The screaming stopped.
The faces collapsed into nothing.
And where fear should have ended—
Something remained.
A monster.
Chains wrapped around its massive frame, glowing faintly, as though even the darkness struggled to restrain it. Its body resembled living smoke — not drifting, but folding in on itself, coiling like something breathing without lungs. Blue fire burned inside hollow eyes, casting warped shadows across jagged teeth and talons that clicked softly when it moved.
Not attacking.
Waiting.
"So…" the creature said, voice smooth and deliberate, like oil sliding over sharpened steel.
"We finally meet."
Sam's heart stuttered.
Not raced — stuttered, like it forgot how to beat for a moment.
His lungs lost their rhythm. Every instinct screamed *run*, but his body refused to obey — not just from fear, but from something heavier, deeper, as if gravity itself had decided to anchor him here.
*This isn't real,* his mind insisted.
Another thought answered, colder.
*Real enough to kill you.*
His hands trembled.
"Wh-who…" His throat burned around the word. "Who are you?"
*Not again.*
*If I freeze, I die. If I die… Mom. Nina. Dad—*
He forced his spine straight, legs shaking beneath him.
"Who are you?!" he demanded.
The creature flexed its claws slowly, savoring the tension.
"Who am I?" it echoed.
Then it laughed.
Not loudly.
Not wildly.
It laughed like something ancient rediscovering amusement after centuries of boredom — low, jagged, wrong.
The sound crawled down Sam's spine.
When the creature spoke again, its voice no longer sounded smooth. It sounded layered — as though many voices were speaking through one throat.
"I am the thing your kind fears when hope dies."
The chains rattled.
The darkness trembled.
"I am the nightmare that survives every ending."
Blue fire surged behind its eyes.
"I am immortal."
"I am what remains when light fails."
Its gaze burned.
"I Am Abyss Sovereign"
"**Darmit.**"
The name struck like a physical blow.
Silence crashed down.
Sam stood rigid, chest rising too fast, breath carving shallow lines through his lungs.
After several seconds, he forced sound through his throat.
"…What do you want?"
Darmit tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering the question.
"What do I want?" he mused.
Then smiled.
"Maybe…"
His gaze sharpened.
"…you."
Sam's pulse spiked.
"Are you going to kill me?" he asked.
Darmit chuckled softly.
"I'd enjoy that."
A crushing pressure slammed into Sam's chest. His lungs burned, vision blurring at the edges.
"But I can't."
Sam blinked.
"If you die, I die. If I die, you die." Darmit's grin widened. "Our souls are bound."
Relief surged through Sam before he could stop it — sudden, uncontrollable, almost dizzying.
*So I won't die.*
Then Darmit leaned closer.
"But if you ever lose yourself…" he whispered, "…I take control."
His eyes burned brighter.
"And you already know what happens after that."
Images slammed into Sam's mind.
Nina crying, fists clenched in her shirt.
His mother's trembling hands, pretending not to shake.
His father standing silently in a doorway, eyes full of things he never said.
Heat rushed into Sam's chest.
"You'll destroy your world," Darmit murmured, delighted. "Your family. Everyone you love."
Something inside Sam fractured.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Resolve.
His fists clenched until pain shot up his arms.
Then—
Blue fire ignited around his hands.
Not flickering.
Not wavering.
Alive.
The closer Sam stepped, the brighter it burned — and with it, something unfamiliar stirred in his chest. Not rage alone.
Ownership.
Darmit's smile vanished.
"H-how are you moving?!" he snapped. "Those flames—!"
His eyes widened.
"They're mine!"
He lunged.
Sam didn't step back.
"Don't you dare—"
His voice shook the void itself.
"—say anything about my family."
He punched.
**BOOM.**
The world ruptured.
Shockwaves tore through the darkness. Chains screamed. The ground fractured beneath Sam's feet, the air itself collapsing under the force.
Darmit's massive body launched backward — stopped only when the chains yanked him mid-air before slamming him violently into the ground.
Smoke rose.
Silence followed.
"…How…" Darmit whispered.
Sam walked forward, flames spiraling tightly around his fist.
"I may not be able to kill you today," he said quietly, meeting Darmit's eyes, "or tomorrow…"
His voice hardened.
"But someday — I'll end you."
Darmit laughed faintly.
"Everyone says that."
Then his form dissolved into smoke.
"Try."
And he was gone.
---
Sam stood alone.
The darkness felt heavier now — not empty, but watchful.
He stared at his burning fist.
*This power… came from him.*
That thought made his stomach twist.
Then—
He slammed his fist into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
Ten.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward beneath him, each strike fueled by something he couldn't name — anger, fear, denial, maybe all of it.
On the twelfth blow—
The floor collapsed.
And Sam fell.
---
Sunlight.
A blaring alarm clock.
Sam gasped awake in his bed, sweat soaking through his shirt, lungs dragging in air like he'd just surfaced from deep water.
His heart hammered.
He clenched his fist.
**Yellow fire burst from his palm.**
His breath stopped.
"…So it wasn't a dream."
The flames vanished instantly, leaving only the smell of heat and the tremor in his fingers.
He sat motionless for several minutes, staring at his hands like they no longer belonged to him.
*He can't kill me.*
The thought brought relief — brief, fragile.
*But he can take my body.*
That relief shattered.
Not death.
Loss of control.
Loss of self.
*If I lose myself… I disappear.*
His fingers curled slowly.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Sam paced the room, running his hands through his hair, breathing uneven, thoughts spiraling in loops he couldn't escape.
*What if I snap one day?*
*What if I hurt someone?*
*What if I wake up and it's already too late?*
His chest tightened.
"I won't let that happen," he muttered aloud, as if saying it could make it true.
He dropped into his chair, elbows on knees, staring at the floor.
"There has to be a way," he whispered. "To get you out. To kill you. To—"
His jaw tightened.
"To win."
He looked up at the window, sunlight cutting through the curtains.
"I'll find a way."
Even if he didn't know how yet.
*Buzz.*
His phone vibrated.
A message from Jack.
**Jack:**
*(Hey bro! Meeting at 2 PM — XYZ location. Don't be late again.)*
Sam stared at the screen.
Normal words.
Normal life.
For a second, it felt unreal — like he was watching someone else's world through glass.
*I almost forgot what normal feels like.*
He typed back a thumbs-up.
*1:00 PM.*
He changed clothes slowly, but no matter how hard he tried, Darmit's eyes followed him through every reflection — mirrors, windows, even the black screen of his phone.
His chest felt tight.
Uneasy.
Still—
He went downstairs.
His mother stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, humming softly as she cleaned. Nina stood beside her, proudly handing over utensils like a tiny assistant on her first day of work.
"Mom, this one!" Nina said, holding up a spoon like it was treasure.
"Thank you, sweetheart," their mother smiled. "Perfect timing."
Sam paused at the bottom step, watching them.
The warmth of the scene hit him harder than any nightmare.
Hearing footsteps, his mother turned.
"Oh — going out with your friends?" she asked warmly.
"Yes, Mom. I might come back late."
"That's fine," she said gently. "Enjoy yourself."
She hesitated — then walked over and kissed his forehead softly.
"It's okay, son," she said. "Everything will be fine."
Something loosened in Sam's chest.
He hadn't realized how tight it was until now.
He hugged her tightly, holding on longer than usual.
"Thank you, Mom."
"That's not fair!" Nina pouted, crossing her arms. "I want a hug too!"
Sam laughed quietly.
"Come here, my little angel."
She wrapped her arms around his waist with all her strength.
For a moment, the world felt peaceful.
Normal.
Safe.
And Sam made a silent promise.
*I won't lose myself.*
*Not to him.*
*Not ever.*
---
Some time later…
Sam stood at XYZ location, checking his phone.
*2:25 PM.*
"Seriously…" he sighed. "They never change."
He scanned the street, watching strangers pass — laughing, talking, living — and felt something strange in his chest.
Longing.
Normalcy felt fragile now. Precious.
Then—
"HYYYY SAM!"
Two idiots waved wildly from across the street, nearly getting hit by a bike.
"We're here!"
Jack and Jerry.
Sam smiled.
Not forced.
Not polite.
Real.
He walked toward them, feeling — for the first time since the nightmare began — like the weight on his chest had lifted… even if only a little.
And for now…
That was enough.
---
**Chapter 5 — End**