The Fractured Abyss or ダンレツシンエン / ザ・フラクチャード・アビス

Chapter 8: Fall of Gold

The wind howled like a gutted animal, whipping ash and bone-dust across the cracked plain.

The ground was iron-hard, scarred with old blood that never quite washed away.

Jax stood in the middle of it, cigarette glowing like a tiny red star.

Suit half-burned, knife loose in his hand.

Valerian approached—golden armor catching the storm-light, blades orbiting in a perfect, hungry circle.

Mercy’s Edge half-drawn.

Eyes flat. Dead.

“Cur.”

Valerian’s voice cut through the wind like a guillotine.

“The Weaver doesn’t need two kings. Time to remove you.”

Jax took a long, slow drag. Exhaled through his nose. Smoke curled around his face like a noose.

“Who said I wanted to be king?” He flicked ash into the wind. “Who the fuck wants to rule this broken-down hellhole? No end. No point. Just chaos with better lighting.”

Valerian’s smile was a razor in silk.

“Exactly.” His voice dropped—dark, wet. “I’ll bring order. Clad the world in gold… or drown it in red.”

Jax’s knife twitched. Thumb on the guard.

“You don’t get it,” he said.“I know killers. I’ve been one.

Killed for a late payment. For a girl with a busted lip. But you?”

He took one step closer.

The blades tightened.

“You’re first-class. A-grade ocean-going psycho. You don’t kill for reason. You kill because the scream sounds like music.”

Valerian’s blades sang. High. Eager. Jax grinned. All teeth. All blood.

“Careful, Goldilocks,” he rasped. “Psychos don’t share thrones. They just bleed on them.”

Valerian’s hand closed on Mercy’s Edge.

Jax’s knife rose. The wind died. Two predators. One plain. No rules.

Mercy’s Edge flashed. Jax moved.

The first blade screamed past his ear.

The bowie answered.

Mercy’s Edge flashed—a golden comet.

Jax twisted. The blade shaved his cheek, took a strip of skin. He lunged. Bowie punched forward. CLANG.

Valerian parried with an orbiting blade. Steel screamed. Sparks rained. They crashed. Blades whirled.

Jax’s knife slashed across armor, carving gold curls.

Valerian’s swords stabbed one through Jax’s shoulder, pinned him.

Jax roared. Twisted the blade free. Blood gushed. He headbutted Valerian.

Nose crunched. Golden helmet dented. Valerian ripped the sword out.

Jax kicked his knee—CRACK. They dropped weapons. Blades clattered. Bowie spun away. Pure slugfest. Valerian swung. Fist like a hammer.

Jax’s jaw exploded—teeth flew. Jax answered—gut punch. Valerian doubled. Jax kneed his face. Valerian's helm came off, Blood sprayed.

They grappled. Rolling in dust. Fists pounding. Valerian choked Jax—thumbs in throat. Jax gouged eyes. Nails raked. Jax flipped him. Mounted. Fists rained—CRUNCH-CRUNCH-CRUNCH, Valerian bucked, Elbow to temple. Jax reeled. Valerian rose. Grabbed Jax’s arm. Snapped it backward. Bone popped. Jax screamed. Headbutted again. Foreheads split. Blood poured. They staggered up. Circling. Panting. Broken.

Valerian charged. Jax met him. CLOTHESLINE. Both down, Fists, Knees and Teeth.

Valerian bit Jax’s ear—ripped half off.

Jax punched through Valerian’s cheek—fist out the other side.

They rolled. Choking. Gouging. No weapons. No mercy. Just meat on meat. The plain drank their blood. Jax finally got the upper hand, straddling Valerian, then running his thumbs into his eyes, blood gushed out as the eyeballs squished under the pressure, Valerian screamed as Jax grabbed his knife and ran it into Valerian's throat

"Die quietly motherfucker" said Jax, Valerian gargled and choked as the knife peirced through his throat severing his cervical vertebrae, paralyzing him then Valerian died painfully, Jax hit the dirt hard,back slamming into cracked earth. Chest heaved like broken bellows. Blood poured from every hole.

He stared at the red sky, waiting for the dark to take him. It didn’t.

Valerian’s corpse jerked. Fingers clawed the ground. Bones cracked back into place. Mercy’s Edge rose from nothing, re-forged in black fire. Eyeless sockets bled shadow. Dark veins crawled under golden skin.

The body stood crooked, wrong. “I… must… rule… all.” The voice came from everywhere. From the Weaver’s throat. Jax laughed once, wet and ugly. Pushed himself up on one arm. Grabbed the bowie with the other.

Aura bled off him thick, black-white storm swirling the blade.

“Still talking, huh?” He spat blood. “Even dead you’re a narcissist.”

The corpse lunged. Mercy’s Edge screamed down. Jax moved. One step. One cut. The bowie carved upward clean. Steel met corrupted gold. Aura detonated in white fire. The blade split Valerian’s skull, crown to crotch, in a single perfect line. For one heartbeat the corpse hung, halves trembling, eyeless face still mouthing rule. Then it collapsed.

Flesh sloughed off bone. Bone cracked to dust. Dust caught the wind. Mercy’s Edge shattered mid-air, fragments raining like broken halos. Jax stood over the ashes. Knife dripping. Chest heaving slower now. He flicked the bowie once. Blood spun off in a red arc.

“Kingdom’s all yours, Your Highness.” He lit a cigarette off the last ember of golden armor. “Send me a postcard from hell.” The wind took the ashes. The plain stayed quiet. Jax turned and walked.

One less king in the world. Jax hit the ground like a dropped corpse. Blood pooled fast, black in the eclipse-light. His chest barely rose.

“Well… shit,” he rasped, voice a wet rattle. The cigarette fell from his lips, still burning, sizzling in his own blood.

Then the buzzing started. A million pissed-off hornets. A swarm of black-glass insects, no bigger than gnats, rose from the cracks in the earth. They dove straight into his wounds. Into split skin, into ruptured organs, into the shredded meat of his shoulder. Needles of fire and ice.

He laughed once, a broken sound, because pain was just Tuesday. Above him the swarm condensed. Took shape. A woman made of living metal and starlight. Liora Synthet. Her face flickered, too many eyes, too many mouths, all smiling the same plastic smile. Her voice came from the swarm itself, buzzing inside his skull.

YOU WILL BE FINE, MR KILLER.

Jax’s busted lips twitched. “Hah… fuck you too.”

The nanites burrowed deeper. Flesh knitted with wet pops. Bones ground back into place. Veins re-threaded like grotesque lace. Every nerve screamed. Every artery sealed. He felt his heart get stapled together, felt lungs re-inflate with a sickening slurp.

It hurt worse than dying. Jax closed his eyes. The buzzing became a lullaby. For the first time in thirty years, sleep came gentle.

The last thing he saw was Liora’s swarm-face leaning close, whispering in a voice like a million needles:

SLEEP NOW. THE WEAVER STILL NEEDS ITS FAVORITE TOY.

Then darkness. Deep. Peaceful. Macabre Frankenstein stitches holding a dead man together for one more round. Or perhaps a few more.

The others appeared, Kragthar the Unyeilding huffed "I wanted to rip that golden shit apart, seems the weakest of us has some skill" his voice boomed

"Valerian was a monster, you best watch yourself big guy" a shadow seemed to appear, its voice distorted like white noise, Mira the Voidwalker, was she staring at Jax or Kragthar? No one really knew but this was... The first stage.