Artorias The Abysswalker Mga Nobela at Kwento

One sunny afternoon, as Liam and Jake enjoyed a leisurely stroll through a bustling city park, they stumbled upon a small outdoor art exhibition. Intrigued, they decided to explore the vibrant display of paintings and sculptures. As they admired the artwork, Liam's eyes were drawn to a particular painting—a mesmerising portrait of a mysterious woman with striking resemblance to Jake. The artist, a young and talented painter named Lucas, approached them, beaming with pride at his creation. "Ah, I see you've noticed my latest masterpiece," Lucas exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "This painting is inspired by the beauty and complexity of human relationships.

I'd fallen for this act for 20 years in my previous life. "Look at this," Zachary said, handing me a phone. "It was found in a hidden compartment in his luggage." The phone was flipped with photos tracking my daily movements. Recent ones showed my apartment building and the gym I frequented. Even worse was a folder labeled "Plan", which detailed my routines, medication schedule, and drafts of several "accidents" he'd been considering. One of the circled items was the slow‑acting toxin.

The beetles incinerated instantly, but the Archivist merely laughed—a dry, hacking sound. "You fight for a dying dream, little Weaver," the Archivist hissed. It raised its skull-staff, and the obsidian sand at its feet rose up, forming into hundreds of skeletal warriors. These weren't the echoes or the husks they had fought before; these were the **Ossified**, the remains of ancient warriors whose souls had been permanently bound to their bones. They moved with a terrifying, mechanical precision, their blades made of sharpened rib-bone.

"I told you. You are biological hardware. A single command line, and I can turn your hearts into stone." He walked over to me, his heavy boot stepping on my hand, grinding my fingers into the marble. I couldn't even feel the pain; my body was a useless, frozen shell. "Such a beautiful waste," he murmured, looking down at my torn clothing and the dark marks Arthur had left on my neck. "But your neural pathways are still intact. The harvest will proceed." "Let... her... go," Arthur choked out from the floor. He was fighting the override, his facial muscles twitching violently as he tried to force his hand to move toward his dropped weapon. The sheer, terrifying willpower radiating off him was

The Ardent Order hesitated—for the first time, uncertain. But the woman only laughed. “Then come, Heir. Show the world what it made when it tried to kill you.” And behind her, the rest of the world—vampires, ghosts, ancient beings—were already stirring. Because the Bloodbound Queen had risen. And nothing could stop what came next. ~~~ The fire still burned behind Alya’s eyes. She sat on the shattered edge of the altar chamber, her legs trembling beneath her, skin glowing faintly with the runes that had awoken inside her blood. The fight with the Ardent Order was over—for now—but not a single part of her felt victorious.

The abyss didn’t swallow Aria. It claimed her. The fall stopped so abruptly her lungs seized, suspended in a gravity that wasn’t gravity at all. The void around her peeled away like burning paper until only one thing remained: The colossal heart. Suspended in nothing. Carved from godbone. Pulsing with a light that hurt to look at. Its surface was covered in runes older than creation—fractured symbols, jagged marks, curved lines that looked like claws dragged through reality. They rearranged themselves fluidly as though searching for the language she could understand.

Hailey’s POV The thing stepping through the tear is not majestic. It is not glowing. It does not roar. It walks like it owns gravity. The Arctic wind dies instantly. The ocean stills mid-surge. Even the origin freezes. That is when I understand. Whatever is emerging now is above all of them. The Custodian’s obsidian ranks halt mid-attack. Thousands of black bodies suspend in the air like insects trapped in resin. A silhouette forms inside the rupture. Humanoid.

"They're giving us another chance." One by one, the other warriors rose. Not because the fear had disappeared. But because they refused to surrender to it. The Abyss roared. Its body split into thousands of rivers of darkness that rushed across the battlefield. Each stream transformed into a monstrous warrior wearing the face of someone the Gatekeepers had loved. Mothers. Fathers. Friends. Children. The army froze. No one could strike. Seraphine stared at the woman standing before her. "Mother..." Elyan whispered. "My brother..."

I took a breath, the scent of her—faint vanilla underlying the sharp smell of gun oil—anchoring me to the mission. ​"Two blocks," I rasped, forcing my focus back to the HUD. "The entrance is through an old silk press. If Arthur is still alive, he’ll be in the sub-basement." ​Arthur was a relic of a different era. He was a man who had once been the lead cryptographer for the Architects, a genius who had helped build the very foundations of the "Argus" AI—the global surveillance net that now hunted us. When the Architects tried to "retire" him with a bullet to the back of the head, he had vanished into the London underground, becoming a ghost-broker for anyone with enough gold to pay his price

A week has passed since she woke up from this world and with her is Tera a noble who was vanquished from nobelty from one of the destroyed empires that kneeled below the current emperor, her father, who have already captured lots of aristocratics who refused to yield towards him. "Princess..." the baby looked up and saw Tera's worried face hovering over her as she called out. The baby stretched her hands indicating for her to give her the bottle, no, more like demanding, putting the maiden Tera in daze as she subconciously obeyed the little princess. *sigh*