The air sliced like knives against his skin. Coldness seeped into his bones, not just chilling—but poisoning. Lucian awoke on damp, purple moss that pulsed faintly like something alive.
His eyes blinked slowly—then widened as the pain crashed into him alongside reality.
This wasn't the summoning hall anymore. There were no classmates. No king. No royal welcome.
Only darkness. And whispers.
> "The sins unseen… now buried in a land with no name…"
Lucian struggled to rise. His right arm was torn—deep cuts dried without bandages. But the wound wasn't what terrified him.
It was the place.
The sky above wasn't blue, but a crimson vortex swirling with amethyst storms. The clouds drifted slowly, forming silent screaming faces. The ground beneath his feet felt like flesh—not soil—soft and warm, like walking over a corpse that wouldn't rot.
"...Where am I?"
His voice was quiet. No echo. No bounce. This place ate sound.
Then… a deeper voice answered—not aloud, but from somewhere else.
> "You have been thrown into the Netherdeep… the place where even the world no longer wants you."
Lucian whipped around. No one.
He began to walk. No direction, just motion. Each step echoed with punishment, as if the shadows beneath his feet cursed his existence.
Time had no meaning here. It could've been hours or minutes.
Then… he saw it.
A tree. Massive. Twisted. Its roots snaked across the ground like skeletal fingers. From its bark bled thick black ichor. Hanging from its branches… a faceless body swayed gently.
Lucian froze.
The figure tilted its head toward him—despite having no eyes.
> "You… the rejected. You… are worthy of the Void…"
Lucian heard it—not with his ears, but inside his skull.
"Who are you…?" he whispered.
The figure gave no answer. Instead, a symbol burned into the air: a circle with three diagonal slashes. It floated—then shot into Lucian's chest.
He screamed.
The burning wasn't physical—it was truth, carving itself into his soul. But beneath the agony… something awakened.
Rage. Betrayal. A broken pride, demanding vengeance.
The ground beneath him cracked. From it, black hands emerged—not to pull him under, but to hold him up.
> "Don't die here, Lucian Gray…"
The voice was gentle. Feminine. The first kindness he'd heard.
From the mist, a figure approached. White hair like frost. Eyes of deep violet. A black dress woven with stars.
> "My name is Eloria. I know rejection. This world is unjust. But I can offer you power… if you'll take it."
Lucian's breaths were shallow. But his eyes were no longer hollow. Something blazed.
"I want it… I want them to regret everything."
Eloria smiled faintly.
> "Then from this moment forward, you are no longer human. You are the first Voidbearer. And this… is the beginning of the world you will shape with your pain."
Above, the vortex glowed brighter. And within Lucian's chest, his first Rune ignited.
[Sigil of Exile — Vengeance of the Unchosen]