Chapter 54: Marked by the Same Sin

Present

Thoren stared at the scene before him, his heart pounding violently against his chest, each beat echoing like a war drum in his ears.

This… was far beyond anything he had ever imagined.

He had expected another chamber like the previous one, perhaps Stonewall warriors, or another brutal battle.

But this?

This defied logic.

At the center of the vast chamber stood a terrifying altar, pulsating with thick strands of otherworldly, malevolent energy.

The air around it warped faintly, as if reality itself was being corroded.

On the altar rested a massive coffin, its ancient lid pushed aside, as though whatever had once been sealed within had already risen.

The engravings carved into both the altar and the coffin were unnatural.

They foretold something sinister in the past.

The moment Thoren laid eyes on them, his muscles stiffened involuntarily, a primal instinct screaming danger into his bones.

His body reacted before his mind could process what he was seeing.

Beyond the altar and the coffin stood a humanoid creature.

No.

Calling it merely humanoid felt like an insult to the terror it radiated.

Its presence alone was suffocating, crushing the air in the chamber until each breath felt heavy and labored.

Compared to the Stonewall warriors he had encountered before, this existence dwarfed them by a terrifying margin.

Everything about it spoke of an apex predator.

Its crimson-red horns curved backward from its skull like twisted crowns.

Its massive claws gleamed with deadly sharpness, each one capable of tearing through steel with ease.

Thick, bulging muscles rippled beneath stone-like skin, power packed so densely that it felt as though a single movement could shatter the chamber itself.

Thoren’s gaze lingered on the creature only briefly before instinctively shifting away.

His eyes fell upon the ground.

Strange symbols and grotesque geometric shapes had been carved into the stone floor, forming a massive ritual array that stretched across the chamber.

Dark crimson lines traced their paths, glowing faintly as if freshly fed.

Merely looking at them made his blood quicken.

His heartbeat accelerated, and a strange heat surged through his veins.

Without understanding the true purpose of the symbols, Thoren knew one thing with absolute certainty.

Nothing good had ever come from rituals like this.

Drip… Drip…

The faint sound of liquid falling against stone echoed rhythmically through the chamber.

Thoren’s gaze snapped toward the source.

The sound was coming from the statue.

His breath caught.

A life-sized statue stood beside the altar, carved in terrifying detail. What made Thoren’s blood run cold, however, was the thick, dark-red liquid slowly dripping from its claws.

Blood.

Fresh blood.

A violent shiver ran down his spine.

’How could this be?!’ he screamed inwardly.

Almost unconsciously, his hand moved to the back of his left palm.

There.

The mark of the Ancient Will.

His pupils were constricted.

The symbol engraved into his flesh… was identical to the statue before him.

The same shape.

The same lines.

The same oppressive aura.

His body tensed instantly.

His breath hitched in his throat.

Cold sweat soaked his back and dripped down his temples.

’My… goodness.’

His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest.

The statue wasn’t merely a statue.

It was alive.

Or worse.

It was awakening.

Malevolent intent oozed from it in suffocating waves, flooding the chamber as though it sought to drown everything within reach.

Thoren felt as if the very air was turning toxic, pressing against his lungs and invading his thoughts.

Only now did he truly understand.

The entity that had unsettled him from the moment he stepped into the ancient city…

Was not natural

It was this.

An ancient, terrifying existence that should never have been disturbed.

Thoren forced himself to breathe, struggling to regain control over his racing thoughts.

Just as he steadied himself, a low humming sound caught his attention.

His head snapped toward the source.

Beside the statue, a shimmering distortion had formed in the air.

A portal.

And it was growing larger with every passing second.

Thoren froze.

“A… portal?” he whispered, disbelief lacing his voice.

That shouldn’t be possible.

The first floor of the Abyss was a sealed world. No one knew its true size, but everyone knew its rules.

To advance to the second floor, the Abyss itself would issue an advancement quest. Completing that quest would open the path forward.

This was a universal law.

Unbreakable.

Yet now…

A portal was forming right before his eyes.

While Thoren struggled to comprehend what was happening and how such a phenomenon could exist within the first floor.

He failed to notice the subtle change in the faceless statue.

Its eyes manifest.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

They locked onto him.

Like a predator gazing upon its prey.

“I want him…”

The voice boomed throughout the chamber, vibrating through stone and flesh alike.

The ground trembled violently as an unbearable pressure descended from above, pressing down on Thoren’s body as though the heavens themselves sought to crush him.

“I need to feast on his soul…”

The voice echoed again.

This time, it was filled with unmistakable urgency.

Thoren’s eyes widened.

He raised his head sharply, searching for the source of the voice.

His gaze locked onto the massive humanoid creature.

But the voice did not seem to be coming from it.

Feeling Thoren gaze, a twisted grin stretched across the royal stonewall tribe face, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

It licked its lips slowly, eyes burning with savage hunger, before taking a single step forward.

Thud.

The sound echoed like a war drum.

The step was slow.

Deliberate.

Taunting.

Thoren inhaled deeply, forcing his erratic mind to calm.

’This… is not going to be an easy fight,’ he thought grimly.

Yet despite the overwhelming fear clawing at his heart, his eyes burned with firm determination.

[Stonewall Tribe (Royalty)]

[Level: 18]

Thoren’s throat tightened.

He was a Level 11 Necromancer.

And standing before him was a Level 18 Royal Stonewall warrior.

The pressure was suffocating.

It pressed heavily against his shoulders, threatening to crush him to his knees.

Yet worse than the royal warrior was the statue.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep