There was no Kai Arashi anymore.
Not truly.
That boy — the one who bled and begged and broke — had died the moment he accepted the Abyss.
What stood now was something else.
Something new.
Something born from pain, rage, betrayal… and hunger.
The underground whispered his name.
Not "Kai."
No.
Asura.
He stood atop a ruined cathedral, the blood of Guild enforcers dripping from his hands, the city skyline burning faintly in the distance.
The wind howled, cold and sharp.
Below him, word spread like wildfire among the survivors.
Of a shadow that struck without warning.
Of a phantom who stole Sigils, corrupted them, twisted them into nightmare weapons.
Of a being who could not be killed.
Could not be bargained with.
Could not be escaped.
The System chimed:
[New Title Unlocked: Asura – Harbinger of the Abyss.]
[Effect: Fear radius increased against lower-ranked enemies.]
Asura flexed his hands experimentally.
The stolen powers writhed inside him, eager for release.
He could feel the bloodlust of the Abyss surging stronger now, molding him into its perfect weapon.
But he didn't fight it anymore.
He accepted it.
Embraced it.
Owned it.
There would be no mercy in the new world he would build.
No pity.
No forgiveness.
Only strength.
Only the cold law of survival.
Only the throne waiting to be seized by bloodied hands.
Asura turned, stepping off the cathedral roof.
He plummeted downward —
a black comet streaking toward the heart of the city —
shadows howling at his back.
The world had abandoned him.
Now, he would return the favor.
Tenfold.
The Age of Asura had begun.
And nothing — no hero, no army, no god — could stop it now.