Shadow slave: Sovereign of the Unknown

The Nightmare Begins

The city trembled.

The moment the Nightmare Spell activated, an eerie silence fell over the streets. Ash stood on the rooftop of an abandoned building, his crimson gaze scanning the darkness below. Faint, glowing runes shimmered on the bodies of countless people—those chosen for the First Nightmare.

And then, one by one, they began to vanish.

Dragged into the unknown.

A pulse of energy surged through Ash's body, but unlike the others, he remained grounded. He knew why. He had already been marked.

The First Nightmare wasn't calling him. His fate had already been decided the moment he transmigrated.

Still, he wasn't idle.

This was a turning point in history. The moment when countless Awakened would rise—and just as many would die.

And he had every intention of taking advantage of it.

---

The City's Descent into Chaos

Within minutes, the streets were in turmoil.

Without warning, those who hadn't been chosen began to move—hunters, criminals, and those seeking to claim power for themselves.

The first to act were the scavengers—mercenaries and rogue Awakened looking for vulnerable prey. Some hunted for potential recruits, others sought to eliminate future competition before they could return from the First Nightmare stronger.

Ash watched from above as several Awakened intercepted a young woman who had just returned to reality—disoriented, confused, and unaware of the danger she was in.

A group of three surrounded her, their intent clear.

She wouldn't last.

Tch. Opportunistic rats.

Ash's fingers curled around the hilt of his sword.

He didn't need to get involved. Interfering now wouldn't benefit him.

But… something inside him resisted that logic.

His body moved before his mind had finished processing the decision.

---

Predator Among Predators

A figure dropped from above, landing between the girl and the attackers.

The sudden intrusion caught them off guard. The tallest of the three—a muscular man with a jagged scar across his cheek—stepped forward.

"Who the hell are you?"

Ash didn't answer. There was no need.

Instead, he moved.

Phantom Rend.

The first strike came in an instant. His blade blurred, slicing through the air faster than the human eye could track.

Blood sprayed. The man never even had a chance to react.

The second attacker lunged forward in panic, swinging a rusted machete toward Ash's side.

He was too slow.

Ash shifted, his body flowing with an unnatural smoothness as he weaved through the strike—Predator's Conquest already adapting to their movements.

His foot snapped out, striking the man's knee with brutal force. A sickening crack echoed in the night.

The last attacker hesitated, his hands trembling as he took a step back. Fear overtook him.

Ash met his eyes.

"Leave," he said, voice calm but firm. "Or die."

The man didn't hesitate. He turned and ran.

---

A Reputation Begins to Form

The young woman collapsed to her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "W-What just…?"

Ash didn't respond immediately. He wiped the blood from his blade, his expression unreadable.

He had acted on instinct. He told himself it was just to test his abilities—but deep down, he knew better.

This world was cruel. And he wouldn't stand idly by while the strong preyed on the weak.

He turned, prepared to leave.

"Wait!" The girl called out, struggling to her feet. "Who are you?"

Ash didn't look back.

"Just a passerby."

And then, like a shadow, he disappeared into the night.

---

Whispers in the Dark

News of the event spread quickly.

A mysterious figure had intervened during the chaos, effortlessly cutting down those who sought to exploit the newly Awakened. Some called him a rogue hunter, others believed he was a mercenary.

But one thing was clear—he was not to be underestimated.

And in the depths of the underworld, where power dictated survival, whispers of a nameless swordsman began to circulate.

A new force had entered the game.

And soon… everyone would take notice. The Aftermath

Ash moved through the darkened streets, his footsteps light against the cracked pavement. The wind carried the scent of blood and smoke, mixing with the distant sound of sirens.

The city was shifting.

With the Nightmare Spell activating, the balance of power had begun to change. New Awakened would return, some stronger than ever, others broken beyond repair. And in their absence, the predators of this world had started moving.

Ash had already encountered a few of them.

Scavengers. Warlords. Criminal syndicates.

Each seeking to control the flow of power, to eliminate threats before they could grow.

He was no different.

Except, unlike them, he had no interest in ruling.

Only surviving.

And for that, he needed strength.

---

Abyssal Dominion Expands

Ash paused in an alleyway, his body tensing as his ability activated.

Abyssal Dominion.

A faint, oppressive aura pulsed outward, pressing into the environment like a silent, unseen force. In this place, where he had fought and killed, his power grew stronger.

The air felt heavier. His steps more fluid.

It wasn't a major increase—not yet. But it was there, subtle and undeniable.

And the more battles he won, the more this dominion would spread.

He was laying the foundation for something greater.

But he needed more.

More battles. More victories.

And more enemies.

---

A Target Appears

He didn't have to wait long.

The distant echo of footsteps drew his attention. Not one set, but many.

Twelve. No—thirteen people. Armed. Coordinated.

A hunting party.

Ash shifted, moving deeper into the alley's shadows. He had seen them earlier—one of the rising factions preying on the weak.

Their leader was an Awakened. Low-tier, but dangerous.

If he took them down, he could absorb their stats and push himself further.

His grip tightened on his sword.

This would be a good test.

---

The Ambush

Ash positioned himself at the alley's exit, waiting. His breathing slowed, muscles relaxed, every fiber of his being focused.

The first figure entered.

A man with a crude battle axe slung over his shoulder.

He didn't see Ash until it was too late.

Phantom Rend.

The blade flickered, cutting through flesh and bone in an instant. Blood splattered across the alley walls.

Before the body even hit the ground, Ash moved again.

The second man had time to react—barely. He stumbled back, reaching for his weapon, but Ash was already upon him.

Abyss Fang.

A delayed slash. The moment the enemy thought he had avoided the attack, the wound appeared.

His throat split open. A wet gurgle escaped his lips before he collapsed.

Panic spread through the group.

"Enemy!" someone shouted.

Too late.

Ash was already among them.

---

The Execution

What followed was a massacre.

Ash weaved through the hunters like a shadow, his blade striking with precise, brutal efficiency.

Every swing, every step—refined, perfected.

His Predator's Conquest took effect instantly, adapting to their movements, countering their techniques. What worked against them once would never work again.

The remaining survivors tried to flee.

Ash let them run.

Not out of mercy—but to spread fear.

---

The Weight of Power

As the last body fell, Ash exhaled slowly. His heartbeat was steady. His mind clear.

He felt it—the growth.

Sovereign of the Abyss absorbed their stats, feeding his strength bit by bit.

Abyssal Dominion expanded further, the oppressive aura deepening in the space around him.

This was his path.

Not just to survive—but to become something more.

He cleaned his blade, the cold steel reflecting the crimson-stained ground.

Tonight was only the beginning.

The hunt would continue.