Episode 2 – Scene 4: Convergence

Location: Negative Dimension – Zero Planet

The Eye of Ozen flickered once, its light dying in a barely perceptible blink, like a star consumed by the void. Darkness swallowed the last remnants of its glow, seeping into the War Chamber of the Lords of the Void, an oppressive shroud that pressed against everything it touched.

Here, time was suspended, as if it dared not continue. An unseen breeze, laden with ancient weight, stirred the air—a final breath from a god long forgotten. The absence of light wrapped itself around the chamber like a suffocating blanket, a cold, heavy heat that clung to the walls, every inch of it pulling tighter as though the very heart of the universe was being squeezed.

Seven figures stood motionless in the abyss, their cloaks blending seamlessly into the void. Each movement, every breath felt like a violation, a subtle rebellion against the crushing presence around them. The flickering torches at the far end of the room cast pale, uncertain glows, distorting their masked faces into distorted, ghostly apparitions. The silence, thick and suffocating, pressed down on them like an insurmountable weight.

A sinister smile tugged beneath his mask as Sandow Spyder took a step forward, his eyes burning with quiet, insatiable hunger. Power was an addiction, and his thirst for it was all-consuming, though it lay hidden beneath the calm facade of his demeanor. His voice sliced through the stillness, smooth and venomous, the words dripping with barely contained malice.

— "If the ring is truly the key… then we must claim it. There's no room for hesitation in this world."

His voice, sharp as a blade, cut the silence like a sharpened edge, slicing through the shadows that encased them.

Lucius Nocturnus remained still, his figure carved from darkness itself. His steel-gray eyes cut through the void with piercing clarity. The air around him thickened, the weight of his presence nearly suffocating. His voice, when it came, was cold, unfaltering, like the slash of a sword through the night's silence.

— "Do not rush, Sandow. Those who rush toward the light forget that true war is never won in haste. It's in the shadows… where patience and cunning truly reign."

The room seemed to freeze as his words punctuated the air, the temperature dropping in response, a warning not easily ignored.

Séphora Glottina, her ancient presence as tangible as the shadows, stepped forward, her eyes deep and fathomless, gazing beyond the others. Her voice, rich with ageless wisdom, rang through the chamber like an immutable truth.

— "The cycle is yet to be decided. But the clash of light and darkness is no longer a choice. It is inevitable."

Her words reverberated in the air, causing the very fabric of the chamber to shudder, as if the shadows themselves were responding to the gravity of her prophecy.

Goldris Dusk, skeptical and defiant, moved forward, his cloak tightening around him like a fortress of resolve.

— "And what if this cycle is nothing but an illusion? A trap woven by the Ombrelins to deceive us? A path leading straight into the jaws of our doom?"

His words, cold and sharp as poisoned arrows, struck with the precision of a master, but the room swallowed them whole, consumed by the oppressive silence.

Orris Falconis, his presence commanding, lifted his head, his raw energy vibrating in the very air around him. His words came with the weight of certainty, echoing like an undeniable truth.

— "What's certain is that this world trembles under the weight of a promise held too long in suspension. We are running out of time. The hour of truth is at hand."

Mévile Magnus' voice broke the stillness with an authority that couldn't be ignored. Her words were sharp, decisive, a call to action.

— "Waiting is no longer an option. The question is not who will rule when the Eye of Ozen returns, but who will seize the power before that moment arrives."

Her voice rang out, like the tolling of a bell signaling the onset of war, and the tension in the room spiked.

Then, amidst the growing tension, a sound—barely a breath—echoed through the chamber. It was the breath of something that should not have existed. The air trembled.

From the back of the room, nearly invisible in his throne of shadow, sat Dorian Somnolas, the Abyssal Sloth. His form melted into the darkness, a presence so intangible it seemed to defy existence. Slowly, he raised a finger, as if the effort of it cost him something beyond measure. His voice, when it came, was drawn and languid, a whisper carried by the gloom.

— "Why… rush…?"

The silence deepened, suffocating, as if the entire room held its breath, waiting for the next movement in this delicate game.

His words, drawn out and heavy, slid through the shadows like the crawl of death itself.

— "You speak of power, of ambition… but you are already consumed. Waiting… devours you from within. It is already too late."

An unsettling chill swept through the Lords. The air, once thick with tension, now seemed oppressive, weighed down by something far more dangerous—fatigue. A weariness so deep, so ancient, that it sank into their bones, making even the sharpest of minds falter. Even Sandow Spyder, usually so poised, felt his eyelids grow heavy. Lucius Nocturnus narrowed his eyes, disturbed by the subtle yet undeniable influence.

Dorian's lips curled into a spectral smile, almost imperceptible.

— "Ozen will return… or not… it doesn't matter. This world will collapse on its own. You will fight… you will tear each other apart. But I… I will wait. Because I know… everything ends… in time."

With that, he retreated into his throne, swallowed once more by the shadows, his presence vanishing without a trace. The room fell silent, heavier than before, as if the absence of Dorian had made the void even deeper.

Sandow Spyder, grinding his teeth, muttered in disgust.

— "That parasite…"

Lucius, unmoved, remained silent. No words were necessary.

The silence lingered, oppressive, thick with the weight of an unseen hand that gripped their minds and hearts. 

And somewhere, within the Totality of the Void, the waiting continued, unbroken, endless.