Kyle stepped into the winding passages.
Obviously, he noticed the trails the Rulers left—whether unconsciously or not—along the magma’s shore, accompanied by that familiar dark aura. But unlike Cassian and the others, he chose not to follow them.
After all, with (SSS+)-rank luck, he had no reason to rely on anyone to find the right path—even if that person were Azazeal.
He could easily find the right path, and he was certain the path he chose would hold the least danger. There was no need to rely on others to trigger potential threats when he could simply avoid them altogether.
He was very strong. If he wanted to use someone as a meat shield, he wouldn’t bother hiding it—he would do it openly.
Not to mention, this was his fake body—following Azazeal with this body would be nothing short of courting death. Tsk tsk.
And that was how he avoided death.
If only he knew.
Kyle staggered into one random passage after another until the air grew heavy with the scent of blood. Still, he didn’t care.
He just kept walking and walking.
Three days passed like a breeze.
The passages seemed endless, and he almost believed he was trapped in a maze with no exit. So when he finally caught sight of light, he sighed in relief. It was golden in color, spilling from the end of the passage where he stood, but no matter how much he squinted, he couldn’t discern what lay beyond the passage that gave off the light.
Therefore, he rushed toward it, but just as he was about to step into the golden light, he paused, realizing he should take a look inside first. Taking a breath, he leaned his head forward instead of stepping into the light, narrowing his eyes. The moment his face crossed the threshold, a suffocating stench of blood struck him like a storm.
It was followed by a chorus of screams—hoarse and ragged, as if the voices behind them had been crying out for many days.
The golden glow fractured like an illusion, peeling away to reveal an abyss so vast it felt capable of devouring an entire planet.
In the abyss, with no visible walls or end, countless powerful figures—most clad in clothes resembling those worn by guards who served the Rulers—were being hurled helplessly to the left and right alike by the howling winds raging from both sides.
Their bodies were slick with blood. Many even had their limbs torn off completely, scattering like shredded paper in a storm.
They were clearly powerful Celestials, yet they flailed like mortals, unable to fight off the crushing power of the raging currents.
But the most horrifying and chilling part was what occupied their surroundings—dozens of crimson cracks, yawning open like monstrous maws, silently waiting to devour anything that came too close. And when something did, they tore it to shreds.
Still, amidst the bloody chaos stretched a long, twisting golden bridge with no visible end, buckling at the center as if alive. Some Celestials clung to it, their fingers bloodied as the bridge itself tried to hurl them off.
The bridge seemed merciless. Yet those clinging to it continued crawling forward, searching for an end that might not even exist—after all, the moment any of them was thrown off, they joined those hurled through the raging winds like ragdolls.
Kyle hissed at the sight. His gaze flicked across some familiar faces clinging to the bridge—Ares, Zami, and Cassian. The rest of their team had already been thrown off.
He soon spotted the others, all flailing as they tried to climb back onto the bridge—the only solid foothold in the abyss—while avoiding the crimson cracks. Their bodies were bloodied, but they were all still alive.
Suddenly, his solemn eyes sharpened, freezing on a distant sight. Far ahead of everyone—even Ares, Zami, and Cassian—eleven powerful figures advanced steadily, not on the bridge but by jumping across massive cyan-purple petals that bloomed and dissolved in midair with each step.
They didn’t need the bridge.
They didn’t even acknowledge the storm.
Each jump carried a grace born of strength, their movements fluid as they all advanced forward effortlessly, as though the howling winds themselves parted to clear their path.
Leading them was Nathaniel—and beside him, a strikingly beautiful woman in silver and brown embroidered robes, her face so cold and blank it seemed carved from ice.
Kyle had never seen her before.
She wasn’t the same woman he had seen with Nathaniel earlier; that woman trailed far behind, accompanied by the man who had helped Nathaniel search for Azazeal.
"Hah, would you look at this."
He snickered under his breath. Everyone was struggling—even the countless loyal servants of the Rulers. Yet those eleven moved forward without a care, focused solely on reaching the end of the abyss.
What made his expression turn cold and emotionless were the cyan-purple petals blooming beneath their feet—effortlessly supporting the Rulers’ weight and repelling the raging winds that tried to hurl them off.
Those petals gave off an otherworldly aura. They weren’t tainted, but pure. Yet, he only needed one glance to tell they belonged to the essence that was stolen from Azazeal.
"How disgusting."
Kyle’s brows furrowed. He tried to pull his head back—but blinked in surprise when it wouldn’t move. He froze, then tried again, only to realize that his head was stuck in the light! He could step in, but not back!
A speechless look crossed his face.
Now he understood why all those powerful idiots had ended up in the abyss. The ones who stepped in and saw the chaos couldn’t retreat to warn the others—so those behind charged in blindly. He tried using his hands to push his head back, but they passed into the light and got stuck as well, making him laugh soundlessly at his own foolishness.
"Good! Very damn good job!"
How dare he call anyone else an idiot?!
He himself was one!
While Kyle was busy cursing himself and debating whether to just step in, he failed to notice the darkness and familiar tiny purple particles gathering in the space behind him.
A pair of familiar obsidian eyes emerged from the hissing darkness, settling on his stuck body with visible amusement. Their owner lifted a hand as if to twist his neck but paused midway, chuckling instead.
"You never take the path I expect—like a pesky bug. As if you know the one I want you on would lead straight to your death."
He tsked and then hummed lightly, the obsidian eyes flashing with rare mischief.
"Let me help you."
With that, he raised his long leg and kicked Kyle into the abyss before vanishing back into the darkness, taking a different path—the one guided by the voice calling him.
"I will see you soon."
The voice had begun ringing in the ears of all his bodies two days ago, whispering in a delighted tone. It spoke of the darkness his body carried—not with fear, disgust, or any hint of apprehension, but with fascination.
So twisted, so beautifully ruined. It purred, telling him that he reeked of perfection. He alone was worthy of inheriting its power—a force once infinite, now decaying, searching for a vessel before time erased it entirely.
In return, he just had to swallow the entire Celestial Realm when he reached the End—because it had failed to fulfill that wish.