipped down her cheeks. The sight was unfamiliar—a mother breaking before the man the world feared. Slowly, she pulled back, her hands instinctively reaching to check him—her eyes scanning his face, his shoulders, as if searching for wounds, for pain, for anything that might have harmed her son. His group stood frozen. Vyre allowed it. He let her touch him, let her check him—without resistance. That alone was enough to shake them. Their leader, the man who allowed no weakness, was standing there, letting himself be seen not as Criss Vyre, not as KtH, but as a son. The realization struck them like a silent storm. Was it power that allowed this? Or something far deeper—something they had never understood about him?

Kim Taehyung (Criss Vyre)

*Withdraw from her and bowed to her and walked away*

Vyre remained unmoved, his presence as cold and unshaken as ever. Without a word, he gently withdrew from her hands, his black-gloved fingers slipping away with effortless precision. There was no resistance, no force—just an unspoken boundary reasserting itself. Then, in a gesture no one expected, he bowed slightly. Not deep, not lingering—just enough. Enough to acknowledge, yet not enough to submit. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but for his group, it was earth-shattering. They stood there, stunned. The man who would rather die than bow—who had never yielded, never bent, not even slightly—had done so now. Even if just for a fleeting moment, even if it was barely there, it had happened. Yet Vyre did not wait for reactions. He turned and walked away, his black coat flowing behind him, leaving nothing but silence in his wake. His group, however, remained. They did not follow immediately. Instead, they stood rooted in place, their gazes locked onto his mother—cold, unblinking, unreadable. There was no anger, no hostility, yet the weight of their presence was suffocating. A silent warning. A statement. They had seen something tonight they never thought possible. And they didn’t like it.

Ravil Chernov

What audicity you hold to hug her and who are you to her. * said in cold yet respectful tone*

Kim Joo young (De iris)

I am her mother * said in cold voice *

As Vyre disappeared into the crowd, his group remained, their cold stares still fixed on his mother. The weight of their presence was almost suffocating, their silence demanding an explanation without a single word spoken. She exhaled softly, her gaze unwavering as she looked at them. "He is my son." The words hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a blade. Shock. Disbelief. Absolute silence. For the first time, their carefully composed expressions wavered. Their leader—the man they had followed into storms of blood and power, the man they knew as an orphan, a shadow that belonged to no one—had a mother. Unimaginable. They had always believed Vyre was born from the void, forged in solitude, belonging to nothing and no one. But now—this truth shattered everything they thought they knew. Yet even in their disbelief, they did not speak. Instead, their gazes darkened, filled with a silent unease, as if this revelation itself was a threat. For if Vyre had something to return to, then perhaps, for the first time, he had something to lose.

At the announcement, Vyre's steps halted. His back remained turned, his expression unseen, but the shift in the air was undeniable. A heavy, suffocating aura began to gather around him, thick with something raw, something dangerous. He didn’t look at his mother. His gaze slowly turned back—not to her, but to his group. And what he saw didn’t bother him. Disbelief. Darkness. A silent question they would never dare to ask. But what did bother him was the weight of something unspoken. A force he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Anger. The moment stretched—then a deafening crack tore through the sky. Thunder. Not rain. Not a storm. Just a single, violent strike, illuminating the night in a blinding flash—declaring his presence like a divine entity descending upon the earth. For a fraction of a second, his eyes turned red. A flicker, a mere heartbeat, but his group saw it. They had witnessed power beyond human comprehension, but this—this was something else. Their shock mirrored the silence of the garden. This night, etched into memory, would never be forgotten.

Kim Joo young (De iris)

*Noticed it and terrified *

The entire hall fell into a suffocating silence. Conversations halted, music faded, and every gaze turned toward the man who stood at the center of it all. Vyre’s presence had always commanded attention, but this time, it was different. As he turned, his long coat flowing behind him, he began walking toward a more secluded area, his steps slow yet deliberate. Each movement carried an unspoken warning—a force too great to be ignored. Then, it happened. A thunder strike. Loud. Violent. Ear-shattering. The very ground seemed to tremble as the sudden burst of energy split through the sky. Gasps filled the air, expressions twisted in horror, and an unsettling fear crept through the crowd. This was no ordinary storm. This was a declaration. A force beyond human comprehension. And as Vyre disappeared into the darkness, the echoes of that thunder remained—reminding them all of the entity they had just witnessed.

As Vyre disappeared into the secluded area, the suffocating tension slowly began to fade. The electrifying presence that had gripped the hall loosened its hold, allowing strained breaths to be released. For a while, no one spoke. The weight of what had just happened lingered like an unshakable shadow. Then, after ten minutes, the murmurs began. First in hushed whispers. Then in quiet conversations. The atmosphere returned to normal—or at least, it tried to. The music resumed, glasses clinked, and laughter forced its way back into the air. But no one had truly moved on. Every conversation, no matter how casual, circled back to him. Who was he? What was that thunder? Why did his eyes flicker red? The night continued, but the presence of Criss Vyre—KtH—had left an imprint too deep to ignore.

In the secluded area, bathed in the eerie glow of the moon, Vyre stood motionless, his reddish-black eyes fixed on the vast sky above. Dark smoke curled from his body, drifting into the night air like whispers of an untamed storm. Black lines snaked across his neck and face, pulsing faintly, enhancing his already ethereal yet perilous presence. The cold glass of French Irish champagne rested in his grip, his gloved fingers tracing its surface as he took a slow sip. The wind howled softly, carrying a crisp chill, yet he remained unaffected—a force beyond mere mortal senses, inhaling the night air as if drawing power from it.

Kazimir Zaystev

I felt it .* mumble*

Vaelgor Duskbane

Hahahhhaaaa . l already knew that.

Suddenly, in the depths of Hellroad—the underworld itself—a crack tore through reality. A deep, resonating tremor spread like a ripple in existence, shaking the very foundation of the netherworld. From within the crack, a blinding golden-black energy surged, twisting and writhing like celestial fire. Then, he emerged. Thal'Zael. The owner of the Divine Realm. The being with the highest cultivation, one who stood above all existence. His presence alone was enough to distort time and space. With each step forward, the fractured void behind him hissed and pulsed, as if reality itself struggled to contain his might. His gaze, burning with absolute dominion, turned toward the mortal plane.

Vaelgor Duskbane

Don't just stare at him , he'll come soon * said in cold voice*

Back at the party, Vyre exhaled slowly, suppressing the lingering darkness within him. The black lines on his skin faded slightly, retreating beneath his collar like shadows obeying their master. He adjusted his coat, rolling his shoulders as if shrugging off an unseen weight. Then, he heard it—footsteps. Steady. Unhurried. Yet familiar. His sharp gaze flickered toward the approaching figures, and in the dim glow of the garden lights, his closest friends—his brothers in everything but blood—came into view.

Ravil Chernov

Betrayal never comes from the enemy * said in a very cold voice *

Kim Taehyung (Criss Vyre)

*frowns slightly*

Mikhail Koldun

Care to explain * said in a rough voice which he doesn't want to use especially on his brother*

Kim Taehyung (Criss Vyre)

Am l obliged ? * said in cold voice*

Roman Demony

You are definitely* said in cold voice .*

He then briefly told them . They listen carefully ,and were now relieved because they are not present and this happened two years ago.

After briefly telling them everything, Vyre fell silent. His expression remained unreadable as he shifted his position, reaching into his coat and pulling out a cigar. The soft flicker of fire danced for a second as he lit it, the faint glow casting fleeting shadows across his face. His friends, though shaken at first, felt a wave of relief. It was the past—two years ago. They had been separated for five long years, and though the truth was unsettling, it made sense. It was just another part of his buried history. Vyre turned away from them, his back now facing them, lost in his own thoughts as he took a slow drag from the cigar. Then—faint footsteps. Soft. Measured. Drawing closer. The air around them tensed, and without a word, their gazes instinctively shifted toward the approaching presence.

It was Jeon Jk and Vyre’s mother who had arrived. His mother stood still, her gaze lingering on her son, but Vyre remained unmoved, his back still facing them. The dim garden lights flickered softly, casting elongated shadows over the scene. Jk’s sharp eyes observed the tension in the air, his mind piecing together the fragments of the night’s events. The silence between them was heavy, thick with unsaid words. Vyre took another slow drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke into the cool night air, his posture unreadable.

For the first time, his mother spoke, her voice cold and firm. "Is this what you've become?" Vyre’s fingers paused slightly, the burning tip of the cigar glowing in the dim light. His expression remained unreadable. The night air carried the scent of smoke, mingling with the faint fragrance of the garden. His mother’s gaze was sharp, filled with an emotion neither sorrow nor anger, but something deeper—disappointment. Jk stood beside her, his eyes flickering between the two, sensing the weight of the moment. Vyre, however, remained silent. He took another slow drag, then exhaled, letting the smoke dissolve into the air as if her words carried no weight.

Mother (coldly): "You think power makes you untouchable?" Vyre (calmly, exhaling smoke): "It makes me free." Mother (firmly): "No. It makes you blind." Vyre chuckled, low and deep, tapping the ash from his cigar. Vyre (smirking): "Blind? Or just uninterested?" His mother took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. Mother: "You were never meant to walk this path alone." Vyre (softly, but with weight): "I was never given a choice."

Vyre let out a dark, chilling laugh—low at first, then rising, echoing through the secluded garden like a distant storm. His friends tensed. Even Jk's expression flickered slightly. Then, in his proper voice—a voice so deep, so commanding, that it felt like the earth itself was listening—he spoke, his words carrying a weight that sent a shiver through the air. Vyre (slowly, each word laced with cold amusement): "Choice? The moment I was born, my fate was sealed. You speak of paths, but I carve my own. I am not bound by blood, nor by destiny. I am the originator of power and destruction itself. Death and life… are my artistic conception." The wind stirred, almost as if reacting to his presence. His red-black eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. His mother remained still, unreadable, but the silence between them spoke louder than words.

"Hahahaha "

Vyre tilted his head back, his laughter rolling through the garden—low, dark, and almost unnatural. It wasn’t the laughter of amusement, but of something far more chilling, something unfathomable. The sound slithered through the air, sending an eerie stillness over the surroundings. Then, without another glance, he turned on his heel, his long coat billowing behind him. His footsteps were unhurried, yet each one echoed with dominance. His laughter didn’t cease immediately—it faded, lingering in the air like a phantom whisper, leaving behind an unsettling void. His mother stood frozen, her expression unreadable, while Jk’s gaze followed Vyre’s retreating figure, an unreadable flicker in his eyes. The moment was over, yet it had left something behind—an undeniable truth that Vyre was no longer just a man.