Chapter 10: The Hollow’s Final Whisper

-----Chapter 10: The Hollow's Final Whisper-----

The silence was not empty.

It was changing.

Not just the world around him. Him.

Nyxen walked forward, his steps soundless, the weight of the Abyss pressing against his existence like something alive. It was no longer just watching—it was testing him, weaving itself through the gaps in his thoughts, pressing into places it had never touched before.

And with every step, something shifted.

Not physically.

Not mentally.

Something deeper.

Then—

The pearl reacted.

For the first time since he had taken it from the remains of an eldritch creature, it pulsed—not with light, but with something deeper, something that slithered into his mind like a whisper carried on the winds of a dying world. And then—

A memory.

Not his own. Or maybe it was? It flooded him in fragments, flashes of moments that could have been past, present, or future. He saw a city collapsing into the sky instead of the earth, people screaming soundlessly as they disintegrated into dust, only for the dust to rewind and reform again and again, trapped in an infinite cycle of destruction and restoration.

A battlefield, soaked in black rain, where towering beings—not eldritch, not divine, but something else entirely—walked among the dead, carving open the sky with weapons forged from the bones of forgotten gods. He felt their presence, their power, their unknowable will pressing down on reality itself. They were neither saviors nor destroyers. They simply were. And yet, they carried with them the weight of something beyond fate, beyond reason. As if their very existence was an act of defiance against the fabric of everything.

And then, a mirror.

His own reflection. But it wasn't him. The figure in the glass had his face, his eyes, but it was something else. Something… aware. It smiled. Not at him, but through him.

---

Nyxen collapsed, his body shaking violently as he gasped for breath. What was that? His mind scrambled to hold onto the visions, to make sense of them, but the more he reached, the faster they slipped away, dissolving like ink in an ocean. Who was he? Where was he?

He dug his fingers into his skull, a snarl of frustration leaving his lips. It was right there—the answer, the truth—but he couldn't grasp it.

And then it hit him.

What did it matter? What did anything matter when he had already forgotten himself? His name, his purpose, his reason for even clinging to this existence. The memories—real or not—meant nothing to someone who no longer existed in the first place.

Nyxen let out a ragged breath.

---

And then—IT descended.

It was slow. Crushing. An unraveling of everything that should be, twisting the very concept of reality into something that refused to be understood. The weight of it was beyond anything he had felt before—not just physical, not just mental, but something greater. Something that shouldn't exist, yet did.

He felt his body collapse under its presence. His bones turned to liquid, his flesh became dust, his very essence stretched and distorted like a note held too long in a song that had no end. His thoughts were no longer his own—they were opened, dissected, and displayed like the innards of a beast before a feast.

He dared not look at it.

He knew, instinctively, absolutely, with every fiber of his being, that if he turned his gaze towards the source of this presence, he would cease to be. Not die—no, death would be mercy. He would be erased, as if he had never been.

Then, the silence.

And then, the Abyss spoke.

A voice that was not a voice. A whisper that rang louder than any scream. A truth spoken in contradiction, in paradox, in existence and nonexistence at the same time.

"The one who broke the only rule of existence."

A moment of silence followed. Then, it spoke again-

"Quite the amusing one you are."

The words pierced through Nyxen, yet passed through him like air. He heard them, but he couldn't grasp them. He understood them, but they made no sense. He knew the meaning, but the meaning was beyond him.

He felt his mind shatter at the impossibility of it, but at the same time, he felt nothing at all.

"What… did I hear?" His voice was barely a whisper, but in the abyss, even silence had weight.

What did it mean? What rule had he broken? What existence had he defied? He didn't know. He couldn't know. And yet, he did.

What was this place? Was it alive, or was it simply the absence of all that was? What were those creatures that tormented him, and why did they whisper as if they knew him? Had he truly been alone all this time, or had something been watching him from the very beginning? Was he a prisoner in this abyss, or had he always been part of it? And if he had, then what was he?

---

The pressure began to lessen.

Slowly, impossibly, the presence in the Abyss withdrew. But not because it was leaving—because it was taking shape.

Not a physical form. And yet, a body.

It was looking at him.

Nyxen, trembling, barely holding onto whatever was left of himself, felt the flicker of something deep inside—curiosity.

And so, he looked back.

The moment his gaze met its eye, his mind split apart.

He understood.

The world, the laws that bound it, the strings that held together existence. He saw the truth, raw and unfiltered, flooding into him like a river bursting through a shattered dam. The mechanisms of creation, the fragile balance between reality and void—it all unraveled before him, and for the first time, he comprehended what he was standing in. Not a prison, not a realm, but something deeper. Something fundamental.

He was full of knowledge.

But void of something else.

Something… crucial.

The Abyss spoke once more.

"Shall we speak?"

The words weren't a question. They weren't an offer. They simply were.

Nyxen felt the words click inside him like a lock breaking open. But what did they mean? What was this place? Was it alive, or was it simply the absence of all that was? What were those creatures that tormented him, and why did they whisper as if they knew him? Had he truly been alone all this time, or had something been watching him from the very beginning? Was he a prisoner in this abyss, or had he always been part of it? And if he had, then what was he?

Would he finally have his answers? Or would he be left with even more questions?

---

Lower Realm – Unknown Castle

Footsteps echoed down the dimly lit hallway. The torches lining the stone walls flickered, casting long, twisting shadows.

Varen moved with quiet precision, his heavy boots barely making a sound against the polished floor. His destination lay ahead—a tall door of blackened oak, slightly ajar, where the faint scent of burning candle wax lingered in the air.

Inside, a lone figure stood before a grand painting of a kingdom bathed in golden light. The knight's silver armor gleamed under the soft glow, his posture rigid, unmoving, as if frozen in time.

Baron hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. His voice was low, almost cautious.

"Sir… the Saintess is here."