The Abyss of Judgment pulsed with a malevolent heartbeat, its glitching shadows tearing at the fabric of reality. Kang Min-jae's breath caught, ragged and sharp, as he stood on a fracturing platform of black stone, its surface slick with an oily sheen that mirrored the churning void below. The air was a living thing, thick with the stench of decay and ozone, pressing against his lungs like a fist. His torn school uniform clung to his sweat-soaked skin, the gash on his shoulder weeping blood that mingled with the platform's damp chill. The Shadow Spark within him—wild, untamed—burned like a coal in his chest, its whispers (Fight… deeper…) drowning out the abyss's cacophony of hunger.
Ji-yeon, the Lightbearer, clung to his side, her pale hair glowing faintly, like moonlight trapped in a storm. Her small hands trembled, radiating a weak pulse of light that stitched his wound, but her eyes—wide, brimming with tears—betrayed her crumbling resolve. "I-I can't…" she whispered, her voice a fragile thread. Tae-ho, the Firebrand, stood a few paces away, his scarred hands blazing with flames that cast jagged shadows. His amber eyes burned with barely contained rage, his voice a growl. "Get up, kid! You're dragging us down!" A skeletal hound, its jaws dripping black ichor, lunged at him, and he answered with a fireball that erupted in a searing blaze, reducing it to ash.
Eun-ha, the Arbiter, was a specter in the chaos, her black robe flowing like liquid night. Her silver eyes, sharp as a blade's edge, gleamed with an intensity that cut through the violet light fracturing around them. She raised a hand, and a crescent of silver radiance sliced through a pack of hounds, their howls dissolving into the void. Yet her silence unnerved Min-jae more than the beasts. Her distorted whisper from the glitch—"Your death was no accident, trust no one"—lingered, a splinter in his mind. Was she guiding them, or leading them to ruin?
The platform buckled, cracks snaking across its surface like lightning. Min-jae's sneakers skidded, his heart lurching as a hound's claw grazed his leg, tearing fabric and flesh. Pain flared, white-hot, but the Shadow Spark roared, urging him to act. He summoned a shadow veil, its dark lattice shimmering as it deflected another attack. "Ji-yeon, stay close!" he shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. Her light pulsed, faint but warm, and she nodded, her tear-streaked face hardening with determination.
Eun-ha's voice pierced the chaos, cold and commanding. "The rift is tearing Shadows apart. Find the Shadow Archives, or the Abyss will swallow you." She pointed to a jagged tear in the void—a rift, its edges writhing with violet and black energy, like a wound in reality itself. "Truths lie within. But truths have teeth."
Min-jae's pulse quickened. Truths—about the truck that crushed him, the Order that bound him, the Monarch's shadow in his memories. Doubt gnawed at him—Eun-ha's silver gaze held too many secrets—but the hounds surged, their red eyes glowing like embers. No choice. "We're going!" he yelled, his shadow whip lashing out, slicing a hound's flank. Tae-ho's flames roared, carving a path, and Ji-yeon's light flared, burning a beast that strayed too close. Together, they dove through the rift.
The world twisted, a kaleidoscope of darkness and light. Min-jae's stomach churned, his senses unraveling, until they landed in a vast chamber—the Shadow Archives. Towering shelves of tomes stretched into a starless expanse, their bindings pulsing with ghostly light. Each book whispered, a chorus of voices—human, alien, anguished—that slithered into Min-jae's mind, tugging at his thoughts. The air was cool, tinged with ink and sorrow, as if the chamber wept for the souls it held. Floating orbs of violet light drifted, their glow casting shadows that moved with unnatural grace, like predators stalking prey.
Ji-yeon gasped, her light dimming. "It's… alive," she whispered, her voice trembling. Tae-ho's flames flickered, his jaw tight. "Feels like a damn trap. Shadows doesn't do 'safe.'" He glared at Eun-ha, who stood motionless, her robe pooling like ink. "What's your angle, Arbiter?"
Eun-ha's lips curved, a smile both beautiful and venomous. "The Archives are the Order's memory, Firebrand. Every Summoned's life, death, and trial is etched here. Find the right tome, Weaver, and you might glimpse your purpose." Her silver eyes locked on Min-jae, piercing. "Or you might lose yourself."
Min-jae's throat tightened. His purpose? The truck's roar, his mother's fading face, the Monarch's cloaked shadow—they haunted him. The Shadow Spark pulsed, guiding his trembling hand to a tome bound in writhing mist. He opened it, and the world dissolved.
He was back in the alley, the streetlamp flickering. The truck barreled toward him, its headlights blinding. But now, a figure stood in the shadows—a woman, her face half-hidden, her eyes glowing with sorrow. His mother. She whispered, "I'm sorry, Min-jae… it was the only way." The Monarch's symbol—a crown wreathed in shadows—glinted on her cloak. The vision shattered, and Min-jae staggered, his heart splintering. "Mom… why?" he choked, tears burning his eyes.
Eun-ha's gaze darkened, but before she could speak, the Archives quaked. A woman emerged from the shadows, her jet-black hair flowing like a river of night. Her armor shimmered with void-like energy, and her eyes—pools of endless dark—radiated menace. "The Weaver's digging too deep," she purred, her voice a silken threat. "Soo-jin, Voidstalker. And you're in my way."
Tae-ho's flames erupted, his voice a snarl. "Soo-jin, you traitor! Still licking the Monarch's boots?" Ji-yeon shrank back, her light flickering, but Min-jae stepped forward, his shadow whip coiling. Soo-jin's accusation in the vision—his mother's betrayal—fueled his rage. "What do you know about my death?" he demanded, his voice raw.
Soo-jin laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Oh, little Weaver, Eun-ha's been weaving lies. She served the Monarch once. Ask her why you're really here." Her void-blade flashed, and the Archives exploded into chaos.
Soo-jin moved like a wraith, her blade slicing the air. Min-jae's shadow veil deflected it, but the force sent him crashing into a shelf, tomes raining down. Their whispers screamed in his mind—Failure… oblivion…—threatening to drown him. Tae-ho's fireballs roared, but Soo-jin vanished, reappearing behind Ji-yeon. "Your light's a liability," she hissed, her blade arcing.
Min-jae's heart stopped. "No!" He poured every ounce of the Shadow Spark into a shadow spear, its tip blazing with dark energy. It pierced Soo-jin's shoulder, black ichor spraying. Ji-yeon's light surged, a radiant nova that burned Soo-jin's arm, forcing her back. "I-I won't let you!" Ji-yeon cried, her voice trembling but fierce, her light healing Tae-ho's singed arm.
Eun-ha moved, her silver light a crescent moon that slashed at Soo-jin. "You talk too much, Voidstalker," she said, her voice ice. Soo-jin dodged, her laugh chilling. "The truth's coming, Arbiter. You can't bury it." She melted into the shadows, her voice echoing: "The rift will break you, Weaver."
The Archives stilled, but Min-jae's heart raced. Eun-ha's silence was a blade at his throat. His mother's face, the Monarch's symbol, Soo-jin's words—they were a puzzle with jagged edges. He clutched the tome, its whispers fading, and faced Eun-ha. "Tell me the truth," he demanded, his voice breaking. "Did you know?"
Eun-ha's smile was gone, her silver eyes unreadable. "Truth is a blade, Weaver. Wield it, and you'll bleed." She turned, her robe trailing mist. "The rift's growing. Move, or Shadows will decide for you."
Min-jae's resolve hardened, a fire kindled by betrayal and loss. He'd protect Ji-yeon, challenge Tae-ho, and unravel Shadows' lies—his mother's role, Eun-ha's secrets, the Monarch's game. The Archives' orbs pulsed, and the rift's whisper called, promising answers and peril.