Pain returned without warning.
Not the sharp agony of the oath's binding, nor the crushing pressure of the abyss—but something deeper, more intimate. Kael felt it begin in his bones, spreading outward in slow, deliberate waves. It was as though his body itself had decided that survival required change, and that change would not be gentle.
He staggered, dropping to one knee.
The shadow path beneath his feet dissolved, leaving only cold stone. Dark veins surfaced along his arms and neck, pulsing faintly in rhythm with his heartbeat. Each pulse sent a dull shock through his muscles, tightening and releasing as if his flesh were being reshaped from the inside.
Kael gritted his teeth.
"So this is adaptation," he muttered.
The abyss did not answer immediately.
When it did, its presence felt closer than before.
"You are being forged," the voice said. "The oath does not tolerate stagnation."
Kael pressed a hand against the ground, forcing himself upright despite the tremors rippling through his limbs. His balance wavered, then steadied. Every instinct screamed at him to collapse, to let the process finish on its own—but something deeper resisted.
"No," he said through clenched teeth. "I stay conscious."
The shadows reacted instantly.
They surged inward, wrapping around his body in tightening bands, not restraining him but amplifying the pressure already tearing through his bones. Kael sucked in a sharp breath as the pain intensified, dragging a low growl from his throat.
Images flashed through his mind.
Training yards.
Cold mornings.
Endless repetition.
Every moment he had endured without recognition, every silent judgment, every unspoken dismissal—it all resurfaced, feeding into the crucible now reshaping him.
"You are resisting again," the voice observed.
"I always have," Kael replied.
The pressure surged.
Kael screamed.
The sound tore from him raw and unfiltered, echoing briefly before the abyss swallowed it. His muscles convulsed as dark patterns etched themselves beneath his skin, then sank back down, leaving his flesh tighter, denser.
His bones burned.
Not breaking—condensing.
Kael felt his skeleton harden, reforged under invisible pressure. Each joint locked into place with terrifying precision, as though an unseen smith were hammering his body into a new shape.
Minutes passed.
Or hours.
Time lost meaning.
At some point, Kael stopped screaming.
He focused instead on breathing.
In.
Out.
Pain sharpened his awareness until it became the only thing that existed—and then, slowly, he began to move within it. Adjusting his stance. Shifting his weight. Learning how his changing body responded.
The shadows noticed.
"Interesting," the voice said quietly.
Kael forced himself fully upright.
His legs trembled, but they did not give way. When he straightened his back, something clicked into place. The pain receded slightly, as if acknowledging his resistance rather than opposing it.
"What is this state called?" Kael asked, breath ragged.
"You are entering Nightforged," the voice replied. "Your flesh is learning to endure the abyss without protection."
Kael felt the words settle into him like a verdict.
Nightforged.
The name alone carried weight. It was not a blessing, nor a title meant for pride. It sounded final—like something that could not be undone once completed.
The shadows tightened again, but this time they did not surge violently. Instead, they pressed inward with relentless steadiness, compressing his body from all sides. Kael felt his skin prickle, then burn, as though exposed to invisible flames. His muscles seized, locking his limbs in place.
He could not move.
He could not scream.
His breath hitched as the pressure crept deeper, bypassing flesh entirely. His bones vibrated faintly, resonating with a low, grinding hum that seemed to come from inside his skull.
Kael's vision blurred.
Not from pain alone—but from memory.
He saw himself as a child, standing in the training yard long after the others had left. The instructors had already turned away, their verdict unspoken but clear. He remembered repeating the same movement again and again until his arms shook and his legs refused to hold him.
He remembered forcing himself to stand anyway.
The shadows reacted.
The pressure increased sharply, as though the abyss itself were testing the strength of that memory. Kael's teeth clenched so hard he tasted blood.
"You cling to endurance," the voice observed. "Even now."
Kael did not answer.
He could not.
Every part of him was occupied with holding himself together.
The forging deepened.
Kael felt his bones shift—not breaking, not cracking, but compressing inward. Space vanished between them, density increasing until each movement of his skeleton felt impossibly heavy. His joints locked and unlocked in rapid succession, recalibrating, aligning with merciless precision.
His muscles followed.
Fibers tightened, braided together under pressure that bordered on unbearable. Kael felt strength being drawn out of pain itself, refined and stored rather than released.
This was not healing.
This was reconstruction.
A low sound tore from Kael's throat—not a scream, but something closer to a growl. His consciousness wavered, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision.
Don't lose it.
He focused on breathing again.
In.
Out.
Each breath felt like dragging air through glass, but it anchored him. The pain sharpened his awareness until it eclipsed everything else. There was no room left for fear. No space for doubt.
Only persistence.
The shadows slowed.
The pressure adjusted, no longer crushing blindly but responding to Kael's resistance. Where he held firm, the force intensified. Where he adapted, it flowed.
"You learn quickly," the voice said quietly.
Kael's knees buckled, slamming against the stone, but he did not collapse fully. One hand struck the ground, fingers digging into the surface as if to anchor himself to existence.
His blood roared in his ears.
Then—something changed.
The pain stopped escalating.
Instead, it settled.
Kael felt his body stabilize around the changes, accepting them. His breathing steadied. His heartbeat slowed, each pulse heavier, more deliberate than before.
The forging was no longer tearing him apart.
It was finishing.
When the shadows finally withdrew, Kael remained kneeling, chest heaving, sweat soaking through his clothes. Steam rose faintly from his skin, dissipating quickly into the abyss.
He stayed there for several long moments.
Listening.
Feeling.
When he finally lifted his head, his gaze was clearer than it had ever been.
He pushed himself upright.
This time, his body responded without complaint.
Kael let out a bitter laugh. "And if it fails?"
"Then you will be unmade."
Simple. Honest.
Kael nodded once.
The shadows tightened again.
This time, he did not resist.
He leaned into it.
The pain surged—then flowed.
Kael felt his heartbeat slow, each pulse heavier than before. His blood thickened, carrying shadow through his veins like molten iron. His senses sharpened to an unnatural degree; he could hear the faint movement of the abyss itself, feel subtle shifts in pressure far beyond sight.
When the forging finally eased, Kael dropped to one knee—not from weakness, but exhaustion.
Silence followed.
His body steamed faintly in the cold air.
Kael lifted his head slowly.
He felt… solid.
Different.
He flexed his fingers. The motion was smooth, controlled, powerful. When he clenched his fist, shadow wrapped around it instinctively, dense and responsive.
"Stand," the voice said.
Kael obeyed.
This time, there was no hesitation.
He rose to his full height, spine straight, shoulders squared. The tremors had vanished. In their place was a steady, grounded presence that felt unshakable.
"You will not remain here much longer," the voice continued. "The world above calls to what has changed."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "They'll notice."
"Yes."
A faint ripple passed through the abyss.
"They always do."
Kael looked down at himself one last time, memorizing the feeling—the weight, the control, the quiet certainty. Whatever he had been before, that version of him no longer existed.
"Then let them," he said.
The shadows parted ahead, revealing a widening in the darkness. Pale light spilled through, unfamiliar and harsh after the abyss's eternal night.
Kael stepped toward it without hesitation.
Behind him, the abyss watched in silence.
Ahead of him, the world that had tried to erase him waited—unaware that what returned would no longer break so easily.