Byron stood on the bustling street, using his smaller stature to squeeze through the gaps in the crowd and reach the front.

Coming toward him were groups of land dragon riders, holding their dark banners high.

Sunlight reflected off their armor, making the knights appear as if they were glowing.

Today was the day of the Dark Moon General’s victorious return, a celebration of his latest resounding triumph.

As he had done in the past, he marched through the central avenue of the Royal Court with his spoils and captives, basking in the cheers of the people.

But Byron seemed to deeply despise this general.

When he saw the figure raising a matte sword, Byron hesitated for a moment. Then, amid the waves of cheers, he suddenly shouted at the man who held the kingdom’s highest power.

“General!” he called out.

“What meaning was there in starting this war?”

“The outskirts are littered with starving corpses! Why not address that instead?”

The people around him stared at Byron in shock, immediately creating distance between themselves and him.

However, the crowd’s cheers grew even louder, overwhelming Byron’s voice. The Dark Moon General appeared not to notice him and continued down the avenue without pause.

Only a brief glance from beneath his helmet fell upon the audacious young man.

The young man had mustered all his courage to come here and question the Dark Moon General, but he never expected to be ignored like a clown.

He felt deflated, and perhaps also a bit relieved.

Finally, after wandering aimlessly outside for a while, he returned home as darkness was falling.

Byron’s family was an ordinary one in the city. His father worked as a carpenter, while his mother was a servant in a noble household.

He had an older brother and a younger sister.

They were a large family living in an old wooden house. Life was difficult, but by staying together, the family managed to maintain a sense of stability.

They were a most ordinary family, like most people in Fort Pence.

As soon as he pushed open the door, the five-year-old girl sitting on the wooden steps playing with pebbles immediately looked up. She pointed at him and shouted in her childish voice.

“Second brother’s back!”

Byron immediately raised a finger to his lips. “Shh!”

“Don’t shout.”

Byron had been away from home all day, and he knew his family would scold him if they found out he was back.

To win his sister over, he pulled several pure white, smooth pebbles from his pocket and handed them to her. They were far better than the ones she had been using for her game.

His sister was delighted. Her eyes seemed to glow as she held the stones in one hand, nodding continuously with her mouth shut tight.

With her other hand, she imitated her brother. “Shh!”

Byron then asked, “Is Dad home yet?”

His sister pointed behind him. As Byron turned, he saw his father standing in the doorway.

Byron’s face fell as his father pulled him aside.

His father’s face bore scars, and he was missing an ear, a lasting reminder of a previous war the kingdom had fought.

Surviving the war at all was a stroke of luck, as several of his father’s brothers had lost their lives in it.

Still holding his chisel, his father pointed angrily at Byron and began to question him.

“What is all this?”

“I heard you went to the street today to question the Dark Moon General.”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“Why do you enjoy offending others so much?”

Four rapid-fire questions revealed the depth of his father’s anxiety.

Byron refused to back down. “Because they were wrong.”

His father disliked Byron’s stubbornness. “So everyone else is wrong, and only you are right?”

Byron was just as stubborn. “Right is right and wrong is wrong. Is that so hard to distinguish?”

“Killing people is wrong.”

“Bullying others is wrong!”

“Stealing from people is wrong!”

“Do we even need to think about these things?”

“Why do you say I’m offending people? Is it wrong to speak up when they’re doing something wrong?”

His voice grew louder. “The Dark Moon General’s wars are meaningless. They only result in killing people.”

“They spend all day killing, killing civilians, killing dissenters. Every year they fight wars with other countries and with their own people.”

“They’ve never once thought about how to properly govern this country or considered what’s best for everyone.”

“So many people are starving to death outside. Everyone’s life is getting harder, yet they do nothing to solve the problems. All they know is how to exploit us to start wars.”

“Why can’t I speak up?”

His father was angry but was not good with words, unsure how to respond to Byron.

Finally, he could only say, “You!”

“One of these days you’ll pay a heavy price!”

Byron turned away. “That still won’t change what’s right and what’s wrong in this world.”

His father slapped him on the back. “I’m tired of arguing with you. Come in, it’s dinner time!”

The family sat on the wooden floor, gathered around a long table. The twilight had already dimmed, making the room even darker.

The food on the table was a thick, porridge-like mush that gave off an unpleasant smell. It was mixed with a few wilted vegetable leaves that had clearly seen better days.

Even so, this meal was considered plentiful.

With so many mouths to feed, the family ate only twice a day, and it was never enough.

The father and eldest brother, being the main laborers, usually ate their fill first. Only then did the others get their share.

The family sat together at the table, sharing the meager meal. Despite their hardships, the room held a quiet sense of warmth.

Byron sat close to his sister, who was still playing with the pebbles he had given her earlier under the table. He could not help but reach over and gently pinch her cheek, making her giggle softly.

“Byron!” his mother called out to him.

He took the bowl his mother passed to him as she began to give him a lecture.

“Don’t run around everywhere tomorrow. Just stay home and help out.”

Byron replied, “I know!”

Byron’s home was situated in the western district of Fort Pence.

As night fell, the western district came alive with activity as numerous mysterious figures moved through the shadows.

The focus of their movements and plans revolved around Byron’s home.

A group of individuals dressed in black cloaks approached the back door of Byron’s house. From beneath their hoods, their eyes peered into the room, observing Byron, who slept soundly.

The young man had aimlessly busied himself all day and was exhausted.

Like most children his age, he had learned many principles and heard countless stories. Yet, unlike others, he struggled to understand what he truly desired.

Even less did he know what he was about to face.

“Are you certain of this?” one of them asked.

“We have confirmed it,” another replied. “There is no doubt. It is definitely him.”

Spiritual powers intersected, scanning him over and over.

“He doesn’t look remarkable at all.”

“His appearance is handsome enough, but what does that count for?”

“He is not tall, quite ordinary. I can’t find anything special about him. Why was he chosen?”

The speaker could not understand. From an ability user’s perspective, this person was too ordinary.

Another person said, “This is the divine will.”

That statement ended all discussion.

Indeed, this was the divine will.

The target was divinely chosen as the Son of Wrath.

They were merely followers of a divine being. How could they know how the divine made its selections?

Perhaps the divine had already seen the future, seen his destined fate.

One sentence had explained everything.

The person nodded in agreement, understanding there was nothing more to consider. Their only task was to ensure everything was ready for the Abyss pre-selection king.

“Is the king selection ritual prepared?”

“The High Priest will arrive tonight, and he will certainly ask about it.”

The person beside him did not dare to boast. “Such an enormous ritual cannot be prepared so quickly. Even if it were ready, it would need to be verified multiple times. I dare not say it is prepared.”

The scene shifts to the sky above.

In the western district, numerous mysterious figures had meticulously arranged a massive ritual array. Densely packed nodes, each containing hollow crystals, were placed strategically in various locations, waiting for someone to activate them.

At the heart of this ritual array stood Byron’s home, positioned precisely at its center.

On the underside of the wooden bed where the young man slept, ominous bloody patterns and runes were carved.

These markings represented the divine name of the God of Original Sin and the symbol of the Original Sin of Wrath.

Bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, he shifted slightly in his sleep, letting out a faint snore.

In his dream, he was beating a captured swindler to a pulp, his fists landing with righteous fury.

In another moment, he was standing tall before the Dark Moon General, questioning him boldly and earning the admiration of the crowd.

The Royal Court’s administrative hall

The Dark Moon General’s intelligence personnel had delivered all the collected information into his hands.

The Abyss Cult’s actions were very secretive, and they had begun their preparations while the Dark Moon General was away.

But such actions, once exposed, were no longer secret.

The Dark Moon General received a portrait along with the background information of the person depicted. As was his habit, he read through the text first before turning his attention to the portrait.

“Their target is this child?”

The Dark Moon General looked at the portrait, and the face seemed somewhat familiar.

“I seem to recognize him!”

“Where have I seen him?”

Suddenly, he realized it.

When he was returning victorious, he had seen this face.

An image surfaced in his mind.

The Dark Moon General stared at the paper, his gaze flickering. “So it’s that child!”

He remembered the dazzling sunlight through his helmet making his eyes a bit dazed. On the road, a child stared at him with wide eyes, shouting at him.

What did he ask me?

Oh, now I remember.

He asked me.

“General!”

“What meaning was there in starting this war?”

At that moment, what arose in his mind was not anger, but confusion and bewilderment.

Even a child was questioning him, questioning the meaning of his wars.

“Indeed,” he murmured to himself. “What meaning is there?”

“I’ve won another war. I’ve won many wars, but have I truly gained anything?”

At this moment, the Dark Moon General recalled the question again.

The plan he had contemplated for so long surfaced in his mind.

His hand holding the paper lowered as he looked down at the floor tiles of the hall.

If there were to be another war, he hoped it would be one that could solve all problems at once.

“A war that truly has meaning.”

“A war that can solve all problems.”

Seeing that the general had finished his thoughts, the curly-haired aide who had delivered the intelligence immediately asked.

“Should we start preparing to deal with these people…”

But the Dark Moon General said something that astonished the aide. “No need. Don’t bother with them.”

The aide was stunned, pausing for a long time before continuing.

“General, you’re not going to do anything?”

The Dark Moon General did not answer. Instead, he spoke to his aide about another matter.

“Just this morning, it was confirmed that several lords in the south are preparing to leave the kingdom. They have abandoned their ancestors and their faith, and now they want to become kings.”

“The title of king has made them forget everything.”

“But that region is the wealthiest in the Royal Court. It also controls the point where the Shepherd’s River flows into the sea.”

“We absolutely cannot lose it.”

As the Dark Moon General spoke, his emotions became difficult to suppress.

“Tell me, how many more people must die before we can save this country?”

“How many more battles must we fight to stabilize this country? How many more must we endure to complete our reforms and create the kingdom we envision?”

“Will these people wait for us to complete our reforms?”

“Can we even afford to fight another war?”

“Next time, how many people will truly be willing to go to battle with us?”

“The people of the Royal Court are already tired of war. Those who support us are fewer and fewer, while our enemies grow stronger.”

“There are so many people who want to see us lose control of this country. They are waiting for us to fall apart so they can take their share from the remains of this nation’s corpse.”

The Dark Moon General looked at his aide, his gaze making the aide feel somewhat frightened.

“If there were a way to achieve our goals with fewer deaths,” the Dark Moon General asked, his voice heavy with contemplation, “would you choose that path?”

The aide was speechless.

He had a strong feeling that the Dark Moon General was orchestrating something dreadful, and it seemed closely tied to the Abyss Cult’s current plans.

The prayer hall chamber in the western district

An old man in a black cloak hunched over, facing the statue of the God of Original Sin.

“Is everything ready?”

The Fallen High Priests exchanged glances before one of them replied.

“Everything has been arranged.”

“The king selection ritual is prepared.”

“The budget has been approved, and there are sufficient sacrifices.”

“The Son of Wrath is also in position.”

The old man nodded. “Then let us welcome the divine will!”

The acting High Priest of the cult was frail and aged. He relied on a cane to walk and needed assistance for longer distances.

However, as he approached the base of the divine statue and knelt in reverence, everything began to shift.

Below the divine pedestal, pools of black mud emerged.

As a strange black mud flowed into his body, his withered, foul-smelling body gradually became more robust.

His formerly hunched body became tall and straight.

He grew temporarily younger, looking completely different from before.

The High Priest turned around, and in that moment, his presence seemed entirely transformed. All the Fallen High Priests instinctively lowered their heads, avoiding his gaze out of reverence and fear.

He turned swiftly, his form shifting into a black shadow as he darted out of the prayer hall.

The other Fallen High Priests quickly followed, employing divine techniques as they moved toward their designated locations.

The black shadow moved swiftly through the streets and across rooftops, eventually reaching the tallest bell tower in the western district.

Meanwhile, the other Fallen High Priests arrived at their designated nodes.

The acting High Priest of the Abyss Cult looked into the distance, his eyes fixed on the Abyss sacrifice ritual that was on the verge of activation. Finally, his gaze settled on the center of the ritual.

His face radiated with a crazed smile as he opened his mouth.

“New King of Original Sin.”

“Your throne has been prepared for you.”

“Let me personally push you onto the throne.”

In the early morning, Byron busied himself with housework, diligently scrubbing the floor.

Next, he would need to repair the house, tidy things up, and look after his sister.

His father and older brother had taken on a job and were heading out to work. While his father had already left, his older brother came over to Byron’s side.

He patted the shoulder of Byron, who was scrubbing the floor.

“Stay home today and don’t wander off.”

“Keep a good eye on mother and little sister, understand?”

Byron was somewhat impatient, as young people dislike being controlled.

“I know!”

“By the time you return, I’ll have everything done, and done well.”

His brother shook his head. “Even if everything is done, stay home. There have been some strange people around lately.”

“A few days ago, I saw the Royal Court’s search team investigating them. They mentioned several missing person cases, but they haven’t found anything yet.”

“I am not sure if these people are responsible, but it feels very unsettling.”

Byron nodded.

“Those search team people, what else do they do besides extort and blackmail?”

His brother knew Byron’s temperament and did not say much more before leaving with their father.

But not long after his brother and father left, his mother suddenly noticed a toolbox in the corner.

“Your father or brother, one of them forgot to take the box again,” his mother said.

“Byron, hurry and take it to them.”

Byron paused his scrubbing and glanced at the box, muttering to himself, “It must be my brother’s.”

He got up, wiped his hands, then went over and carried the box on his back.

Standing at the door, he said goodbye to his mother and sister.

His mother instructed him, “Don’t dawdle on the way. Come back quickly.”

Byron replied, “I know. I’ll return as soon as I deliver it.”

With that, Byron pushed the door open and left.

He was unaware of the countless eyes fixed on him at that moment.

As he moved, it seemed as though everything around him began to shift in response.

The distant gazes that had been watching him now converged, crossing paths with one another.

“What should we do?”

“Start early.”

“The approximate planned position will do.”

The street bustled with activity as pedestrians moved about, vendors called out to advertise their goods, and shoppers browsed the stalls.

In the quieter corners, beggars sat with outstretched hands, pleading for food from those passing by.

Byron walked unhurriedly. His father’s workplace was not far from home.

He thought perhaps he would meet his brother coming back for the box halfway.

Then he could tease him a bit, since his brother, who had acted so mature this morning while lecturing him, turned out to be careless himself.

“Always lecturing me. This time it’s my turn to speak to you.”

Suddenly, a fierce wind blew through, catching everyone off guard.

People on the street stepped back in confusion, each wondering how such an unusual wind could appear so suddenly.

Even the sail beasts were shrieking, as if sensing something ominous.

Byron raised his hand to shield his eyes, glancing toward the distance.

He vaguely saw a beam of light shooting into the sky, connecting to the horizon.

After the wind subsided, everyone was puzzled about where such a strange gust had come from.

Then, someone shouted loudly.

“Look at the sky!”

Everyone on the street raised their heads to look upward.

They noticed the clouds in the sky being drawn together, forming a peculiar vortex that spun with an unnaturally fast speed.

Besides this, red strings crisscrossed the sky, forming a massive ritual array.

A ritual array was a program designed to establish communication with other entities, such as the spirit realm, divine beings, or powerful artifacts.

This particular ritual array was a gateway to the Abyss.

Byron’s head was buzzing, his eyes wide open.

“Words?” he muttered in disbelief.

“How can words be glowing?”

“How is it possible for glowing words to appear in the sky?”

The street grew eerily quiet as an unsettling stillness settled over the crowd. No one spoke for what felt like an eternity.

Byron’s eyes traced the intricate lines of the massive ritual array, eventually focusing on the heart of the swirling cloud formation above.

A beam of light penetrated the cloud sea, connecting everything at its core.

It was only then that he realized the light beam was coming from the exact direction of his home.

“What’s happening?”

“Why is there light coming from my home?”

“What is going on?”

Byron was just the son of a commoner. He had never witnessed supernatural power before, much less a scene like this.

He stood frozen in place, unable to move for what felt like an eternity.

At that moment, something terrifying unfolded.

The light beam connected to the swirling cloud sea, and within the rotating clouds, a door began to open slowly. It was a gateway to another world.

Behind the door was the dark side of all spirits.

At this moment, it was pouring its filth into this world, bringing disaster to humanity.

Under the horrified gaze of everyone, the clouds in the sky turned a deep red.

It was as if the entire sky had been consumed by flames.

A meteorite, not particularly large, descended slowly from the door. The overwhelming pressure it emitted was so intense that people throughout Fort Pence found themselves unable to lift their heads.

Around the meteorite, massive streams of fire poured down from the sky, crashing to the ground with devastating force.

The terrifying streams of fire blazed through the sky, racing toward their destination in the western district.

Everyone was so frightened their souls seemed to scatter, until someone shouted with all their might.

“Run!”

The once noisy but orderly street was instantly consumed by chaos.

Everyone seemed like ants that had lost their reason, scurrying in all directions across the ground, accompanied by rising and falling voices.

“What is that? The sky is burning!”

“Fire! Everything is turning red!”

“Quick, hide! Find somewhere safe!”

Byron also came to his senses from the shock.

As he stared at the towering light beam and the streams of fire descending toward the ground, a sudden surge of panic overtook him. Without thinking, he broke into a frantic run, heading straight for his home.

As he turned a corner halfway there, he let the box slip from his back and drop to the ground.

He was anxious, running at full speed.

He realized the light beam was coming from his own home.

And then, he saw more.

In the sky, a stream of fire descended from above, its trajectory unmistakably aimed at his home.

Byron’s pupils instantly dilated to their limit, his face turning deathly pale.

Using the loudest voice he could muster, he shouted desperately toward his home.

He called for his mother and his sister.

“Mother!”

“Sarin!”

“Get out!”

“Come out quickly, get out of the house!”

He felt a flicker of hope. He thought he heard a sound, a sign that his mother inside had sensed the situation outside.

Byron expectantly watched the door of his home.

Finally, someone appeared at the door.

Byron watched as it was pushed open, then a figure appeared behind it.

Wild joy spread across Byron’s face.

“Mother!”

“Sarin!”

His mother, holding his sister, pushed open the door and rushed out.

But by then it was too late. The stream of fire had crossed the sky and struck Byron’s home.

Boom!

Flames instantly spread, consuming everything within hundreds of meters.

In an instant, everything was set ablaze, the surrounding temperature rising to a level unbearable for ordinary people.

But none of this mattered to Byron anymore. He felt as if he had been instantly ignited, the flames bursting from his chest and rushing to the top of his skull.

His scalp seemed to explode.

He watched with his own eyes as his home collapsed with a rumble, his mother and sister swallowed by the flames, disappearing in a sea of red.

The last image of his mother in his eyes was her looking up at him as he rushed forward.

Her final gaze held an expression Byron could not understand.

Before the great fire, Byron came to a halt. He clutched his head tightly, overwhelmed by the chaos around him.

“No!”

“No!”

Finally, he let out a scream that nearly tore his throat.

“No!”

Byron looked at his home, transformed into a sea of fire, his entire body trembling.

He forcefully grabbed his own hair, but apart from constant shaking, he could make no other movement.

Finally, he started moving forward, step by step, toward the sea of fire. He drew closer to the collapsed and burning house, his movements slow but deliberate.

Suddenly, there was movement in the sea of fire.

Byron stood frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if hoping for a miracle to unfold.

Yet no miracle occurred.

What he saw was the most horrifying nightmare he had ever experienced.

A figure consumed by flames, a charred corpse, stood up from the raging fire.

On its charred skin, fiery patterns emerged from the cracks. Supernatural energy radiated from the body, signaling to the world that this was no ordinary being.

Wherever it looked, the flames seemed to come alive, surging and twisting as if drawn to its gaze.

His mother had transformed into a fire monster, her body possessed by a monster from the Abyss.

She was one of the notorious Heart-Burning Demons from the Abyss, monsters capable of seizing others’ bodies and controlling their consciousness.

That charred shell held the corpse of his sister, moving stumblingly through the raging fire and looking around in confusion.

Finally, its gaze fixed on Byron.

She made a sound.

Ah!

“It hurts, it hurts so much!”

“Byron… it hurts so much!”

“The fire is burning… it’s burning me…”

“It really hurts.”

“Byron… Byron… save me… By…”

The towering fire dyed Byron’s eyes a solid red.

It was unclear whether it was the reflection of the flames or the fullness of blood.

Ah!

He rushed toward his home without regard for anything, plunging toward the great fire.

At that moment, the meteorite from the sky crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact.

The powerful impact destroyed buildings across a wide area, raising high clouds of dust and smoke. The terrifying flames seemed ready to set the entire western district ablaze.

Byron was thrown aside like a rag doll, his consciousness slipping away entirely.