The chamber trembled as the two-headed serpent fully uncoiled from the shadows.
Both heads stared down at Drax—one burning with molten gold, the other pulsing with amethyst light. Its wings scraped the cavern walls, sending sparks raining down. Every breath from the beast warped the air like heat waves rising off an inferno.
Isis trembled behind a shattered stalagmite, clutching his shield so tightly his knuckles were bone white.
Drax simply rolled his neck until it cracked.
"Tch. I was hoping for something impressive," he muttered, brushing dust from his shirt. The impact they'd slammed him with earlier still left faint cracks behind him in the dungeon wall.
One of the serpent's heads hissed, low and thunderous.
[Threat Detected — Abyssal Instinct Triggered]
A pulse of cold power rippled through Drax's veins.
He didn't flinch.
Before the clash, a thought crossed his mind—brief, clinical.
Hunters… E to F are your street cleaners. D and C are the workforce. B starts touching real power. A is elite. S can level districts. SS wipes small cities. SSS uproots nations. Unmeasurable… that's where anomalies live.
Monsters followed a similar hierarchy, but with slight variation depending on inner world compatibility.
This serpent?
It wasn't just S-rank.
Its mana density alone screamed High S, bordering SS.
Not on Ragaroth's level… yet deadly to anyone else.
Drax exhaled, and the ground frosted over in a thin layer of black mist.
And me? I just ranked "Unmeasurable" because these exams can't detect abyss.
The serpent struck first.
Both heads lunged simultaneously—one spitting purple flames, the other spewing corrosive gold mist.
Drax blurred.
He didn't dodge so much as slip between realities, his silhouette smearing into black smoke. When he reformed, he was already beneath the serpent's massive body.
His hand tightened around the abyss-forged blade, the one birthed from the Black Tree itself.
The metal hummed—alive, hungry.
"Abyssal Sword Arts, First Form…"
Drax swung upward, tracing a smooth and elegant arc.
"Hollow Rend."
The blade sliced through the serpent's belly like silk parting under warm fingers. No sound, no resistance—just a clean, devouring cut that left a trail of dissolving purple essence leaking into the air.
The serpent screamed, both heads releasing a guttural, distorted shriek.
Isis watched, stunned.
"T-That strike… it ignored its scales…"
Drax didn't even look at him.
"Of course it did," he murmured. "I don't swing to scratch. I swing to consume."
His sword style wasn't borrowed, inherited, or taught.
It was born.
The Abyssal Sword Arts were instinctive—growing with him, matching the abyssal world inside him.
Each slash held three properties:
1. Essence Drain – every cut siphoned the life force of whatever it touched.
2. Defense Ignorance – defenses became suggestions, not rules.
3. Passive Devouring – the abyss ate, always.
Right now, the art was incomplete—rough, embryonic.
But even an incomplete abyss was endless.
The serpent flailed in agony, wings smashing pillars, heads twisting furiously.
Golden head:
"—FILTH! MORTAL!—"
Amethyst head:
"—YOU DARE CARVE THE DIVINE?—"
Drax raised an eyebrow.
"Divine? You? Don't make me laugh."
He dashed forward, boots cracking the ground. The serpent unleashed a tidal wave of mana—too thick to breathe, too heavy to stand.
Drax walked through it like smoke drifting through fingers.
The purple head fired a beam of pure mana. Drax tilted his head slightly; the beam grazed his cheek and detonated behind him.
He didn't stop smiling.
Good. Strong enemies keep me from getting bored.
He leapt onto the serpent's back, sliding between its scales with eerie grace.
The beast slammed itself into the walls, rolling violently, trying to crush him off.
But Drax crawled along its body effortlessly, as if weightless.
The golden head twisted back, jaws snapping toward him.
Drax slammed his palm on its snout.
"Abyssal Combat—Devour Pulse."
A black shockwave erupted from his hand.
Not explosive. Not loud.
Just… consuming.
The golden head convulsed violently, its luminous scales dimming as its essence poured into Drax's arm in smoke-like tendrils.
His eyes deepened to bottomless obsidian.
"Shh," he whispered. "I'm eating."
The serpent thrashed wildly, both heads screaming in panic.
Isis swallowed.
"…He's not human."
Every second Drax absorbed essence, his body lightened, sharpened.
His senses expanded.
His pulse synced with the abyss.
More. Give me more. Keep struggling. The abyss grows on conflict.
His arrogance sharpened into something coldly radiant.
The amethyst head cast a barrage of spells—shards of crystalline mana, chains of binding energy, lightning infused with demonic runes.
Drax sliced through them all with lazy precision.
His blade sang.
It only grew hungrier.
The serpent coiled its body, gathering mana into both mouths—twin beams building to catastrophic levels.
Drax sighed.
"Loud. Messy. Let me end this."
He kicked off the serpent's back, shooting into the air, abyssal mist swirling around him.
He raised his sword.
"Abyssal Sword Arts—Second Form…"
The mist gathered, compressing, sharpening, turning the blade into a pitch-black crescent of starless night.
"Void Guillotine."
He brought the sword down.
Silence.
Light vanished.
Air collapsed.
Then—
A crater erupted where the serpent once stood, pulverized into nothing.
Both heads fell in opposite directions, dissolving into black dust as the abyss consumed the remains.
Drax landed, casually dusting his sleeves.
The dungeon trembled, essence rushing toward him like a whirlpool.
He inhaled once.
The abyss fed.
Isis peeked from his hiding spot, voice trembling:
"…H-Hey… Drax…? Are… are you still human?"
Drax sheathed the devouring blade, looking almost bored.
"Human enough," he said. "For now."
He turned, walking deeper into the collapsing dungeon.
No army.
No backup.
Just him.
I don't need anyone. My abyss grows best alone.
And like a shadow dressed in elegance, he continued forward—
hungry, arrogant, unstoppable.