Chapter 34: The Abyss Awakens

  Eo drifted, his body wracked by an uncontrollable storm of changes. He had felt evolution before, the reshaping of his being, the painful rebirth into something stronger. But this—this was something else entirely.

  It was not just an evolution of body, but of existence itself.

  The amber element he had absorbed clashed violently within him, like two opposing forces fighting for dominance. His Abyssal Instinct, refined and sharpened through battle, was trying to consume the raw energy of the amber, attempting to bend it into something usable. But the amber resisted. It was unlike Mist—dense, volatile, and untamed.

  A chemical reaction rippled through Eo's entire form. His cells spasmed, splitting and reforming at an alarming rate, struggling to accommodate the warring forces inside him. His body expanded and contracted in unpredictable waves, mist pouring from his core as if his very essence was being burned away.

  His instincts screamed at him. Control it. Adapt. Survive.

  Eo forced himself to focus, to steady his ever-shifting form. He could feel the amber searing through his Abyssal Instinct, twisting it, forging it into something more than just an aura of hunger and dominance. The once cold, predatory presence within him now pulsed with heat—a controlled, internal wildfire that burned not to destroy, but to refine.

  This was not a simple evolution. It was a transformation.

  He had become something else.

  His exterior hardened, not into an exoskeleton, but something more—his once-fluid form now held a strange resilience, a flexibility that retained his polymorphic nature but with a newfound stability. His body could shift between liquid and solid states at will, his mist-infused flesh capable of reforming almost instantly.

  His limbs extended with newfound precision, no longer wild, unpredictable tendrils, but refined instruments of control. The amber energy embedded within him sparked faintly in his core, the once separate elements now fused into a singular force. Mist, Abyssal Instinct, and Amber—all working in harmony.

  And then, the final surge.

  A pulse erupted from Eo’s body—one so violent that it rippled through the depths like a shockwave.

  The ocean itself seemed to hold its breath.

  Far beyond the trench where he lay, the monstrous rulers of the abyss stirred. Ancient creatures, those who had ruled their territories unchallenged for centuries, felt the unnatural shift. The Mist thickened, twisting in unnatural currents. Predators who once moved without fear suddenly froze, their instincts screaming at them to flee.

  And on the surface, the ripples of his transformation reached the world of men.

  Waves crashed harder against the coasts. The winds howled with unseen power. Those attuned to magic—the scholars, the mystics, the warlocks of distant kingdoms—felt the disturbance ripple through their very souls.

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  Something had changed in the depths of the ocean.

  Something powerful.

  Something new.

  Eo, now barely conscious, felt the world around him blur. His body, drained from the violent transformation, instinctively sought rest. His awareness flickered as he sluggishly curled into the rocky walls of the trench.

  His instincts whispered to him.

  Sleep. Regain strength.

  But another part of him, one that had always sought survival above all else, refused to leave himself vulnerable. Even in his weakened state, his body moved, reshaping the terrain around him.

  Mist, infused with the energy of his transformation, seeped into the walls, hardening the stone. The abyss around him darkened as he unknowingly manipulated the environment, weaving his own cocoon of protection. The trench would be his fortress, his burial chamber, and his rebirth.

  His senses dulled.

  The pulse of his presence faded, like a great beast retreating into the depths of slumber.

  And the world moved on.

  But the lords of the abyss did not forget.

  Two years had passed since the sea had raged like a beast awakening from a nightmare.

  The fishermen of the coastal village still spoke of that day in hushed tones, their voices laced with a mixture of reverence and fear. The sky had darkened, the tides had surged without warning, and the ocean—so familiar and tame—had become something unrecognizable. Boats had been tossed like twigs, the waters rising and crashing with unnatural force, dragging entire fleets beneath the waves.

  Some had called it a divine punishment. Others had whispered of a sleeping god beneath the depths, stirring in its slumber. Whatever the cause, one thing was certain—the ocean had never been the same since.

  And now, Rael, the village's most respected fisherman, lay upon his deathbed.

  His once-strong hands, calloused from years of battling the sea, now trembled with weakness. His body, once broad and sturdy, had withered with age. But his eyes, clouded as they were, still held the sharpness of a man who had spent his life reading the tides.

  Beside him, his son, Orin, knelt in quiet despair.

  "Father," Orin murmured, grasping his frail hand. "The healer says you should rest. You shouldn't waste your strength speaking of the past."

  Rael exhaled a weak chuckle. "The past is all I have left, boy. Let an old man share his foolish thoughts before the sea calls him home."

  Orin lowered his head, unable to argue.

  Rael turned his gaze to the open window, where the vast ocean stretched beyond the horizon. The waves lapped gently at the shore, as if mocking the chaos they had once unleashed.

  "That storm," he whispered, his mind drifting back. "Two years ago... I felt something in those waves, Orin. It wasn’t just a storm. It was alive."

  Orin frowned but said nothing. He had heard this before—the ramblings of an aging man grasping at something unseen.

  "I spent my whole life reading the sea, boy," Rael continued. "It speaks, in its own way. It whispers to those who listen. And that day, it screamed."

  His grip tightened on Orin’s hand, surprising the younger man with its sudden strength.

  "I saw it. Not with my eyes, but with my soul," Rael rasped. "Something changed beneath those waters. Something vast. And we are but ants crawling on the surface, oblivious to the giant beneath our feet."

  Orin swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. He had never feared the ocean before, but his father's words carried a weight that unsettled him.

  A silence stretched between them, broken only by the rhythmic crashing of the waves.

  Then, after a long pause, Rael sighed, his grip loosening. His strength was fading.

  "I won’t be here much longer, Orin," he said softly. "But mark my words—the sea is not done with us. Whatever awoke that day, it is not gone. It merely sleeps."

  Orin clenched his jaw. "Then let it sleep," he murmured.

  Rael chuckled once more, but it was weaker this time. "Aye, boy… let’s hope it does."

  The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Outside, the ocean remained calm.

  But even in its stillness, something stirred far below.

  And the abyss remembered.