The Abyss was not just a location; it was a living being.
Kaito could feel it now, clawing at him from every direction like an intangible pressure pushing into his chest. Its existence was no longer solely about him—it was inside him, flowing through his nerves like poison.
The air itself was loaded here, heavy with despair. Every breath was a fight, every pulse a fragile fight against the force of nothing.
The dark energy spread through his flesh, his bones, and for a moment he could hear it whispering, calling him. The voices were low, the echoes of old graves, whispering of release, of quiet, of surrender. They begged him to drop his sword, to release. To let it all go.
But he couldn't. Not now. Never.
Nyra's hand trembled in his, the once firm pace of her fingers faltering, spasmodic. Dark cascaded around them, writhing like bodies, and Kaito felt the overwhelming pressure of the Abyss take its grip on her.
