Chapter 2: Into the Abyss
The world beyond the gate felt like a fever dream.
Cruz staggered through the alien landscape, each step a battle. His body ached from the wound he'd sustained in the first moments of his entrance—a monster, hidden in the shadows, had ambushed him. Its claws had torn deep into his side, leaving him weak and bleeding. The air was thick with the stench of unfamiliar beasts, and the sky above was a swirling canvas of colors that didn't belong in any natural world.
Days passed in a haze of pain and survival. Cruz found temporary shelter beneath an overhang of jagged rocks. The creatures roamed the landscape, but most kept their distance. He learned to move silently, to watch their habits. His strength returned slowly, and as the blood caked around his wound began to dry, he felt a strange sensation.
Not just physical healing, but something else—an awareness, a sense of being connected to the flow of time around him. It was subtle at first, like a whisper at the edge of his mind.
The monsters he encountered were unlike anything he'd ever imagined. Some were massive, hulking things with thick, armored hides and eyes that gleamed with malevolent intelligence. Others were small, quick, darting between the shadows, their claws clicking on the stone as they hunted in packs. Cruz avoided them as best he could, learning their patterns, studying the way they moved.
He couldn't keep hiding forever. Supplies were scarce, and he was growing weaker by the day. His wounds were healing, but he knew that if he didn't find a way to fight back, he wouldn't last much longer.
The memory of his father's sacrifice burned in his mind. He couldn't let his family down. Not again.
One evening, as the strange sun dipped below the horizon, casting the landscape in a deep crimson glow, Cruz made his decision. He'd been watching a small pack of creatures for several hours now—slender, reptilian things with elongated snouts and sharp teeth. They hunted in coordinated groups, but Cruz had noticed something: their leader, the largest of them, always moved slightly ahead of the others, signaling with clicks and hisses. If he could take down the leader, the pack might scatter.
Cruz waited until nightfall, his body tense with anticipation. He had no weapons, only the sharp rocks he'd managed to gather and the thin branches he'd fashioned into crude spears.
His heart pounded as he crept toward the pack, careful to stay downwind. He had to make this work. He had no other choice.
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The leader was close now, its eyes scanning the area for prey. Cruz tightened his grip on the makeshift spear, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
He'd learned their habits, studied their movements. He could do this.
With a sudden burst of energy, Cruz lunged forward, thrusting the spear toward the creature's exposed side. The spear struck true, piercing through its tough hide. The leader let out a screech, thrashing violently as it tried to dislodge the weapon, but Cruz held firm, driving the spear deeper with all his strength.
The other creatures hesitated, confused by the sudden attack. Without their leader's guidance, they faltered, unsure of what to do. Cruz used the moment to his advantage, grabbing a nearby rock and slamming it into the leader's head with a sickening crunch. The creature collapsed, twitching once before going still.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, as if on cue, the rest of the pack scattered, retreating into the darkness.
Cruz stood there, panting, his heart racing. He had done it. He had killed the leader. He had survived.
As the adrenaline began to fade, Cruz's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground. His body was trembling, a mix of exhaustion and disbelief. He'd fought a monster and won. He should have been dead—he had been weak, injured, alone. But something inside him had pushed him forward, something more than just the will to survive.
As he sat there, staring at the lifeless body of the creature before him, a strange sensation washed over him. Time seemed to slow, the world around him fading into the background. He could feel it again—that connection, that power deep within him. It wasn't just luck. It was something more.
Then, in the silence of the night, a message appeared before his eyes, glowing softly in the air like a hologram.
[Notice]:[USER HAS AWAKENED SKILL DESCENT OF PRIMUS]
Cruz blinked, trying to process what he was seeing. The words hung there, shimmering, as if waiting for him to understand their significance.
"Descent of Primus…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He had heard stories of people awakening skills, of gaining abilities tied to the primordial forces that governed the gates. But this—this felt different. It wasn't just a skill. It was a connection to something ancient, something powerful.
The message shifted, revealing more information.
[Descent of Primus – Rank F]Skill Type: Causality ManipulationEffect: User can accelerate or decelerate the flow of time around a target for a short duration.
Cruz stared in disbelief. Causality manipulation. It was tied to time. He hadn't just survived by chance—he had been altering the flow of time around him, even without realizing it. That's how he'd been able to anticipate the creatures' movements, how he'd managed to survive for so long despite his injuries.
A surge of excitement filled him. This was it. This was the power he'd been waiting for, the key to unlocking his potential. But as the excitement bubbled within him, a warning flashed across the screen.
[Warning: Overuse of skill may result in backlash. Use with caution.]
Cruz frowned. Backlash? He wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew he had to be careful. This power was dangerous, but it was also his only chance at survival.
As he sat there, the weight of the moment settling in, Cruz couldn't help but marvel at the possibilities. He had awakened. He had survived. And now, he had a power that could reshape the very fabric of reality.