The Halls of Freedom stretched infinitely, a place where authenticity wasn't just allowed — it was celebrated in its rawest, most unfiltered form. No masks, no chains of duty or destiny. Here, the candidates of the Free Abyss gathered, each one carrying their scars and secrets like badges of honor.
Klexis stood in the middle, his dual hammers resting against his broad frame. Once the proud nephew of Elexis, once a loyal Airien student, now a defector to this realm of raw freedom. His eyes held a storm—betrayal, doubt, and a simmering rage toward a system that had failed him.
Eve Maid, a warrior born from the vibrant lands of Ghana, stood beside him. Her heart had once belonged to Ian, but here, in this wild abyss, she embraced her own dreams. No longer would she be a shadow to anyone. She was a force, a tempest, a soul unshackled.
Banjo, the junior knight who had tired of Airious's rigid tiers, looked at the chaos around him with conflicted eyes. He had sought freedom, but the price was high. Still, here in the abyss, the chains felt looser — if only slightly.
Adrosha, the Nicronian exile from a distant star, clenched her fists. Her people had always stood with the Airiens, guardians against the ghouls, but no one saw her silent suffering. She was done playing the martyr to cruelty disguised as peace. Her rebellion was a scream against hypocrisy itself.
Jair—once a boy bullied on Earth for simply being different—was here, hand in hand with Valerie, or Lis as she confessed herself. A ghoul. The one meant to corrupt him had instead become the eye of his storm, the wild pulse in his veins. His corruption was a love story writ in defiance and truth—because in a world full of masks, he chose to be real with a monster who understood him.
All around them, whispers echoed of students twisted by Traxis—the war Forger himself, father of Klexis. His manipulation was a dark chess game, setting pieces to fall when the moment was ripe. The day of reckoning would come, and Traxis's strike would echo through realms.
Klexis raised his hammer, eyes burning bright.
"This isn't just rebellion," he growled. "It's a reckoning."
Eve Maid nodded, voice steady. "Freedom has a price. But it's one we're willing to pay."
Banjo cracked his knuckles. "The tiers didn't break me. The truth will."
Adrosha's voice cut through the murmurs. "No more lies disguised as peace. No more silenced suffering."
Jair smiled, glancing at Lis. "I found freedom in the storm, not outside it."
Lis grinned wickedly. "And together, we'll rewrite what it means to be 'corrupted.'"
The halls pulsed with energy, the collective heartbeat of souls who had chosen authenticity, no matter the cost. The Free Abyss wasn't chaos—it was truth unleashed, a new chapter in a universe bound by rules now shattered.
And somewhere in the distance, Traxis's shadow loomed, ready to ignite the war that would decide the fate of Airious—and all who dared to be free.
Jair floated lazily through the golden streets of the Free Abyss, the surreal cityscape shimmering with an eerie black hue—an ever-present reminder of the ghouls' lingering influence. The light danced off polished surfaces, but the darkness beneath whispered secrets.
Children zipped past him, flying because they simply willed it. Others blinked out of one spot and appeared in another, teleporting on sheer thought. Jair watched them, lips curling into a slow smile.
"This place… it's too good to be true," he muttered, eyes glinting with wonder. "Like some fantasy world from those old shows on Earth."
He glanced down at his own hands, flexing fingers. Can I do this? he thought.
"Wondering if you can just will it too?" came a familiar voice, light and amused.
Jair turned to see Eugene, the speedster, leaning casually against a shimmering pillar, grin wide. "You gotta stop trying so hard, man."
Jair raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you? You used to be all about the race, the finish line."
Eugene shrugged, eyes clouded with something deeper. "Track racer sidelined by life's nonsense. Family too poor to back me. Dreams stalled at the starting block."
He laughed, but it was hollow. "Then the ghouls showed me the truth—none of it really matters. Dreams, money, the whole charade. Freedom's just a lie if you're chained to expectations."
Jair frowned. "So, this place... the Free Abyss. Is it real freedom, or just another kind of trap?"
Eugene's grin twisted into something darker. "Depends on what you want. Here, you can be anything… or nothing. No rules, no limits. But the price? Your soul, your past, your purpose."
Jair clenched his fists, feeling the weight of those words settle like smoke. "Sounds like a trade-off."
"Exactly." Eugene's eyes sparkled with speed and sorrow. "Freedom isn't free, kid. But sometimes, it's the only way to run."
The golden-black streets pulsed around them, alive with possibility—and peril. In the Free Abyss, power was a choice, but every choice cast a shadow.
Jair stared ahead, heart pounding. Can I really will power like they do? Or will I lose myself chasing it?
Eugene clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on. Let me show you what it means to run free. Or maybe, just run."
The dance of freedom and fate had begun.
Eugene zipped ahead like a streak of lightning dipped in stardust, and Jair chased after, barely keeping up. They sped across glowing bridges and streets woven through floating spires, through loops of light that shifted colors like mood rings of a dreaming god.
Eventually, they slowed, walking along a quiet terrace where the horizon bent in impossible curves and the air shimmered with imagined futures.
Jair looked around. "This place… I still can't believe it's real. Feels like a dream. A beautiful lie."
Eugene nodded slowly, hands in his jacket pockets. "It is. A dream wrapped in velvet, dipped in honey. And like any dream… it can rot."
Jair raised a brow. "You said earlier—none of it matters. But you know it does."
Eugene sighed. "Yeah. I know. That's the curse of awareness, Jair. You can't un-know what you know." He pointed to a sculpture in the distance—a shifting figure, part human, part shadow, eyes glowing red. "That? That's a warning no one listens to."
Jair tilted his head. "A ghoul?"
Eugene nodded. "Low-level. The grunts. Creepy, but dumb. They sneak into your head, whisper doubts, stir up guilt. You can fight 'em off with a strong enough will. Think of 'em like mosquitoes with trauma in their fangs."
He paced a little, voice dropping. "But then you get the mid-low ones. Smarter. They manipulate your memories, gaslight your reality. Then mid-high, like Redan—he plays symphonies in your sorrow. Charismatic manipulators. Might even make you love them while they bleed you."
Jair's eyes narrowed. "And the high-level?"
Eugene's tone turned somber. "That's where it gets tricky. They don't need to scare you. They're elegant. Cold. Philosophical. They'll convince you that giving up is actually enlightenment. Like they're doing you a favor."
Jair muttered, "They sound… dangerous."
"They are," Eugene whispered. "But nothing, nothing—" his voice tensed, "compares to the Critical and Danger-level ones. We don't even know how many of them exist. No one does. You barely see them, but you feel them—like a pressure on your spirit. They don't just corrupt. They redefine you."
Jair shivered.
"I only know all this," Eugene continued, "because I met someone. A corrupted knight—one who fell deep but clawed his way halfway back. He said there's a truth buried beneath all this freedom. Something the ghouls don't want us to understand."
Jair looked around at the Free Abyss, at the laughter of the flying children, the pure colors, the overwhelming sense of joy that danced across every surface.
"Everyone here seems so… happy."
"Yeah." Eugene gave a sardonic chuckle. "And that's the most terrifying part. One hundred percent of the people here are fulfilled. Because they have everything… and nothing."
Jair turned slowly. "What do you mean?"
Eugene leaned against the terrace railing, staring out. "Everything you could ever want—you just will it. No boundaries. No pressure. No fear. But no meaning either. No struggle, no purpose. Just indulgence on a cosmic scale."
Jair was silent.
"The Free Abyss," Eugene said softly, "isn't Hell. That's why it works. It's Heaven. Or… what we think Heaven should be. No judgment. No pain. Just… endless self-creation."
He glanced at Jair with haunted eyes. "But even God rested. Even angels obey laws. The scariest place isn't the one that punishes you—it's the one that tells you you're perfect, no matter how broken you are."
Jair whispered, "It draws us in even though we know…"
"…the consequences," Eugene finished.
The golden light of the Abyss gleamed around them, beautiful and infinite. And somewhere in the shadows… something smiled.
The ground trembled—not with danger, but with presence.
Spirals of air twisted into dancing sparks as Klexis landed beside them, his dual hammers orbiting his body like moons of fury and regret. The air around him shimmered—half golden, half scarred with crimson cracks.
Jair took a step back, half-impressed, half-intimidated. "Well damn… somebody woke up choosing powerful protagonist entrance today."
Klexis didn't smile. He let the hammers slow and settle behind his back, floating just enough to remind everyone they weren't ornaments.
"This place…" he muttered, eyes scanning the golden-black city. "It's not what I thought it was."
Eugene raised a brow. "What? You expected fire and brimstone? Torture dungeons? Ghouls snacking on your memories?"
Klexis shook his head. "No. I expected chaos… instead, I found clarity. A cruel kind."
Jair tilted his head. "You sound like someone who left home but brought the storm with him."
Klexis chuckled, bitter and short. "You're not wrong."
He looked away, jaw tightening. "Airious… it's a place that champions authenticity, yes. But even the most accepting places cast shadows. I was the nephew of Elexis—the one who got corrupted, the fallen hope. And even though no one said it out loud, I felt it."
Eugene crossed his arms. "Felt what?"
"The silent expectation," Klexis replied. "That I'd fall too."
He clenched his fists, eyes flaring. "So I trained harder than anyone. I smiled wider. I aced every lesson, every combat trial. I became the 'perfect student' to prove I wasn't like him."
"But that left you empty," Jair said quietly.
Klexis nodded. "Yeah. Because I wasn't living for me. I was just dodging a prophecy."
There was a pause. Then Jair asked, almost sheepishly, "So… what's Avia, really? I keep hearing it but... no one explains it."
Klexis looked at him, and for once—his face softened.
"Avia… is you," he said. "It's your essence, your authenticity. Your truth made manifest."
Jair blinked. "That's kinda poetic."
"It is," Klexis replied. "But it's also brutally strict. Avia only flows when you're aligned with your truest self. And it demands discipline. Restraint. Responsibility. You can't fake it, you can't force it. That's why mine flickers—I pretend I'm fine, but I'm not."
He took a deep breath. "That's the opposite of the Free Abyss. Here, you can be anything you think you are. No restrictions. No discipline. Just… manifestation through desire."
"And the Corruption Force?" Jair asked.
"That's something else," Klexis said, eyes darkening. "It's authenticity without mercy. Truth without compassion. It takes your wounds and says, 'This is who you are,' and cements it. And once you believe it… it owns you."
Eugene scoffed. "So we've got three choices: Avia's discipline, the Abyss's indulgence, or the Corruption's chains disguised as freedom."
Klexis looked at them both. "Yeah. And all of them are convincing… depending on how broken you are."
Silence.
Jair looked up at the sky, which pulsed with dreams and nightmares.
"Y'know," he said, "for a place made of freedom… this place makes me feel more trapped than ever."
Klexis turned toward the horizon. "Then maybe that's the first sign you're still sane."
The atmosphere shifted.
A sweet, silver warmth whispered through the golden-black sky. The light bent. The city seemed to pause—like even the buildings were holding their breath.
And then she appeared.
Lis.
Draped in a dress that shimmered like stars caught in midnight oil, her eyes glowed—two scarlet moons that had known too much. Her presence was both unsettling and comforting, like a lullaby sung by something ancient.
Jair didn't hesitate. He ran forward, scooping her into his arms like the world had finally kept one of its promises.
"You came back," he whispered, voice catching.
"I told you I would," she said softly, a smile creeping onto her face. "A monster keeps her word… especially to the boy who saw her heart first."
They stayed like that for a moment. A moment longer. Then, as Jair pulled back, she looked past him—right at Klexis.
"So you're the hammer boy," Lis said playfully. "The loyal knight unraveling his code."
Klexis tensed. "You're one of the ghouls."
Lis smirked. "One of the beautiful ones, thank you. Jair tells me I'm a poetic catastrophe."
Eugene nodded. "That tracks."
Lis chuckled, then stepped closer. "You know, Klexis, the Airien knights taught you well. But they forgot one thing. If Avia is authenticity… then why is it chained to discipline?"
Klexis frowned, defensive. "Because authenticity without restraint can destroy—"
Lis interrupted, gently. "Sure. But what if someone's true self doesn't want restraint? What if the mistake isn't in the chaos… but in how we judge it?"
Jair blinked, watching her, watching Klexis process that truth.
"We're not evil," she continued. "We're not good, either. We're not pretending to be. We're just… unveiled. We don't hide behind codes or golden words. We are. And that's why this place—the Free Abyss—isn't perfect…"
She twirled slowly, the air humming with her grace.
"…but it's beautiful."
Eugene clapped slowly. "You should teach a course in poetic anarchy."
Lis grinned. "Freedom 101: Liberation & Lunacy. Tuesdays and Thursdays."
Then she turned serious. "But listen closely. Every time you question the rules you were given… this place grows stronger. Literally."
Klexis looked around as golden structures slightly shifted, expanded… reshaped in subtle ways.
Lis walked past him, trailing a finger along the air. "Because freedom isn't static. It morphs with every doubt, every new thought, every flaw you refuse to hide."
Jair looked at her, eyes burning with something new. "So questioning is…?"
She finished for him, with a wink: "A revolutionary act."
Somewhere deeper in the Free Abyss—where the golden hue starts bleeding crimson, and buildings don't just shimmer—they breathe—sat Redan, his body now a slick obsidian-red, veins pulsing with tainted Avia. A high-level ghoul, ordained by Bhine himself—the unseen puppeteer of laughter and lunacy.
He reclined on a floating platform of boneglass, sipping from a floating vial labeled "Spilled Potential."
Beside him lounged Virj, all fanged smiles and neon tendrils for hair, and Rix, shaped like a broken statue with wings that flinched at peace.
"Mmm," Redan licked his lips, "Souls taste juiciest when they're just on the edge of hope. Like grapes right before they rot... full of that tragic flavor."
Rix chuckled. "You tried that one girl? The dream-runner?"
"Which one?" Virj giggled, juggling stolen memories like marbles. "The one who thought she could 'redefine destiny'?"
"Oh yeah!" Redan burst out laughing. "She screamed 'I'm more than this!' as if that wasn't the seasoning."
They all roared in amusement, like a comedy trio from hell's open mic night.
Then Redan's face darkened—or perhaps glowed, it was hard to tell with him.
"But you know what's funnier?"
Virj and Rix leaned in, grinning like devils at storytime.
"That Klexis and his squad," Redan growled mockingly, mimicking a whiny voice. "'Ohh, we should question the Abyss.' 'What if this isn't real freedom?'"
Rix snorted. "Cute. They think awareness is an exit."
Virj leaned back. "The Free Abyss doesn't care if you notice the walls. It just shifts them. You think it lets you see cracks? It is the crack."
Redan snapped his fingers, summoning a miniature version of the city—golden black, twirling, alive.
"You can't outthink a place that thrives off your rebellion. That wants your questions. That needs your confusion."
He stared at the mini city as it morphed slightly, shifting in response to invisible thoughts.
"They think they're clever. But the Free Abyss doesn't get cracked... it adapts."
He grinned wickedly, eyes glowing.
"Even their truths… are part of the lie."
Lis, floating like an elegant paradox wrapped in shadows and starlight, led Klexis, Jair, Eugene, and Eve Maid through a spiraling corridor of light-bending glass and laughter-whispers. The walls flickered with unfinished dreams. At the corridor's end stood a vast gateway—etched with a single, pulsing word:
"Liberation."
"Welcome to the Sanctuary of Liberation," Lis said, her voice echoing in seven emotional tones at once. "Where we train... not to become better, but truer. Where you stop hiding even from the parts of yourself you were taught to shame."
Jair's eyes widened as the gates split open, revealing a vast arena—gold and violet winds swirling around enormous floating glyphs, weaponized philosophies, and beings who looked like contradictions in motion.
Lis continued with a crooked smirk, "If Avia is about authenticity, then the Corruption Force—or as we call it here, the Liberation Force—is about authenticity unchained."
Klexis frowned slightly, twirling one of his dual hammers, now laced with crimson fractals and violet sparks. "So… it's the same as Avia?"
"Same seed," she said, walking backward, "but this one grows wild, not pruned."
---
Klexis, former golden boy of Airious, now wielded Impact Manipulation not with restraint, but with spontaneity. His hammers shattered logic and time, exploding with every emotional spike. "Discipline once made me precise," he muttered, "but now... emotion makes me devastating."
---
Jair sat alone beneath a twisting tree of broken memories and felt… unease. Not fear. Not sadness. Just that crawling, uncomfortable weirdness that had haunted him since Earth.
And that's when it clicked.
His Deviant Affinity awakened:
> Pain Clarity — The more awkward, pained, or emotionally disoriented he felt, the clearer his instincts became. His speed increased. His muscles adapted. His vision sharpened.
A living paradox: the more dissonance in his soul, the sharper his blade.
He whispered to himself: "I guess I was always supposed to feel weird... maybe that's my edge."
---
Eugene, the sidelined speedster, now shimmered like kinetic lightning. Before, he ran. Now he melted space. His speed wasn't just movement—it was removal from the present. One moment here, the next rewritten.
He grinned at Jair. "Still feel too slow for fantasy?"
---
Eve Maid, once a support girl with tranquilizers, now wielded Psycho-Serenity. Her weapons calmed minds to the brink of madness. She didn't just put foes to sleep—she drowned them in peace so deep it choked their instincts.
"This is freedom," she said, loading a glowing syringe. "I'm not just someone's sidekick anymore."
---
Lis raised her hands, her ghoul eyes glinting with strange pride. "You see now? We don't erase who you were. We unleash who you hid."
The Sanctuary of Liberation erupted into howling, dancing shadows as the training began…
And something ancient beneath it stirred—pleased that the candidates were finally ready to taste true unshackling.
As the view pulls away from the radiant chaos of the Sanctuary of Liberation, the camera of the cosmos drifts...
Past floating shrines of desire, through whispering valleys that hum forgotten truths, over mountains that bleed illusions into clouds—until it reaches a domain wrapped in black fire and burning silver skies:
The Domain of Traxis.
A world forged in duality. Broken. Rebuilt. Broken again.
Hovering high above it all, like a god of ruin and resolve—was Traxis.
The War Forger.
Cloaked in a mantle of writhing concepts, pieces of failed realities and corrupted Avian runes stitched into his armor, he floated above his legion: thousands of corrupted Airiens with eyes like open wounds and hands glowing with volatile purpose.
Their voices roared like avalanches of madness:
> "Traxis! Traxis! Traxis!"
He raised one gauntleted hand—crafted from frozen time—and they fell silent, not out of fear, but awe.
He inhaled deeply.
Not just air…
Not just essence…
But conviction.
The battlefield itself seemed to pause for his voice.
---
Traxis:
"Power. Truth. Chaos. Control... all those sacred words..."
"Are. Flawed."
He opened his eyes—pupils like black suns.
"We carry something far greater than obedience, than legacy, than rules pretending to be righteousness."
"We carry clarity. The kind that blinds the liars and exposes the veiled gods of Airious."
His soldiers leaned in with reverence, every breath synced to his rhythm.
---
Traxis (cont'd):
"They fear the Free Abyss because it doesn't kneel, doesn't compromise, doesn't fake balance."
"We will show Airious their doctrines are cages painted as wings."
"We will tear down their shrines of filtered truth and let them see the raw, wild chaos that lives in every being."
"Not to destroy them... but to liberate them."
"Only when the gods of restraint are made to feel hunger... will justice finally be honest."
He clenched his fist and from the sky, black feathers rained—each one etched with a name that once resisted him.
His legion screamed again, but this time not in fury—in belief.
They weren't monsters.
They were revolutionaries.
---
Traxis turned slightly, his voice now a whisper to himself—like a vow carried on a dying breeze.
> "Very soon... my love..."
"I'll come for you."
"I'll save the Xis family..."
His gaze pierced the heavens toward a hidden realm—one even the gods feared to remember.
And the storm behind his eyes grew louder.