"Why is his Divine Realm… affecting me?"
Zach Kingston was still gasping when Cillian stepped forward and began the third assessment.
Countless fragments of light, tiny data packets representing lifeforms, descended into the black vortex of the Endless Abyss. Among them, one particularly bright cluster pulsed with gold: a Legendary-tier creature.
The moment these foreign beings entered the plane, the Abyss stirred.
From the twisted flora crowning its uppermost layers, to the hunting Primordial Devils lurking in the depths, from the Beholder Matron coiled in her lair of toxic fog to the Abyssal Leviathan sleeping in the drowned gulfs, and the Hundred-Armed Giants marching through the blood marshes…The entire Abyss began to roar.
Every creature raised its head and turned its senses toward the disturbance at the heart of the plane. Through layered dimensional folds, their gazes locked on the Twilight Abyss Plain, where the foreign army had landed.
The third assessment had begun.
This stage had shattered more Divine Realm worlds than any other. For many graduates, it marked the end of all their ambitions.
With the teleportation completed, A heavy military formation materialized at the lip of the Endless Abyss.
Over twenty thousand troops, clad in pale gray and white armor, stood in silent discipline. Their weapons gleamed with divine intent, and each bore a twelve-winged flame angel insignia stitched in gold on their shoulders.
Beneath the angel, a name was embroidered:
"Sanctum Thirteen."
And beside it lay each soldier's serial number, evidence of their identity in a divine military hierarchy.
The moment they arrived, a divine force spread outward from their armbands. The black-red storm that normally devoured everything recoiled.
For the first time since its creation, the Endless Abyss was being pushed back, these weren't random invaders after all, they were trained, blessed, and shielded by higher-order faith.
At the army's head rode a towering human in pristine white plate armor, dragon-horned helm tucked beneath one arm, a flaming greatsword slung across his back. His steed was a massive chimera-blooded warhorse, every hoofstep was laden heavy with purpose.
The man raised his eyes, taking in the crimson vortex above.
"…We've arrived," he murmured.
The adjutant at his side gave a short nod. "Yes, Lord Magnus. It's exactly as the reports warned, this place reeks of corruption."
Magnus kept his gaze straight ahead.
"Under the gaze of the angels," Magnus said with a grim smile, "we will purge it."
But then he stopped speaking. His jaw clenched.
Something cold had taken hold of his chest, it was not cold neither was it fear, it was a grotesque feeling.
He turned his head and saw it.
A single creature, humanoid in shape, stood at the edge of a ravine. Its black-red scales shimmered like forged steel and its wings stretched far behind its body, grotesque and leathery. Its claws dripped with blood, Flesh still clung to its fangs as its mouth opened and closed.
In its glowing red eyes, Magnus saw a reflection of his entire army.
More of the creatures were appearing behind it, monstrosities born of chaos and hunger.
Devils, but it wasn't the Devil that made Magnus' heartbeat stutter.
It was the storm behind it.
A vortex of divine fire, a twisted dark thing. In that rotating storm, a presence watched him. And in that gaze, Magnus felt something crack deep within his soul.
It was as if the Abyss had reached inside him and gripped his heart with oily fingers.
"Is it watching me?"
"Why does it feel like… my soul unraveling just from the looking at it?"
The confidence that once defined him began to chip away.
⸻
Meanwhile, in the observation chamber of Grimstone, Vice Principal Warren sat in silence.
"The third phase has started?"
He glanced toward the largest crystal display. The image of the invading army materialized, and Warren's eyes narrowed.
"…That's Sanctum Thirteen. The purification corps under the Flame Angel's direct command."
His brow furrowed.
"Why that legion? They're rarely pulled for simulations… their presence ruins most dark-aligned worlds on arrival. I even lowered their draw probability in the system."
He paused. A chill ran down his spine.
"…Unless someone overrode it."
He turned his head toward the principal's office.
"…Elara. Was it you?"
In the Principal's chamber, Headmistress Elara Everheart stared into a black, data-saturated terminal. Her eyes reflected the spiral of the Endless Abyss.
"Sanctum Thirteen," she murmured, in a voice like static.
"A realm built on war, rooted in holy doctrine. The antithesis to Cillians twisted ecology."
She tapped a key. The projection zoomed in on the vortex.
"Two completely opposite planes. One ruled by divine law, the other by primal hunger."
"Let's see what happens when the weight of higher-order faith tries to crush something that shouldn't exist."
Her smile was cold.
"Cillian Carter"
"Let's see if you break…or bite back."
—-x——-
Deep within the Endless Abyss, past the forbidden origin of the First Fallen, where the plane's will itself resides, Cillian opened his eyes.
Through spiritual perception, he saw them.
The Thirteenth Legion had arrived.
At first, he intended to smother them, wrap them in the breath of the abyss, as he had done to countless others, but something stopped him.
The abyss was changing.
Its breath… was evaporating.
In a single, silent instant, the volume of the Endless Abyss grew, barely noticeable, but real. Like a ripple across a still sea, the entire abyss shivered. And in that moment, unknown subplanes, previously completely unobservable, briefly manifested.
The world had… evolved?
Just a sliver, but enough to snap Cillian's focus into sharp clarity.
He wasn't omniscient. Even as the architect of this domain, the Abyss hid secrets from him. Perhaps always would, and apparently this was one of them.
He inhaled, cold and calculating.
"Their presence alone shook the abyss enough to distort its structure, So this legion… really is different."
He turned his attention to the Twilight Plain, the staging ground where the foreign soldiers had landed.
"A faith-bound force."
From within the storm of black and crimson, Cillian's gaze cut across the plane. Wherever his eyes passed, fear bloomed in the soldiers of the Thirteenth.
Not physical fear, but something deeper.
From the dead sea of their inner selves, a buried darkness, or maybe a suppressed shame, the stare of the Abyss called on it. But each time it tried to take root, it was repelled by the divine resonance embedded in their flame-angel armbands.
Still, it made an impression.
Cillian exhaled slowly. Not in anger, just acknowledgment.
"A rare draw. An enemy worth watching."
He pulled back the corrosive will of the Abyss and whispered into its depths.
"My children…"
Across the lower planes, twisted creatures lifted their heads.
"Destroy the intruders."
The words did not need to echo, the command had been given, and the Abyss would move on its own.
The Thirteenth Legion had already mobilized.
Under General Magnus, the army split into ten battle formations of two thousand men. The rhythm of execution flowed like a hymn.
Magnus pointed toward the rear formations.
"Battle-priests, cast your blessings."
Dozens of robed priests stepped forward in response. In this corrupted world, where light should have withered, their hands shimmered with divine power.
"Uriel's Blessing!"
"Angel's Horn!"
"Flash Enchantments!"
Golden sigils flared across the armor of the front line. The heavy cavalry's armbands pulsed in sync with each prayer.
The moment the light ignited, it carved a path through the Twilight Plain.
Abyssal creatures, whether blind, deaf or both, writhed in anger, furious—they screamed in protest. The light was beautiful, It brought a feeling of calm and order, And it was anathema to all they were.
Thousands roared and charged the intruders.
Magnus didn't flinch, his helmet locked and he raised his sword.
"All cavalry—charge!"
The clash was thunderous. The frontline of the Abyss shattered on impact, Blessed steel met flesh twisted by hatred, and the result was carnage.
Angel-forged weapons cleaved through darkness, one strike was all it took for one death.
And the cavalry kept moving. Behind them, heavily armored infantry joined the assault, smashing into the howling tide with clinical precision.
Under the priests' spells, the battlefield gleamed, light in a world that had never known it.
In a single charge, the Thirteenth Legion crushed the Abyssal front.
Before them: the path to the Second Layer.
They made faster progress than any invading force before them, including the Dragonblood Vanguard, so with minimal injuries, they pushed forward.
⸻
Magnus stared upward at the spiraling vortex above.
"…So this world's built in descending layers."
He raised his flaming greatsword.
"Then your core must be waiting at the bottom."
He shouted at the black sky.
"Are you ready for us?"
No answer came, only a pair of deep, contemptuous eyes stared back through the storm, it said no words, but he could feel the invitation.
"Continue."
Magnus sneered.
"No matter how many layers you've buried yourself beneath, by the will of the angels, I'll find your core."
"And when I do, I'll burn this realm to ashes."
With that, he turned, and the legion followed.
And so began the march into the Second Abyssal Layer.
However, what the poor Magnus had failed to realize was that he had just stepped onto a path with no return.
A road paved with angelic steel and blind conviction…leading straight into damnation.