The forest reeked of damp earth and blood.
He crouched in the underbrush, eyes fixed on the dirt path ahead. A group of five approached—three Gu Masters in crude armor, two mortals burdened with sacks. A patrol from the clan nearby, harvesting battlefield spoils.
Their laughter was coarse, their steps careless. They thought the night safe, that the dead were buried and danger gone.
But danger had not left. It was waiting.
The abyss slithered in his veins, eager, hungry. He whispered to it: Tonight, we hunt.
The first Gu Master stopped suddenly, frowning. "Did you hear—?"
Tendrils exploded from the trees.
Two wrapped around his neck before he could finish, snapping bone with a sickening crack. His corpse was yanked into the shadows. The others shouted in panic, primeval essence surging as they activated their Gu. One's fists blazed with strength, another's skin glimmered with stone defense, the last unfurled a blade Gu, its edge gleaming silver.
The MC stepped from the dark, abyssal armor crawling across his body like a living exoskeleton. His claws dripped black liquid, his eyes twin pools of void.
"You…" one stammered, pointing his trembling blade. "You're the demon from the battlefield!"
The MC said nothing. He let the abyss speak for him.
The ground erupted with writhing tendrils, each lashing like serpents. The mortal porters screamed as they were dragged down, suffocated in the dark. The Gu Masters fought desperately, fists and blades cutting tendrils, stone skin deflecting strikes.
But every wound only made the abyss hungrier.
He surged forward. A clawed hand ripped through stone armor, tearing flesh beneath. The Gu Master gurgled in disbelief before collapsing. The others fared no better—one torn in half by constricting shadows, the other dragged into the swarm until silence swallowed his screams.
When it was done, the clearing was quiet. Five corpses twitched in the dark.
The abyss pulsed.
Not corpses. Puppets.
Tendrils pierced the dead, burrowing into flesh. Their eyes snapped open again, hollow and black. Limbs jerked unnaturally as the abyss forced them upright.
The MC's breath caught. They moved like broken marionettes, obeying his will. His mind stretched outward—thin threads of thought connecting to each puppet. Weak, fragile, but… usable.
A cold smile crept across his lips. "So even the dead can serve."
He released them, and the bodies collapsed, strings cut. The abyss purred, pleased with the experiment.
He stood among the carnage, cloak of shadows draped over him like a second skin. His fear was gone. His hesitation was gone. He had crossed a line tonight—he was no longer prey, no longer survivor.
He was hunter.
From now on, the clans would whisper of a demon who stalked the night, who consumed Gu Masters and raised their corpses like puppets.
And he welcomed their fear.
Far away, the survivor from the battlefield staggered into a clan village, trembling and pale.
"He's not human," the man gasped to the elder. "He fights without Gu—black shadows, eyes like void… He killed them all. He's a monster. A demon!"
The elder's expression darkened. Rumors spread fast in these lands, and the words "demon cultivator" would draw both fear and hunters alike.
And so, the Abyssal Gu Lord's legend began.