Chapter 216. The Abyss Guide
Noah stood amidst the swirling, obsidian mists of the Abyss, a realm where time felt like a stagnant pool and the very air tasted of ozone and ancient secrets. Here, in this desolate pocket of existence, the boundaries of reality frayed like the edges of a moth-eaten tapestry. He felt a strange, tingling pull toward the unknown—a premonition that perhaps this haunted dimension might offer a different brand of luck than the sun-drenched world he had left behind.
"Fortune favors the bold, or so they say," Noah murmured, his voice sounding hollow in the vast, echoing silence. He checked his internal reservoir; he had amassed a small fortune of essence, enough for two grand x10 summons, with a little left over to spare. If the gods of the system were kind, a third might even be within reach after he ransacked the bonus chests.
He rubbed his hands together, the friction a grounding sensation against the ethereal chill. "It's been an age since I've let the dice roll ten times in a row." A wry smile touched his lips as he glanced around the barren violet wasteland. He almost wished for a hot bath—to scrub away the dust of his journey and approach the altar of the system with a cleansed soul—but the Abyss offered no such luxuries.
Bracing himself, he summoned the shimmering interface. His fingers danced across the glowing icons, and with a decisive motion, he slammed the button for the ten-fold ritual.
Cling—!
The sound was sharp, like a crystal glass shattering on marble. In an instant, 6000 units of essence vanished from his inventory, consumed by the voracious mechanism of the summon. Above the panel, the air began to warp. A violent blue vortex tore itself open, spinning with a hypnotic, magnetic force that seemed to tug at Noah's very spirit.
He watched with bated breath. One... two... three...
Orbs of sapphire light shot out from the swirling heart of the storm, hovering in a neat line like captured stars. But Noah's gaze remained fixed on the center of the vortex. The common prizes were mere window dressing; he was hunting for something deeper, something that breathed.
Finally, as the sixth orb took its place, the seventh emerged. It did not stop to hover. Instead, it streaked toward him like a falling star, a streak of violet and gold that brooked no denial. Noah didn't flinch. He had felt this before—the weight of a soul pressing against his own. He closed his eyes as the light struck his brow, sinking deep into the recesses of his mind.
Suddenly, the Abyss around him vanished.
He was standing beneath a sun so fierce it turned the sky to white fire. This was ancient Shurima. He saw a boy, the only son of an aging merchant, born in the shadow of the great Sun Disc. The boy possessed a gift—or perhaps a curse—of sight. He could see the threads of the future before they were woven, yet for all his power, he was helpless as he watched his parents wither and die from a disease no medicine could touch.
Noah felt the boy's grief, then his hollow triumph as he used his visions to claw his way out of the slums. The rags of a beggar were replaced by the fine silks of a high-tier seer. The wealthy came in their gold-trimmed carriages, desperate to buy a glimpse of their destinies. The boy lived in luxury, yet his heart grew colder with every prophecy. He saw the rot beneath the gold—the endless cycle of greed, the suffering of the masses, and the inevitable violence of men.
Humanity was a broken machine, repeating its failures until the end of time.
Weary and disillusioned, the young seer abandoned his palace and his name. He wandered the desert until he reached the shattered ruins of Icathia, a city broken by a war that had defied the heavens themselves. He stood at the edge of a great, jagged rift and stared into the Maw of the world.
And the Abyss stared back.
In that darkness, the boy found the truth. A voice, ancient and multi-tonal, whispered secrets that would have driven a lesser man to madness. But the boy's gift allowed him to survive, his mind becoming a vessel for a strange, incomprehensible Void Energy. When he finally stepped out of the ruins, he was no longer human. He was a harbience of the end—a prophet who had seen the final silence and found it beautiful.
He finally understood why he could never see his own future. His fate was not written in the stars of Runeterra, but in the depths of the Void. He would be the one to lead the world to its inevitable, peaceful oblivion.
"Bow to the Void... or be consumed by it," the voice echoed in Noah's mind, chilling and absolute.
"Malzahar?" Noah whispered, rubbing his temples as the flood of memories slowed to a trickle.
He recognized the figure instantly. In the legends of the Rift, he was the Prophet of the Void, a powerful mage known by the mocking title of the "Abyss Guide."
The memories shifted to a terrifying vision: Malzahar standing before the tent-city of Bel'Veth. He watched as the Prophet tore open the sky, allowing the violet hunger to swallow the city whole, paving the way for the Empress of the Void herself—Bel'Veth.
Noah exhaled slowly, realizing that Malzahar hadn't just been a victim of the Void; he was its most devoted architect. He felt the weight of the Prophet's power settling into his bones. Unlike his earlier days, his mind didn't reel from the psychic feedback. Unless he was channeling a Star Sovereign or a Cosmic entity, his mental fortitude was now a fortress.
"To think that summoning in the Abyss would actually call forth its most faithful servant," Noah said, clenching his fists. He could feel the cold, pulsing rhythm of Void Energy flowing through his veins.
The template wasn't one of raw, earth-shaking physical might, but it was potent in its subtlety. Along with a heightened affinity for the Void, he gained the five signature arts of the Prophet:
[Passive: Void Shift] – A protective veil that shimmered with an otherworldly light. [Q: Call of the Void] – The power to tear twin rifts in reality, silencing all within. [W: Void Swarm] – The ability to call forth skittering horrors from the dark. [E: Malefic Visions] – A mental contagion that eroded the sanity of its victims. [R: Nether Grasp] – A beam of pure, suppressive void energy that anchored a soul to its doom.
But as he delved deeper into the Malzahar template, he felt a sixth sensation—a phantom limb of the mind. He focused his inner eye, and the purple mists of the Abyss before him suddenly buckled. Two rifts tore open, and a violent surge of energy collided in a miniature supernova.
Noah blinked, and the vision vanished. He was back in the still, silent Abyss.
"Was that... a glimpse of the future?"
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