Chapter 10 ( Abyss Invasion ARC )

In the far west of the Land of Power lay Cinderfall, a dusty frontier town where miners clawed gold from 

jagged cliffs and traders hawked fire-forged trinkets under a scorching sun. The streets thrummed with life children chasing stray dogs, 

blacksmiths hammering rhythm into the air, merchants haggling over crates of shimmering ore. It was a simple place, 

hardy folk scratching out a living from the earth's fiery veins, until the ground betrayed them.

A tremor ripped through the cobblestones, and a massive fissure yawned open like a wound in the world. 

Black smoke billowed, carrying the stench of sulfur and rot. "Abyssal monsters!" a miner screamed, 

dropping his pickaxe as demons surged forth obsidian-skinned horrors with claws like molten hooks, red eyes gleaming with sadistic glee. 

They tore into the crowd, laughter bubbling from their jagged maws as they impaled merchants on spikes of shadow, 

ripped children from their mothers' arms, and painted the streets in sprays of crimson. The air filled with shrieks of terror and the wet crunch of flesh, 

the demons reveling in the massacre like it was a twisted festival.

Then, the mist rolled in unnatural, thick as fog from a dying volcano. It shrouded the chaos, muffling screams, 

until it began to burn. Wisps ignited in mid-air, curling into flames that devoured the haze itself. From the heart of the vanishing mist stepped a figure: 

Ragon, lean and weathered, his cloak singed at the edges, eyes like embers smoldering in a face etched with old scars. 

A massive sword hung sheathed across his back, untouched, as if forgotten. He stood there, unmoving, his presence alone radiating heat that warped the air around him.

"What’s so amusing?" Ragon asked, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder over a wildfire. "Why are you laughing?"

The demons paused mid-slaughter, their red eyes snapping toward him. A hive-like instinct surged through them no words, just raw hunger. 

As one, they abandoned their prey and charged, a tidal wave of claws and fangs, shrieking in unison. 

The ground trembled under their onslaught, black ichor dripping from their maws as they closed in.

Ragon didn’t flinch. Didn’t draw his sword. Didn’t even shift his stance. "I see," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. 

"You enjoy the kill? I’ve been lonely too long let’s share the joy." His eyes narrowed, and the air ignited.

SSSHHHHEEE

A deafening roar of flame and wind erupted not from his hands, not from a spell, but from the sheer force of his will. 

Invisible heat pulsed outward like a shockwave, coiling into serpents of white-hot fire that twisted through the horde. 

The first demons combusted mid-stride, their obsidian hides cracking like overheated stone before exploding into ash. 

The blaze chained, leaping from one to the next in a cascade of inferno claws melting to slag, eyes bursting like overripe coals, 

bodies reduced to cinders in heartbeats. The entire swarm, hundreds strong, vanished in a storm of embers, 

their laughter silenced forever. The fissure sealed with a hiss, smoke curling lazily from the scorched earth.

Ragon stood there, untouched, the ground around him blackened in a perfect circle. He sighed, kicking at a pile of ash that scattered like dust in the wind. 

"Done already? Where’s the fight? Where’s the joy?" His voice rose, edged with frustration. 

"Disappointing... Disappointing! Why do you all die so easily?" He glanced at his sheathed sword, a relic from days when battles meant sweat and steel, 

not effortless annihilation. The hell flames he’d mastered honed through years of grueling trials in forsaken pits had become his curse, robbing him of the thrill he craved.

From the ruins of Cinderfall, survivors emerged trembling miners with soot-streaked faces, a mother clutching her bloodied child, 

an elder leaning on a shattered cart. They stared at Ragon in awe and fear, whispers rippling through them like aftershocks.

 "He... he burned them all without moving," one gasped, dropping to his knees. "A demon slayer? Or a god?"

Ragon turned, his ember eyes softening for a flicker. He wasn’t here for thanks; a bounty on abyssal sightings had drawn him, 

promising a challenge that, once again, crumbled to nothing. "Get your wounded to safety," he said gruffly, tossing a pouch of gold from his cloak. 

"Rebuild. The fissures won’t stop coming." A young boy, wide-eyed and clutching a broken toy, stepped forward. "Mister... are you a hero?"

Ragon’s laugh was bitter, like crackling flames. "Heroes find glory. I just find ashes." He walked away, the sun dipping low, 

casting his shadow long over the smoldering town. But as he crested a hill, a distant rumble echoed not from the Abyss, but from something fiercer. 

A worthy battle? He quickened his pace, the hell flames stirring unbidden in his veins.

Far to the east, Sean gripped his frost-rimed katana, starry veins pulsing as he faced the beast before him. 

The Vivran, sleek and vicious, its needle-like scales glinting under the moon coiled like a living whip, eyes hungry for blood. 

It lunged, jaws gaping in a roar that shook the valley, and Sean braced for the clash, the Cosmic Dragon’s whisper urging him to unleash...

To be continued.