Chapter 209: Chapter 210: The Hand of the AbyssThe hand fell.
It wasn’t fast—speed wasn’t the terror. It was inevitability. Every fraction of descent was accompanied by the groan of bending steel, the howl of collapsing towers, the scream of the abyss-born as their devotion twisted into agony.
Lin felt it not on his skin, but in his marrow. The air itself became a weight, pressing into his chest until each breath came jagged and raw. His knees trembled, bones cracking, chains whipping outward in a frenzy to hold him upright.
Around him, the others could barely move.
Min-joon was on his stomach, teeth gritted, clawing at the pavement as if dragging himself an inch closer might matter. Keller was half-slumped against a wrecked car, pistol still in his hand, his finger trembling against the trigger—but even he couldn’t lift the weapon now. The sheer weight of resonance crushed his aim.
Only Hwan stood, though "stood" was generous. His body shook violently, his arms spread wide as if embracing the collapse. His eyes gleamed with something unholy—adoration, hunger, maybe both.
"Yes," he rasped. "Yes! Break him, remake him, crown him!"
The abyss-born around them split apart, their bodies no longer able to contain resonance. They burst in gory clouds, ichor spilling down the broken streets like rivers. The stench was suffocating, metallic and burning, carried by the heat that radiated from the colossal fingers.
Lin roared.
Chains tore upward like skyscrapers themselves, slamming into the colossal hand. The first wave shattered instantly, shards of crimson raining back down. The second wave held for a heartbeat longer, groaning under impossible strain, before snapping like brittle glass.
But with each failure, Lin’s chains regrew.
He didn’t summon them—they erupted from him. His back split, his arms split, his chest bulged with veins of crimson fire. Chains poured from his very ribs, carving themselves into the asphalt, embedding into collapsed towers.
The hand pressed lower.
The ground cratered around him. Pavement buckled and peeled like paper, steel girders snapping in a chorus of destruction.
"Lin!" Min-joon’s voice was hoarse, his throat nearly torn raw. He forced himself up to his knees, blood streaking his face. "Don’t give in—don’t let it define you! You’re more than this!"
Lin couldn’t answer. His teeth ground until blood filled his mouth. His body shook violently, the chains twitching, splitting, doubling in number, wrapping tighter around the falling hand.
The colossus’s voice thundered again, low and resonant:
—BEAR IT.
The fingers flexed. The resonance deepened.
Lin screamed, a sound that tore through the world. His legs bent, joints popping, but he did not collapse. He shoved upward with everything, every chain anchoring, pulling, thrashing against the impossible weight. His chest heaved, each breath like swallowing knives.
Then—one chain cracked differently.
Not with failure. With evolution.
It gleamed brighter than the others, not crimson but black, swallowing light around it. The surface shifted, etched with runes that pulsed faintly. When it lashed against the abyss’s finger, the air itself howled as if split.
The colossal hand paused.
The resonance trembled—just slightly, but enough.
Lin gasped, recognizing it not as a gift but as something born from him. His resistance had shaped it. His refusal had given it form.
Another chain followed. Black, rune-etched, heavier, more defined. Then another.
For the first time, the abyss’s descent slowed.
Hwan fell to one knee, laughter shaking his frame. "Yes! That’s it! The abyss forges by pressure! Resist until your soul fractures, and you’ll emerge sharpened!"
Keller coughed blood, eyes wide. "That... thing is making him into a weapon."
Min-joon snarled through bloodied teeth. "No. He’s making himself into one."
The colossal hand pressed harder, testing. Buildings crumbled outward in shockwaves. Entire city blocks sank as foundations shattered. The horizon flickered, half-real, as if the world itself strained beneath the trial.
Lin planted his feet into the earth, chains spiraling into the ground like roots. He lifted both arms, muscles tearing under the effort, and screamed again. The black chains erupted in a storm, coiling around the massive fingers.
They didn’t shatter this time.
They held.
The colossus tilted its head, fire-crown blazing higher, its eyes—two pits of endless void—fixing solely on Lin.
—STILL YOU STAND.
The hand ceased descending. The weight lessened—slightly, but enough that Keller could breathe without choking, enough that Min-joon could drag himself closer. He grabbed Lin’s arm, grounding him with human touch.
"Don’t stop!" Min-joon shouted, voice breaking. "This isn’t about the abyss—it’s about you! Show it you can’t be broken!"
Lin’s vision blurred. His body was broken, chains digging through skin and bone, ichor and blood mixing down his torn chest. Yet Min-joon’s hand steadied him, pulling him back from the brink of surrender.
The abyss’s voice rumbled, colder now.
—THEN RISE.
The colossal hand opened.
Not in mercy. In escalation.
It swept upward—and then down again, faster, harder, enough to collapse entire towers in its path. The world convulsed.
Lin didn’t retreat. His black chains surged, hundreds now, twisting around one another until they formed a barrier of writhing runes. They collided with the abyss’s palm in a shockwave that cracked the night sky.
The barrier held.
Min-joon shielded his eyes as the brilliance seared the air. Keller clung to the wreckage of a car as debris rained. Hwan laughed madly, voice lost in the storm.
Lin roared one final time, his voice carrying through the chaos:
"I AM NOT YOUR CROWN!"
The black chains exploded upward, not to defend—but to strike. They lashed against the abyss’s palm, carving gashes of nothingness into its flesh. The colossus staggered back, its flames guttering.
For the first time... the abyss itself recoiled.
The resonance stuttered. The chanting echoes of the abyss-born faltered, their bodies collapsing lifelessly in heaps. The colossus leaned back, its vast frame shuddering as the crown upon its head dimmed slightly.
It regarded Lin in silence.
And then the voice rumbled, deeper than ever before:
—NOT YET.
The colossal form began to retreat, its flames dimming, its hand withdrawing into the void sky. The cracks in the city sealed not with healing but with silence. The abyss-born husks remained, twitching in death.
The resonance faded.
And Lin collapsed.
His chains withdrew violently, shredding the asphalt, coiling back into his body in a storm of agony. He screamed once before falling forward, caught barely by Min-joon’s arms. His chest still glowed faintly with the imprint of black runes.
The trial was not over. It had only begun.