The Artificial Dimension - The Absolute Void.Day 3 - 01:30 PM.
"VOID DIVINE ART:"
The Blindfold Man raised his impeccably manicured hand. The glossy black polish on his fingernails seemed to absorb the very ambient light of the universe. With a motion so casual, so profoundly effortless that it mocked the very foundational laws of magical exertion, he brought his thumb and middle finger together.
He snapped his fingers.
"...BLACK DEATH."
There was no deafening explosion. There was no blinding flash of cataclysmic light, nor was there a roar of tearing reality.
There was, simply, an immediate, absolute, and terrifying cessation of existence.
The entire artificial world—the meticulously crafted, multi-layered simulation dimension forged by the greatest, most brilliant Arcanists of the Imperial Academy over decades—began to violently, instantaneously shift. The azure skies did not merely turn dark; they unraveled like a burnt tapestry. The vibrant green grass, the shattered obsidian rocks, the howling, frenzied hordes of artificial monsters, and even the terrifying, apocalyptic phenomenon of the Total Solar Eclipse... all of it was swallowed by a sudden, suffocating wave of absolute, pitch-black nothingness.
And then, there was emptiness.
It was not the comforting, quiet darkness of a night sky, nor the dense shadows of a deep cavern. It was a conceptual void. A sensory deprivation chamber the size of a planet. The magic did not just destroy the physical matter of the dimension; it devoured the very concepts of space, time, temperature, color, and distance in a single, unholy instant. The pocket dimension was entirely unmade, violently returning to the primordial, formless abyss from which all creation originally sprang.
Dratkthar, the Greater Demon General of Agony, was left floating in this endless, lightless expanse. His massive, titanic body, previously thrumming with hellfire and abyssal energy, was still violently, uncontrollably trembling.
His demonic brain, an organ capable of processing complex, multi-layered abyssal magic and commanding legions of the damned, entirely failed to comprehend the sheer, impossible magnitude of what was happening around him. He didn't even know how an entity could physically, magically achieve this.
'Ho-how?!' Dratkthar screamed inwardly, his thoughts echoing uselessly in the vast, empty void. His glowing amber eyes darted wildly, frantically searching for any landmark, any point of reference, but there was only an endless, suffocating black.
'No... the much, much better question is... how could I have ever, foolishly believed that I could even begin to beat him from the very first place?!'
The absolute, crushing reality of his situation crashed down upon his massive ego, shattering it into a million irreparable pieces.
'I was completely, utterly foolish. I was a blind, arrogant idiot to think that I could at least catch him off guard, give him a minor internal injury, and kill him! I am less than a microscopic germ to this being!' Dratkthar's internal monologue spiraled into a vortex of pure, unadulterated, primal terror.
In the center of the absolute void, a soft, highly exasperated sound echoed.
"Sigh..."
The Blindfold Man let out a long, heavy breath, sounding entirely like a disappointed, world-weary scholar dealing with a particularly slow, stubborn student. "Seriously..."
Dratkthar's massive, horned head snapped in the direction of the voice. Even though there was no light, no physical form to lock onto, his glowing amber eyes trembled as they focused entirely on the empty space where the entity floated. It was an involuntary, biological reaction. It felt exactly as though his very soul, the immortal core of his demonic being, was actively, forcefully telling his physical body to shut up, kneel in the void, and listen to whatever this absolute, supreme being had to say.
"...Mostly, when I execute these kinds of conceptual erasure arts, I vastly prefer to use entirely silent chants to speed up the process," The Blindfold Man remarked casually, his beautiful, melodic voice echoing perfectly in the vacuum of the void, carrying a tone of aristocratic boredom.
"But—"
The Blindfold Man floated closer, his pristine, ancient Chinese black silk garments rippling elegantly in a nonexistent cosmic breeze. The golden Eastern Dragons embroidered into his fabric seemed to writhe and glare in the darkness.
"I really, genuinely gave you the supreme, unimaginable luxury to actually hear the invocation of my power, huh?" The Blindfold Man said, a dark, terrifying amusement lacing his words.
"So, listen closely to me, you goddamn, pathetic worm."
The playful amusement vanished, replaced instantly by a cold, academic severity that froze the marrow in Dratkthar's bones.
"Do you want to explicitly know the true, foundational concept of the Black Death?"
"Do you wish to comprehend the True Concept and the True, unsealed Power behind the name?"
The Blindfold Man smiled. It was a breathtakingly handsome smile, yet it radiated an aura of such profound, cosmic cruelty that it made the Demon General's blood run cold.
"Are you genuinely curious?"
Dratkthar didn't answer. He couldn't answer. His throat was completely paralyzed by fear. He just floated in the darkness, staring at the smiling deity.
Suddenly, he felt something violently, catastrophically wrong deep inside his own body.
"!!!"
Dratkthar's eyes bulged to the absolute limits of their sockets. He doubled over in the void, violently convulsing. He started coughing, a harsh, hacking, agonizing sound. But he wasn't coughing up the thick, red demonic blood he was accustomed to. He was violently expelling massive, sickening globes of a thick, jet-black, tar-like mucus.
It felt exactly as if he had just received a massive, terminal, conceptual virus directly into the core of his spiritual anatomy. His internal organs felt as though they were rotting, decaying, and turning to ash in real-time.
Then, completely against his own volition, his massive, fanged jaw was forcefully, physically pried open by an invisible, telekinetic pressure.
Even though he absolutely did not permit himself to speak, even though his massive demonic pride screamed at him to remain silent and defiant, his mouth was forcefully, humiliatingly puppeteered to answer the Blindfold Man's mocking question.
"Ye-yes! I-I desperately want to know! I-I am incredibly curious!" Dratkthar's own voice betrayed him, stammering out the pathetic, eager response even as his mind screamed in violation of his autonomy.
The Blindfold Man snorted, an inelegant sound of pure, condescending amusement, before throwing his head back and laughing.
"Hahahahahaha...."
The beautiful, melodic, yet entirely heartless laughter echoed infinitely through the black void. He reached up with a black-manicured hand and casually, elegantly twirled a long, luminous lock of his cascading white hair around his index finger.
"Since you so eagerly wanted to know..."
The Blindfold Man's smirk widened, exposing perfectly white teeth.
"...I will graciously grant you the ultimate luxury to know the truth, since, across all of these endless timelines, you are always, inevitably my favorite victim."
Dratkthar's glowing amber eyes widened in profound, utter confusion. His mind, already fracturing under the viral decay of the spell, stalled completely.
'Wha-what?! Always his victim? Across timelines?!' Dratkthar thought, panic mixing with sheer bewilderment.
"Ah, never mind," The Blindfold Man sighed, casually waving his hand to dismiss the multiversal tangent, as if he had accidentally spoiled the ending of a cheap, pulp novel.
The Blindfold Man then tilted his head backward, looking up into the absolute zenith of the void where there was absolutely nothing to see. There were no stars, no swirling nebulas, no vibrant colors of the cosmos. Just pure, unadulterated emptiness.
"The absolute, true concept of the Black Death is that..."
The Blindfold Man lowered his head, his blindfolded gaze piercing straight through Dratkthar's chest, pinning his soul in place like a butterfly on a corkboard.
"....It is absolutely not a mere 'System Trait', nor is it a simple, biological 'Amplifier'."
"It is, in fact, just one of my absolute, most pathetic, weakest abilities."
When Dratkthar heard that statement, his massive heart completely stopped beating for a full three seconds. His eyes widened so far they threatened to tear at the corners.
'Weakest ability?! What in the name of the Abyssal Lords does he possibly mean by that?!' Dratkthar screamed internally, his sanity beginning to actively crumble into dust.
'Does that explicitly mean that this monstrous entity possesses vastly, exponentially more powerful abilities and conceptual skills than this?! A literal, world-ending, dimension-devouring ability like this... is his absolute weakest trick?! What kind of impossible, outer-god monstrosity am I facing?!'
"The true, fundamental concept of this specific art," The Blindfold Man continued, his voice adopting the tone of a university professor explaining basic arithmetic to a toddler, "is to completely, conceptually erase your chosen enemy from the very fabric of existence itself."
"Wh-what?" Dratkthar gasped, the black mucus dripping thickly from his fangs.
The moment the demon spoke, the void reacted to the Blindfold Man's will.
Suddenly, erupting from the absolute nothingness of the surrounding darkness, dozens of massive, jagged, ethereal black chains violently materialized. They writhed, snapped, and hissed through the void like furious, starving metallic serpents.
"AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!"
Dratkthar unleashed a horrific, blood-curdling shriek of pure, unadulterated agony.
One by one, with deliberate, agonizing, surgical precision, the jagged black chains began violently stabbing into Dratkthar's massive body.
The first chain shot forward like a railgun, piercing cleanly through the thick obsidian armor of his left shoulder, pinning his arm backward in the void.
-SHLUCK!
The second chain violently impaled his right shoulder, effectively crucifying his upper body in the empty space.
-SHLUCK!
-SHLUCK!
Then, the true, meticulous torture began. The chains moved with sadistic, deliberate slowness. They stabbed directly through his left elbow, completely shattering the joint in a shower of bone and black blood. Then, his right elbow.
They moved down to his massive, clawed hands.
-CRUNCH!
-CRUNCH!
-CRUNCH!
Individual, thinner chains violently drove themselves directly through the center of every single one of his fingers, pinning his hands wide open in a grotesque display.
Then, they moved lower. The heavy iron links violently stabbed through his massive toes, one by one.
-SQUELCH!
Then, moving with horrific, microscopic cruelty, razor-thin black chains actually forced themselves underneath and directly through his thick, demonic toenails, ripping them entirely from the nail beds.
-SHLUCK!
-SHLUCK!
Next, massive, heavy chains violently pulverized both of his kneecaps, rendering his legs completely useless. They drove deeply, brutally into the thick, corded musculature of each of his massive thighs, and finally, they violently pierced cleanly through the center of each of his calves, blood and black mucus spraying wildly into the void with every sickening impact.
Dratkthar screamed. He shrieked with a pitch and volume that would have shattered mountains in the physical realm. He desperately, frantically wanted to curse the Blindfold Man. He wanted to hurl the foulest, most profane abyssal insults his demonic vocabulary possessed.
But it seemed his body absolutely did not listen to his commands anymore.
No—it was infinitely worse than physical paralysis. It seemed his very own soul was no longer listening to him. It felt exactly as if his own, immortal demonic essence was actively being controlled, suspended, and manipulated like a pathetic wooden puppet dangling from invisible, conceptual strings.
And far, far worse than the agonizing physical pain of the chains... he felt his own, vast, millennia-spanning life force being slowly, inexorably, but incredibly painfully drained away into the void.
'This is pure, unadulterated torture!' Dratkthar sobbed inwardly, tears of blood and black mucus streaming down his ruined face.
'THIS IS GODDAMN, ETERNAL TORTURE!!!'
The Blindfold Man casually floated closer, completely, entirely ignoring Dratkthar's horrific suffering and agonizing screams. He looked at the crucified demon as if examining a moderately interesting painting in a dusty gallery.
"You know, the specific way he—my current vessel, Rudeus—even attempted to utilize the Black Death as his designated 'Trait' in his miserable past life on Earth was entirely, fundamentally wrong," The Blindfold Man mused aloud, shaking his head in mild disappointment. "The true art absolutely doesn't passively drain your own lifespan to fuel its power. Rather, you utilize the concept to actively, violently make the enemies entirely drain their own lifespans into nothingness..."
The Blindfold Man raised a hand, examining his flawless black manicured nails.
"...Though, in the grand scheme of the cosmos, I truly couldn't blame him for his sheer ignorance. It was entirely because of the restrictive parameters of the 'System' and the pathetic, meddling interference of those lower-dimensional 'Administrators' that he was forcefully slapped with that fundamentally misunderstood, artificially weakened curse called the 'Black Death Trait'."
The Blindfold Man violently clicked his tongue, a sound of genuine, cosmic annoyance.
"If he hadn't been actively, continuously held back and suppressed because of that restrictive, glowing blue System Window hovering in his reality, he might have eventually possessed the inherent talent to fully unlock the true Void Divine Arts on his own."
The Blindfold Man lowered his hand, a fleeting shadow of melancholic nostalgia crossing his serene features beneath the blindfold.
"Though, sadly, he didn't manage to achieve that potential, and he tragically, brutally died by my own wife's hand in his original world..."
The Blindfold Man suddenly stopped his melancholic reflection. He shrugged his broad shoulders in an incredibly casual, uncaring gesture.
"Ehh. Regardless, it was an entirely, chronologically necessary sacrifice. Hahahahahaha!"
He laughed again, dismissing the agonizing tragedy of Damien's past life as a mere, acceptable stepping stone in a much grander cosmic design.
He floated until he was mere inches from the screaming, chained Demon General.
"You finally, truly realize it now, right? Your immortal lifespan is being actively, aggressively drained away. You are coughing up your own conceptual essence like you somehow caught a terminal, multiversal virus..." The Blindfold Man smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the void.
"...And yet, that terrifying decay is literally just one of its absolute, most basic, core passive effects. Though it is the absolute weakest application of the art... do you want to know what the truly useful, fundamental power and absolute authority of this curse is?"
Once again, against every fiber of his being, Dratkthar's ruined, bloody mouth was forcefully, agonizingly pried open by the invisible pressure. He was physically puppeteered to answer the rhetorical question.
"T-to completely, conceptually erase your chosen enemy fr-from the very fabric of ex-existence!" Dratkthar sobbed out the words, his voice a broken, wet rasp.
"DING, DING, DING, DING!"
The Blindfold Man enthusiastically mimicked the sound of a game show bell, clapping his hands together once in mock celebration. He smiled widely at the demon's correct answer.
"An absolutely perfect, highly accurate answer, you pathetic worm."
The Blindfold Man's smile slowly faded, replaced by an expression of absolute, terrifying cosmic coldness.
"But... it absolutely does not mean that you, physically, will be the only thing that is erased."
"Wha-what exactly do you mean by that?!" Dratkthar gasped in horror, his massive body violently struggling against the agonizing black chains. The sheer, existential terror of the phrase, "your not the only one to be erased," struck a deeper chord of fear in him than the physical torture.
The Blindfold Man floated backward slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, adopting the posture of a supreme judge preparing to deliver an ultimate, inescapable sentence.
"The Black Death is not just a spell. It is a curse..."
The Blindfold Man's voice dropped into a register that made the very concept of the void tremble.
"...A truly, conceptually powerful curse."
"Its absolute, primary power is to completely erase your physical and spiritual matter from existence, and then...."
The Blindfold Man raised a single, black-painted finger.
"....To ensure that absolutely no one in creation is ever capable of remembering you. Not your subordinates. Not your pathetic, posturing Demon King, Satanael. Not even the so-called 'Gods' that govern the pantheons of this fragile world. Not even that goddamn, chaotic, raving lunatic of a Chaotic Dragon God sealed in the abyss..."
The Blindfold Man tapped his own chest lightly.
"...With the absolute, sole, singular exception of myself, and him, of course." He was explicitly, undeniably talking about himself and Rudeus. They would be the only two entities in the entire multiverse capable of holding the memory that a creature named Dratkthar ever existed, even as the rest of reality actively, permanently forgot his name, his deeds, and his very face.
That was the true, terrifying, world-ending power of the Black Death. It was not a simple biological trait. It was not a localized magical amplifier. It was an absolute, conceptual, world-ending judgment delivered by a terrifying, supreme being who stood outside the boundaries of fate.
"Though..."
The Blindfold Man paused, reaching up to gently cover his mouth with his hand. He tapped his index finger thoughtfully against his cheek.
"Where is the genuine, artistic fun in deploying such a magnificent curse if absolutely no one remembers you... and you only suffer in one single, isolated timeline?"
Truth be told, the Blindfold Man was entirely, deliberately putting on this theatrical performance simply to ridicule, humiliate, and mentally break Dratkthar. He profoundly, deeply hated this specific demon with an ancient passion, largely because of the horrific, sadistic torture he had just inflicted upon Rudeus in the clearing.
"I know! How about this!" The Blindfold Man suddenly exclaimed, raising his finger high into the air as if he had just been struck by a brilliant, philanthropic idea.
"I won't just erase you from this world! I'll just completely, conceptually erase every single one of your miserable variants from all the other alternate timelines!"
Dratkthar's amber eyes shrank to pinpricks of pure horror.
"I will actively hunt down and erase your existence from all other parallel realities!"
The Blindfold Man's voice rose in pitch, echoing with manic, divine excitement.
"I will burn your concept from all other localized Dimensions and Realms!"
"And lastly... I will permanently, irrevocably delete your very blueprint from entirely different Universes!"
The Blindfold Man smiled broadly, clearly incredibly satisfied with his own apocalyptic idea. "Yes! That should be absolutely perfect! A complete, multiversal cleansing of your existence!"
When Dratkthar heard that absolute, horrific, reality-shattering sentence, whatever microscopic, lingering shred of demonic pride he still possessed completely, entirely shattered into dust.
He didn't just break; he disintegrated psychologically.
"Ple-please! I beg you! Please spare me!" Dratkthar suddenly, frantically screamed, weeping openly, thrashing wildly against the chains.
He completely abandoned his massive ego. He discarded the towering, unyielding pride of a Greater Demon General simply for the desperate, pathetic chance to be spared from complete multiversal erasure.
"I-I'll gladly give you absolutely anything you desire! Boundless power, the obsidian throne of the Demon Realm, unimaginable gold, forbidden abyssal artifacts! I don't even care if you brutally kill all of my other versions in those other realities! Erase them! Kill them all! Just please, leave me!"
Dratkthar, the Architect of Agony, sobbed like a broken, terrified child.
"PLEASE! I BEG YOU! PLEASE SPARE ME!"
He violently forced his massive, horned head downward, straining against the chains impaling his neck. He literally bowed his head in the absolute void, the heavy black chains clattering and grinding loudly against each other as he prostrated his immortal soul before the Blindfold Man.
The Blindfold Man simply stared down at him.
'How incredibly, predictably typical,' The Blindfold Man thought, his serene expression hiding a deep, cosmic disgust.
He violently clicked his tongue.
'Even in this specific, highly altered round too... you didn't manage to change your fundamental nature in the slightest?! You are still nothing but a goddamn, selfish, cowardly worm who would gladly sacrifice his own multiversal variants just to save his own pathetic skin?!'
The Blindfold Man slowly lowered his hand.
And then, slowly, quietly at first, he began to laugh.
"Heh..."
"Hehehe..."
The laughter began to build, echoing ominously in the darkness.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...."
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..."
The laughter escalated into a booming, hysterical, entirely unhinged roar of pure, cosmic amusement that physically shook the chains binding the demon.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...."
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"
The Blindfold Man laughed so hard he actually had to reach up and wipe a nonexistent tear from beneath his blindfold.
"Phew... hahahaha... oh my, you are literally making my stomach physically hurt from laughing so hard! Hoooo!" The Blindfold Man wheezed, genuinely, profoundly entertained by the absolute, pathetic absurdity of the demon's cowardly plea.
"Hahahaha!"
He finally, slowly stopped laughing. He straightened his posture, his demeanor instantly snapping back to absolute, terrifying coldness. He looked directly at the weeping demon, even though he possessed no physical eyes beneath the silk.
"How about—"
The Blindfold Man leaned in close, his voice dropping to a harsh, unforgiving whisper.
"...No."
Dratkthar's ruined, bloody face instantly lost whatever remaining, sickly color it possessed.
His desperate, pathetic begging was entirely, completely useless. It had been entirely useless from the very first, infinitesimal microsecond he had laid a claw on Rudeus.
Dratkthar finally, truly realized that the omnipotent entity hovering before him possessed absolutely zero intention of sparing him. And logically, why in the vast cosmos should he?
He had been incredibly, arrogantly foolish to try and ruthlessly murder Rudeus, and infinitely worse, he had sadistically, mercilessly tortured the boy, severing his arms and kicking his broken body, before attempting to deliver the killing blow.
And now, the cosmic scales were balancing. He was paying the ultimate, terrifying price. And infinitely worse, because of his singular, arrogant mistake, all of his other, innocent multiversal versions were going to be permanently, violently erased from existence without even knowing why.
"Hey, look on the bright side. At the very least, you will be intimately remembered by them, right?" The Blindfold Man mocked smoothly, leaning his face incredibly close to Dratkthar's weeping, chained form.
"RIGHT?!"
The Blindfold Man suddenly, violently flared his aura, projecting a massive, suffocating wave of conceptual pressure directly onto Dratkthar's mind.
Dratkthar coughed up another massive, violent spray of black, viscous blood. Against his will, his head was violently, forcefully forced to nod up and down in agreement.
"Hey..."
The Blindfold Man reached out with his pristine, black-manicured fingers and forcefully, brutally lifted Dratkthar's massive, horned chin, forcing the demon to look him in the face.
"...You absolutely, fundamentally deserve every single second of this, you know."
The Blindfold Man then casually, forcefully dropped the demon's head, letting his chin slam back down toward his chest.
"And...."
He floated backward, focusing his entire, cosmic authority directly upon Dratkthar's soul to deliver his final, unalterable judgment.
"Be completely, conceptually devoured...."
The void around them began to physically vibrate with destructive energy.
".....In Absolute Nothingness."
"Bye a Being born from Everything."
The execution began.
Dratkthar's glowing amber eyes slowly, inexorably began to turn pitch black, the light within them completely dying.
The terrifying, conceptual decay rapidly spread from his eyes downward. His massive, horned head, his broad, armored torso, and his heavily muscled lower body began to turn into a swirling, black, ash-like substance.
"Ahhh..."
Dratkthar let out a final, pathetic, breathy gasp. He belatedly, horrifyingly realized that he was actively, slowly being devoured. He felt the terrifying, simultaneous feedback loop of his other, multiversal variants actively being devoured and erased across the cosmos alongside him, experiencing the collective, infinite agony of billions of deaths in a single instant. He only realized it now, at the very end of his existence, that he even possessed other variants of himself.
He realized that he had unilaterally given them all an inescapable, terminal curse, a curse brought upon them solely because of his own, singular, grave mistake.
He was nothing but a foolish, arrogant mongrel who should have instantly dropped his massive pride and his fragile ego and simply accepted his defeat when the mental interference spell first hit him.
Then, slowly, agonizingly slowly... he completely disappeared.
His physical face, his immortal demonic soul, and the countless billions of his other multiversal variants across the vast tapestry of creation simply ceased to exist, suffering a gruesome, permanent fate of conceptual erasure.
When the last mote of black ash vanished into the void, the massive, ethereal black chains instantly dissolved into nothingness.
The Blindfold Man simply crossed his arms and scoffed it off, completely unaffected by the multiversal genocide he had just committed.
"Hmmm..."
He floated in the empty void for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
He looked around at the absolute, infinite expanse of black nothingness.
"I see. Well, that is slightly inconvenient. It seems I just accidentally, entirely devoured the whole damn Artificial Dimension along with him..."
The Blindfold Man let out a soft, highly amused sigh, shrugging his broad shoulders.
"Sigh. Oh well. The academy faculty can always just build another one. Let's just teleport ourselves out of this void before the dimensional walls completely collapse."
He raised his black-manicured hand and casually snapped his fingers once again.
He silently, effortlessly chanted his next spell in his mind.
'VOID DIVINE ART:'
'PARHELION.'
Instantly, a massive, swirling portal of brilliant, golden-white light tore open the fabric of the black void directly in front of him.
But before he could casually step through the portal and leave the ruined dimension, he stopped.
"Right! I nearly completely forgot!"
The Blindfold Man raised his left hand. With a subtle manipulation of the surrounding void, he actively, flawlessly reconstructed and materialized Rudeus's destroyed weapon. The heavy, intimidating, black iron Six-Flanged War Mace instantly formed in his grasp, completely restored to pristine condition.
He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry about that."
Clutching the heavy iron mace, he elegantly stepped forward and entered the glowing golden portal.
***
The Original World - The Western Continent.The Barren Wastelands.Real World Timeline.
The portal of golden light violently tore open in the sky above a desolate, nightmarish landscape.
The view of this specific land was intensely gruesome and profoundly depressing. The earth was cracked and completely devoid of green life. The sprawling plains and jagged mountains were utterly littered with the massive, rotting corpses of terrifying monsters and the bleached, titanic skeletal remains of giant behemoths. The sky was perpetually choked with dark, suffocating ash clouds.
A single, tall man gracefully stepped out from the hovering portal, his pristine black silk boots landing softly on the ash-covered continent.
He slowly turned his head, his blindfolded gaze sweeping across the desolate, corpse-ridden horizon.
"I see...."
The Blindfold Man's voice was quiet, laced with a heavy, ancient sorrow.
"So... absolutely nothing fundamentally changes in this specific region, no matter exactly how many rounds we go through, huh?"
He had deliberately utilized the Parhelion spell to arrive here. He stood in the absolute epicenter of the Barren Wastelands, the highly dangerous, inhospitable western continent of this world, where only the most vicious apex predators survived.
He let out a long, heavy sigh.
"I honestly thought that, with the massive surge of power I utilized, I could at least safely manage to project this physical vessel all the way to the Clovius Kingdom in the far East Region... but it seems this specific, heavily damaged body is my absolute limit."
He looked down at his hands, feeling the borrowed, fifteen-year-old physical vessel of Rudeus beginning to groan and rapidly destabilize under the sheer, impossible pressure of housing a deity's soul.
"I am truly sorry, though..."
The Blindfold Man's usually serene, arrogant face turned profoundly, genuinely sad. He turned his gaze eastward, looking toward a kingdom he couldn't reach, toward a person he desperately wanted to see.
"Though I genuinely, deeply missed you..."
He shook his head, a bitter, self-deprecating smile touching his lips.
"Sigh. Who am I even trying to fool by speaking out loud? You won't even be able to hear a single word of what I am saying right now, because your soul is currently locked in a deep, agonizing sleep. I know... because I was the one who deliberately did it to you, to save you from a worse fate, after all."
"I am so sorry...."
The Blindfold Man slowly, tightly clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white.
"...I was late. I was entirely, fundamentally too late to stop it." He spoke with a raw, agonizing vulnerability, sounding as if he cared for the boy whose body he possessed with the exact same, overwhelming, universe-shattering devotion with which he cared for his own beloved wife.
He took a deep breath, forcing the sorrow down, and slowly raised his left hand.
He looked at the heavy, black iron Six-Flanged War Mace that he had materialized. Even though he was entirely blind beneath the silk, his cosmic perception perfectly analyzed every single microscopic groove, every scratch, and every dent on the crude iron weapon.
"A very nice, brutal choice of weapon, huh," The Blindfold Man commented softly, tracing his thumb over one of the heavy iron flanges.
"Of all the elegant swords, mythical spears, and legendary artifacts you could have possibly chosen to wield in this new life... it is really, truly this crude, blunt instrument, huh?"
He smiled. It was a hearty, incredibly proud, and deeply affectionate smile.
"That's exactly my other half...."
The Blindfold Man looked down at his own chest, speaking directly to the dormant, recovering soul of Rudeus buried deep within the vessel.
"You know, during my travels across the multiverse, I actually managed to briefly visit the specific, dark universe where the Dark Lord Sauron resides..."
The Blindfold Man let out a sudden, bright laugh, the sound echoing strangely across the grim wastelands.
"...And I must honestly tell you, he is actually such an incredibly chill, misunderstood guy when you get to know him."
He chuckled, casually resting the heavy mace over his shoulder.
"I guarantee you, if you ever manage to meet him once in your travels, or perhaps soon in the cosmic order, you will literally, genuinely like him. You would completely understand and align with his grand, orderly ideology, my dear Meus Egomet."
The Blindfold Man's smile slowly faded. He could feel the connection fraying. The physical vessel was reaching its absolute, critical breaking point.
"Though... it seems it is finally my time to officially say my goodbye...."
He began to turn away, preparing to relinquish control, but suddenly stopped.
"...Ohh, wait a second."
The Blindfold Man raised his glowing, black-manicured right hand. He gently, firmly pressed his palm directly against Rudeus's chest, right over his beating heart.
"....Here. Since you seem to be having a massive amount of trouble actively, consistently activating the Black Death aura on your own, I will proactively, permanently gift you a specific, fundamental fragment of power and authority to use it."
A pulse of deep, dark, cosmic energy flowed from his palm, sinking directly into the boy's mana core, permanently altering his spiritual architecture.
"Though, I must warn you, you will currently only be able to safely utilize the absolute weakest, most basic passive power of the aura. But, hey, at the very least..."
The Blindfold Man smiled warmly, withdrawing his hand.
"You will now be able to freely, effortlessly utilize a fragment of my Void Divine Art without even needing to expend a single drop of your own biological mana. I mean, the core concept of the art is absolute 'Nothingness', and fundamentally, both of us are the very living, breathing concept of it."
He paused, listening to his own complicated, cosmic rambling.
"Sigh. What the hell am I even talking about..." He smiled softly, shaking his head at his own sentimental tangent.
"He doesn't even hear a single word of what I am saying right now, I bet. Haha."
The Blindfold Man slowly, tightly clenched his hands again. The edges of his vision began to blur as the connection rapidly severed.
"So, this is truly my final goodbye, huh...."
He turned his head one last time, looking out across the vast, bleak expanse of the Barren Wastelands.
"....Hey. Before I completely disappear from this vessel, if you ever encounter her in your journey..."
The Blindfold Man's voice dropped to a soft, incredibly tender whisper.
"....Please, tell Elsa."
"....I send my warmest regards."
Then, slowly, the divine presence began to rapidly recede.
The pristine black silk garments dissolved into ash. The long, luminous white hair rapidly shortened, returning to its messy, vibrant green state. The pitch-black blindfold embroidered with Eastern Dragons unraveled, vanishing into the wind.
Before the Blindfold Man completely, entirely disappeared from the physical plane, he utilized the absolute last microsecond of his control to gently, carefully lower Rudeus's battered, exhausted body down to the ash-covered earth. He carefully propped the sleeping, fifteen-year-old boy up, resting his back securely against the thick, dead trunk of a massive, petrified tree, ensuring he was comfortable and safe.
As the final spark of divine consciousness faded from the boy's mind, a single, incredibly fond, echoing whisper lingered in the air of the Barren Wastelands.
"Goodbye..."
"...My dear, beloved older brother."