I Ascend Alone-Chapter 98: SSS-Rank Dungeon Part XX

I whispered the name—ancient, carved into the foundation of abyssal sovereignty.

"Eclipse Requiem."

The air shattered.

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[ Skill Activated: Eclipse Requiem – Ultimate Abyssal Shot ]

– Combines the total destructive potential of the Abyss Monarch's power and Nox'Thalos.

– Upon release, unleashes a singularity arrow that tears through reality itself.

– Unadaptable. Unstoppable. Absolute.

– Cooldown: None.

-

The moment the name was spoken, the shadows exploded outward in a ring of silence—pure void devouring the sound itself.

My body glowed with abyssal sigils, and the bow hummed as three arrows formed: the Phantom Volley in full effect. But they weren't ordinary projections.

Each one carried a piece of my will, sharpened into oblivion.

The creature's grin vanished.

That's when I released the shot.

A trio of abyss-forged arrows screamed forth—black comets trailing tendrils of space-tearing pressure, their trajectories weaving through the air as if alive, bound to my intent.

They weren't aimed at its body.

They were aimed at its existence.

-

From the creature's perspective—what remained of the minds of Korthar, Tharog, and Maerion—there was a flicker of primal instinct. For the first time since their fusion, the twisted consciousness that now governed the entity felt fear.

A realization—that what stood before them was no longer just a being of power.

A singular monarch whose will bent reality, whose weapons were not forged—but born from the Abyss itself.

Their eyes—three fused into one jagged, glowing core—stared as my silhouette was framed against the writhing walls of the collapsing dungeon. Shadows coiled around me like reverent serpents, obeying a master they dared not resist.

And I hadn't even fired yet.

Still holding the draw, I took a step forward. The air rippled as my aura expanded, pressing against the creature like a tidal wave of judgment.

The tension in the bowstring could have ripped apart mountains, but I held it—steady, deliberate. Shadows howled across the battlefield, drawn into the arrow like rivers feeding a singular storm.

The creature stumbled back instinctively.

Its body—a grotesque amalgamation of abyssal flesh, shifting armor, and chained souls—began trembling. It tried to activate a defense. Chains formed, wings folded in. Magic circles ignited across its hide.

But nothing worked.

Its mana was already fading—poured too deep into fusion, into summoning, into adaptation. And worse

It knew this was the attack it couldn't adapt to.

"No..." the creature's voice rattled from deep within, a chorus of three sovereign-level egos merged and breaking. "No, this is not possible..."

The moment the string reached its apex, everything fell silent.

The dungeon—this realm of shadows and screams—stood frozen in reverent stillness.

Even the fused creature, that monstrosity formed of three Abyssal Keepers, stood rigid—its many limbs trembling, its grotesque core eye wide in disbelief. The magic that had once shimmered around its form now flickered like dying embers.

I let go.

FWOOOM.

The arrow left Nox'Thalos like a star ripped from the heavens. It didn't scream or roar. It devoured the very sound around it.

The projectile was a black lance forged of collapsing gravity and seething abyssal essence—cutting through space like a divine execution.

The ground cracked and the air buckled.

The creature could only stare. It didn't dodge. It didn't shield. Because It couldn't.

As the arrow closed in, time seemed to bend for the entity. Within the span of a second, it saw its own existence—every adaptation, every evolution, every ounce of stolen power—reflected in the void tip of that arrow.

And then "Who..." it rasped, voice echoing from its shattered psyche. "Who are you?!"

I didn't blink nor breathe. I simply answered, low and absolute—

"The Abyss."

KA-KRAAAAM! BOOOOOOOOOM!

The arrow struck the creature's core, and the entire dungeon convulsed.

A shockwave tore across the battlefield, splitting the obsidian floor into a crater hundreds of meters wide. A column of blackened light erupted upward, piercing the dungeon's ceiling with such force that it shattered the veined abyssal stone like glass.

The fused Keeper's body disintegrated in midair, unraveling like ash scattered through a hurricane. Its last scream didn't even echo—it was swallowed by the force of the shot.

And when the light finally dimmed, only I stood there, Nox'Thalos lowered, shadows still writhing around my form.

All across the fractured battlefield, silence reigned.

The dust from the crater still floated like weightless ash, glowing embers drifting through the dim light of the dungeon's core. But even they seemed to pause midair—held in suspense by what had just transpired.

Leon stood among the scattered remains of abyssal creatures, breath caught in his throat. His blade, dripping with black ichor, was lowered. His eyes wide.

"...He just..."

He couldn't finish.

Raiden, still crackling faintly with residual lightning, turned his head toward the blast zone. "That wasn't an attack," he muttered. "That was... judgment."

Ji Seong-Ho sheathed his swords slowly. His calm composure cracked, eyebrows raised, awe bleeding through his usually impassive expression. "That wasn't a technique I've ever seen in any archive."

Gabriel, high above the battlefield, descended slowly, the runes that circled his arms flickering with instability—like they had felt the shot rip through space. "Even my best incantations couldn't shape raw magic like that..."

Alexander Graves said nothing. He just clenched his fists tighter, molten stone crusting over his knuckles as he stared into the still-settling crater.

And far behind them, in the dungeon's rear line—among the surviving S-ranks and tactical staff—Christa was frozen in front of the main monitor outside the dungeon.

Her knuckles were white. The live feed from the sealed dungeon, once riddled with red warning runes and power-suppression alerts, now streamed only the aftermath of annihilation.

The techs behind her were silent. Their screens showed nothing but one thing: Abyss Signature Overload Detected. Threat Level: Unclassifiable.

"...Ryzen..." she whispered. There was no fear in her voice—only worry. "What did you become in there?"

No one answered. Because none of them could. Not now. Not after seeing that.