"What scares you the most?" A soft, melodious feminine voice rang out in the Nothingness.
"Insanity…" A deep, masculine voice answered, every syllable carrying confidence and unquestionable authority.
"Why are you so afraid of insanity?" The tranquil female voice asked again, its tone almost playful as it moved through the void.
Silence answered for a long, weightless moment. An unbroken, deathly quiet that seemed to inoculate the Nothingness itself.
"Are you so afraid that you refuse to answer me?" the melodious voice finally pressed, amusement barely hidden in the question.
"Insanity… I don't know why it scares me. Is it its uncertain nature? Its oblivion? Its warping of everything I thought I knew? I don't know. But it terrifies me, Galenna. I've seen insanity in its truest form… No words can do justice to its profanity. It is tumultuous as you'd expect of the first child of chaos. Insanity terrifies me because I know I'm within its embrace and yet… I have no measure of it. How insane am I? I don't even know what's real anymore, Galenna…" the man finally confessed.
"Grey lights obscure your incandescent rays, my love. I am being blinded by madness. I am submerged in a viscous ocean of profanity. An icy touch has pierced the valiant soul you nurtured… I can feel it. I can see it. I can perceive my demise, my love. Haven't I fallen, Galenna? Hasn't your miserable lover fallen into the corrupting embrace of insanity?" His voice trembled with the admission.
Again, the Nothingness held only immutable silence. There was no answer. Only the kind of quiet that could last an eternity.
"Galenna? My love? My dear Galenna? Please answer me…" The man called softly, raw trepidation threading his words as they echoed through the void.
A long, hollow laugh answered.
Hahahahahahah—
"I forgot… I'm insane. There's no Galenna. There once was a 'Galenna,' but now… there's only nothingness. They took you from me, my love… They broke me, my sweet Galenna, broke the gentle man you made me… They have broken Valor, my dear Galenna, by tainting you. I have failed you. I can only seek refuge in insanity… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my love…"
*****
"Valor? I've never heard such a name before." Serkin tilted his head a little, raising one of brows slightly to show he didn't know what he was blabbing about. "Nevermind that. It's clearly evident that you are a Chosen like us. So… what is it you seek in this city, Valor?"
Serkin and Adrac were on-guard. The new arrival was an enigma they knew nothing about. From the way he also floated up, it would be safe to assume one of his abilities was Flight but… several other abilities gave the Chosen the capacity to imitate Flight to a certain extent. Serkin couldn't just assume that he had Flight and agree on it without thorough certainty.
Adrac, on the other hand, was certain that the new arrival didn't have Flight as one of his abilities. There existed underlying similarities to all Chosen that had similar abilities and the new arrival emanated none of it, more precisely, he couldn't sense any similarity. He was a mystery and until they had a vague idea of what his intentions were and what his abilities were, Adrac had no plans of engaging him in combat… His handiwork was still staring at him from below–The ruination that he had brought upon the Grede. A colossal crater akin to the pupil of a horrifying creature staring back at him.
The new arrival whose appearance was something straight out of the most breathtaking painting, stared calmly at them with his entrancing eyes. His hair emanated a gleaming radiance as though each strand had been stolen from the hoard of some ancient god–threads of molten gold, plaited and refined until they fell with the softness of silk. But it was his eyes that burned themselves into memory: incandescent and furious, a pair of wildfire embers that turned the night itself into a trembling shadow.
He was an otherworldly creature. An entity whose beauty was far beyond human comprehension. He was so enchanting that it terrified them. His beauty sent terror rippling through their souls instead of beguiling them.
"A Chosen, huh? What do I seek, you ask?" His captivatingly deep voice that emanated confidence and unquestionable authority sounded out, quelling the thunderstorm's roars. "Doesn't the name 'Valor' already speak for itself? Or has that name lost its meaning? Has time really withered it all away?"
Serkin and Adrac stared at Valor in confusion, unable to grasp his words that sounded like the rambling of a mad man. To be honest, it didn't seem like he was directing his question towards them.
"Aren't you a Chosen, Valor?" Adrac questioned with a frown. He had already begun to move a little further away from the golden haired man.
The shrieks of the invisible Horrors that pervaded the air, the roaring of the thunderstorm that had already gathered and plunged the city into a world of partial darkness–all these were triggering Adrac's survival instinct. His Adaption was being forced to activate subconsciously–a fail-safe mechanism he had crafted for when he couldn't perceive a threat. Meant to activate the "Uncontrolled" aspect of his Adaption as that was the most instantaneous of the two.
Being able to trigger his fail-safe–somethung Serkin failed to do–spoke volume of what kind of person was standing before them. Despite not having done anything, everything after Valor's profound entrance herald a chaos that they–Adrac and Serkin–couldn't put their hands on.
"A Chosen? Of course not. Though I do not grasp what this "Chosen" you speak of is, I can deduce that I am not that. I was Valor, the Blessed Son of the Divinity… Now, I'm a Refuge of Profanity. Valor, The broken."
The shrieks tore through the limitations of the fabric of reality, no longer were they mere echoes of their true essence, as a fleeting wisp of their essence tore through space and time, gushing into reality through the tiny gaps in the fabric.
The thunderstorm froze like a painting as the lightning remained stagnant, an unperturbed silence submerged the world in a rather contradictory state… Tranquility before tumult.
"What is your purpose here, Valor? We've already brought unintentional harm upon the innocents here. I do not desire to fight you, Valor… Please, be on your way. I ask—" Adrac's words were suddenly cut off.
Silence… and then… Adrac's torso tore open, his innards fell out–intestines, heart, liver, lungs and everything within the cavity of his torso. Something intricate began weaving themselves, in the now empty cavity, from flesh, bones, and materials that shouldn't possibly be in a human's body.
Adrac screamed in agony and horror but the entire process continued on, for his wails meant nothing before the Force that willed the change.
Serkin–Backing away quickly–stared in horror, eyes wide opened, unable to believe what he was witnessing. He couldn't fathom what had caused the gruesome scene that just tainted his eyes.
'What the fuck!!!' Serkin yelled inwardly. This was a pure act of insanity.
"Adaption? Interesting. But why have you limited yourself so much, child?" Valor asked as a smile, evidently one of amusement, appeared on his otherworldly face.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM??!!!!" Serkin screamed in horror. He could already guess who induced the change happening to Adrac. It wasn't that he gave a single fuck about Adrac. He just yelled those words out in terror.
He knew that Valor hadn't shown any signs of using his ability, so how did he manage to affect Adrac? Serkin was terrified of the mysterious means of Valor.
Making up his mind, Serkin's hands were already tearing open space, ready to send out Rift Slashes and to also explode the space, creating a zone of chaotic spatial rifts around this bizarre man like he did to protect himself when he was fighting Adrac but this time, it wasn't with the intent of defending himself but to rip this mysterious abomination to shreds.
Unfortunately, Serkin would regret ever being the one to make the first move.
Valor, unperturbed by both Serkin's scream and attacks, merely closed his left palm into a fist, causing the entire space around him to be reinforced, nullifying Serkin's attack as if it was a sword striking a concrete wall. It produced no result.
'He's using Rift too? Shit!'
Serkin stared at Valor with another level of horror when the shrieks of the corruptive Horrors beyond the boundaries of reality rang clearly by his ears.
AHHHHHHHHH—
A piercingly shrill scream escaped Serkin's mouth as his head shockingly began inflating at a horrifying rate. His abilities automatically shot off. His body quickly began plunging down, towards the ruin below, as the pressure platform beneath his feet–created by his Rift ability–vanished.
Valor never took his gaze from Serkin, who plunged towards the ruins below.
"You are flawed, child. Limited by your own intelligence. Too restricted by the conventional ways of your mortal morals to see your true potential, boy. Now that you've heard things beyond your mundane comprehension ability, you shall die… and then, live. Reborn as the Echo of the Otherworldly" Valor muttered to himself and yet, his voice still echoed through space as if he was making a divine verdict.
With an explosive bang, Serkin's head burst open, spraying pieces of flesh, blood, bone fragments, and brain matter mid-air. All that was left was a blood stump on his neck, a place his head once sat on. His headless body continued plunging downwards.
Still staring, his expression unperturbed, maintaining an amused smile, Valor uttered a single word that willed into reality, a force…
"Regenerate,"
And indeed, he regenerated. Serkin regenerated. Going past the set limitation and regenerating the very source of his Regeneration… Serkin regenerated his entire head. Something that shouldn't be possible, after all, he needed to be conscious in order to activate his Regeneration… but he regenerated anyway, ignoring the very limits of his ability.
"Echo Of The Otherworldly… Quite fitting, wouldn't you say?" Valor muttered to himself.
Serkin–upon regaining his consciousness–activated his Rift ability instantaneously, creating a more refined version of the Pressure Platform below himself to stop his free fall.
He stood mid-air blankly for several seconds, his mind utterly void of any thoughts. The activation of his ability had actually been done by instinct–no complex thinking was required. He was blank until he wasn't…
Memories of what had just happened flooded into his mind. Serkin grabbed his head as an agonizing shriek was forced out of him. And then… his head began inflating again–the flesh around skull stretched beyond their elastic limits as it began to tear, the bones of his cranium protruding through the ripping flesh, and finally…
Just before it exploded into a shower of blood, bones and brain matter again, Serkin stopped screaming, his hands dropped limply beside him as his bloodshot eyes turned their gaze towards Valor.
Staring at this Profound Horror, Serkin's lips parted as a single word was once again uttered… this time, not by an outside authority but by him, Serkin, Echo Of The Otherworldly…
'REGENERATE!'
As if time was being reversed, his inflating cranium quickly began deflating at an astonishing speed–the protrusion of his cranium smoothening themselves and his flesh mending. And in mere moments, Serkin was… alright?
Meanwhile, not too far from Serkin, was Adrac.
He was… different. His change was extremely evident.
Adrac's flesh had undergone a grotesque and merciless unmaking. The once-living skin–torn, shredded, and peeled away in strips–gave way to something unnatural, something wrong. In its place stretched a flawless surface, like marble stolen from the bones of a dead god. It gleamed faintly, each smooth plane catching the light as though sculpted by hands that understood neither mercy nor imperfection… every plane of his form was sculptured by a Horror that only knew insanity.
What had once been the crude, muscular frame of an eight-foot man now towered close to twelve feet, an overwhelming presence that seemed to bend the air around him.
His eyes burned–a malignant, unblinking red–casting a faint but ever-present glow, as if lit from deep within by some alien furnace. Fingers had lengthened into weapons in their own right, elongated and tapered to cruel points like ceremonial knives carved for blood rites. His entire form had grown leaner, sharper, and unnervingly aerodynamic, the body of a predator designed for inevitability rather than speed.
But the transformation had not been merely cosmetic. His strength surged beyond its former bounds, a force that felt less like muscle and more like inevitability. His healing was no longer the crude mending of torn flesh and broken bones but an instantaneous correction, as though his body rejected the very idea of injury. Even his Adaptation–once a skill, now a primal instinct–had ascended to a new threshold, as if evolution itself had chosen to bow before him. The limits that had once defined him were gone, dissolved into the vast unknown.
He was no longer simply Adrac. That name, that man, belonged to a lesser being. Now, something far older and infinitely more enigmatic stood in his place… a Primordial, albeit still in the infant stage of its life.
This was no mere change.
This was an ascension.
This was true metamorphosis.
'Now… You are beautiful.' Valor uttered as his immutable will caress the folds of reality.
*****
'How long has it been, Andrew?'
'Is this whole thing still about you?'
'Have you let yourself be forgotten?'
'You are the nexus, Andrew. He who rewrites the workings of Fate. The shard of an accursed loom, dear Andrew."
"Fucking become relevant, idiot!"
"He is not to be blamed for his irrelevance. Let him be."
"For once… I'll abide by your words."
"Andrew…"