Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in a land far away. Where God's eyes could not reach, that was where the monsters lived. They were forgotten, forever tormented by hunger, and they knew not what language was. In some tales told, they were the abandoned creations, and no one believed they truly existed.
People whispered that when God created the world, He experimented with countless forms before crafting perfect humans. Those failed experiments—creatures bearing bizarre shapes, incomplete—were cast away by Him, exiled to the land of the dead, where there was no light, no warmth, no hymns of praise. They lived in the Abyss of Despair, where time did not flow, where darkness reigned eternal.
And the only thing that existed alongside them was hunger.
The eternal hunger. It was not like human hunger, that could be soothed with a piece of bread or a sip of water. Their hunger was the most primal instinct, the screaming from the depths of their cells, the emptiness that nothing could fill. It made them devour everything: earth and stones, tree roots, the dry bones of creatures who had wandered in and starved before finding their way out. When there was nothing left to eat, they turned to gnawing on themselves, chewing on their own rotting flesh only for it to grow back, in an endless, painful cycle.
They had no names. No memories. No future.
Only the present—vast, dark, and hungry.
Until one day, a man appeared.
He recklessly crossed towering mountains, majestic and treacherous, rivers vast as oceans with currents so fierce they could swallow anything daring to pass. Those who accompanied him had all died along the way—some falling into chasms, some swept away by currents, some driven mad by the thick fog and slitting their own throats. Yet he remained confident, leisurely beholding the reward of his journey without sparing a thought for those who had perished. He thought: Dead means I won't have to pay them wages anymore. Turns out I'm actually ahead.
His name was Eladio.
Before becoming the first to set foot in the Abyss of Despair and survive, Eladio had been a slave trader in the southern coastal region. He made his living by purchasing debtors, children sold from impoverished villages, then bringing them to fairs, to docks, where wealthy plantation owners sought cheap labor. The business was profitable, but also risky. And Eladio had one flaw: he believed in luck. He believed that with one winning hand, he wouldn't have to spend months hunting for slaves. He believed fate owed him a chance.
Fate repaid him by taking everything.
That night, on a floating gambling den at sea, where old ships were pieced together into a chaotic floating market, Eladio bet all the money from his last shipment. He lost. He borrowed from loan sharks to recover. He lost again. By the time the debtors kicked him out of the gambling den with boots to his backside, Eladio had nothing left but the clothes on his back and empty hands.
He lay among discarded wooden crates on the moldy pier, listening to the waves and the distant ringing of ship bells. His stomach growled with hunger. But that was merely human hunger—the kind one could endure, the kind one could forget by sleeping it off.
And then he heard the old sailor's voice.
The voice was hoarse, raspy as if filled with water. The old man was speaking to a fat merchant sitting on a crate, smoking a cigarette, his eyes glittering with contempt.
– I swear to God, those creatures are real! – The one-eyed sailor said, his trembling hand holding out an old leather map. – Here, I took it from a village chief up north. Before I burned that damn village to the ground, the old man clutched this leather like his own child. I interrogated the survivors, they said it was forbidden land, home to creatures abandoned by God. Buy it from me, you'll be rich!
The merchant blew smoke into the old man's face, sneering:
– They say mermaids are real too. Then dragons, elves, and all sorts. Old man, you're drunk. Get lost before I call someone.
– No! – The old sailor fell to his knees, his voice choked with despair. – I lost my ship, my whole crew in the storm. I have nothing left. This map is all I have. Buy it, I just need enough money to...
– To buy more booze? – The merchant stood, grinding his cigarette under his heel. – Get out, you mangy sewer rat.
A flash of madness lit up the old sailor's remaining eye. He drew a knife hidden in his sleeve and lunged at the merchant. But the merchant had already drawn his pistol. A dry gunshot rang out across the empty night pier.
The old sailor fell. Blood gushed from his chest, soaking the wooden planks, dripping into the sea. The merchant looked at the corpse with disgust, wiped his hands with a handkerchief, and tossed it into the water. He walked away without looking back.
Eladio sat up from among the crates. He waited a moment longer, making sure no one else was around, then slowly approached. He had no intention of helping or showing pity. He only wanted to search the corpse, find something valuable.
When he turned the old sailor over, the dead man's eyes were still wide open in shock, his mouth agape as if about to scream something. But Eladio didn't look at his face. He looked at the leather map lying beneath the old man's chest, where blood had soaked through.
The leather was changing.
The faint lines that had been there before were now sharp, glimmering like gold under the moonlight. A land depicted in charcoal strokes, but more importantly—strange shapes, unlike any creature he had ever seen, were appearing as if etched by fire. And scrawled in the bottom corner: The Abyss of Despair—where God does not look.
Eladio smiled. His first smile in many days.
He picked up the map, tucked it into his shirt, and began his journey.
How long the journey lasted, Eladio himself could not remember. In these lands, the sun and moon alternated bizarrely; sometimes a day lasted a week, sometimes night engulfed everything for months. The men he had hired gradually perished: some died of hunger, some of cold, some from things that could not be named in the thick fog. But Eladio kept walking. He had the map, he had the belief that what he sought would return him to a life of wealth.
When he pitched his final tent on the barren, dead earth, there was no one left around him. The last of his men had expired the night before. Eladio pulled the tarp over the corpses, thinking: No wages to pay, and I save on rations too.
And then he felt them.
Not with his eyes, not with his ears. But with something deeper, more primal—as if his skin knew it was being watched. Eladio looked up. The darkness around his tent was no ordinary darkness. It was alive. It was thick. And within it, hundreds of flickering flames in every color: green, blazing red, orange-yellow, violet-black.
The eyes of the monsters.
They had been watching him since he first set foot in this land. A strange creature, carrying the warmth of life, bearing the scent of flesh they had not tasted since the dawn of time. The hunger within them roared, but instinctive caution held them back. This one was different. He was not afraid. He came by choice, not by accident.
Eladio stood straight, arms at his sides, his voice calm as if speaking to ordinary people:
– I know you, forgotten creatures.
One green eye slowly narrowed. Then from the darkness, a voice emerged—hoarse, halting, as if the speaker had just learned to form sounds:
– You... who are you?
Eladio smiled. He knew he had won.
– I am Eladio. I have come to make you an offer. You are tormented by eternal hunger, are you not?
Silence. The flames stopped flickering, all focused on him.
– I have a simple deal. You work for me. In return, I provide food. Three times a day, every day. You will never have to worry about soothing your hunger again.
In the darkness, the creatures began to stir. They understood each word, but the concept of "work" was foreign. They had never done anything except exist and eat. But "three times a day"—that, they understood. That was the only thing they understood.
The green eyes spoke again:
– How long?
– Forever, if you wish. – Eladio spread his arms. – I will take you from this dead place, to a world with light, with endless food. You only need to do as I say.
The flames whispered among themselves in a wordless language. The hunger within them screamed, urged them on. How much longer before this Abyss consumed them entirely? How much longer before they became dry skeletons, forever wandering in darkness?
Finally, the green eyes separated from the crowd, approaching Eladio. In the faint light from the lantern hanging before the tent, its form began to emerge: a slender, tall body, greyish skin shimmering like fish scales. Its face had no nose, no mouth—only enormous eyes and a faint slit below, from which the sound emanated.
That slit opened, and the voice spoke:
– Wonderful.
Behind it, the flames flickered in unison, as if applauding in the darkness.
Eladio bowed his head, his smile widening.
The deal was struck.