[Notice] - [This may cause nausea, vomiting and possibly trauma, enjoy :]
"Fuck, that's better. I felt like my brain was being roasted."
Maintaining eye contact, Kael watches as the witch's curious gaze begins to haze. The space around him bends unnaturally, the sound drains, and in a blink, silence. The darkness folds in, swallowing the world.
"What is this..."
Looking down, he sees his entire body rendered in shifting hues—white, blue, semi-transparent. Ethereal. Unreal.
"What is this stupid-ass generic blackflash shit? I don't remember adding this in my story."
A single point of light emerges. Not bright, not grand—just the only source of illumination in the swallowing void. The darkness flows toward it like water pulled into a whirlpool, reality trembling.
"Fuck," Kael mutters, shutting his eyes for a moment.
When he opens them—
He's standing in tall green grass under the cover of night. A cold wind sweeps across the field, the blades of grass whispering with every movement. Above, the three moons shine with quiet brilliance, their overlapping red, blue, and white glows painting the night in a soft lavender hue.
[You are currently in a record in time, approximately 715 years ago.]
"Huh… Leena did say she's been around for 700 years. I wo—"
BOOM!
A violent red flash tears through the sky, crashing to the ground like a falling star. The impact erupts in an explosion of heat and force, flames erupting outward, scorching the grass in a ring of destruction. The sheer power of the landing sends a shockwave through the earth, splattering boiling blood across the field.
Kael squints, stepping through the fire casually.
"What a dramatic entrance. This is a record, so I shouldn't affect whatever happens."
He walks closer, through flickering heat and smoke. At the center of the crater lies a woman—bloodied, bruised, unmoving. Her scarlet hair spreads out around her like bloodstained silk, and her golden-red robe hangs loosely, torn and burned in places. Her skin is scorched and torn in several places—except for one: the blade driven cleanly through her chest.
The sword's tip protrudes from her back, glimmering in a haunting emerald green. Blood drips from the curved edge, pooling beneath her. The blade itself is semi-long, its golden hilt crafted into the shape of blooming roots and tangled flowers.
Her breaths are slow, ragged. One knee is dug into the earth.
*Cough* *Cough*
"Hahahahahaha..." A low, calm laugh escapes her lips, bitter and measured.
"I never expected the gods to assist," she mutters coldly.
Her hand reaches for the hilt—but the moment her fingers graze it, golden sparks lash out, slicing through her skin like razors. She winces.
"I was so close..."
Her voice trembles.
Her fists clench until sharp pops echo through the quiet—her bones fracturing under her own fury.
"I'm not done. Not until they're all dead. The gods can only slow me down. Not one of them dares leave their post after all..."
The blood pooling beneath her quivers—then begins to flow backward. It coils up her legs, tracing old wounds, and disappears into her flesh.
"The issue is I can't escape death. The sword will return to the heavenly realm when I die," she murmurs, staggering to her feet and walking through the field into the nearby forest. Her robes drag against the grass, blood leaving a fading trail. "I have approximately fourteen years left."
"So let me help you," a calm voice speaks behind her.
Before the first syllable finishes, the earth erupts. Dozens of cursed red-black hands explode from the soil, clawing and writhing as they latch onto the figure who spoke.
The woman turns with a calm gaze, even as her blood still pours from her wounds—only to pull itself back in.
"Highly unnecessary," the hooded figure mumbles, their body gliding forward through the grasping hands. The hands struggle to find purchase, sliding through as if the figure isn't fully there.
"You are..." Her lips curl slightly, eyes narrowing as she tries to read the figure's presence. "You are a threat to everyone."
"Our goals align, Dae," the figure replies smoothly.
Dae blinks, tilting her head as her name is spoken. "To some extent. What is your offer?"
"A dying dungeon. We put a bit of effort into acquiring it. I'll help you prepare. In return, I would prefer this doesn't lead to an unnecessary battle. I may be unable to kill the descendant of a Primordial—"
They stop. The air thickens.
Countless whispers surround them, coiling like smoke.
"As I thought," Dae whispers. "Neither can I. After all, very few can catch shadows."
And just like that—
They vanish.
No step. No sound.
Gone.
Vanishing into the same direction—without a word more.
-
[jumping two weeks]
Kael opens his eyes to see a vast, hollow cavern—its ceiling lost in shadows, its walls jagged with veins of dormant mana. The only things inside are scattered minerals and unshaped rock. Empty. Cold. Echoing.
"This will solve many problems," Dae murmurs to herself, standing alone in the stillness. In her hand, she holds a two-inch seed—its shell black and red-striped, humming with cursed potential.
"Fighting the prince is no issue, but defeating him is difficult. Let their internal struggles be their downfall… and my pillars."
She kneels down, presses the seed into the earth, and lets her blood drip onto it. The moment it touches—
The ground shudders.
Pillars of stone groan as they rise slowly from the floor, circling outward in a precise formation. Each one bears a blood-red circle on its face, filled with unknown glyphs and twisting symbols drawn in thick strokes. Cursed energy flickers across their surfaces.
Dae's face remains calm as she turns her gaze downward. The sword in her chest vibrates violently, as though trying to cleave her in half—but her blood keeps it in place, anchoring it against the will of heaven.
"They've gotten relentless. Afraid."
With one hand, she draws a new circle on the cavern floor—this one glowing slowly with a pulsing red light. Cursed mist seeps from its edges.
From within the circle, a black root slithers upward, then another, and another. A tree begins to rise, its bark hard and dark as obsidian. Its roots dig deep into the dungeon stone, spreading outward like veins of rot.
"Not so fast," she mutters.
She punches the bark.
Her arm drives straight through. She winces, digging deeper into the warm black sludge hidden inside. Her fingers search, then feel it—a pulsing, slick form.
She pulls.
A glistening purple-red sack emerges in her grasp, shifting faintly, almost breathing.
"I'll need this. Grow and take control of them."
She turns to walk away—
—but stops.
Her gaze rises to the towering, monstrous tree still growing behind her.
"Retaliate again… and I'll kill you."