The abyss welcomed Eo like an old home, its crushing weight pressing against his form. He descended through the layers of deep-sea currents, his senses sharper than before. The water carried a scent—one he had never recognized before hibernation. A scent of war.

  As he neared his old resting place, the surroundings had changed. The abyssal trenches, once still and silent, were now fractured. Scars of battle littered the seafloor, and the darkness pulsed with lingering tension.

  Then, he saw her.

  Ozure.

  Coiled amidst the ruins of what was once a vast chasm, the kraken-like entity loomed, her great tendrils shifting slightly as if acknowledging his arrival. But even in her stillness, Eo could see the damage. Sections of her once-imposing form were torn, her armored hide fractured, her body struggling to regenerate.

  She turned her many eyes toward him. Not with welcome. Not with relief. But with calculation.

  "You’re awake. Finally." Her voice carried through the abyss, a deep, rumbling echo that vibrated through the water.

  Eo did not waste time on pleasantries. "Who?" His voice was clearer, more precise than before.

  Ozure let out a slow, deliberate hum. "Three Lords came for me."

  At her words, the abyss itself seemed to darken. Eo did not move, but he listened.

  "Vael’Zyss, the Abyssal Fang. Fast. Unrelenting. A predator that does not hesitate."

  "Gor’Mhal, the Black Maw. An unstoppable force. Resistant to magic. He does not evade—he endures."

  "Saer’Nys, the Abyssal Mirage. The unseen one. You will not find it unless it wishes to be found."

  Eo processed each name. Territorial Lords. Three of them.

  "They were seeking something," Ozure continued. "Something deep within these waters."

  His gaze did not waver. "Me."

  Ozure gave a slow, amused exhale. "I see your mind has sharpened, at least."

  He had been asleep, yet war had come.

  Eo considered her words. Ozure was strong, a force of the abyss, yet even she had been wounded. And I am still below them.

  He did not fear them. But fear was not the same as recklessness.

  "You have changed, but you are still lacking," Ozure said after a moment.

  Eo remained still.

  "You are no longer prey. But you are not yet a true predator."

  Her tendrils shifted, a flicker of movement through the broken seabed.

  "They will return," she warned. "And next time, they will not just come for me."

  Eo processed her meaning.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He had been an anomaly. Now, he was a recognized anomaly.

  Something in him stirred.

  The abyss had noticed him.

  And it would not look away.

  ---

  Eo drifted alongside Ozure’s massive, wounded form. The abyssal waters churned with residual power, but the tension had lessened. The battle was over, and for now, there was time to speak.

  “Ozure, what is the Abyss?” Eo finally asked, his voice carrying through the water like a pulse of curiosity.

  Ozure let out a deep, tired rumble. "The Abyss is our cradle and our cage," she murmured. "A realm where magic is dense, where the strong rule, and the weak are devoured. But it was not always like this."

  Eo’s many eyes flickered, absorbing the subtle weight behind her words.

  "Then what was it before?"

  Ozure exhaled, her wounds leaking faint traces of abyssal ichor. "Long before us, before the Territorial Lords, before even the first abyssal monsters… there were the True Dragons."

  Eo remained silent. He had no knowledge of these beings. The name itself carried a weight, something heavy, something old.

  "They were not like us, not even like the beasts above. They were existence itself," Ozure continued. "Their magic was unlike anything today. It was not elemental. It was not something you 'cast' like a surface dweller. It simply was."

  She paused before adding, "Some say they could shape time, mold space, dictate the very will of the world."

  Eo's mind flickered back to the pulse of unknown elements that had merged within him during his hibernation. Some had been utterly foreign, beyond comprehension. Was there a connection?

  "What happened to them?" he asked.

  Ozure was silent for a long moment, then murmured, "No one knows. Some say they fought among themselves and burned their own era away. Others whisper of something greater… something even they could not defy. But whatever it was, they are gone. Only their remnants remain, hidden in the deepest places of the world."

  Eo processed her words. "And the abyss? It came after?"

  Ozure gave a slow nod. "After the dragons vanished, magic did not fade—it changed. Without the True Dragons' rule, magic became wild, untamed. This is when the first abyssal creatures were born, along with the rare monsters you surface dwellers hunt today."

  Eo could almost visualize it—the chaos, the birth of beings that had never existed before.

  "Then came the surface civilizations," Ozure continued, voice tinged with something like disdain. "They feared the things that roamed below, so they built their cities and their fortresses. Their magic was weak, unstable, barely even magic at all."

  She shifted slightly, letting the abyssal currents swirl around them.

  "At first, they had nothing. No structure, no power. But then they began studying. Experimenting. And eventually, they created the Grimoires."

  Eo’s eyes sharpened.

  "Grimoires?"

  "The first tool made to force magic into submission," Ozure explained. "A system to control something beyond them. They found a way to shape magic into techniques, formulas, spells. And unlike the instinctual power we wield, theirs was structured, stable, able to function even in the thin magic of the surface."

  She let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Many abyssal beings have tried to wield these books over the centuries. Many failed."

  Eo considered her words carefully. "Why? What makes them different?"

  "They were not made for us." Ozure’s voice was sharp. "They were made for creatures with small, precise channels of magic. Our kind—we are oceans, not rivers. The magic within us is vast, but we cannot shape it into their delicate systems."

  She let that sink in before adding, "This is why the Territorial Lords remain below. The surface may seem weak, but it is not. Their magic is like a sharp blade, honed for their world. Ours is like an avalanche—unstoppable in our domain, but unfocused anywhere else. The moment we rise above, we weaken. We slow. We become prey to those who can manipulate thin magic far better than we ever could."

  Eo remained still, absorbing it all.

  "So that’s why they never leave."

  The abyss was a prison—not because of strength, but because of limitation. No matter how powerful a Territorial Lord was, if they could not absorb magic fast enough above, they would eventually be whittled down and destroyed.

  A realization settled within him.

  "Then what am I?"

  He could wield multiple elements. He could adapt. He could change. Was that not what the surface dwellers had done? Had he not already evolved past the limits of abyssal creatures?

  Ozure observed his silence and rumbled, "You are a strange one, Eo. If there is anything that can break these laws, it may be you."

  Eo did not respond, but his mind was already moving.

  He would need to learn more. About the abyss. About the surface. About the past.

  And most importantly—about himself.