The Void
It begins the same way.
Always the same.
No sound.
No ground.
No sky.
Just... *depth.*
An endless, suffocating ocean with no surface and no bottom—only pressure. Crushing. Invisible. Absolute.
Lamia floats in it, suspended, her body unmoving, her senses stripped away.
No breath.
No heartbeat.
No self.
Only awareness.
And then—
**Eyes.**
They open within the dark.
Not glowing.
Not shining.
Just... *there.*
Watching.
Waiting.
Piercing.
"Remember who I am?"
The voice doesn't echo.
It *settles.*
Like something heavy pressing into her mind.
Lamia tries to speak.
Her lips don't move.
Her throat doesn't exist.
Her body is no longer hers.
"I'm hungry."
The pressure increases.
The ocean tightens around her.
"Have you felt it?"
A pause.
"My presence... my intention... my hunger?"
Something begins to *pull* at her.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
Instinct.
Impulse.
Desire.
The eyes grow larger.
Closer.
Closer—
Until the darkness peels back.
And reveals—
A face.
Her face.
Same structure.
Same features.
But wrong.
White hair drifting like dead strands in water.
Red eyes—wide, bloodshot, trembling with something unhinged.
A smile stretched too far.
Too sharp.
Too hungry.
Lamia's vision blurs.
Her consciousness begins to sink—
*No.*
Her eyes snap open again.
Forcefully.
She refuses.
And that's when she sees it.
The mouth.
Opening.
Wider.
Wider—
Rows of jagged teeth.
Saliva drifting like threads in water.
It lunges—
To devour her whole.
Instinct
Her body moves.
For the first time—
She *moves.*
She tears through the invisible pressure, jerking her arm free like ripping herself out of chains.
She drifts back.
Avoids it.
The twisted version of herself pauses.
Tilts its head.
"Oh?" it mutters, amused. "You can move?"
Something drips.
Warm.
Lamia looks down.
Blood.
Her blood.
Floating.
Breaking apart into crimson ribbons in the dark.
The creature watches it.
Then drinks.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Its expression twists into something ecstatic.
Lamia's thoughts tremble.
Is that... me?
She had always been quiet.
Still.
Detached.
But this?
This thing was impulse.
Violence.
Hunger without restraint.
Gluttonous Manifestation..
...
—
Outside—her physical body reacts.
Lamia's finger rises unconsciously.
She presses it into her mouth.
Bites.
Blood seeps.
And she drinks.
Her senses explode open.
Sound sharpens.
Air vibrates.
Every scent becomes layered.
Every movement slows.
Everything becomes *stimulus.*
Inside the void—
The creature attacks.
A surge of black liquid erupts from nothingness, flooding toward her like a tidal wave of compressed darkness.
This isn't just energy.
It's consumption given form.
Lamia doesn't think.
Her body responds.
She raises her hand.
Still.
Precise.
The camera—focuses.
Closer.
Closer.
The black mass inches toward her palm.
Time stretches.
Her fingers twitch—
Then—
A mouth opens in her hand.
Skin splits.
Flesh reshapes.
A grotesque grin forms in her palm.
A long, wet tongue lashes outward.
And devours the attack.
Instantly.
Cleanly.
Gone.
"Hungry!" the mouth hisses.
Lamia stares at it.
Then gently strokes it.
"There, there..." she whispers.
"Eat."
The mouth widens.
Satisfied.
Gluttonous Manifestation:
Unlike standard Seishin conversion, this ability does not convert energy—it consumes and assimilates it, erasing its existence entirely while restoring the user. This is not regeneration.
This is predation.
But something is wrong.
This ability...
Doesn't belong to her.
She is not the Shinigami of Gluttony.
So why—
The twisted Lamia laughs.
"You are me," it says. "I am you."
The ground forms beneath them.
Black.
Cracked.
Breathing.
The twisted Lamia clasps her hands.
The void trembles.
A pillar of condensed darkness erupts beneath Lamia—
Launching her upward.
But—
She stops.
Held in place.
Crushed.
Gravity.
Invisible.
Unavoidable.
Another pillar forms above—
Descending.
Fast.
The two forces converge.
A perfect execution.
Crushing point.
Death.
Lamia struggles.
Her arm shakes—
Then frees.
Just one.
That's enough.
Her palm-mouth bites into the pressure itself.
Chews.
Consumes.
Gravity distorts—
Then collapses.
Gone.
She drops—
But flips mid-air.
Stabilizes.
Her eyes shift.
Something changes.
She raises both hands.
Forms a gesture.
Finger guns.
"BANG."
Small spheres of compressed void-energy fire rapidly.
Each one detonates with nuclear-like force upon impact—distorting space, consuming matter at the point of contact.
Not explosions.
Erasures.
"BANG BANG BANG!"
She laughs.
Wild.
Unrestrained.
For the first time—
She's enjoying it.
The twisted Lamia laughs too.
They move simultaneously.
Explosions chase her as she weaves through them, flipping, twisting—each step barely escaping annihilation.
The ground shatters behind her in delayed bursts.
Then—
She counters.
A spinning aerial motion—
AXE KICK.
CRASH.
Lamia is slammed into the ground.
Impact fractures spread outward.
The twisted one lands beside her—
But Lamia grabs her leg.
Pulls.
Sweeps.
Reversal.
SLAM.
Now Lamia is on top.
PUNCH—
PUNCH—
PUNCH—
Each strike heavier than the last.
Bone cracks.
Flesh splits.
The twisted Lamia screams—
Not in pain.
But in delight.
Her fist morphs.
Hardens.
Sharpens.
She counters—
Lamia dodges—
Too late.
Her ear is torn clean off.
Blood sprays.
The twisted Lamia grabs her—
Bites into her neck—
Rips flesh away.
"More..." she mutters.
Then spits it out.
"I want your heart."
Lamia breathes in deeply.
Her palm-mouth lashes out—
Devours the spilled blood.
Her body stabilizes.
Repairs.
She stands.
Calm.
Smiling.
"Let's go."
Meanwhile — The Council
Sunlight pours into Daigo's office.
Too peaceful.
Too normal.
The contrast is unsettling.
Paperwork stacked neatly.
Coffee steaming.
Birds chirping faintly outside.
Private Inspector Lee sits across from him.
"A Shinigami?" Lee asks.
Daigo doesn't answer immediately.
He flips a page.
Then stops.
"...Yes."
A pause.
Heavy.
"The Prideful One."
Lee's expression tightens.
"Category 5," Daigo continues.
"But that classification is outdated."
He looks up.
Eyes sharp.
"It's not a disaster."
"It's a ruler."
Flash—
Bodies.
Cities burning.
An entire nation collapsing.
"The last time it walked the Earth..."
"...it erased the Philippines."
Silence fills the room.
Even the wind seems to stop.
"It doesn't rely on instinct," Daigo continues.
"It thinks. Plans. Evolves."
"It governs."
Lee leans forward.
Determined.
"We'll take it back."
Daigo smiles.
But—
Something feels off.
"...We will."
The camera slowly pulls back.
Out of the office.
Into the hallway.
Into the building.
Into the sky.
Something watches.
Not Lamia.
Not Bero.
Not the Pig.
Something else.