Prince of The Abyss

The dojo stood apart from its surroundings, built on cleared ground where the forest thinned and the terrain leveled. Its structure was wide rather than tall, low to the ground, designed for stability instead of presence. Stone formed the foundation, rough blocks fitted together without decoration, while the upper structure was built from dark wood reinforced with iron brackets at the corners.

The roof sloped gently on all sides, layered with heavy tiles dulled by age and weather. Moss had begun to gather between them, especially near the edges where rainwater settled. Thick beams supported the overhang, casting shade along the outer walls. Lantern hooks were fixed beneath the roofline, evenly spaced, though most were unlit.

The entrance faced forward, marked by a broad set of stone steps worn smooth at the center from repeated use. Two wooden doors stood open, tall and plain, their surfaces scarred by scratches and dents that had never been repaired. No symbols or banners hung above them. Nothing announced the place beyond its construction.

Inside, the main hall opened into a wide training space. The floor was made of polished wood, maintained carefully despite visible signs of wear. Long scrape marks crossed its surface, some shallow, others deep enough to catch the light. The wood creaked faintly under pressure, but held firm.

The walls were lined with vertical support beams, evenly spaced, each darkened by age and sweat. Weapon racks rested between them, holding training blades, wooden staffs, and dulled metal weapons arranged with strict order. Each item had its place. None were decorative.

Along one side of the hall, simple benches were fixed to the wall, their surfaces worn down by years of use. Above them hung no mirrors, only empty space and exposed beams. The air carried a faint scent of wood, oil, and old iron.

At the far end of the hall stood a raised platform, no more than a step higher than the floor. It was empty. The wood there was cleaner, less scarred, and maintained more carefully than the rest of the room. Behind it, the wall was bare stone, unadorned and solid.

Side rooms branched off from the main space. One held storage for equipment, shelves stacked with wraps, weights, and maintenance tools. Another contained a wash area, stone basins carved directly into the floor, with channels leading water away through narrow drains.

Light entered through narrow windows set high in the walls, positioned to avoid distraction. Sunlight filtered in at sharp angles, casting long, clean lines across the floor. Dust moved slowly in the air, visible only where the light passed through.

There was no excess here. No comfort added beyond necessity. Everything in the dojo existed for training, endurance, and repetition. The space felt used, not abandoned. Maintained, but never softened.

...

Where even was he right now? In a random dojo inside a forest. How did he even get here?

This place was empty; no one was here, it was abandoned, so what was he supposed to do now? Continue to walk through the forest, but what if there wasn’t anything else? What if this small dojo were all that this forest had? Sure, he could just walk beyond the forest, maybe to the mountains; he knew that if he did, he was bound to find something; it was why he was so confident in going into the forest; he didn’t want to miss what might be inside.

And he hated to go against himself, but what if everything else he found was like this dojo? What would that get him? It would just waste more time.

...Trials are usually challenged in teams, with at least two people. It isn’t a rule, but because of the sheer difficulty, having someone with you helps you stay sane. But he was all alone, and this time he really was alone. In Frozen Crown, he had entered alone, but quickly found Avrie and Elpis, and even after they died, he found Azel.

Then the book he entered with his Rebellion, while they weren’t helping him because of the whole spell thing, they were still there, plus, he had found the story’s original hero, so even then, he wasn’t alone.

...

He never expected this to come over him, and at such a random time.

Maybe it was because the dojo was so quiet that the voices inside his head were louder, but he had spent almost half of his life... alone. No one he had made meet had stayed with him; they had either died or couldn’t stay with him. Just like the people from the Tides, they couldn’t come with him; he had to abandon them.

It was sad.

That he only people that have been with him was a God that wanted to take his body over by breaking his mind. And a sword that knew a lot more than he could speak of.

...

He wanted a friend.

...

...

Aether shook his head, pinching his cheek slightly.

”Shut up, you idiot, it’s not the time! Plus, it’s better alone, that way your bane doesn’t weaken you... Just rest for now, and we’ll see tomorrow what to do.”

Aether slowly walked through the dojo until he found a room where many beds stood, all the same, laid out on the ground close to each other. This must have been where those who wanted to learn slept.

The beds didn’t look bad at all. Better than most he had seen in his life.

He lay down on one and let himself fall asleep, yet even in his sleep, he summoned Voidpiercer and clenched it in his hand; he wasn’t going to let his guard down. Not even in a dojo that seemed to be empty, after all, this place was full of weapons that could easily kill him.

The morning came quickly, maybe too quickly. He couldn’t say he was fully rested, maybe because at night he kept turning in his sleep, but he hadn’t gotten all his energy back.

Aether stood up, spacing out while looking at the door. He didn’t say anything; his mind was also blank, just staring at the door with a dumb face, and with saliva at the corner of his mouth, almost falling.

He stood there for a whole minute before he finally regained himself and walked outside the room.

He was ready to leave today, after all, he didn’t see a reason why he should stay any longer in this place. And on what he was going to do next... well, he just had to hope that the next would have something helpful.

Yet as Aether got to the main room, he stood in his tracks, as in the middle of the room stood a man.

His hair was brown and roughly styled in a small man bun, like an old tree that was faced up with a great winter. His bread, though, looked to be well-maintained, showing off the sharp features on his face quite well if he had to say himself.

The man was tall and broad at the shoulders; he didn’t seem like someone easy to take down, a tree that could just be chopped down.

The man wore a robe that was simple in cut but unmistakably deliberate. It hung heavy on his frame, made from layered fabric that had been reinforced over time rather than replaced. The outer cloth was dark, faded unevenly by sun and weather, with lighter creases along the folds where it bent and moved most often. It had been repaired more than once, the stitching visible if one looked closely, neat and precise, done by someone who valued function over appearance.

The sleeves were wide, but not loose. They narrowed slightly near the wrists, allowing freedom of movement without excess fabric getting in the way. Along the inner lining, the cloth was smoother, worn soft from constant contact with skin and sweat. The collar sat high around the neck, overlapping rather than opening, its edge frayed just enough to show its age.

A thick belt secured the robe at the waist, wrapped twice before being tied. The fabric there was darker, stained from years of pressure and use. The hem brushed the floor, marked with dust and faint scuffs, evidence of countless steps taken across wooden boards and stone alike.

But... at the wrists, the robe seemed to be burnt. And it wans’t the robe.

Aether took a horrified glance at the man’s hands, to see that they had been badly burnt, blackened like charcoal.

He looked back at the man’s face, to see that he had also noticed him, and seemed quite confused about how he got here, and what he was doing here.

There was an awkward silence, lasting a good time before the man spoke up.

”Did they send you here to finish me off? If so, then you shall know that you won’t be leaving this dojo alive, even if you harness a Will.”

The man quickly grabbed a rapier from the wall and took his stance, which also made Aether summon Voidpiercer again.

”What are you saying, old man? I don’t even have a Will.” He said, pointing the tip of his blade towards the man.

Which was skeptical at first, but then put the blade back.

”I believe you?”

Aether’s eyes widened.

”Really?”

’So fast?’

The man nodded.

”Yes... If you had a Will, you wouldn’t wield such a blade... a rapier.”

Aether tilted his head.

”And why is that?”

The man chuckled.

”Because those with strong Wills have long stopped using blades, relying on their powers...

The blade is the weapon of the Will-less.”