The Void Scythe was reborn. It was now a war scythe, a vicious hybrid of a polearm and a reaper's blade, possessing the deadly reach of a trident and the sweeping arc of a scythe. Orion was deeply satisfied with his creation.

At that moment, the last of the Apocalypse Flame was siphoned into the weapon. The raw, soul-stuff of Orion's avatar began to rapidly regenerate, its power surging back with every passing second.

"You wretched insect! Judgment will find you!"

"I curse you with the soul of a Doomguard! You will be hunted by our kind for all eternity!"

"This will not end until one of us is dead!"

Having been compressed into the liquid essence of the weapon, Morvain knew there was no escape. A high-frequency, ear-splitting shriek of a curse emanated from the war scythe itself.

"I, Morvain of the Doomguard, offer my soul to the Lord of Ruin in the endless Abyss! I curse this foe to an eternity of damnation! May the flames of the apocalypse be his flesh and the pyre of his soul! May he find no release! This I swear on my immortal soul!"

As the final words of the curse echoed, Morvain's soul was consumed by the sacrificial pact, and he ceased to exist.

Instantly, a new, far more intense burst of green flame erupted from the war scythe, searing Orion's hand. At the same time, writhing, alien runes crawled out from the weapon, covering its entire surface in a heartbeat. The curse-runes were alive, squirming like tadpoles up Orion's arm, seeking to infect his very being.

A soul-pact… a true curse…

Orion's brow furrowed. A sliver of genuine fear touched him as he felt a majestic, soundless voice emanate from the runes—a presence like a silent thunderclap that resonated directly in his soul.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

A steady, rhythmic beat began to pulse from within his chest. It was the Heart of the Abyss and Titan Heart.

The moment the sound began, the curse-runes recoiled as if they had touched their natural predator. They scrambled back down his arm, retreating into the crimson-and-green steel of the war scythe. The weapon itself seemed to spasm, and the runes covering its surface ignited, consumed by the Apocalypse Flame. They didn't burn away; they were branded, cooled, and solidified into an intricate pattern of fiery sigils.

When the light faded, a work of terrible, beautiful art lay in Orion's hand.

"A relic," he breathed, recognizing the quality of the aura it now radiated. But he knew that wasn't right.

Morvain was just an archlord. The Apocalypse Flame he wielded could, at best, forge a legendary-tier item. But he had sacrificed his soul, bartering with the Lord of the Doomguard for a power far beyond his own. That power was meant to be Orion's damnation, but Morvain could never have predicted that his target possessed the Heart of the Abyss.

The curse, unable to touch Orion, had been repelled. With nowhere else to go, the immense power of the soul-pact had poured into the only available vessel: the weapon. It was a new, unexpected application of the Heart's power.

In a way, however, Morvain's curse had succeeded.

It had elevated the weapon to the status of a relic, forged in Orion's own Rule. And it had bound the weapon with an unbreakable enchantment. No one but Orion could ever wield it. Any who tried would be afflicted by the full force of the Doomguard's curse. Even if they somehow managed to bypass that, they would still be hunted.

For at that very moment, a single, inviolable command echoed in the mind of every Doomguard across the Abyss. It was the voice of their lord.

Find the bearer of the Flame Scythe. Eradicate him.

The effect was instantaneous. The surrounding Doomguard went berserk. They abandoned their previous targets, their eyes glowing with fanatical hatred as they charged madly toward Orion. But the Scourge Wardens, the legions of the damned, and the First Army formed a living wall, intercepting the frenzied assault and preventing them from reaching their commander.

Orion stood unmoved, the new war scythe held loosely in his hand. He was a king surveying his domain. He had expected this ambush; Eparus had warned him. In fact, he had welcomed it.

To conquer the Abyss, he needed more than just power. He needed a reputation built on the ashes of a powerful enemy, a legend that would draw the strongest and most ambitious followers to his banner. The Doomguard, a dominant power in the Abyss, were the perfect stepping stone.

This battle also served another purpose: it was a test. A test of the loyalty and strength of the Scourge Wardens against their sworn enemies. A test of the resolve of the Wraith Knights and the new First Army.

And so, having slain the archlord Morvain, Orion made no move to re-enter the fray. He simply watched, demanding that his followers prove themselves worthy of his cause.

***

Valkorath Realm, Soraya City.

The Orion avatar in the Purification Tower sat in perfect serenity, bathed in a holy light that seemed to wash away all impurity.

But within the bloodline of that placid form, the sealed Curse Cocoon was a storm of violent turmoil.

In that misty, crimson inner world, the Devouring Beast that was Orion's consciousness darted and weaved through a horde of curse monsters. There were too many. He couldn't stop, couldn't rest. All he could do was run, trying to sow chaos among them to buy himself precious seconds.

He was beginning to regret this entire venture. His spiritual energy was draining fast. Soon, he would be caught. Consumed.

It was then that a heartbeat began to echo through the unknown space. It was a sound from beyond, and yet from within his own soul, a steady, sonorous beat like a temple bell. The familiar rhythm, the familiar power… it was the Heart of the Abyss. Since fusing with his own Titan's heart, its power had grown, becoming something more.

Hearing it, he instinctively stopped running. The curse monsters swarmed him, a tide of claws and fangs.

But to Orion's astonishment, they didn't attack. They milled around him, a perimeter of chittering fear, unwilling to get any closer. He felt a sudden, profound shift in the dynamics. A moment ago, he was the mouse. Now, he was the lion.

A low, dangerous chuckle escaped the Devouring Beast.

Alright. Now it's my turn.

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