CHAPTER 30: FOURTH IMPACT

A few days later, Grimstone University.

Only two days remained until the deadline for the graduation projects.

Like students in every world, these soon-to-be graduates carried both hope and despair in their hearts. Some had already succeeded, while Others were still struggling against the clock. Of the countless students, only about half had managed to bury the alien armies sent against them in their divine worlds before their cores were shattered.

Whether it was a world of steel and machinery, of clockwork and steam, or of magic and sword, every divine domain had faced the same trials. Three waves of invasion. Three escalating catastrophes.

And in each world, the students proved their stubborn spirit. Elves, humans, beasts, and stranger races alike, many of them had sacrificed themselves, again and again, to get even the smallest chance of survival.

"This is truly the happiest time of the year," Vice Principal Warren said, his face unusually bright with satisfaction as he spoke before the other tutors.

"The number of completed projects this year is far higher than the last," he added.

"There are thousands of them!"

The other tutors echoed his delight.

"For some reason, this year’s completion rate is the highest we’ve ever seen."

"In my eyes, every student has a brilliant future ahead."

"I’ve heard many already planning their careers. It feels like our teaching has finally borne fruit."

"Don’t forget, it was teamwork! All of us together."

Their voices overlapped, cheerful and self-congratulatory, until Warren suddenly let out a quiet sigh.

It was nothing, just a breath, but in the noisy room every tutor froze. A ripple of unease passed through them.

"Not every..." Warren murmured. His gaze turned heavy. "Among this class, there is one student whose future none of us can predict."

They knew who he meant. There was no need for names. Among all the graduates, one truly stood apart.

"It seems," Warren said at last, "that today... it is time to begin the Fourth impact, the final trial."

He lifted his eyes toward the mountain beyond the university.

"Cillian... may you overcome it."

⸻x————-

Cillian’s thoughts snapped back from the Endless Abyss.

Without hesitation, he rose from his dormitory bed and walked toward the assessment grounds.

All around him, the halls were alive with celebration. Students were laughing, singing, and toasting their survival. Yet here and there were also sighs, lamentations for the worlds that had fallen, and all the projects that had failed.

As Cillian passed, someone noticed him. Then another. In moments, dozens of eyes had turned.

The rumor had already spread through Grimstone like wildfire: Cillian was going to attempt the final assessment.

Whispers followed him down the corridors.

The disbelief was almost universal. Many were envious, some jealous, others openly hostile. A few pitied him. And buried beneath it all, from only a handful of voices, came a faint thread of encouragement.

Cillian ignored it all, he kept his gaze stayed steady.

When he entered the assessment hall, he did not hesitate. With a thought, he summoned the Endless Abyss.

This time, it appeared differently. Not with its usual violence, Instead, the Abyss manifested as a black-red vortex, completely still, like stagnant water pooling in infinite depth.

A staff member approached nervously and pushed a great construct forward. From the center of the hall, a massive artificial world bloomed outward, wrapped in golden mist. Its brilliance filled the chamber with light.

The final trial had begun.

"It’s about to start," Warren said, and like the other tutors, he activated the scrying image that would show them the battle live.

This time they would not only see the data. They would watch the struggle itself, as though through a window into Cillian’s world.

"Come on, boy..." Warren whispered.

In the principal’s office, Elara Everheart stirred from her seat. Her twin star eyes opened.

"So it begins," she said softly. A smile curved her lips.

"Though I still wonder why you insist on this path... I must admit, your project is unlike any other."

Her fingers tapped the arm of her chair. "Then show me. If you are ready to risk everything, let me at least see the true depths of your low-born world."

—————-x———————

A golden passage burst open on the edge of the Abyss. Brilliant fog streamed through it like a blade pressing against the throat of his world.

The strength of the assessment world was finally revealing itself.

"Wait, what is that...?"

"Something’s wrong with the conditions!"

Before their eyes, the Abyss stirred. The still vortex churned and its silence broke. From the depths of black and red, a tide of movement erupted.

Tentacles, vast and wide, twisted, hideous, thrust upward from the dark whirlpool, clawing toward the golden world. The Endless Abyss, once like stagnant water, now writhed like a starving beast.

It did not defend against the invading world, instead, it’s lunged.

The Abyss coiled itself around its prey with ruthless hunger, binding the golden world as if to drag it screaming into darkness.

And within the man-made world, the summoned warriors who had been crafted to invade and destroy foreign domains faltered. At the very moment they prepared to strike, they heard it.

A low whisper.

A voice from a lower dimension, rising from the Abyss, curling into their ears like poison.

A shadow gripped their hearts.

Laughter echoed in that whisper, cruel and amused, the voice of the will that ruled the twisted dark.

"Who," it asked, "dares disturb the Abyss?"

⸻———x——————

"Damn..."

The moment Cillian’s whisper reached them, every warrior gathered within the assessment world felt an invisible shadow pressing over their heads. It was unlike anything they had ever experienced.

In the past, when they invaded other divine worlds, the transition through the channel was predictable. The warriors would always carry with them the familiar scent of their own home, the fragrance of elven flowers, the bitter smoke of dwarven steel, the warm aroma of human grain, the high mountain air of the dragon race.

Those scents gave them confidence, reminded them of the world they were defending, and of the glory waiting for them when they returned.

But this time was different.

The fragrance of their own world was vanishing. Instead, another scent crept in. A Thick, rotten stench of decay.

The soldiers began whispering, nervously glancing at one another.

"What’s going on...?"

The elven commander at the front frowned. His name was Elrond, a legendary figure who had lived for three thousand years, a conqueror of worlds who had shattered no less than ten cores with his own hands.

Yet even for him, this was the first time. The proud elves, who bathed themselves in beauty and purity, could hardly endure the stench.

"I don’t know, Elrond," said the human standing beside him. The man was enormous, nearly four meters tall, with a voice like low a rumble. "But don’t trouble yourself with the smell. The great angels gave us one order: destroy that world. Nothing else matters."

His presence was overwhelming, his words steady, and Elrond bowed his head slightly in respect. This was Marshal Thales, supreme commander of the army, hand-picked by the angels themselves. He could crush Elrond with one hand, and the elf knew it.

"As you command, Marshal Thales," Elrond said solemnly. "By the decree of the angels, this world will be destroyed. With no limit to our strength, victory is certain."

Thales nodded, though his expression did not change. His gaze stretched down the golden passage ahead. In a few seconds, millions of soldiers would flood into the alien world.

That would be his moment, the chance to lead an army into the heart of another realm, to slaughter everything that lived there, and to crack the world’s shining core beneath his heel.

That was the promise of the angels. Those who brought worlds to ruin would return crowned in glory, their names remembered in legend. Even Thales, hardened by countless campaigns, felt his heart stir at the thought.

"Steady," he whispered to himself. "Do not lose focus before battle."

But just as he forced his mind into calm, the change came.

A scream tore from the front ranks of the orc warriors. Panic surged through the channel.

"Silence!" Thales roared. "Have you forgotten discipline, you—"

His voice broke off.

His eyes widened. His heart pounded.

The golden passage was collapsing. The flow of their transmission faltered. At the far end of the channel, corruption spread. As darkness seeped in.

"What...?!" Thales gasped.

The stench grew stronger. The tide surged faster and It spread past Elrond and Thales in an instant, rolling backward through the channel. The soldiers gagged, some clutching their throats as if to claw the stench away.

And then the fog came, a black mist that veiled everything. The orcs at the front vanished into it.

"Enemy attack!" Thales bellowed. He spurred his warhorse forward, charging toward the dark fog to rally his men. Behind him, the army scrambled into formation, weapons raised.

But before they could advance, something emerged.

An orc’s arm reached out of the fog. It trembled, groping forward as though the warrior had lost his way in the dark. A sliver of relief spread through the soldiers, someone was coming out.

Then silence fell.

What stepped into view was not an orc.

It was an Original demon, gnawing on the orc’s corpse. Behind it, thousands of lesser demons poured forth, their eyes gleaming with hunger. They squabbled and shrieked, fighting over scraps of blood and flesh, but when they saw the army before them, millions of soldiers, living, breathing, and shining with life-force, their bickering ceased.

Every warrior in the passage saw it. The malice in their eyes and the greed behind their twisted smiles.

"Charge!" Thales roared. His blade gleamed, and he spurred his mount into the fog.

The army followed.

⸻——-x————

"This war..."

Cillian’s voice was low, echoing from the depths of the Endless Abyss.

"The first rules that must be broken are the laws of space."

At the bottom of the Abyss, he looked upward into the unseen sky. From his back stretched countless dark veins, pulsing and writhing, rooted into the depths of the world. They shifted like living cords, feeding, drawing, distorting.

"Only by warping these laws," he whispered, "can the abyssal creatures pierce the walls of their plane."

His words rippled outward, and the truth of the assessment world revealed itself.

It was a colossal ring of thirteen planets, each one unique, and alive. On every world, entire races had risen, elves and beasts, mortals and titans, all growing their civilizations around treasures and wonders. At the center of the ring shone a planet of pure white, bright as a diamond, around which the others turned in silent orbit.

It was beautiful. Impossibly beautiful.

But beauty was fleeting.

As the mentors and observers gazed in on, black marks began to spread across the thirteen planets, tiny at first but unmistakably the stains of the Abyss.

And at the bottom of that Abyss, Cillian smiled.