Narrator: Tehomfürst
I can still taste their blood.
Warm, golden, viscous —
like rotting honey, like fermented light.
Yes, even now.
Even here.
Even now.
Trapped in this filthy tomb they call a temple.
The stench of rotted faith still clings to the walls.
And the world dares to forget me.
But I remember.
I remember when Transcendence bled.
The sky roared like a wounded beast, torn by its own light.
The ground twisted beneath forces that should never coexist on the same plane.
And there I stood.
Alone.
The last one.
With the Abyss beneath my feet and ruin in my hands.
They came in masses — Lords, Angels, Apostles.
Not for justice.
Not for duty.
They came out of fear.
And leading them, shining like a broken idol of celestial porcelain, was him:
Aureon'el.
Son of God.
Traitor of the Father.
Usurper of harmony.
He thought the world balanced upon his shoulders.
He didn't realize he was only repeating his father's mistake —
believing love and control can coexist.
— Tehomfürst, — he said, with that clean, repulsive voice —
you represent the End. And the End cannot coexist with Eternity.
— And what do you represent? — I laughed. — A lie wrapped in gold?
He didn't smile.
— If I destroy the Abyss…
I won't die as the Father died.
I will become constant.
— Hah…
So that's it?
You killed Yavhurecht, and now you want to sit on his corpse?
— I don't want to sit.
I want to *be*.
And then he struck.
His light cut like molten steel.
My darkness sank like fangs into the guts of Creation.
The fight wasn't beautiful.
It was apocalyptic.
Concepts collided like furious galaxies.
The earth spewed metaphysical viscera.
Angels screamed voiceless.
Apostles wept blood from torn eyelids.
I disfigured worlds with a gesture.
He rebuilt them with a word.
Every time I wounded him, he smiled.
Every time he wounded me, I laughed.
— You cannot win, Aureon.
Nothingness cannot be destroyed. It is... inevitable.
— And that is why it will be sealed.
Eternally.
But he wasn't alone.
They didn't face me alone.
Not even Aureon'el, with his damned golden confidence, dared to face me without an audience.
All the Lords came.
Every single one.
Concepts bending under fear.
Egos dressed in morality.
Together, in a single front, in an assault against the very End.
— You don't understand, Tehomfürst — he said.
— My father is dead... but remains. Even dead, he still upholds Creation through his absence.
A Lord dies... and is replaced.
He approached, eyes like suns cracking in the sky.
— But I don't want to be replaced.
I want to remain. Like him.
And for that... I must understand what the Abyss truly is.
— So that's it? — I spat. — You want to kill the End to see if it turns you into the Eternal?
He didn't answer.
Aureon'el never answers when he knows I'm right.
But his silence burned more than any divine lightning.
They didn't destroy me — not because they couldn't…
but because they needed me alive.
Because, deep down, they knew: if the Abyss dies... everything dies with it.
So they sealed me.
All of them.
Together.
Concept by concept.
Force by force.
Not an act of justice —
but of desperation.
They wanted time.
Wanted to delay the end.
Wanted to keep the throne empty and the Father's corpse holding up the stage.
And I…
I was the price.
Not on a throne of punishment.
Not in a cell within the Throne Room.
In a temple.
Human.
Small.
Foolish.
They built it in a remote village — between hills and mist.
Nihon, they called it.
They used stolen prayers.
Symbols they didn't even understand.
Drew my name with fear and weak ink.
Buried me beneath the altar.
And there I remained.
Not in body.
Not in flesh.
In essence.
Reduced to the minimum.
Zero percent.
I watched the village bloom.
Children laughing, elders dying, gods replaced by technology.
And then…
silence.
Everything rotted.
The wood, the faith, the names.
Only dust and moss remained.
Until today.
Today, I heard it.
A step.
Another.
Someone entered.
Human.
And the seal…
trembled.
Not in the stone.
But in the silence.
My essence crawled through the crack.
0.1%
Maybe less.
But enough.
Nothingness doesn't need much.
Only space.
And time.
Now I have both.
And they…
no longer have the luxury of forgetting me.