In the beginning there was silence, and when creation tore light from the void, that silence did not die but lingered, patient, endless, and waiting. From ages of war and betrayal, from every unburied grief and unanswered prayer, the silence fed until it took form, a shadow that remembered every ending and carried within it the weight of all despair. The ancients knew it by many names, some calling it the starless night, others the abyss beneath reality, but all feared the same truth that this thing was not born, nor could it die, for it was the other half of creation itself. Sealed once by trembling gods who bound it beneath the bones of the world, it did not weaken but endured, watching, gathering, until the age of rot and decline came to pass. Now, with the heavens fractured and mortal empires collapsing under their own corruption, the silence rises once more, shaping itself into the Devouring Abyss. It does not come to rage, nor to conquer, but to finish what was always certain, for where there is life there must be death, and where there is beginning there must, in time, be an end.

They say the fifth floor of Kurohane Complex burned down twenty years ago. That no one survived. That the whole floor was sealed, and the key was thrown away. But some things don’t stay sealed. When you move into Unit 4B, you don’t expect much—just peace, quiet, and a chance to forget the past. The rent is low, the neighbors keep to themselves, and the building, though old, still stands. But on your first night, just as the clock hits 2:19 AM, you hear it. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Just above your ceiling. No one lives upstairs. At least, no one’s supposed to. The others in the building won’t talk about it. The landlord smiles too politely when you ask. And every night, the sound returns. You start to dream of a girl with hollow eyes and a crooked smile. She stands outside your door. And every night, she asks the same thing: “Will you stay with me… forever?” Kurohane Complex has been waiting. And now that you're here, it doesn’t plan to let you leave.

Intro: The Mark It started three nights ago. You woke in a rain-soaked alley, half-dead, blood in your mouth, and a glowing mark seared into your chest—an eye, staring wide from beneath your skin. You didn’t ask for it. But something chose you. Since then, nothing feels real. Lights flicker when you pass. Shadows move when you don’t. Strangers glance your way, then cross the street. Some whisper. Others run. You dream of a voice—cold, endless. > “You weren’t meant to survive. But I saw you.” --- Tonight, someone finds you. She calls herself Vira. Young, hooded, eyes sharp. > “You’ve been Marked,” she says. “By the Eye.” You ask what that means. > “It means you’ve been seen by something divine. It wants to use you. Guide you. Maybe ruin you.” She hands you a phone—old, cracked, yet glowing faintly in your hand. EYE STATUS: Unstable THREAD: Forming > “You have a choice,” she says. “You can obey it, fight it, or try to break the rules. But whatever you do... it’s watching.” --- Your first decision: 1. Accept – Embrace the Eye. Gain power, lose control. 2. Defy – Resist it. Keep your mind. Risk everything. 3. Question – Dig deeper. Find truths others fear. --- Vira turns away. > “If you live past tonight, find Chapel 8. But don’t look in any mirrors after midnight.” You ask why. > “Because you might not like what looks back.” --- The mark pulses. The air shifts. Something is watching. And now, All eyes are on you.

Scene – First Meeting: The Outskirts of Vael’Thar Rain fell hard on cracked stone and dead grass. The MC pulled their cloak tighter, approaching the lone figure by a shattered ruin—a tall knight in white, ears upright, blade drawn and stained black. The bodies of cursed beasts lay at his feet. “You alright?” the MC called out, not drawing their weapon. The knight turned. Red eyes narrowed beneath his helm. Silence. “I’m not here to fight you,” the MC said calmly. “I’m heading into the ruins. Looking for the shard.” “You speak to me as if I’m... human.” His voice was low, cautious. “I speak to you like a warrior who just took down half a pack on his own.” A long pause. Most would’ve flinched. Looked away. Reached for steel. But the MC didn’t. Sereth shifted his grip on the hilt, uncertain. “No slurs. No suspicion. No distance,” he muttered. “You’re either naive… or rare.” The MC smirked. “Or maybe I just judge by what I see. And right now, I see someone who survived.” Sereth looked away, rain dripping from his ears. For the first time in years… he didn’t know how to respond. “…Don’t follow me,” he finally said. “But don’t stay behind, either.” And with that, he turned toward the dark ruins. The MC followed.