Chapter 4 004

The Velvet Abyss was not a place on any official map.

It existed beneath the glittering underbelly of Blackspire City — a sprawling network of converted subway tunnels and abandoned industrial bunkers where the city’s elite came to satisfy their most depraved desires. Human auctions. Blood sports. Private torture chambers. All hidden behind layers of bribes, armed guards, and state-of-the-art security.

Nyxor’s stealth jet landed on a private rooftop helipad three blocks away under the cover of night. He stepped out into the pouring rain, his black tactical coat blending into the darkness. Vesper Kane and twelve of his most elite shadow operatives followed silently behind him.

“My King,” Vesper said quietly, checking his wrist device. “We’ve hacked their outer security grid. The auction is already underway. Level B-7. They’re selling the ‘premium stock’ tonight.”

Nyxor’s jaw tightened. “Elara?”

“No confirmed visual yet. But the bidding for the newest ‘young female lot’ started twenty minutes ago. The current bid is already at eight million credits.”

Nyxor said nothing. His eyes burned with abyssal fury.

They moved like death itself.

Two guards at the hidden service entrance never saw them coming. Nyxor snapped the first one’s neck before he could draw his weapon. Vesper silenced the second with a knife through the throat. The bodies were dragged into the shadows and the team slipped inside.

The deeper they descended, the louder the depravity became.

Muffled screams. Drunken laughter. The sickening sound of flesh being auctioned like cattle.

They reached the observation level above the main auction hall. Nyxor crouched at the railing, looking down.

The hall was packed with the worst kind of people — wealthy criminals, corrupt politicians, foreign warlords, and masked degenerates. In the center stood a raised circular platform bathed in harsh red light. Girls and young women in chains were being paraded one by one.

Nyxor’s blood turned to ice when he saw her.

Elara.

She stood on the platform, wrists chained above her head, wearing nothing but a thin white dress that had been torn in several places. Her face was bruised. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she kept her head high, refusing to break completely. A metal collar with glowing numbers was locked around her neck — Lot 47.

The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“Lot 47! Freshly acquired. Eighteen years old. Virgin. Excellent condition despite some… disciplinary measures. Current bid — nine point two million credits! Do I hear ten?”

Hands went up across the room. Bids climbed rapidly.

Nyxor’s hands gripped the railing so hard the metal bent.

“Vesper,” he said, voice deathly calm. “Seal the exits. No one leaves alive.”

Vesper nodded. “And you, my King?”

Nyxor stood up slowly.

“I’m going down there.”

He dropped from the second-floor railing without hesitation, landing in the middle of the auction floor like a demon descending from hell. The impact cracked the concrete beneath his boots.

The entire hall went silent for half a second.

Then chaos erupted.

Guards shouted. Weapons were drawn. Guests screamed and scrambled for cover.

Nyxor walked straight toward the platform, ignoring the dozens of guns now pointed at him.

“Release my sister,” he said, voice carrying across the entire hall like grinding ice. “Now.”

The auctioneer, a skinny man in an expensive suit, laughed nervously. “Security! Remove this madman immediately!”

Six armed guards opened fire.

Nyxor moved like a shadow given form. He weaved between the bullets with terrifying precision, closing the distance in seconds. His fist shattered the first guard’s ribcage. A spinning kick snapped the second man’s spine. He grabbed the third by the face and slammed his head into the concrete floor with enough force to crack the ground.

Gunfire filled the hall. Nyxor didn’t stop.

He reached the platform in less than ten seconds. With one brutal pull, he tore the chains holding Elara apart. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

“N-Nyxor…?”

“I’m here,” he whispered, holding her close for a brief moment. “You’re safe now.”

But the moment was short.

Hundreds of armed men were pouring into the hall from every entrance. The real security force of The Velvet Abyss had arrived — elite mercenaries working directly for the Voss Family.

A deep, mocking voice echoed through the speakers.

“Well, well. The Abyssal King himself graces us with his presence.”

A large screen above the stage flickered to life.

Seraphine Voss appeared on the feed. Beautiful. Cold. Cruel. She sat in a luxurious office, smiling like a predator who had just trapped its prey.

“You really came running the moment your precious little sister was in danger. How touching.” She laughed softly. “But you’ve made a grave mistake, Nyxor Raventhorn. The Velvet Abyss is my domain. You and your men will die here tonight.”

Nyxor gently pushed Elara behind him, shielding her with his body. His eyes burned with pure murder as he stared at Seraphine’s face on the screen.

“You made two mistakes, Seraphine,” he said, voice low and terrifying.

“First… you touched my sister.”

He cracked his knuckles, blood from earlier fights still staining his hands.

“Second… you didn’t run far enough.”

Nyxor looked around at the hundreds of armed men now surrounding him and smiled — a cold, merciless smile that promised hell itself.

“Vesper. Begin the slaughter.”