Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer
Chapter 93: King of the Abyss

Chapter 93: King of the Abyss

Isaac’s knees buckled. His arms hung loose. He couldn’t breathe.

Not from pain. Not from exhaustion. But from something heavier. Something deeper.

The moment the voice said, "Are you ready to know the truth?", something cracked inside him.

And then...

He fell.

Darkness.

—-----

When he opened his eyes, there was no forest. No

blood. No Hopper.

Only light. Endless, silent light. It wasn’t warm. But it wasn’t cold either.

A figure stood beside him, but Isaac couldn’t turn to see it.

He could only feel it. Like it had always been with him. Watching. Waiting.

Then the being’s voice came again. Calm. Steady. Neither cruel nor kind.

"This is Heaven. Not as the world imagines it... but as it truly is."

Isaac looked forward.

Angels floated through the sky like slow-moving stars.

Some sang in tongues he didn’t know but somehow understood. Their voices were layered, like echoes in harmony.

Others sparred in pairs, silent battles of blades and movement, graceful yet brutal.

The place was endless and clean. Structures of white and gold rose toward unseen ceilings.

No sun. No moon. Yet everything was bright.

Then Isaac saw it.

A great circle. A throne raised high above the others. Light poured from it, pure, and yet untouchable.

Beside it stood eight chairs, smaller in size, yet still immense. Their backs arched upward, and a strange script shimmered along their surfaces, writing Isaac had never seen before.

And yet...

He could read them.

One by one, his eyes traced the names.

Michael – Angel of Justice and Protection.

Gabriel – Angel of Revelation.

Raphael – Angel of Healing and Restoration.

Uriel – Flame of God.

Raguel – Angel of Prayer.

Remiel – Angel of Work and Reward.

Saraqaell – Angel of Blessings.

Seven names he had heard of before, carved in power and reverence.

But there was one more.

The final chair.

Set slightly apart.

Its glow... dimmer.

And on it:

Abaddon.

Isaac stared.

A chill slid through him. Not of fear... but understanding.

The voice returned.

"You were taught there were seven. That is what they wanted you to believe."

"But there were eight. There have always been eight."

Isaac stepped closer to the last chair.

The name burned slightly in his vision, not from heat, but from the weight of its meaning.

Abaddon – Angel of Destruction.

The chair was not broken. Not cracked.

But it was... untouched. Like no one had sat there in a long time.

Then, The vision shifted.

The sound of battle shook the skies.

Fire clashed with light. Wings burned in mid-air. The sky cracked under the pressure of divine weapons. Lucifer, the Morning Star, shone brighter than any angel. His words were smooth, his face unscarred. Behind him, a third of Heaven had joined his rebellion.

They did not scream in anger.

They moved with pride.

Lucifer flew forward. Sword raised. His voice echoed across Heaven.

"I will rise. I will sit above the throne. I will be like the Most High."

But Abaddon had already moved.

His blade found Lucifer’s wing. The blow was clean, but not cruel.

Lucifer fell, stunned. His light dimmed.

The battle ended soon after.

The rebels, wounded and silent, were gathered. Their forms, once beautiful, began to change. Their features twisted. Their wings burned. The presence of God, once warm, now rejected them.

They became the first demons.

God gave the command.

"Cast them into the Abyss."

And Abaddon obeyed.

He brought them down, one by one. Lucifer. Mammon. Baal. Astaroth. They did not resist him. Even as their forms collapsed into monstrous shapes, they remembered him, the sword that ended their pride.

Another scene followed.

Another time.

The world had changed.

Humans now walked the earth. And some angels, called the Watchers, had disobeyed. They took human women. They taught secrets not meant to be shared. They raised children called Nephilim, giants who consumed and destroyed.

God gave a second order.

"Capture them."

Again, it was Abaddon.

Azazel fought with black fire. Semjaza wept as he raised his sword. Belzebub laughed and mocked Heaven itself. But all were defeated.

The Watchers were chained in the deep, deeper even than the first demons. Their sins had poisoned the earth. They were not just traitors, they were corrupters.

And as the Abyss filled, as more and more twisted angels were locked away...

The angels hesitated.

No one wanted to guard that place.

No one wanted to stay there forever.

Until God spoke once more.

"Abaddon. You will go. You will watch. You will hold the keys."

Then the scene dimmed.

Abaddon stood alone at the gate of the Abyss.

He said nothing.

He looked up toward Heaven one last time.

The gates remained open.

God’s voice echoed, soft but distant.

"You are not like the others. You are my last wall."

Abaddon gave a small nod.

Then, without hesitation...

He descended into the dark.

And the gates behind him closed.

The Abyss was unlike anything he had ever known. There was no light. No sky. Only cold stone, whispering shadows, and an emptiness that refused to fade. The air was thick with despair, soaked in the cries of imprisoned souls. Even for an archangel, it was suffocating.

And yet...

He remained still.

God had chosen him.

He remembered the words, the calm voice, the trust in His eyes.

"This is where I need you."

Abaddon had not understood at first. Why him? Why here? He had fought faithfully, obeyed without question, and fulfilled every mission. The rebellion was crushed beneath his hand. The fallen were sealed.

But instead of rest, he was sent here.

The Abyss.

A place without time, without warmth.

A place far from God.

He felt sorrow. A quiet ache deep in his chest. But he did not question the order. He believed that if God had placed him here, there was a reason. Even if he didn’t yet know it.

Before He left, God had smiled at him. That memory stayed clear.

"Soon, you’ll know why."

And with those parting words, He gave Abaddon something no other angel had ever received, an army of his own.

Not of angels.

But of destruction.

Locusts.

The first swarm emerged from the cracks of the Abyss. They were unlike any creature Abaddon had seen, they were small but fierce, sharp, and relentless. They did not speak, but they listened. They obeyed. They answered only to him.

And in time, they became his sword.

His shield.

His kingdom.