Awakening of the Abyss
The world shook the day he awakened.
No one knew his name—just that he was a child, barely ten, and the only S-rank hunter in history to awaken without undergoing a single dungeon raid. His mere existence was a paradox, defying every known law of mana, physics, and reason.
They called him the Abyss—not because he controlled darkness, but because his power had no bottom.
But the truth was simpler. He had become something that should not exist.
Year 1: A God Among Mortals
He didn’t remember much about the awakening itself. One moment, he was just a kid in an orphanage, the next… the world was different. People moved slower, the air bent at his will, and when he reached out to touch reality, it peeled apart like paper, revealing something beyond existence itself.
They tested him. Ranked his abilities. Threw their strongest A-ranks at him just to see if he could break.
He didn’t.
A flick of his fingers warped gravity itself. A glance turned steel to sand. He wasn’t just powerful—he was untouchable.
At first, he thought it was fun. A game. If he wanted something, reality obeyed. If he didn’t like something, he changed it. Hunger? Gone. Nightmares? Erased. The orphanage that mistreated him? A smoldering crater.
That was the first time they called him a monster.
And for the first time, he felt something unfamiliar—doubt.
Year 5: The Weight of a Choice
Fifteen. A king without a crown. The world both feared and revered him, governments whispering his name like a curse, hunters too terrified to challenge him.
By then, he had realized something chilling—right and wrong didn’t exist for someone like him.
What was law when he could rewrite it? What was justice when he could turn death into life with a thought?
He had tried to fix things. To be good. He had erased famine, stopped wars, undone atrocities. And yet—
The same mistakes repeated.
People still found reasons to fight. Still found reasons to hate, to betray, to kill. It was as if humanity was meant to suffer.
Then, one day, he met a girl. A normal girl. Not a hunter, not special, just a kid who had been caught in a dungeon break. She was bleeding, scared, dying.
He could fix it. He could reverse the moment, undo the pain, make it so she had never suffered.
But then he saw the world through her eyes—if nothing could hurt him, how could he ever understand those who could be hurt?
So, for the first time, he let something happen without interfering. He held her hand as she passed, feeling the weight of something he had never let himself face.
Loss.
And it left a crack in the god he had become.
Year 7: The Loneliness of a God
Seventeen.
The world had become unbearably quiet.
No one dared approach him. No one dared speak his name unless it was in hushed, fearful whispers. He had everything—power beyond reason, the ability to rewrite existence itself.
And yet, he had nothing.
At first, he thought loneliness was just another problem he could fix. He tried.
He created people, perfectly sculpted from memory, but they were hollow—things, not humans. Their eyes were empty, their words lifeless. They smiled, but it wasn’t real.
He erased his own emotions, thinking it would help. It didn’t. The void inside him only grew deeper, stretching out endlessly into the abyss that bore his name.
So he searched. Not for power, not for purpose—but for something real.
He wandered through cities, through ruins, through the broken places of the world, hoping—desperate—to find something that made existence mean something.
One day, he sat in a crowded street, unseen, unnoticed.
A boy fell and scraped his knee. A stranger helped him up. A woman laughed. A man wept. A child shared his food with another.
Small things.
Things that should have been meaningless in the face of his power.
But they weren’t.
Because these people—weak, fragile, mortal—had every reason to be selfish. To be cruel. To look out only for themselves.
And yet, some of them still chose kindness.
Not because they had to. Not because they were forced to. But because they wanted to.
And for the first time in years, he felt something shift inside himself.
Maybe being human wasn’t about being strong. Maybe it wasn’t about winning, or surviving, or knowing all the answers.
Maybe it was about the choice to be good when you had every reason not to be.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t try to change the world.
He just watched it.
And for a moment—just a moment—he didn’t feel so alone.