“Oh… ohhh…”
In the depths of a void so absolute it devoured even the idea of light, Yutis stood motionless, eyes wide with rapture. His breath trembled as he gazed at the formless expanse before him.
And then—
“You have done well, Yutis.”
The voice did not echo. It simply was, resonating through every atom of existence.
“Ah! M-My lord!”
Before him, the Darkness itself took shape. It was not a shadow or a being, but Darkness incarnate. It was as though the blackness surrounding Yutis was the entity’s very body, stretching beyond the horizon, beyond reason, infinite and all-consuming.
From that vastness, two eyes like twin amethysts slowly opened. Their glow pulsed with divine cruelty and unnatural warmth, as though mercy itself were but another form of dominion.
“It has been long indeed,” the voice murmured, its tone equal parts lament and triumph. “But at last… my seal is undone.”
“Yes… yes, my lord—the Wicked One!”
There could be no mistaking it. The being before Yutis was the god the cult had worshipped and bled for: their master, their reason, their apocalypse.
The Wicked One shifted His gaze, staring into the endless void beyond Yutis as though searching for something far greater.
“Now then… let us see how much of my power remains.”
The world—or what passed for one within that void—screamed. The space around Yutis convulsed, the darkness itself writhing under the strain of divine force. The Apostle dropped to one knee, unable to withstand the pressure.
“A-Ah! This… this is the power of my god!”
But the joy on his face faltered as the immense energy suddenly stilled. The Wicked One’s amethyst eyes narrowed, irritation bleeding into His voice.
“This? This is what remains of my might? No… no, this is nothing. This cannot be all that I am!”
Even anger itself seemed to distort the void. Yutis froze, struck silent beneath the weight of that fury.
“Have I grown so feeble,” the Wicked One murmured, voice low and trembling with contempt, “that I can erase only a few billion universes now?”
“—!”
Yutis could only stare in reverent terror. The idea of billions of universes meant nothing to him; he could no more comprehend it than a flame could grasp the sky. Yet to the Wicked One, that annihilation was a trivial proof of weakness, not strength.
It made sense, in a way. The gods had created everything: the cosmos, its laws, its life, and even the concept of creation itself. For a creator, unmaking was as effortless as exhaling.
And yet—
“Strange…” The Wicked One’s gaze flickered, shifting downward. “Why is it that I cannot erase this wretched star that kept me bound for so long?”
“What?” Yutis breathed.
“This world that dared imprison me…” His voice deepened, becoming a whisper that seemed to ripple through reality. “Why does it still exist?”
“That is…”
No matter how powerful his ability, Yutis was still a human. And no human could possibly understand what even a god could not.
Yet, for the briefest instant, an image of that unidentifiable existence flickered through his mind: the one responsible for slaying three of the cult’s Apostles, whose presence he had been utterly unable to trace.
The thought was gone almost immediately. Before a god’s displeasure, even a fleeting suspicion was dangerous.
“Forgive my presumption, my lord,” he said, bowing deeply. “But… perhaps the reason lies in the nature of this world. Your divine power, having been sealed here for so long, may have… fused with the planet itself.”
“Hmm…”
The Wicked One’s eyes narrowed, violet light swirling in contemplative motion.
“That may indeed be so. It is also possible,” He mused, “that the other gods, fearing my return, have tampered with this world. Infuriating as it is, their stature rivals my own. It would not be strange that their machinations remain beyond my sight.”
With that, His expression softened just enough to make the void itself breathe again.
“Very well, Yutis.”
“My lord,” Yutis answered, kneeling fully now.
“To act in this state is meaningless until I reclaim the power I once wielded… at least the strength I possessed before my imprisonment. You understand that much, do you not?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Good. Then I shall remain here, gathering what strength I can. You will continue as before: use the Divine Apostles and the lesser Apostles alike. Let them harvest despair, hatred, envy… every stain upon the hearts of mortals. Those emotions are the seeds of my restoration.”
“Yes, my lord!”
Yutis pressed his forehead to the ground, trembling with fervent devotion. He believed that would be the end of his orders. But the god’s voice continued.
“In addition to that…” The tone deepened, a hint of anticipation coiling within it. “There is something else I require you to find.”
“Something… to find?” Yutis looked up, hesitant.
“Yes. If my memory serves from the moment before my sealing… when my power clashed with that of the other gods, something was born.”
“Born?”
“Indeed. I was imprisoned before I could discern its nature. Even now, I cannot recall what it was. But whatever came into being back then, it was something neither I nor the gods ever anticipated. Do you understand what that implies?”
The void seemed to tighten around him, and for a moment, Yutis felt as though he were peering into the edge of a truth not meant for mortal minds.
“My deepest apologies, my lord. I do not—”
“Do not understand?”
The Wicked One’s voice cut through the void like thunder given thought. “Yutis… I am speaking of something that neither the gods, nor even I, could have foreseen.”
“What?” Yutis’s eyes widened.
The very idea was heresy to reality itself. The gods were the creators of all things: of time, of life, of reason, of being. They were omniscience embodied. And yet the Wicked One was saying that something had been born outside even their understanding.
“When my power clashed with theirs,” the god continued, “something took form. It can only be a crystallization of that divine collision: a raw embodiment of power itself. The gods would never seek to use such a thing. They are creatures of stasis. But neither could they destroy it. It is beyond even their grasp. More likely… they sealed it away, somewhere on this world.”
“I-I can’t see how that’s possible…” Yutis whispered.
“You will find it,” the Wicked One commanded, His voice now deep enough to make the void quake. “Find it, and offer it to me. I shall wield it to surpass them all.”
“B-But, my lord! Such a thing must be… unspeakably dangerous!”
“Dangerous?” The god’s laughter rolled like an earthquake. “Perhaps. Or perhaps not even danger itself could touch me. I care not. For the sake of vengeance, I will seize it, whatever the cost. With that power, I will ascend beyond all gods… and at last create the world I desire.”
As that vow reverberated through the infinite darkness, Yutis bowed low, trembling beneath the pressure of divine hatred.
“Yes, my lord! I, Yutis, will find it and bring it before You. I swear it upon my very soul!”
“Good. I am counting on you…”
And with that final murmur, the god’s form dissolved—His vast presence fading into the black, as if the Darkness itself were reclaiming Him.