Depths of the Abyss (Part I)

After the comical mess Val made in the military vehicle, his team had been given more mission requests—not as assassins, but as a specialized elite squad.

Yet, at the back of Val's mind, the urgency to unlock the third layer of the magic seal in his left eye gnawed at him. He had felt its growing pains, the pulsing ache that sometimes led to inexplicable bleeding, leaving Bo, Riggs, and even Dr. Lewis and General Luis concerned.

He had brushed off their questions more than once, but a recent flare of searing pain left him unable to ignore it any longer.

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Returning from their latest mission, Val felt a sudden, scorching heat in his left eye, a warning that sent shivers down his spine and reverberated through every nerve.

In the underground basement of their HQ, the third ruin stone began to glow with an eerie, pulsating light, as if sensing the impending release of its power.

Unable to delay further, Val sought out Dr. Lewis. Entering his cluttered office, Val's expression was somber. "Doc, do you have anything that could minimize the effects when I unlock another magic seal?" he asked, his tone low and urgent.

Dr. Lewis glanced up, eyebrows raised as memories flickered of the past times Val had unlocked the previous seals, each time wreaking havoc and leaving destruction in its wake.

Hesitating for only a moment, Dr. Lewis's eyes softened with understanding. "I might be able to dampen the effects, but are you sure?" He searched Val's face, finding resolve buried under the tension.

Val's eyes shifted downward, a shadow cutting across his expression. "I have to be. The enemies are circling closer, and if I'm going to protect Clareo and those who matter, I need this power."

With a sharp nod, Dr. Lewis gestured for Val to follow. "We'll do it in the sub-basement, beneath even the hidden HQ. It should help muffle any... unintended outbursts."

Val followed silently, the rhythmic pulse of the ruin stone growing stronger. As they walked, Dr. Lewis added, "Is it just going to be the two of us?"

Val stopped, glancing away. "I don't want them to see me like that."

A beat of silence passed before Dr. Lewis turned, a hint of steel in his voice. "Is it that you don't want them to see, or that you don't trust them?"

Caught off guard, Val looked up, his usual confidence wavering. "It's not that—" he began, but Dr. Lewis cut him off with a curt, "We're here."

The heavy door groaned open, and light flooded the narrow hallway. Val squinted as his eyes adjusted. When his vision cleared, he took in the sight before him, mouth slightly agape.

Bo, Riggs, Fon, and even General Luis stood inside, some with knowing smirks, others with reassuring smiles. The silent message was clear: they were there to support him.

Val's eyes glistened, but he bowed his head, muttering a heartfelt, "Thank you," warmth seeping into the cracks of his guarded heart.

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Stepping inside, Val realized that calling it a basement was an understatement. The vast stone chamber resembled a cave, as expansive as a military hangar. The walls, carved from dark rock, seemed thick enough to mute whatever chaos might unfold.

Dr. Lewis directed Val to the center, where an intricate pattern of rune symbols was etched into the ground. The others lingered at the top of the staircase, their presence a mix of concern and determination.

"Doc, what are these?" Val called, nodding to the carvings as he approached the center.

Adjusting his glasses, Dr. Lewis replied, "When you first mentioned the ruin stones, I began researching. These runes are designed to channel the power, minimizing collateral damage."

Val hummed, his pulse quickening. He could feel an unseen force pulling him toward the stone, his left eye throbbing in time with the glow beneath his cloak. Deleo's presence whispered in the back of his mind, steady but watchful.

Taking the final steps into the circle, the stone's light intensified, synchronized with the pounding of his heartbeat. He took a deep breath, centering himself.

"Focus, Val," Deleo's voice resonated in his mind, steady yet taut with an edge of worry. "The seal's release will test everything. Stay grounded in who you are, no matter what you see."

Val closed his eyes, nodding, the reassurance of Deleo's presence a steadying balm. But a cruel hiss interrupted his focus, slithering into his consciousness like frost creeping over skin.

"Are you ready for the truth you've hidden from yourself, Val?" The Void's voice curled, dripping with venomous delight. "The agony Reinhart endured... yours will eclipse it."

A tremor ran through Val, but he kept his composure. He cast a last look at the figures watching him, then lifted his arm, brushing his fingers against the stone. Pain, sharp and unforgiving, shot through him, and the world blurred and shifted.

He fell to his knees, visions tearing through him—a storm of memories, jagged and foreign, crashing in waves.

"Val!" Deleo's voice cut through the cacophony, sharper, almost tangible. He appeared beside Val, cloaked in a deep, dark glow, outlined by jagged flashes of violet lightning. "This power... it broke Reinhart. It won't spare you unless you anchor yourself."

Blood seeped from Val's left eye as the seal began to peel back, releasing a torrent of spinning runes that whirled like a frenzied storm.

First Stage

In the swirling haze, Val's consciousness was swept into a torrent not of battles, but of Deleo's buried emotions—centuries of anguish and determination woven tightly into the fabric of the Bellator lineage.

For the first time, Val's empathic connection surged beyond its limits, an unrelenting wave that pulled him under. The barrier between himself and Deleo shattered, and he was plunged into the depths of Deleo's soul.

A suffocating sorrow crushed him, as if he were drowning in the grief of countless lifetimes. He felt Deleo's longing for freedom, the torment of watching each Bellator rise with hope and fall to despair.

Each moment of triumph was followed by devastating loss: the first Bellator, proud and fierce, brought low by betrayal; a successor, young and bright-eyed, silenced before his time; and finally, Reinhart, who had wielded unimaginable power but succumbed to the very void that sought to claim Val.

"Val, stay anchored," Deleo's voice cut through, steady but laced with an urgency that echoed through Val's mind. He spoke without knowing the storm Val now faced. "This path is forged by your strength, not the chains of those before you."

But Val was already lost in Deleo's heartache. He felt the crushing guilt of a guardian unable to change the fate of his hosts, the searing regret of powerless observation.

It wasn't just knowledge of emotions—it was as if Val was Deleo, standing in shadowed corners as his Bellators fell one by one, fighting battles too great for any mortal to withstand. The weight of centuries crushed him, suffocating, until tears, hot and stinging, welled and fell freely.

The pain was so vivid, so consuming, that it bled out into reality. Bo and Riggs, watching from the edge of the chamber, staggered as if struck, their breaths caught in their throats. General Luis clenched his jaw, sweat trickling down his temple as an unseen force wrenched at his chest. Fon's eyes filled with tears he couldn't explain, and he collapsed to his knees, a hand pressed over his heart.

"Hold on, Val!" Deleo's voice boomed, sharp with worry, unaware of the true nature of Val's struggle. "You must find yourself. Do not drown in what is not yours."

But Val's fingers clawed at the ground, muscles taut as steel, every nerve alive with the raw sorrow of the centuries.

The regret of every fallen Bellator seared through him: battles lost, screams of dying comrades, hands that reached out but found only emptiness.

The anguish welled up, threatening to unravel him, to steal away who he was and replace him with despair.

"Why?" Val whispered hoarsely, not sure if he spoke to Deleo or himself. "Why did it have to be this way? Why was there never peace?"

The answer came not from Deleo, but from within, a truth unburied by the empathy burning through him: the burden of power, and the consequence of standing against the Void.

Outside, the light around Val pulsed, and a crackling, violet energy spilled out, drawing gasps from those watching. The air thickened with the pain that radiated from Val's body. Dr. Lewis clenched the railing, barely able to keep his footing as waves of raw emotion swept over him.

Deleo's voice softened, though it trembled with an emotion he rarely let show. "Val, you are not them. You are you. Feel this, know this, but do not let it consume you."

The Void's presence slithered closer, a chilling whisper that cut through the torrent like a razor. "Embrace it, Val. This is your destiny, the agony that binds you to me."

Val gasped as if surfacing from deep water, but instead of relief, he was dragged deeper into another current, an unrelenting tide of Deleo's memories that had yet to release their hold.

The onslaught of raw, undiluted emotion—Deleo's emotions, centuries unfurled like a tapestry, threads woven with grief, hope, fury, and regret. They came not as distant memories, but as living experiences, enveloping Val with suffocating intensity.

First came the loneliness, an isolation that seemed infinite. Deleo's bond with each Bellator had been profound, yet fleeting.

Val felt the sorrow of each farewell, the weight of every fallen companion who had carried this burden before him. Each life extinguished echoed in his chest, the finality of their passing searing through his veins.

The regret was sharper than any blade, cutting deep as he shared Deleo's failure to prevent the inevitable—witnessing hope turn to ashes with each lost warrior.

A wave of anger surged next, a primal rage directed at the cycle that bound him. Val's muscles tensed as he was flooded with Deleo's simmering fury at the merciless dance of power and sacrifice. The rage wasn't just at the Void but at the universe that allowed such torment to exist.

Val felt his heart pound with Deleo's wrath, fierce and righteous, but edged with helplessness that splintered it into despair.

Despair came like a black tide, stretching across eons. Deleo's soul bore scars not just from battle but from watching hope dim over and over, the fire of defiance inevitably fading.

Val's vision blurred as he felt Deleo's deepest wound: the guilt. Guilt for surviving, for not being enough to shield those who carried the legacy. It coiled around him, relentless and suffocating, each heartbeat a reminder of loss that even time could not erode.

"Val," Deleo's voice was steadier now, though it vibrated with all the emotion coursing through him, "hold on to who you are."

Val's chest constricted, as if an iron vice clamped around his ribs, pressing with the weight of a thousand unshed tears.

He felt not just Deleo's emotions but their fusion with his own, blurring the line between them until he could no longer distinguish where one ended and the other began. A scream built in his throat, caught there as the agony became almost unbearable.

Beyond his consciousness, Bo, Riggs, Fon, and General Luis watched in horror. A wave of silent anguish swept through them, a shadow cast by the empathic overflow. The room seemed to shudder, the air thick with an indescribable grief that touched them all, leaving them momentarily paralyzed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

But amidst the torrent, Deleo's voice cut through again, an anchor in the chaos. "You are not just a vessel. You are more than that."

Val clung to the words, trembling as the storm reached a crescendo, pulling at the threads of his sanity. And just as he thought the pain would shatter him, it ebbed, leaving him breathless and suspended on the brink of understanding.

Will I be consumed, or will I rise?

In the fleeting silence after the storm, the glow in Val's left eye dimmed, a reprieve that felt fragile, like a flame wavering in the wind.

He slumped forward, muscles trembling with exhaustion as the pulse of emotions slowly receded, leaving a hollow ache in their place. The room was still, everyone holding their breath, waiting for what came next.

But a shiver ran up Val's spine, and in the dim light, a sinister whisper brushed against his ear, echoing from the corners of his mind.

"Your journey has only begun, Val," the Void purred. "This was but the first step."