Lost from Light continued to drown, and the sensation persisted without mercy as he sank deeper into the immeasurable abyss that composed the Profaned God's Soul Sea. Just how far would he descend before reaching whatever passed for a bottom in a place like this remained an entirely different question, yet the answer refused to reveal itself, and uncertainty clung to him s the void dragged him further inward.
He did not possess an answer.
He had been completely severed from the outside world, and the disconnection felt far more profound than simple isolation. The natural sensation of the Dream Realm no longer touched him, the flow of existence itself seeming to recede like a tide abandoning a desolate shore, and thus he drifted through a suffocating expanse that felt thick and oppressive. The void surrounded him like viscous muck, although the sensation resembled the experience of floating through a silent universe where gravity had lost its will.
The interior of the Profaned God of Entropy resembled the night sky in one respect alone: endless darkness.
Beyond that shallow similarity, there could be no other comparison. This space possessed no blood, no flesh, and no recognizable anatomy that might resemble the body of a living creature. Such an absence remained natural given the circumstances, because Lost from Light had not invaded the body of a lesser god or even some grand abomination shaped by the Nightmare Spell. He had entered a true god.
A true god did not divide itself into separate components.
Its mind was its body.
Its body was its soul.
Its soul was its mind.
Everything existed as one indivisible whole, and therefore the moment Lost from Light crossed the boundary of that wound, his existence had become entangled with Abaddon's in a manner that no mortal creature should ever experience. The Profaned God's being surrounded him entirely, pressing against every fragment of his spirit as though the two entities had begun occupying the same conceptual space.
For a fleeting instant, the distinction between them blurred.
Lost from Light had become part of Abaddon.
Abaddon had become part of Lost from Light.
He felt it immediately.
His soul began to change.
The transformation crept forward with the quiet persistence of rot spreading through ancient wood. Entropy pressed against his essence from every direction, attempting to reshape him into something compatible with its own endless hunger for dissolution. The corruption moved patiently, yet the process halted again and again whenever it reached the boundaries of a particular fragment of his being.
The [Longing] attribute.
He had received that power when the conditions of [Shadow Bond] had finally been fulfilled, and now the attribute revealed its purpose. The corruption could approach him, it could even press against his soul with suffocating pressure, yet the final step remained impossible.
Entropy could not claim him.
'Can't… think…'
His thoughts staggered beneath the overwhelming flood of foreign impressions crashing into his mind. Images began forcing themselves into his awareness without permission, and those visions carried fragments of knowledge so vast and incomprehensible that his mind threatened to collapse beneath their weight.
Worlds.
Endless worlds.
Civilizations erased into nothingness.
Stars being swallowed by the quiet appetite of the void.
Lost from Light understood instinctively that these scenes represented memories belonging to the Profaned God. The knowledge contained within them stretched beyond mortal comprehension, yet the torrent continued to pour through him regardless.
He reacted quickly.
Part of [Mind Weave] shut down immediately, sealed away with so that the full extent of that knowledge could not settle within his consciousness. If he allowed his mind to fully comprehend what flowed through him, disaster would follow. The corruption would attempt to take root in the understanding itself, while [Longing] would fight to negate that influence.
The result could shatter him. After all, he was not stable.
Lost from Light suspected he possessed the strength to resist such corruption for a limited time. After all, he had become a Sacred-Titan, and the resilience of his existence far exceeded that of most beings wandering the Dream Realm.
However, endurance possessed limits.
Even a Sacred-Titan could not stare into the raw knowledge of the void forever.
Only the presence of the Weaves protected him from immediate destruction. The intricate threads woven into his soul strained beneath the pressure of Entropy, yet they continued to hold. [Silver-Sky Weave] worked tirelessly among them, its hidden functions reinforcing the fragile boundary that kept his existence intact.
Despite that protection, the strain continued to intensify.
He needed to act quickly.
Thump… Thump… Thump…
The sound echoed through the abyss with slow force.
Lost from Light tried to focus on his True Name, gripping it like an anchor as the surrounding chaos threatened to scatter his consciousness. While he struggled to maintain that fragile clarity, the rhythmic pounding continued to reverberate through the depths.
He could not describe it as a heartbeat.
The scale alone rendered that interpretation absurd.
Each pulse resembled the strike of a colossal drum echoing through an infinite ocean, the vibrations spreading outward until they seemed to ripple across the entire Soul Sea.
Then the whispers arrived.
Ordinarily Lost from Light would have severed his hearing immediately, isolating his mind from whatever maddening murmurs attempted to invade it. Unfortunately such defenses proved useless here, because the moment he entered this realm his physical form had dissolved into something far more abstract.
His entire body now existed as a pure soul.
He had entered a Soul Sea, and therefore the concept of physical senses had vanished completely.
There was nowhere to hide.
The whispers of knowledge flowed through him without obstruction, each fragment carrying truths that no one who ever wanted to remain pure should encounter.
The knowledge of the void.
[Longing] held firm.
The attribute resisted corruption relentlessly, and thus Lost from Light endured the whispers without surrendering to them.
Then he felt something new.
A gaze.
The sensation pressed against his spiritual existence with overwhelming force. Unease flooded through him as though an immeasurable weight had settled upon his shoulders, and the pressure threatened to crush him outright.
Time passed.
Or perhaps it did not.
Eventually the sounds disappeared.
The screams buried within Abaddon's memories faded into silence, the endless whispers dissolving like mist beneath an unseen sun. Even the familiar voice of the Spell vanished from his senses, leaving behind an unsettling quiet that stretched across the abyss.
Lost from Light forced his eyes open once more.
The darkness had changed.
Strange symbols drifted through the surrounding void, their shapes twisting slowly as if guided by a logic entirely separate from mortal language. Images accompanied them, fragmented and unfamiliar, forming patterns that carried meaning just beyond the limits of comprehension.
This was wrong.
Under normal circumstances a Soul Sea contained an actual sea. One could walk upon its surface while navigating the inner landscape of another being's soul.
Yet the sensation surrounding Lost from Light felt entirely different.
He was beneath that Sea.
No wonder he felt like he was drowning.
This place existed far below the surface where ordinary souls might wander. It was the deepest layer of Abaddon's existence, the hidden abyss where the Profaned God stored everything it had consumed throughout its endless hunger.
Worlds.
Creatures.
Fragments of power stolen from countless beings.
All of it gathered here.
This was the depth of the soul.
This was corruption itself.
「 "■■■■■■■…"」
The Spell attempted to speak.
Even that omnipresent voice struggled within this realm, its message fragmenting into indecipherable noise before reaching his ears.
Then another voice appeared.
"What are you doing? Why are you here? Run away…!"
Lost from Light turned his attention toward the source. A small light floated nearby, glowing faintly within the endless darkness. The radiance possessed no clear color, shifting constantly between shades, and the light itself drifted helplessly within the same suffocating sea.
It was drowning too.
'…Well. Thank you. But there is nowhere for me to run.'
His response remained quiet.
The truth behind it remained undeniable.
Lost from Light existed in the depths of the Profaned God's Soul Sea. The true body of Abaddon remained bound to an ancient seal placed upon it long ago by Surya. That seal still anchored part of the god's existence to the distant outer universe where Surya's avatar had perished, while another portion of Abaddon's being remained entangled with the Dream Realm where the battle had taken place.
The Profaned God existed between worlds.
Lost from Light had fallen directly into the center of that unnatural state.
The environment surrounding him carried a profound sense of violation. Nothing here resembled a stable reality. The space itself rejected the idea of proper existence, because everything within it revolved around one singular impulse.
The desire to dissolve.
The desire to end.
The desire to reduce all things to disorder.
The desire to invoke Entropy.
Every detail he could perceive lacked the stability required to qualify as a true existence.
Yet one fact emerged clearly.
Abaddon wanted to devour him.
Lost from Light could not determine the exact reason. Perhaps the Profaned God desired the Flame of Desire that had burned so fiercely during the earlier battle. That flame had weakened significantly since then, shrinking back to its original fragile state after exhausting itself during the clash.
Even now it flickered faintly within his soul.
'Here it comes…'
The symbols drifting through the abyss began to gather together. Their chaotic arrangement gradually organized itself into something resembling a shape.
Eyes formed.
A mouth appeared.
Lost from Light could not confirm whether those structures truly represented eyes or a mouth, yet the configuration resembled a face strongly enough that his mind accepted the interpretation.
The figure attempted to speak.
Its voice failed repeatedly, dissolving into distorted echoes before the meaning could reach him. After several moments the shifting symbols trembled violently before rearranging themselves into words he could finally understand.
[Bold… so… very bold…]
Lost from Light shivered.
His body had already regenerated fully due to the strange interaction between his soul and the Profaned God's domain, yet the oppressive pressure surrounding him made that recovery feel irrelevant.
At any moment, he felt as though the abyss might simply close in and crush him, and the thought refused to loosen its grip on his mind as the oppressive weight of the Soul Sea continued to bear down upon his spiritual form. The pressure intensified with unsettling patience, pressing against every fragment of his being until even the act of maintaining cohesion felt like an act of rebellion against a universe that had already decided he did not belong here.
Then it happened.
The moment Lost from Light sensed countless eyes turning toward him, his body reacted before his thoughts could form. A violent convulsion rippled through his spiritual existence, and the sensation felt so disturbingly real that he nearly retched out a clot of phantom blood despite lacking a physical body.
This was the presence of a god.
More precisely, it was the presence of a god that frightened even the Daemons and the ancient Gods born from the Void itself. Those primordial entities existed beyond the ordinary hierarchy of existence, yet even they regarded Abaddon with caution bordering on dread. Such a reputation did not arise from legend alone, and the oppressive force pressing down upon Lost from Light made that fact abundantly clear.
A message surfaced within his mind.
[The Attribute 'Longing' is extremely active!]
Immediately afterward another voice echoed across the abyss, though the sound carried a strange distortion as if reality itself struggled to translate the Profaned God's intent into something comprehensible.
[The presence of an inferior existence… how… do you resist me?]
The change within Lost from Light became obvious almost instantly. The [Longing] Attribute surged with a ferocity he had never experienced before, its output rising to a level that defied comparison to any previous moment of its existence. Even the occasions when Changing Star herself had wielded the attribute could not approach the magnitude now unfolding within his soul.
It felt as though the attribute had begun forming a physical structure.
The sensation resembled a barrier, yet it also carried the strange impression of a living force pressing outward against the suffocating entropy that surrounded him. Such a reaction made the danger of his opponent painfully obvious, because attributes did not normally respond with such overwhelming intensity unless confronted with something profoundly threatening.
This enemy existed far beyond ordinary calamity.
Truly, a being capable of rivaling the True Entities of the Void would naturally inspire such terror. Lost from Light found himself wondering what creatures like the so-called Angels might resemble if Abaddon itself carried this much oppressive authority. The thought lingered only briefly, because indulging curiosity inside a god's Soul Sea bordered on suicidal arrogance.
He steadied himself.
Slowly, Lost from Light forced the tremor from his True Voice. The effort required immense focus, because the surrounding pressure continued attempting to shatter his composure with relentless persistence.
"Profaned God," he said calmly, his voice cutting through the suffocating darkness with defiance. "Abaddon. The Garden of Entropy. Disorder incarnate. The one who would lead all things toward their final end."
The abyss reacted.
[Ohh…?]
The shifting symbols that composed Abaddon's crude manifestation twitched violently as though surprised by his words. The reaction appeared almost comical when considered from a detached perspective, yet the truth behind it remained brutally simple.
In Abaddon's perception, Lost from Light barely qualified as a living thing.
He was not an enemy.
He was not even an insect.
He was a faint mote of light drifting within an ocean of annihilation, a curious irregularity that could vanish at the slightest whim.
Nevertheless, the Profaned God had noticed him.
At that moment the surrounding void changed.
Strange symbols began appearing around Lost from Light in dense clusters, their shifting forms converging toward him with intent. The movement carried a disturbing familiarity, because the symbols behaved like probing tendrils attempting to invade his essence and dissect whatever strange anomaly had entered the Soul Sea.
The first symbol approached his side.
The moment it touched the boundary of his existence, it rebounded violently.
Another followed.
It too was repelled.
The reason revealed itself.
Shadows had appeared beside him.
They emerged from his side of the Soul Sea like silent guardians rising from an unseen depth, spreading outward until the surrounding darkness took on a strange division. The abyss had previously consisted only of Abaddon's domain, where True Darkness intertwined with pure Nothingness in an endless spiral of entropy.
Now another presence existed.
The space surrounding Lost from Light divided itself between two opposing forces.
Abaddon's Nothingness and True Darkness.
Lost from Light's Shadows and faint lingering Light.
The Profaned God spoke again, although its voice carried an unfamiliar hesitation.
[What…?]
The symbols trembled violently.
[You… you are…]
The sentence never reached completion, yet Lost from Light understood the meaning clearly enough. Abaddon had discovered something unexpected.
He could not be corrupted.
The Profaned God had anticipated an easy assimilation, yet the incorruptible nature of [Longing] prevented that outcome from unfolding as expected. Even so, Lost from Light understood the situation far better than Abaddon realized.
This protection would not last forever.
Because of Abaddon's fundamental nature, even an attribute like [Longing] could not endure indefinitely. Entropy possessed many expressions, and corruption represented only one among them.
He smiled.
The moment arrived precisely as he anticipated.
[The Attribute 'Longing' is being forcefully altered!]
Another message followed almost instantly.
[The Attribute 'Longing' is being—?!?]
Lost from Light's smile widened despite the catastrophic implications.
'Bring it on, you bastard.'
He did not need to speculate about Abaddon's strategy. The Profaned God embodied Entropy itself, and Entropy inevitably contained Disorder within its endless spectrum of influence. Because they now shared the same Soul Sea, Abaddon could introduce that disorder directly into the structure of [Longing].
Disorder differed from corruption.
Therefore the attribute could not reject it.
Abaddon intended to dismantle the very foundation of the power resisting him.
Yet the Profaned God had overlooked something important.
Lost from Light possessed [Silver-Sky Weave].
The weave had been created by the Original Sunless with extraordinary foresight. Its known functions included summoning disaster, guiding anything he so wishes, and channeling starlight, yet another aspect of the weave carried a far more subtle utility.
It could draw Soul Essence directly from the surrounding world.
Any Soul Essence.
Ambient fragments drifting through the air.
The remnants released by dying beings.
Even the lingering energy permeating the fabric of existence itself.
Under ordinary circumstances Lost from Light relied almost exclusively on Shadow Essence within his soul. That resource defined his abilities, shaped his techniques, and sustained the strange nature of his existence.
Ironically, the same limitation did not apply to Abaddon.
The Profaned God possessed immense quantities of Soul Essence despite its corrupted nature.
The realization settled into place. Mostly, for Abaddon.
He reacted violently.
[Y—Yo—You…!]
The Profaned God's voice cracked with unmistakable alarm, because Lost from Light had shattered the invisible boundary dividing their respective domains within the Soul Sea. The separation between their territories collapsed instantly as his will surged forward, and the sudden intrusion allowed him to reach something far more important than the Profaned God's attention.
One of Abaddon's seven Soul Cores.
The timing proved perfect.
While Abaddon focused its immense power on unraveling the structure of [Longing], the Profaned God could not simultaneously defend itself against an internal assault. That vulnerability opened a narrow yet devastating opportunity.
And Lost from Light seized it.
Soul Serpent appeared beside him, its spiritual form coiling through the abyss like a silent predator responding to an unspoken command. The weapon carried the lingering blessings of Surya and Izanami within its essence, their divine influences reinforcing its deadly purpose.
Surya's blessing remained somewhat mysterious to Lost from Light, yet Izanami's gift revealed itself with terrifying clarity. Every shadow touching an opponent could drain Soul Essence directly from that target, poisoning their existence with a slow and insidious theft.
Abaddon's Soul Cores were… enormous.
Each core dwarfed the ones residing within Lost from Light's own soul. Even after absorbing the Aspect [Light Bringer], his cores remained modest compared to those belonging to a true god.
One of Abaddon's cores could easily contain five of his own.
Size alone, however, would not save it.
Soul Serpent possessed the ability known as [Slaying Blade].
That power ignored the wills of others.
It brought death regardless.
Lost from Light struck.
The blade pierced the immense Soul Core with ruthless precision, and the impact immediately produced visible fractures across its luminous surface. The damage accumulated quickly because the core had already suffered immense strain during the creation of the Gardens of Entropy.
Surya's final attack had weakened the Profaned God far more than Abaddon realized.
Lost from Light struck again.
[You… wretched… aberration…!]
The Profaned God attempted to respond, yet the insult dissolved beneath another devastating strike.
Lost from Light smiled calmly.
Time stretched strangely within the Soul Sea, yet eventually the inevitable occurred.
Abaddon screamed.
The entire Soul Sea screamed with it.
One of the seven Soul Cores shattered completely.
An immense torrent of Soul Essence erupted into the surrounding abyss, flooding the divided sea with raw power that surged toward Lost from Light like a starving storm. The sudden influx strengthened him immediately, reinforcing his soul and allowing him to prepare another devastating strike against the remaining cores.
The irony of the situation lingered quietly in the back of his mind.
When Lost from Light ascended to the rank of Sacred, something strange had happened during the transformation. In the chaos of that moment he had unknowingly devoured his own Shadows, absorbing them completely without realizing the significance of the event.
He had achieved Apotheosis without understanding it.
The revelation carried a strange humor even now.
Truly… hilarious.
A Supreme who reached the rank of Sacred through no actual wish of their own, and consequently discovered the truth only after the transformation had already concluded.
Yet the moment of reflection ended there.
Lost from Light moved toward the sixth Soul Core, drifting through the divided depths of the Soul Sea with focus, because the fragile advantage he possessed would not endure much longer. By that point he could already feel the corrosive influence of Disorder spreading across the structure of [Longing], and the damage manifested with frightening speed as Abaddon continued unraveling the attribute from within.
The attribute was half-destroyed.
Its luminous structure flickered like a shattered star struggling against the inevitable pull of collapse, and the moment that realization settled into place Lost from Light understood exactly how little time remained. Destroying Abaddon's Soul Cores accelerated the torrent of Soul Essence flooding into him, which allowed him to sustain his existence within the god's domain a little longer. Unfortunately the same strategy could never completely kill a True God, regardless of how desperate or relentless his assault became.
Yet he smiled anyway…
Lost from Light continued striking the sixth Soul Core while the surrounding Soul Sea trembled violently, because this moment represented a brief inversion of the natural order. Here within the depths of Abaddon's being the roles had shifted, thus the Sacred-Titan stood as the predator while the Unholy-Titan briefly played the role of prey.
The reversal would not last.
He knew it.
Still, that knowledge only sharpened his resolve.
Lost from Light unleashed everything he possessed during those fleeting moments of dominance. Soul Serpent struck repeatedly with merciless precision while shadows surged around him like living extensions of his will, and the battle unfolded through relentless sequences of devastating blows crashing against the vulnerable Soul Cores scattered throughout the abyss.
At the same time Abaddon continued invoking waves of Disorder against [Longing], each surge distorting the attribute further as its incorruptible structure fractured beneath the Profaned God's authority.
The conflict escalated rapidly.
Soul Essence erupted through the divided sea with every shattered fragment of divine power, yet the opposing forces gradually approached their inevitable conclusions.
In the end…
Abaddon lost three of its seven Soul Cores.
And Abaddon had—
[The Attribute 'Longing' has been destroyed.]
Lost from Light blinked slowly as the message appeared before him, because he had never once imagined the Nightmare Spell would produce such a notification. The destruction of an attribute bordered on the impossible, and thus the existence of such a message felt almost surreal despite the overwhelming circumstances surrounding him.
Still, invading the Soul Sea of a True God had never been a normal situation.
Extraordinary consequences followed naturally.
Unfortunately his attention shifted immediately toward a far more urgent realization.
He was vulnerable now.
His end had arrived.
Abaddon's presence rippled through the abyss with amusement, and the sensation resembled the distant rumble of laughter spreading across an endless sea. In that same moment Lost from Light felt something inside his existence begin to distort violently, his spiritual form trembling as unfamiliar energy seeped into every corner of his being.
It took only seconds for him to understand.
He was changing.
A Sacred-Titan was becoming a Cursed-Titan.
Corruption took root inside him like poisonous vines spreading through fertile soil, the void itself sinking deep into his soul as Entropy attempted to claim him completely.
His Sacred nature resisted the transformation for a brief moment.
That resistance would not last long.
Lost from Light raised his gaze toward the looming presence of Abaddon with open hostility.
"What?" he asked calmly, although his voice carried the quiet strain of someone standing at the edge of annihilation. "Already? Have you grown bored with me, glutton?"
The Profaned God offered no answer.
Lost from Light could sense the insult radiating from Abaddon's vast consciousness, because the damage inflicted upon the Soul Cores had clearly wounded the creature's pride. A mere Sacred had entered its domain and carved away pieces of its profane essence, and the humiliation lingered like a festering wound within the god's vast mind.
Enough was enough, it seemed.
Lost from Light allowed Soul Serpent to dissolve quietly, the weapon returning to its familiar place as a dark tattoo resting along his skin. Once the blade vanished he faced the incomprehensible presence surrounding him with an expression of calm composure.
Internally his thoughts raced with urgency.
'It's now or never!'
The Profaned God finally spoke.
[You…]
Lost from Light raised an eyebrow.
For a True God, Abaddon's sense of self appeared strangely fractured. The entity possessed unimaginable power, yet its awareness carried an unsettling absence of cohesion as though the vastness of its existence had eroded something essential.
Its instincts remained sharp.
The god continued speaking.
[THI S DIVID-E OF SO-ULS WIT H YOU E NDS HERE. I WIL-L EAT A LL OF YOU.]
A chill spread through Lost from Light quickly.
Two enormous eyes appeared within the abyss, their presence completely separate from the countless smaller ones scattered throughout the soul of Entropy. These were Abaddon's true eyes, and the moment they locked onto him the pressure crashing against his existence multiplied.
He screamed.
Pain flooded through him with unbearable intensity.
At the same time the countless shapes drifting throughout the Profaned God's Soul Sea began transforming rapidly, their chaotic forms condensing into sharp structures resembling flower-shaped needles.
Thousands.
Millions.
They surged toward him from every direction.
Lost from Light could not move.
He realized it instantly because this entire realm belonged to Abaddon. He had entered the god's soul and, in a disturbingly accurate sense, the god's stomach.
Escape did not exist.
'Very well then.'
Lost from Light laughed in sickening delight.
"Fine then!" he shouted with reckless enthusiasm as he spread his arms wide in open defiance. "If you want to eat, then eat as much as you like! Just try and take all of this, wretch!"
He welcomed the approaching storm with unsettling delight.
"And do be sure… be sure to eat all of it."
Ten.
Twenty.
One hundred.
Two hundred.
Seven hundred.
Three thousand.
Nine thousand.
Forty thousand.
An uncountable number of needles pierced through Lost from Light's body simultaneously. They tore into his arms, his legs, his back, and his face with merciless hunger. Aside from glimpsing the String of Fate, the pain eclipsed anything he had experienced before, yet the expected spray of blood never appeared.
Instead something far stranger emerged.
Symbols.
Runes identical to those drifting throughout the abyss poured from his wounds like streams of liquid light.
The Profaned God was devouring him.
Not merely his soul.
The entirety of his existence.
Abaddon had discovered the truth of the regressions, and therefore the creature intended to erase everything at once. Attributes, Memories, his Aspect [Light Bringer] and [Shadow Slave], every fragment of power he had accumulated across countless lives began leaking from his body as the needles consumed him piece by piece.
[Ohhhhh…! T-This is?]
The Profaned God's voice trembled with ecstatic delight.
Lost from Light's consciousness blurred as violent whispers flooded his mind, each one scraping against his thoughts like blades attempting to reshape his identity. His mind twisted under the pressure, gradually adopting the instincts of a Nightmare Creature as corruption seeped into every corner of his existence.
Nevertheless he endured.
He had to endure.
He needed Abaddon to eat a specific part of him.
[H-How… delightful! So… full!]
Lost from Light felt everything slipping away.
His Flame of Desire.
His wishes.
His longing.
His soul.
His body and mind suffered relentless violation as the Profaned God devoured him piece by piece, yet within that same horrifying exchange Lost from Light conducted an invasion of his own.
He reached into Abaddon's nature.
Because the Profaned God's corruption made certain aspects of its existence surprisingly accessible, Lost from Light managed to grasp the underlying principle guiding the creature's authority.
The Will of Disorder.
One might assume such knowledge would serve no purpose for him.
However the moment he had been waiting for arrived immediately afterward.
Something burst from his body like a waterfall.
Abaddon had touched the wrong fragment of his existence.
[The Attribute 'Regressor <1862nd Turn> (???)' has reacted to the outside alterations.]
Runes erupted from Lost from Light's body in overwhelming torrents. The symbols carried fragments of something far more profound than ordinary power.
Origins.
Spirit Origins.
The fundamental records of existence belonging to every version of Lost from Light that had ever lived.
[W-What…? What is this…]
The baffled Profaned God cried out in confusion.
Lost from Light lacked the strength to respond.
Maintaining his remaining sanity required tremendous effort as the endless runes continued pouring outward, yet he forced his fading vision to focus on the messages appearing before him.
They spoke for him.
[The 650th 'Lost from Light' is looking at 'Abaddon, Lord of the Abyss.']
["Go ahead. If you want to eat me, eat as much as you can."]
That was the 650th regression.
Another life.
Another version of himself who had perished within Abaddon's flowers after being devoured entirely.
Another voice appeared.
[The 999th 'Lost from Light' is glaring at 'Abaddon, Lord of the Abyss.']
["You bastard. You will know. You will experience what it means to live nine hundred and ninety-nine lives. You will feel the loneliness, the sorrow, the anger, and the hatred toward this cursed world that filled every one of them."]
The Profaned God convulsed violently.
[ K-Kuah…! Hou—k! G—ruh! ]
Another presence emerged.
[The 1532nd 'Lost from Light' is smiling at 'Abaddon, Lord of the Abyss.']
["You think of humans as worse than bugs, do you? You believe our desires mean nothing. Mere playthings to crush whenever you please."]
The voice carried a faint amusement, yet beneath that calm tone simmered a fury tempered across centuries of repetition.
["Very well. Feel the pain that bugs suffer. Feel the history of the bug you believed so insignificant."]
The runes pouring into the abyss filled the Profaned God's Soul Sea with relentless detonations, each letter collapsing into a surge of memory that burst open like a star imploding inside Abaddon's consciousness. Lifetimes spilled outward in waves of sensation and recollections. The agony of watching companions wither away while he always remained, again and again.
For truly, the Profaned God had made a terrible mistake.
Under ordinary circumstances, Lost from Light would have perished the moment he plunged into the profane abyss. A confrontation within the Soul Sea of an Unholy Titan lay far beyond the reach of any ordinary being, even one who had clawed his way through countless catastrophes. The gulf between their existences stretched like a chasm. A Sacred-Titan could not hope to contest the soul of a Unholy-Titan.
Yet this battle had never followed ordinary rules.
Anyone who fought like Mordret challenged their enemies by reflecting themselves through mirrors of consciousness, locking their souls together. They forced their adversaries to stare into their own eyes and endure the invasion of another soul.
Lost from Light chose a method far more reckless.
He did not knock.
He dove directly into the god's existence.
By plunging into the Profaned God's Soul Sea, he invaded the place where thought, memory, will, and essence blended into a single monstrous whole. Within that boundless ocean there existed no masks, no veils, no hidden sanctuaries where Abaddon could bury his secrets.
The god's nature lay exposed.
Unfortunately, so did Lost from Light's.
Every memory he carried, every wound etched across the long road of his regressions, surged outward the moment the runes shattered open. The boundaries separating those lives faded beneath the pressure of [Regressor], and the countless spirit origins contained within those runes began to pour into Abaddon like molten iron.
He wanted Abaddon to see everything.
He wanted the Profaned God to understand the nature of regression, and what it truly entailed.
He wanted the god to learn the full curse that had bound Lost from Light across thousands of years of death and rebirth.
And afterward, once that understanding settled deep into the creature's divine consciousness, the attribute known as [Regressor] would force the Profaned God to experience those same lives again.
And again.
And again.
Duplicates of the runes multiplied across the abyss, each symbol splitting into echoes that replicated their contained histories. Strengths earned through blood and hardship. Sorrows carved into the core of countless years. Every fragile hope that had blossomed and died along the endless road of death.
All of it surged toward Abaddon.
Surely, the Profaned God could withstand the burden of a single Sacred Titan's soul.
But the runes had far more than that.
Hundreds of Sacred Titans.
Thousands of Supreme Titans.
A storm of existence condensed into a single human origin.
The weight of it all pressed down upon the already wounded deity like a collapsing mountain.
Somewhere deep within the Profaned God's vast spiritual stomach, the first cracks appeared.
The abyss trembled.
[Regressor] spoke again, its voice rolling across the collapsing sea.
["Come now, my companion in death, the enemy who has chased me through more than a thousand years. You wretched butcher who slaughtered me again and again, tearing away everything I ever tried to protect. I believed you understood what you were swallowing."]
The voice carried an eerie laughter beneath its calm tone.
["Quite the fool you are, for you did not."]
At that moment, the Profaned God's Soul Sea convulsed violently.
Lost from Light felt something shift within the darkness surrounding him. The suffocating pressure that had crushed his shattered body began to twist and recoil, as though the abyss itself had developed a sudden urge to expel the foreign presence choking its depths.
His body began to reform.
Flesh weave had begun to knit his muscles back to it's peak condition. Torn flesh rippled and reshaped itself through the influence of the chaotic essence flooding the sea. A throat formed within the growing silhouette of his reborn frame, followed by lungs that dragged in their first breath of corrupted air.
It felt less like healing and more like being violently regurgitated by a furious god.
Lost from Light's mouth opened.
His voice echoed through the abyss.
"…In this world, there exists an origin that should never be eaten."
The truth of those words rippled outward through the trembling sea.
Among the countless existences drifting through the cosmos, perhaps even the Forgotten God himself would hesitate before devouring the essence known as [Regressor]. The attribute carried far more than a soul. It contained the runes of accumulated lives, each regression layered upon the last like sediment compressed beneath unimaginable pressure.
Abaddon had swallowed it whole.
That mistake would become the god's final lesson.
The voices of the regressions rose again, echoing through the trembling abyss like a chorus forged from sorrow and fury.
The First Regression.
The Fifty-Sixth Hundredth Regression.
The One Hundred Ninety-Third Regression.
["Do you know what happens when humans are forced to live for thousands of years?"]
Another wave of voices followed.
The Three Hundred Twentieth Regression.
The Eight Hundred Thirty-First Regression.
The Nine Hundred Thirteenth Regression.
["Have you ever imagined the agony of a life that repeats without end?"]
More voices surged upward.
The One Thousand Four Hundred Thirty-Fourth Regression.
The One Thousand Seven Hundred Thirty-Second Regression.
The One Thousand Eight Hundred Sixty-First Regression.
["This is human suffering, you damned flowery bastard."]
Memories crashed through the Profaned God's consciousness like an endless feast of anguish and fury.
Cracks spread rapidly across the Soul Sea.
After devouring what should never have been consumed, the maddened deity began to thrash within its own existence. Waves of corrupted essence erupted through the abyss as Abaddon attempted to purge the storm tearing through its consciousness.
Yet there existed nowhere for the god to flee.
This abyss belonged to Abaddon.
And no being can escape their own soul.
[Gr-Gah! Keo—k! Ve—r!]
The flood of runes grew far beyond what the Profaned God could contain. Sacred Titans. Supreme Titans. Thousands of lives erupting simultaneously within the divine sea.
Perhaps a being that had transcended into a True Void Entity might have endured such a burden, though not unscathed.
Fortunately, Abaddon never reached such an existence.
Runes that could not be absorbed shattered and scattered outward, escaping the collapsing Soul Sea like fragments of a shattered constellation. The resulting shockwaves rippled beyond the Profaned God's spiritual boundaries, sending violent tremors through the outer universe as fragments of damaged origin spilled outward like cosmic wreckage.
Meanwhile, the abyss within continued to rupture.
Two of Abaddon's Soul Cores fractured beneath the overwhelming strain, their collapse sending waves of shattered essence crashing across the turbulent sea.
Amid that chaos, Lost from Light's body finished reconstructing itself.
His silhouette stood once more within the dark waters of the Profaned God's existence.
The form resembled the one he remembered, though several differences immediately made themselves known. His wings had vanished entirely. The Aspect known as [Light Bringer] had suffered catastrophic alterations during the assault. It was… damaged.
A glance at the glowing runes drifting beside him revealed the truth of his new state.
True Name: Lost from Light.
Rank: Cursed
Class: Titan.
Cursed-Titan.
Lost from Light exhaled slowly.
'No matter.'
He still had a wish to fulfill.
He still had people to avenge.
A grin crept across his face as his gaze drifted toward the remaining two Soul Cores pulsing within the depths of the Soul Sea. Their colossal shapes glowed like distant suns struggling to maintain stability amid the violent collapse of their host's existence.
Directly wounding the Profaned God's existence remained beyond his reach.
Destroying the Soul Cores offered a different path.
Seven cores sustained a being of Abaddon's magnitude.
Remove them all and even a god would fall. Or at the very least, would be near death.
Lost from Light stepped forward through the trembling sea.
"You know… you insidious butcher," he murmured softly, his voice dripping with bitter amusement. "I suppose I owe you my gratitude. Without your interference, I never would have experienced what it feels like to experience godhood."
Abaddon could no longer hear him through the storm raging inside its own mind.
Lost from Light continued to speak.
"You took everything from me. Every person I cared about succumbed to your garden. You stole the very reason I kept breathing. After that you… you even tried to devour my existence? You dare."
His smile sharpened.
"Even more so — you twisted me into something truly heinous. You stole my flame of desire. You even ripped away the Aspect of the one I loved, alongside my own power. Truly… you are a bottom-feeding parasite that gnaws at the roots of the world."
By then he had already reached one of the massive Soul Cores.
The Attribute [Silver-Sky Weave] flared to life.
Essence surged toward him from every direction as he drew in the scattered power flooding the damaged Soul Sea. Corruption no longer resisted his grasp. The profaned nature of this realm allowed him to seize the raging energy with terrifying ease.
Soul Essence condensed within his palm.
Soul Serpent coiled around his arm, its presence sharpening the gathered power into a lethal edge.
The attribute [Slaying Blade] awakened.
Lost from Light bared his teeth.
"But still, thank you… thank you for giving me the chance to tear you apart!"
He lunged forward like a starving beast.
His empowered hand revealed a long, tainted Odachi. He plunged into the glowing Soul Core, ripping through its defenses as the accumulated strain within the Profaned God's existence finally reached its breaking point.
The core shattered beneath his assault.
Fragments dissolved into swirling currents of Nothingness and True Darkness as the profane structure collapsed, its destruction echoing across the wounded Soul Sea like the final crack of a dying star.
Lost from Light smiled with glee.
A deep breath filled his lungs while the essence of the shattered core surged into him like a torrential flood bursting through broken gates. Power coursed along the pathways of his soul with staggering density, and the raw magnitude of it forced his body to tremble as the stolen profanity attempted to settle within his existence. However, the instant that energy rooted itself inside him, something else followed along with it.
His body twisted violently.
Pain rippled through his being as an invasive force began to claw its way inward, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness while spreading through the recesses of his soul like a creeping infection. The sensation carried a terrifying familiarity, because he could feel parts of himself beginning to blur and fade beneath the encroaching influence.
A portion of his identity was being erased.
Another fragment was being obscured.
'This… this is…!'
The remnants of Nothingness and True Darkness released by the shattered Soul Core were attempting to invade him completely.
Lost from Light continued to smile despite the violent convulsions wracking his body. He had already endured encounters with Nothingness throughout the long and merciless road of his life, even more so during his regressions. And during those countless confrontations he had learned how to resist the suffocating pull of absolute oblivion. True Darkness carried a different nature altogether, because that force devoured both light and shadow indiscriminately, obscuring existence beneath a veil so very profound.
Nevertheless, the attempt faltered.
True Darkness possessed the authority to swallow shadows, while it also devoured light with equal hunger. Yet Lost from Light still carried both forces within himself, and their coexistence created a fragile equilibrium that the invading power struggled to dominate completely. The corruption gnawed at him relentlessly, although it failed to erase him entirely because the two opposing forces resisted its intrusion with stubborn persistence.
Consequently, the attack amounted to little more than the dying thrash of a wounded god.
This pitiful retaliation represented Abaddon's final attempt to repel the intruder devouring its soul.
It failed.
The Profaned God possessed only one Soul Core now.
The once terrifying Unholy Titan had deteriorated into something far more pathetic, because the catastrophic damage inflicted upon its existence forced it to regress into the state of an Unholy Beast. Its massive form still possessed incomprehensible scale, yet the foundation of its profanity had been shattered by the storm of regressions tearing through its Soul Sea.
Furthermore, the creature continued to endure the unbearable burden of countless Origins and Desires erupting inside its consciousness.
Lost from Light exhaled slowly.
"This battle is over."
He needed those words to become reality soon, because the longer the confrontation dragged on, the closer he drifted toward a transformation he might never escape. The outcome of the battle no longer mattered to him in the traditional sense. Death held little meaning after so many regressions, and the possibility of the cycle restarting did not frighten him anymore.
If [Regressor] activated again, the endless road would simply begin anew.
However, if Abaddon perished beneath the strike of [Silver-Sky Weave], the consequences would be far more significant.
The weapon lacked the authority to erase a being from existence outright; nevertheless, this Nightmare carried unusual conditions governing its structure. Abaddon's destruction within this domain would expel the Profaned God entirely, removing its presence from the scenario and preventing it from ever manifesting here again.
That outcome alone justified everything.
Another problem gnawed at Lost from Light with far greater urgency.
Corruption.
The insidious influence of Abaddon's profaned essence continued to erode his sanity with alarming speed, and the transformation spreading through his body had already pushed him beyond a Sacred existence. The being he had become bore an unsettling resemblance to the grotesque masses of cursed flesh that roamed the Nightmare as mindless horrors.
Those creatures once possessed divine origins.
Fallen gods similar to that of Kanakht had walked the same path.
Lost from Light realized that he had joined them.
He was a Fallen God now.
A bitter thought lingered within his mind while he forced his will to remain steady. He suspected that [Regressor] possessed the ability to cleanse corruption through death, much like the Shadow Realm purified distorted shadows through its function. After all, Abaddon had infected him with corruption before, and the cycle of regression had always restored him afterward.
Yet that possibility offered little comfort.
If corruption consumed him before Abaddon fell, every sacrifice across those countless regressions would become meaningless.
He could accept eternal death.
However, surrendering now seemed unacceptable.
Lost from Light forced himself forward through the oppressive weight of Abaddon's influence. The creature's will still carried tremendous strength, although its authority had weakened considerably after losing so much of its power. Despite that decline, the corruption of an Unholy Titan continued crashing against him like colossal waves battering an exposed shoreline.
Enduring that pressure alone required extraordinary resilience.
He refused to hesitate.
Floating before the final Soul Core, Lost from Light suddenly felt the colossal hand of Abaddon's physical body closing around him. The massive fingers engulfed his entire form while tightening with crushing force, attempting to trap him within a prison of divine flesh before casting him out of the god's wounded soul.
The pressure intensified.
Yet Lost from Light merely exhaled slowly as recognition surfaced in his mind.
The creature gripping him was no longer a god with seven soul cores.
It was a beast.
A wounded beast at that.
The situation reminded him of a battle fought long ago when he still walked the world as a Master. During that distant confrontation he had faced Daeron of the Twilight Sea, a monstrous Great Beast whose overwhelming strength had nearly crushed him completely.
Compared to everything he had endured since then, this obstacle felt almost trivial.
The augmentation granted by [Soul Flame] still burned within him, while his remaining shadows intertwined with that power to amplify his strength further. The combined synergy flooded his body with violent intensity, granting him more than enough force to tear apart the creature restraining him.
Although the act required effort, the outcome was never in doubt.
"Get your hands off me, you wretched cretin."
Dark tendrils surged outward as Lost from Light summoned his shadows. They coiled around Abaddon's enormous arm like serpents constricting their prey, and the moment their grip tightened he thrust his blade forward with merciless precision.
The Serpent Odachi flashed through the darkness.
Black steel parted flesh.
Several of the god's massive fingers separated from its hand and drifted away through the wounded Soul Sea.
Abaddon roared.
The sound reverberated through the abyss like the bellow of a dying star, although the creature's voice carried none of the articulate fury it once possessed. Its transformation into a beast had stripped away the ability to speak, leaving only monstrous howls echoing through the shattered ocean of its soul.
Lost from Light chuckled softly.
"Oh… how the gods have fallen."
The remark carried multiple meanings.
Abaddon had fallen from its former glory as a Profaned God, and Lost from Light himself had descended into corruption as well. It was quite ironic, really.
The True Body of Abaddon attempted to crush him with the authority of Entropy, unleashing a suffocating wave of decaying power intended to grind his existence into nothingness. However, that force collided with another authority surging from Lost from Light's soul.
Disaster answered Entropy.
Creation rose in opposition.
The lingering imitation of Surya's divine will still burned within him, forming a barrier that repelled the crushing pressure before it could take hold.
Abaddon lashed out again with its remaining hand.
Lost from Light raised one arm calmly and allowed his will to flow outward.
"Die."
The command did not manifest as a shout, yet the will behind it carried terrifying force. Shadows wrapped around the enormous limb while the attribute [Curse] spread through its flesh like venom dissolving life itself. The god's hand shuddered violently as vitality drained from it, leaving the massive appendage hanging limply within the wounded Soul Sea.
Abaddon did not die.
The creature's existence remained far too vast for such a simple command to end it outright. Nevertheless, calling the being "alive" would have been equally inaccurate, because its current state resembled a dying colossus clinging desperately to the final fragment of its power.
It protected the last Soul Core with frantic desperation.
It attempted repeatedly to expel the intruder devouring its soul.
Each attempt failed.
Lost from Light watched the creature silently for several moments before releasing a quiet sigh. The thrill of battle had vanished from his mind, largely because the creeping corruption inside him dulled every emotion that once fueled his determination.
His thoughts drifted dangerously close to those of a true Nightmare creature.
Even so, he remained conscious.
Barely.
The Serpent Odachi rose once more in his hand while he aimed its blade directly toward the Profaned God.
Then he spoke with his True Voice.
"Disorder."
The Will manifested.
Abaddon shuddered violently as the command rippled through its existence like a fracture spreading across fragile glass. The vast body trembled while cracks began forming throughout its already damaged structure.
Lost from Light repeated the word quietly.
"Disorder."
The god began to quake.
Destroying all seven Soul Cores alone would never truly kill Abaddon, because its existence extended beyond such limitations. However, invoking disorder at the very foundation of its being could weaken the structure enough to render it vulnerable to the finishing strike of [Silver-Sky Weave].
Lost from Light continued.
'Disorder.'
'disorderdisorderdisorderdisorderdisorderdisorderdisorderdisorderdisorderdisorder'
The command echoed through the collapsing Soul Sea while his shadows tightened their grip around the immense body of the Profaned God. Abaddon staggered beneath the assault as fractures multiplied across its form, and the final Soul Core pulsed erratically while profaned essence poured from the widening cracks like dark blood.
Moments later, the inevitable occurred.
The last Soul Core shattered within the creature's grasp.
Abaddon roared as the realization of impending death finally reached its consciousness. The cry carried defiance rather than surrender, because the Profaned God refused to accept its own demise even after losing every fragment of its profaned core.
The creature refused to die.
Nevertheless, its fate had already been decided.
Lost from Light lifted one hand while his shadows continued binding the massive body of the fallen god. Abaddon's own authority over Entropy had vanished completely, leaving it without the means to resist the suffocating will pressing down upon its existence.
The will of death descended.
Yet simple death remained insufficient.
Killing the creature would only end its life within the Soul Sea. Lost from Light needed something far more absolute if he wished to erase this abomination from the Nightmare entirely.
At that moment the Soul Essence scattered throughout the entire ocean began converging toward him.
The currents shifted violently as power surged inward from every direction. Raising Soul Serpent toward the heavens above, he allowed the gathered energy to spiral around the blade like a colossal vortex forming within the depths of the sea.
The swirling torrent resembled a tornado of luminous essence.
Alternatively, a whirlpool might have been the more accurate comparison considering his position beneath the vast surface of the Soul Sea.
Bitterness crept quietly into his thoughts.
After so many regressions, after thousands of years spent chasing this impossible enemy across countless lifetimes, the confrontation had finally reached its conclusion.
His desire to live had faded long ago.
However, the desire to bury this god remained.
A faint, almost wistful thought surfaced within his mind.
If only he could tell the others.
If only he could stand beside them once more and say that he had accomplished the impossible, that he had slain an Unholy-Titan and toppled one of the most terrifying gods to ever exist.
The only human in history to do such a thing.
And perhaps the last.
Lost from Light performed the motion of breathing while the currents of the Soul Sea swirled around him in slow, heavy spirals, his white hair drifting through the dark waters as his void-black eyes remained fixed upon the collapsing form of the profaned being before him. The final remnants of Entropy trembled beneath the pressure of its unraveling existence, fissures running through its colossal body while profaned essence leaked into the surrounding sea.
The Serpent Odachi rose steadily in his grasp, its curved edge glimmering faintly beneath the violent storm of Soul Essence spiraling around it. Lost from Light allowed the gathered power to settle into the blade's core while the currents of the entire Soul Sea bent toward him in obedience, and the silent certainty of finality spread through his thoughts as he prepared to deliver the strike that would end everything.
His arm moved.
The blade descended.
"Halt."
The command cut through the abyss with authority.
Lost from Light's body… refused to obey him.
For a brief and incomprehensible moment the strike remained suspended halfway through its arc, the blade hovering in the water while the storm of gathered Soul Essence froze as though time itself had grown uncertain. The sensation did not resemble fear, nor hesitation, nor exhaustion, because the truth of the matter carried far more indignity.
Something had taken his movements away.
'Just who—?'
The thought formed sharply within his mind while the invisible restraint attempted to bind his existence, yet the command faltered beneath the sheer stubbornness of his will. Lost from Light had endured the crushing authority of gods and the suffocating weight of countless regressions, and therefore the attempt to immobilize him fractured slowly beneath the pressure of his defiance.
The invisible shackle broke.
He turned.
At first he believed he was looking at light suspended in the dark waters of the Soul Sea, because a radiant glow hovered some distance behind him with an almost tranquil presence. However, the longer his gaze lingered upon it the more his perception shifted, since the illumination possessed shape and density that betrayed its true nature.
It was a soul.
Recognition surfaced inside his mind.
"It's you?"
The voice belonged to the same fading presence that had whispered through the abyss earlier, the one that urged him to flee before the confrontation with the Profaned God went out of control. The radiance gathered itself gradually while the currents around it bent aside with reverence, and the shape of a humanoid figure emerged from the golden brilliance as though a forgotten memory had finally taken form.
The figure drifted through the wounded Soul Sea with graceful ease.
Golden hair flowed gently around their shoulders, catching fragments of distant light as it swayed in the currents, while a pair of calm amber eyes observed the Sea with an expression that carried both distance and understanding. Their garments resembled traditional attire from the ancient Sun Realm, long flowing cloth layered with elegant patterns that shimmered faintly as though sunlight itself had been woven into the fabric.
The appearance carried an exotic, almost ethereal quality.
A ghagra-like garment swayed around their legs while they hovered effortlessly in the dark waters, and the strange elegance surrounding the figure resembled something one might expect from a wandering spirit or celestial fairy drifting across forgotten skies.
Their face remained ambiguous.
The delicate features made it impossible to determine whether the figure was male or female, because the lines of their expression carried both softness and strength simultaneously. The result created an androgynous beauty that felt strangely timeless, as though the person standing before Lost from Light belonged to an era far older than the world itself.
They smiled.
The smile carried warmth.
"You should not kill Entropy, not yet." the voice spoke gently.
The sound did not emerge from their mouth.
Instead the words manifested directly within the Soul Sea, vibrating through the surrounding currents as though the very origin of the speaker clung to their body like invisible shackles that forced their speech to resonate from their existence rather than their lips.
"Lest you have no way to return."
Lost from Light stared.
Confusion ran through his mind while his corrupted thoughts struggled to comprehend the absurdity of the situation unfolding before him.
"Who—Who are—?!"
The words collapsed.
Part of the failure stemmed from the corruption steadily devouring the edges of his consciousness, because the invasive influence gnawed at his sanity with growing intensity. Yet another force worked against him as well, one far more primitive and deeply ingrained.
Fear.
His body reacted instinctively to the presence before him.
The sensation surprised him.
Lost from Light had stood before gods and monsters countless times throughout the endless chain of regressions, and the experiences had gradually eroded the instinctive terror that once accompanied such confrontations. Nevertheless, the being hovering calmly in the dark waters radiated an aura so overwhelming that his instincts recoiled despite his defiance.
They possessed the strength of a Sacred.
Perhaps even more.
The figure standing before him did not resemble a Titan, nor did they carry the grotesque scale of divine monstrosities like Entropy. However, the will surrounding their existence conveyed a far more unsettling possibility.
They could crush him effortlessly.
Or devour him.
The figure moved again.
Their mouth remained still while the words manifested directly through the surrounding sea, and they bowed politely toward Lost from Light with elegant composure. One arm rested lightly against their stomach while the other extended outward in a gesture that felt both formal and oddly casual.
They smiled again.
"Apologies for the sudden intrusion and the inconvenience it may have caused," the voice spoke gently.
A pause followed.
"You see, my name is Abaddon."
The name drifted through the Soul Sea.
"Abaddon, great-grandson of Surya. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the Lord of Light, although that old ancestor of mine possessed such an absurd number of children that keeping track of the lineage becomes rather troublesome."
The figure sighed softly.
"Man or woman… honestly, I can't tell, even after several thousand years."
Lost from Light remained silent while his mind attempted to process the statement.
The figure observed his confusion with mild amusement before raising a finger toward their lips in a strangely awkward gesture, scratching lightly at the corner of their mouth as though embarrassed by the situation.
"Ah… yes. Your confusion is entirely reasonable," they admitted calmly. "Allow me to clarify something before your thoughts wander too far astray."
Their gaze drifted toward the shattered remains of the monstrous body still convulsing in the distance.
"That thing over there is Entropy."
A faint sigh followed.
"We are connected, certainly, yet our relationship is somewhat complicated. Entropy and I share an origin, although our identities diverged long ago thanks to circumstances you helped create."
The amber eyes returned to Lost from Light.
"You see… I assimilated Entropy a very long time ago, and from that moment onward our existences became intertwined."
Silence lingered briefly before the voice continued with quiet nostalgia.
Abaddon once dreamed of light.
The memory remained distant and fragile, drifting through his mind like a fragment of warmth trapped within endless darkness. Long before the abyss claimed his existence he had wandered through the radiant plains of the Sun Realm, surrounded by the brilliance of Surya's dominion while the skies burned with golden fire that never dimmed.
Those days vanished quickly.
The descent into the abyss began with his duty, because the Profaned God known as Entropy had emerged as a catastrophic threat to the structure of the Realm itself. The people of the Sun Realm gathered their strength to confront the abomination, yet even their combined might struggled to contain the creature's influence as it devoured entire regions of existence.
Abaddon then, chose to descend upon the creature.
The derision itself was not one of heroism. Simply, someone needed to hold the Profaned God in place.
Thus he stepped into the darkness.
The abyss swallowed him whole.
Time lost its meaning afterward. Endless centuries passed while Abaddon sank deeper and deeper into the suffocating void where Entropy resided, drowning beneath waves of annihilating power while the monstrous god attempted to devour his existence completely.
He continued sinking.
The darkness stretched infinitely.
Yet somewhere within that eternal descent he discovered something unexpected.
Understanding.
The nature of Entropy revealed itself gradually through countless years of conflict and resistance, because the creature embodied destruction at a scale far beyond ordinary comprehension. Entropy did not hate the world, nor did it seek domination or conquest.
It simply fulfilled its nature.
Everything must decay eventually.
Abaddon realized that resisting such a force forever would prove impossible, and therefore he made a different decision.
He embraced it.
Through unimaginable effort, he used his Aspect and assimilated the Profaned God into his own existence, binding the monstrous authority within himself while sealing the creature's influence beneath layers of divine will. The transformation changed him forever, because the union between god and abyss created something entirely new.
From that moment onward the world began calling him by another name.
The Lord of the Abyss.
The Garden of Entropy.
His original name faded into legend while suspicion and condemnation followed him everywhere. Even the Sun Realm regarded his existence with something of unease, because the taint of Entropy clung to him like an indelible stain.
Surya himself watched from afar.
Rescue… never came.
Yet Abaddon never grew resentful toward his parent or his realm.
The truth was far less bitter than others would've imagined. Abaddon understood the fear his existence inspired, and so, he accepted the solitude that followed his transformation with acceptance.
He remained within the abyss.
He lulled Entropy into sleep.
And so the two of them dreamed.
Thousands of years passed.
And eventually something changed.
The seal placed upon Entropy fractured.
The monstrous god slipped through the weakening restraints and emerged into the Dream Realm as a calamity, unleashing devastation that devoured entire Citadels while countless lives vanished beneath the expanding dark of annihilation.
Humanity disappeared.
The world collapsed beneath the the power of Entropy.
Abaddon awoke slowly during the chaos, his consciousness returning as the broken seal allowed fragments of his will to surface once more.
He watched the devastation unfold.
So many lives vanished.
So many souls extinguished.
However, amid the desolation one figure continued to appear again and again throughout the shifting strands of possibility.
A man.
A stubborn, relentless man who refused to surrender despite the countless times the world collapsed around him.
Abaddon remembered him. He remembered the Original him.
The same man stood before him now.
The golden-eyed figure smiled softly while studying Lost from Light with quiet recognition.
"It has been quite some time," Abaddon said gently.
A faint glimmer of amusement surfaced within his amber gaze.
"Sunless."
He was quite familiar with the name. However—
"Or perhaps I should address you more appropriately."
Abaddon tilted his head slightly.
"'Daemon of Possibility.'"