"Gates of Abyss..."
The words escaped the lips of both Eternal Supremes at the same time. However, before either of them could move toward the Abyssal Gates, an intense cracking sound echoed throughout the empty void, sharp and unmistakable.
The sound did not weaken as it traveled. Instead, it spread clearly across thousands of lightyears, reverberating through the starry sky as though space itself was protesting the disturbance.
Around the Abyssal Gates, hundreds, if not thousands, of fine hairline fractures formed in the fabric of space. They spread rapidly, branching outward like cracks crawling across fragile glass. Almost instantly, an overwhelming surge of Abyssal Energy poured out from the still closed Gates, violent and uncontrollable, flooding the surrounding area and completely submerging Orien within it before he could even react.
Urgency surged through the incarnations of both Eternal Supremes, and they rushed toward the Gates without hesitation. As they appeared around it, the hairline fractures expanded further, reacting violently to the arrival of such overwhelming existences, as though space itself was struggling to remain intact.
They immediately invoked their authorities, attempting to suppress the opening of the Gates and stabilize the surrounding space. However, their efforts proved largely ineffective. The Abyssal Gates were directly connected to the Abyssal Realm itself, and neither of them possessed the authority to command or restrain a Realm directly.
Even so, although their authorities could not stop the process entirely, they were able to slow it down, preventing the Gates from opening fully in an instant.
"What is going on? Why is an Abyssal Gate opening so suddenly?"
The Transcendent Eternal Supreme spoke with a deep frown, confusion and concern evident in his voice. Even the Eternal Supreme of the Heavenly Realm no longer maintained his earlier composure, his expression darkening as the situation unfolded beyond expectations.
"I do not know," the Heavenly Eternal Supreme replied, his voice heavy with displeasure. "This gate was sealed, and I believed it could be dealt with after we finished handling the Rune Bearer. But I cannot understand how someone managed to bypass the array placed by my people."
Earlier, they had both sensed a presence near the Gates, just moments before the Abyssal Energy surged out and swallowed that individual entirely. The thought lingered as he tried to comprehend how anyone could breach a sealing formation created by them.
Although they were incarnations of Eternal Supremes, at the end of the day, they were still only incarnations, each carrying less than one tenth of the true presence of their main bodies.
Such incarnations came with unavoidable limitations.
One of the greatest drawbacks was that their consciousness was not directly linked to their true forms. Only when an incarnation returned willingly, dissolved itself by choice, or was destroyed would its memories and experiences be transmitted back to the main body.
And their senses were also not much wide in this form. Otherwise they would have stopped the gates opening.
Had their true bodies been present here instead, their authorities would have been sufficient to completely halt the opening of the Abyssal Gates. But if they summoned there bodies here, the damage that would cause throughout the galaxies would be unimaginable.
And they did not want to bear unnecessary Karmic Sin. The Concept of Karma itself is quite vague, no one can predict how things will play out.
What is Karma?
Karma was cause and effect written in blood and consequence. No one could truly predict how Karma would settle its accounts, or when it would finally demand payment.
Karma was not morality. It did not care about intention, justice, or righteousness.
From a cold perspective, Karma was accumulated causality. Every action bent reality, and reality always bent back. Sin and virtue were not defined by kindness or cruelty, but by whether an action destabilized or reinforced the greater structure of existence.
The world did not reward good hearts.
It rewarded actions that aligned with its continued order.
A single act could be sin or virtue depending on its ripple across time. Saving a village from immediate death might seem virtuous, but if that village later bred rebellion, famine, or catastrophe, the act was recorded as sin. Conversely, erasing a city in silence, if it prevented far greater destruction, could condense into virtue.
That was the bitter truth.
Even virtue was fragile. A millennium of careful accumulation could vanish in a single reckless move. Karma did not reward the past. It judged the present, relentlessly and coldly.
Consider this: killing a mortal for amusement was sin because it spread fear and instability with no compensating gain. Killing the same mortal because his bloodline would awaken a world-ending catastrophe centuries later could be virtue.
Protecting a genius child might be sin if that genius eventually fractured nations; letting him die quietly could preserve order and count as virtue.
This was why the powerful acted sparingly. Every move carried weight, every decision shaped fates. Saving someone who offered no tangible return was a risk too great to take. Showing mercy without strategy was weakness in disguise.
At higher levels, uncalculated kindness was stupidity, and cruelty without purpose was equally foolish. Only actions with measurable returns were worth the stain they left.
Even so, a question lingered in one’s mind. Why fear Karma when you are the strongest? The Karma of one’s current life always influenced the conditions of the next reincarnation, shaping fortune, suffering, and opportunity. But if you were the strongest, if you were immortal, what was there to fear?
If you could not die, then what could Karma truly do? No matter how heavy your Karmic Sin or how vast your Virtue, nothing would touch you. Death was the only door through which Karma could act.
Yet this thinking was naive, almost childish. Strength could delay consequence, but it could never escape it. Nothing was eternal, not even the strongest body, nor the sharpest mind, nor the deepest power. Time was patient. The universe was patient. Over endless ages, even immortals could be undone.
Even the Universe, even the Cosmos, were destined to be destroyed one day. The time for that destruction was unimaginably long, stretching across eons beyond mortal comprehension, but the end was inevitable, no matter how far one tried to escape it.
Many people spoke of Karma as if it were something immediate, as if the misfortunes or fortunes that befell someone in this life were random events.
They were mistaken.
The effects they felt now were rarely the result of their current actions; they were echoes of choices made in lives long past. The cruelty that struck, the blessings received — they were debts and rewards carried over, waiting patiently to be claimed.
What one does today, every thought, every decision, every act of cruelty or kindness, does not vanish into nothing. It accumulates. It will confront them in the next life, demanding repayment or offering reward.
Karma shapes the destinies of individuals, dictating the course of their lives even when they believe themselves free.
Karma maintains the invisible order of the world, restrains desires, curbs unchecked ambition, punishes arrogance, and rewards effort.
Karma is indifferent, impartial, and absolute. It is the ultimate law, the ultimate truth of reality, the backbone of existence itself, and the measure by which all lives are judged.
Coming back to the scene, with their powers as incarnations the Eternal Supremes could only slow the opening of the Gates.
But alas, nothing ever goes exactly as one plans.
The Angels and the Supremes became distracted by the existence of the Rune and, in doing so, completely forgot about the Abyssal Gates. To them, the Gates were a matter that could be dealt with later, something that could be handled after the Rune had been secured and taken under control.
In their minds, the Rune was the greater priority, the greater danger, and the greater opportunity.
But sometimes, one must control oneself and complete one task before jumping on others.
Because in reality, the world does not punish ignorance, it punishes negligence.
The Angels and the Supremes did not forget the Abyssal Gates because they were weak. They forgot because they believed the situation was already under control. In their eyes, the Rune Bearer was the greatest variable, while the sealed Gates were a solved problem, something that could be dealt with later, at their convenience.
That assumption itself was the fatal flaw.
In a world ruled by cause and effect, anything that still exists can still change. Anything that is not erased is not resolved. Leaving a threat unattended, even for a moment, is the same as giving fate a chance to intervene.
This was a truth everyone should try understand deeply.
Never rely on future certainty. Never assume dominance means safety. Never believe that because something is sealed, suppressed, or ignored, it has stopped existing.
The Abyssal Gates were not destroyed, only restrained. And restraint is temporary by nature.
Powerful beings often lose not because their enemies outplay them, but because they misjudge timing. They chase greater profit while leaving smaller risks behind, only to realize too late that those risks were never small to begin with.
In the end, it was not schemes, nor strength, nor authority that betrayed them.
It was the simple mistake of believing they still had time.
And time is the most deceptive thing in existence.
That was not a mistake born of ignorance.
That was arrogance.
This is how those in power always think. Governments do not protect the people, they manage them. They do not eliminate threats, they bury them beneath laws, seals, propaganda, and silence.
As long as the streets look peaceful and the sky looks calm, they declare everything under control, even if rot is spreading underneath.
The public is taught where to look and, more importantly, where not to look. Fear is curated. Attention is guided. Anything inconvenient is labeled as future business and locked away. The truth does not need to disappear, it only needs to be ignored long enough.
The Abyssal Gates suddenly shuddered once more, and its size began to expand slowly. Though the growth was gradual, it was still fast enough to demand attention, signaling a change that could not be ignored.
The faces of both Supremes remained calm, their expressions serene as if nothing unusual had occurred. Yet beneath that stillness, their thoughts moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, each calculation running faster than any mortal mind could comprehend.
At the same time, both reached a silent conclusion. They understood that their incarnations alone could not influence the ultimate outcome. With a mutual, unspoken agreement, they allowed their incarnation bodies to dissolve, leaving the final decisions to their main bodies.
What would happen next—whether someone would arrive to stop the Gates from opening, or whether something entirely unexpected would emerge—remained unknown. Only time would reveal the consequences of the Abyssal Gates awakening.
***