Two days later…

Cillian sat cross-legged in his dormitory while outside the halls of Grimstone rang with noise. The other students were celebrating their graduation, music and cheers echoing through the courtyards. But Cillian was not interested thoughts were elsewhere, sunken into the Endless Abyss. He let his mind dive deep, inspecting the changes that had taken root in his divine world.

The Abyss had shifted greatly in a short time.

The first change came from the system's reward, the establishment of the Ring of the Seven Deadly Sins, and even Cillian had not expected the gift to be so potent.

The Endless Abyss transformed as the black and red vortex on its outer layer reshaped into seven massive rings. Each one burned with corruption, as it slowly circled.

Unlike the Ring of Virtue from the assessment world, these new rings were not a stabilizing core. They were not meant to protect, guide, or reinforce balance.

The Seven Rings of Sin were a law of hunger. They accelerated the growth of every creature in the Abyss by deepening the very thing that made them monsters, desire.

Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, gluttony and lust.

Each ring pulsed, sending its influence through the abyssal planes. The glow of temptation entered every creature's heart, tugging their instincts deeper into sin.

At the bottom of the Abyss, upon the Dark Throne, Cillian watched. His divine sight swept across the endless landscape, noting how the rings warped life is the abyss.

He saw a little ordinary demon, long tormented by a devil. In a fit of rage, it smashed its tormentors skull into pulp. But the victory brought no peace. Instead, its rage twisted into envy. Turning, it attacked another devil it had always despised, tearing and devouring it alive.

Demons which had been bred for slavery as lesser beings were going against their entire genetic design

Each act of violence fed the rings. And each indulgence in sin made the little demon stronger. Unknowingly, it reached the level of a fifth-stage demon, its power growing madder with every kill.

Cillian narrowed his eyes. The illumination from the rings had barely touched the creature, yet already it was climbing beyond its blood's natural shackles. And this was only one example. Across the Abyss, countless demons grew at frightening speed, drawn into their sins like moths to fire.

"Every living being touched by the Rings will drown in desire," Cillian murmured. "And those with the strongest cravings… will evolve into something new."

He shifted his vision, and in his view came a monster born of lust.

Its form was unspeakable. A living mass of flesh and growths, worshiped by countless twisted beasts. It emitted waves of temptation, luring anything that could sense it, male, female, shapeless, even those without flesh. Creatures of every race and form stumbled into its domain, hypnotized. They fought, clawed, and sacrificed themselves in an endless carnival of madness.

The monster fed on them, twisted them into puppets, and grew stronger. Its grotesque mass of sarcomas and pustules warped further, becoming a form that unsettled the mind simply by existing. Even a glimpse of it in thought filled one with unease.

It had gained a name whispered in Abyssal speech: Laktovia.

When Cillian's gaze fell upon it, the carnival ceased. The monster's body bent low in reverence, acknowledging its master.

Cillian studied it with interest. Once, it had been nothing more than an ordinary abyssal plant, useful only for multiplying endlessly. Yet under the Ring of Lust's corruption, it had become this abomination, a nexus of temptation and power.

"Good," Cillian whispered. "When you grow, the dominion of lust will belong to you."

Satisfied, he turned his vision elsewhere.

Now his sight fell on another—Gratney.

Once a demon larva, now a monstrosity larger than dragons. Its hunger was endless. It devoured everything, stone, metal, sea, air, flesh, even demons of legendary might. Its body swelled with every bite, its strength climbing endlessly. Cillian watched as a demon near the peak of the legendary realm was chewed into minced meat within its mountain-crushing jaws.

The Abyssal tongue had named it well. Gratney, the Endless Glutton.

Yet no matter how much it consumed, its hunger never eased. It would never stop, never evolve into anything more, only devour until the end of time.

Cillian sighed but let it be. Hunger itself was a weapon, and Gratney would serve as one.

But his attention soon drifted from monsters to something far stranger, Something, if he was being honest, was not expecting to appear in the abyss, because it was not something born of instinct, but of will.

Civilization.

Among the chaos of the Abyss, where logic should not exist, a crude form of hierarchy was forming. Primitive laws, bloodline hierarchies, cruel orders carved in blood. Some demons had even begun tapping into true names, born from the echo of Cillian's rise as a god.

The Abyss, born of corruption and madness, was giving birth to order of its own—order drenched in cruelty.

Cillian leaned back on his throne, eyes narrowing as he studied the sparks of this grotesque civilization.

"In the Abyss…"

"Can a civilization last?"

"Is it possible to built civilization on the back of sin and corruption?"

These were the questions circling in Cillian's mind.

He believed it was possible. After all, when souls fell into the Endless Abyss, they carried remnants of the worlds they once belonged to. Knowledge, habits, tools, memories, seeds of civilization scattered into the dark.

Given time, those seeds might sprout, even if it poisoned soil.

And contrary to what one might believe chaos itself made it possible. The nature of the Abyss was contradiction, rules bent, broke, and got rewritten.

Nothing could be entirely denied, just as nothing could be entirely affirmed. Out of such instability, new orders could emerge.

From the Dark Throne at the bottom of the Abyss, he watched through divine sight. His gaze swept across countless planes, following the daily existence of those trapped within his creation.

On one plane, formed of fragments from an elf world mixed with shards of a dwarven realm, hammers rang out through a canyon.

Ding-bang!

Ding-bang!

The sound echoed endlessly. Skinny dwarves, half-starved and shackled, labored with crude tools, sparks leaping off the anvils.

These were the so-called "lucky ones," survivors when their homeworlds were swallowed. But their survival was misery. No freedom awaited them, only slavery.

"Cough! Cough!" A dwarf collapsed, choking on the foul air.

Crack! A whip tore across his back.

"Work!" the overseer bellowed in abyssal tongue.

It was not a demon who wielded the whip, but another dwarf, his eyes bloodshot, face twisted with corruption. He lashed his kin mercilessly, driving them to continue.

"Today you forge forty suits of armor and one hundred blades!" he shouted, this time dwarvish. "Fail, and I choose ten of you at random. Ten to be thrown into the mire of man-eating worms. You will be devoured alive, screaming until your lungs are gone!"

The dwarves trembled, hammers striking faster. They had seen it before. The bones of the condemned still hung in the canyon as warning.

When the overseer had finished, he turned and knelt before his own master, an armored demon of legendary strength. Its body was plated in twisted steel, its dozens of arms wielding blades, axes, and chains. From beneath its iron helm, a garbled voice rasped:

"Hurry… forge… weapons… attack… or slaves… die!"

Thousands of dwarves were forced to labor for this demon, forging armor and weapons to feed its armies. With each conquest, it gathered more slaves, then with each slave, its forges burned hotter.

And it was not alone. Across the Abyss, similar patterns emerged. Survivors from fallen races, dwarves, goblins, gnomes, even fragments of once-great civilizations, were captured, broken, and forced into servitude. Their knowledge of craft and war, twisted by necessity, spread through demon ranks.

Slavery birthed something new: a warped civilization.

Settlements rose from chaos—primitive strongholds ruled by demons, sustained by slaves. Twisted hierarchies formed. Cruel systems of survival took root, Technology, once meant to create ease of life, now forged weapons of conquest.

Among them, some races adapted faster. Drow elves, their beauty tainted by darkness, abandoned what they had once been.

Under the will of a rising leader, a drow matron named Rose, they gathered strength, ambition burning in her every gesture.

And In the Abyss, her people began carving their own place, no longer only prey.

Cillian leaned back on his throne. A faint smile touched his lips.

"Even in filth, sparks of civilization are born. These sparks will enrich the Abyss. They will give it teeth and structure."

He shifted his gaze. On another plane, a demon was undergoing transformation. Its strength had reached the tenth stage. Now it clawed toward legendary .

Cillian felt the shift. The demon's sea of mind brushed faintly against the Abyss itself, tethered to its core. A droplet of abyssal blood seeped into its soul, twisting its being further. Its power surged.

This was no accident. Since Cillian's ascension as a lower god, the Abyss had evolved. One of its new laws was simple: every demon who reached the threshold of legend would be infused with abyssal blood, whether they willed it or not. This corruption bestowed new abilities, tying them eternally to the Abyss.

Even more, demons could ascend multiple times, stacking bloodlines from countless fallen ancestors. Each advance made them stronger, and more obedient.

And so, the old categories of demons unraveled. In their place, a new hierarchy formed, judged by true names. The more true names a demon claimed, the higher its status.

The system was crude and unfinished, but it was something new, an almost demonic order.

Cillian studied it in silence. Even he could not predict what creatures would emerge from this storm of bloodlines and names. But it pleased him.

"The Abyss has gained more than I expected," he whispered. "Resources. Strength. And now, even a primitive civilization."

His eyes closed.

"System," he commanded. "Verify this formula."

And into the system, he poured his next creation.

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