The abyss didn't just exist; it inhaled.
It was a wet, rhythmic respiration that stank of oxidized copper and the dust of dead aeons. Within this suffocating pressurized dark, a silhouette curdled—an unstable hemorrhage of shadow, coiling like smoke bound by ancient spite. It didn't just loom over El-Mond; it sampled him, its presence licking at his skin.
El-Mond was a ghost pinned to his own nerves. Invisible stakes driven through his consciousness tethered his soul to the cooling meat of his body. He was a silent spectator to his own premature burial.
Then came the voice—a choir of rusted blades scraping together.
"What a… delicious… constitution."
The entity's fingers didn't graze his skin; they sank into the concept of him, hooking into the root of his being. It leaned in, its face a shifting kaleidoscope of predatory hunger, inspecting him like a jeweler weighing a stolen diamond.
El-Mond clawed at the interior of his skull, his will a blunt, broken instrument against this metaphysical siege. The shadow didn't even blink.
"Boy… you are a miracle. Don't fret." The voice grew heavy with oily, sickening greed. "I shall wear this skin with such… elegance."
A wet, dragging laugh began to drown the void. "Or should I say… my skin now? Hahahaha—"
"HEY."
The word wasn't spoken; it detonated. The void didn't just fracture—it recoiled.
El-Mond's voice was a sheet of glacial ice, cutting through the laughter like a guillotine.
"Bottom feeder. You've reached into the wrong cage."
The silence that followed was absolute—the heavy, pressurized quiet found only in deep graves. The shadow froze. Its head snapped toward him with a sickening, dry crack.
"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!" The entity's rage turned the darkness into boiling tar. "YOU LITTLE—"
It stopped. The air didn't just thin; it curdled.
The entity's form began to vibrate at a high-pitched, frantic frequency. Its eyes—primordial and vast—shrank into pinpricks of pure, animal terror.
"…M—Master?"
Inside the mental wreckage, El-Mond's lips curved into a razor-thin smile. He thinks I'm the Architect? Perfect.
He didn't just wake up; he ascended. His posture didn't merely straighten; it reorganized the very geometry of the void.
"Oh?" His voice dropped an octave, vibrating in the entity's marrow. "So you've grown the gall… to bark at me?"
The submission was violent. The shadow slammed into the unseen floor, its form splashing like spilled ink. Thud. Thud. It beat its head against the vacuum in a frenzy of supplication.
"N—NO! NEVER, MASTER! I thought—I thought you were an intruder! I was guarding the vessel! Yes—YES!" It was babbling now, its "Emperor-level" ego dissolving into pathetic, high-frequency static.
El-Mond looked down, his eyes twin voids of indifference. "So… you didn't just call me a 'little shit'?"
A hollow, hysterical laugh bubbled from the creature. "Impossible! Hahaha… a delusion! A trick of the wind!"
El-Mond's gaze became a scalpel. "So now I'm senile? I'm imagining things?"
The shadow flattened itself until it was nothing but a stain on the floor. "NO! PLEASE, MASTER! I WAS WRONG!"
El-Mond raised a hand. The void groaned under the sudden weight of a Law being written into existence.
"Lumica. Candruva. Sinincavin."
Runes of necrotic violet ignited, burning like stars born of poison. They didn't just glow; they hissed.
"Bind. Vie. Before me."
The explosion was silent and blinding. A supernova of amethyst light lashed out, flaying the shadow's essence. The creature screamed—a sound of glass grinding against glass.
El-Mond's voice descended, cold and final as a closing tombstone.
"First… I am not your master."
A heartbeat of terrifying clarity.
"I lied."
The violet light drilled into the creature's nucleus, stitching itself into its soul-code.
"Second…" His eyes turned into black holes. "I am now."
The curse locked. It wasn't a chain; it was a fundamental change in the creature's physics.
"I've carved a soul-rot into your existence. At my whim… you will suffer." A pause that felt like an eternity. "…Or cease."
The shadow lurched up, panic warring with its shattered ego. "WHAT?! You think you can bind an Emperor?! Even fallen, I am a god! I'll tear you—"
It lunged. It failed.
It collapsed as if the gravity of a thousand suns had landed on its back. It writhed, clawing at its own head, at its very existence. Cursing. Threatening. Screaming.
El-Mond folded his arms and began to list his lunch options aloud.
"…fried meat… sweet buns… maybe a hot stew…"
An hour passed. The "Emperor" was a shivering pile of soot. It knew its pleas were futile; it surrendered its only remaining hope.
"MASTER!" It shrieked, the last of its pride snapping. "The stone! The stone in the statue! It can help you evolve—from Earl… to Marquess!"
El-Mond opened his eyes. He stepped forward, and with every footfall, the void trembled.
"If that information is false… suffer. If you attack me… you suffer."
Then, his voice dropped—suddenly ominous, stripped of all humanity. For a single, flickering second, his presence shifted.
The air didn't just grow heavy; it became predatory. A suffocating, ancient aura erupted from him—something far older than the shadow, something that didn't belong in a human chest.
The shadow winced back. Every microscopic fiber of its being screamed, begging for a way to flee.
"Death, alone, will not suffice."
The shadow bowed violently, its form trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Y-Yes… Master…"
The curse deactivated. The pressure lifted.
"Thank you… thank you, Master," the entity wheezed.
As it bowed, the shadow's thoughts raced in a fever of terror. What is this energy…? That wasn't human… A Beast? No. No. I've fought Emperor-level Beasts, and none felt like this.
What is he?!
El-Mond turned away, leaving the shadow to watch his back with the wide, staring eyes of the damned.
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