Darkness.
It was not merely the absence of light—it was a living weight, cold and endless, pressing against David's skin like water at the bottom of a forgotten sea. He drifted there, heart hammering, every sense straining against the void.
Finally, he shouted.
"Is anybody here?"
His voice came back twisted, mocking.
A low chuckle answered—warm, ancient, and far too relaxed for such a place.
A figure emerged from the nothingness as if stepping casually into a tavern after a long journey.
The man was tall, ageless, with sharp, noble features framed by long hair that flowed like liquid shadow. His robes were from a bygone era—intricate patterns of swirling voids and fading stars—and faint motes of dying light drifted around him like embers in a dying fire. Where he stepped, the darkness rippled and decayed, yet his smile was easy, almost boyish.
He folded his arms and tilted his head.
"Finally, an heir has come. I've lingered as soul for millions of years, bound here by the remnants of my power. Eternity is a heavy burden when one is confined to contemplation alone. I've traced every contour of this emptiness, observed every fading star drifting through the void—mere distractions to maintain clarity through the endless wait."
David stared, suspicion warring with confusion.
"…Who are you?"
The man's grin widened.
"Name's locked away until you earn it. For now, call me the Poor Soul Who's Been Waiting Forever For Someone Worthy. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"
David's mouth twitched despite himself.
"That's a terrible name."
"I've been called worse. One rival called me 'Void-Faced Traitor.' Another named me 'That Immortal Who Refuses to Stay Dead.' Ah, the good old days."
David rubbed his forehead, trying to steady himself.
"You said you were waiting for me. Specifically."
The man's expression softened, but a shadow of weariness crossed his features.
"I waited for an heir," he corrected gently. "For countless ages, the inheritance was designed to test mortals who has the Constitution of death and void across dying worlds. The trial sought those who carried emotions like mine: the crushing weight of powerlessness, the cold fire of ruthlessness, the unquenchable thirst for revenge. Many mortals bore these marks. Some were broken by loss, others hardened by betrayal. They all faced the test of will, heart, and resolve… and they all failed."
He paused, his voice dropping lower.
"Pride broke some. Greed consumed others. Fear turned the rest away.
My energy has dwindled over the eons—trapped here, unable to reform the full trial. I couldn't wait any longer for the perfect heir. So when your emotions bled through the link—the raw rage, the burning shame, the unyielding helplessness—I gambled. I chose you, not because you're flawless, but because your pain mirrors mine. A soul forged in the same fire that nearly destroyed me. That's the kind of successor who might endure… who might finish what I could not."
David's throat tightened.
"You… felt that?"
"Emotions, not details," the man clarified, his tone kind but firm. "I don't know the faces, the names, the exact moments. No spying, no prying into your memories. Just the raw feeling—the fire of humiliation, the ice of powerlessness. Enough to know you're the one I've been waiting for. Enough to recognize a soul forged in the same crucible that broke me."
David looked away, voice barely a whisper.
"She always protects me. Always. And I'm always too weak to protect her back."
The ethereal man's face filled with raw, ancient sorrow.
"I had a family once," he said quietly. "Friends I would have died for. Lovers I swore eternity to. And when I grew too strong—when they feared what I'd become—they turned on me. Betrayed me. Took everything."
His voice cracked, just slightly.
"I watched them strike me down while I was too weak—in that one moment—to stop it. I know exactly how it feels to lose everything because you weren't ready."
David's eyes stung.
He swallowed hard.
"So this power… it's your way of making sure I never feel that again."
The man nodded slowly.
"And my way of finally resting," he admitted. "I can't move on until someone carries my will forward. Until someone strong enough makes them remember my name with fear again."
He extended his hand.
A seed of energy formed above his palm—black as the deepest abyss, ringed with swirling silver-gray light. It pulsed with the cold finality of death and the infinite hunger of the void.
"This is the Eternal Nether Void Physique. Death and space, forged into one undying constitution. It carries my cultivation technique—the Nether Void Eternal Scripture. Four paths to power will open to you."
He counted them on his fingers, voice steady but laced with pride.
"First: draw Heaven and Earth energy from the shadows and decay that linger everywhere—places others cannot touch."
"Second: refine resources born of death and void—necrotic herbs, spatial crystals, ancient relics of emptiness."
"Third: devour cores—beast or cultivator—turning their end into your beginning."
"And the fourth, the deepest path: dual cultivation. When shared with a willing partner, both souls benefit equally. Energy flows in perfect harmony. Strength grows together. No harm. No theft. Only mutual ascension."
He gave a small, wry smile.
"Even immortals get lonely, kid. This way, power doesn't have to be solitary."
David's cheeks warmed, but he didn't look away.
The man's expression turned serious.
"This physique will make you undying. Wounds will close by drinking the life around you. Space will bend to your command—steps that cross leagues, strikes from nowhere, prisons of void that swallow armies. In this withered age, you will rise like a storm no one sees coming."
David stared at the seed, voice trembling.
"And the price?"
The man met his eyes, unflinching.
"My enemies become yours. One day, when you stand at the peak, you'll feel the pull. The need to finish what I could not. You may hate me for it. You may curse my name. But you will never again watch your mother bleed for you. You will never again stand helpless while the world laughs."
Tears slipped down David's cheeks.
"I'm afraid," he confessed, voice breaking. "What if I turn into something worse than them? What if the power changes me?"
The man stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on David's shoulder—warm, real, fatherly.
"Then be the monster who protects his own," he said softly. "Monsters don't always lose, David. Sometimes they win. And sometimes… they get to hold the people they love without fear."
David wiped his eyes angrily.
"I'm doing this for her," he said fiercely. "For us. Your revenge… I'll carry it when I'm strong enough to choose."
The man smiled—tired, relieved, and deeply proud.
"That's more than I deserved to ask."
He extended the seed fully.
"Then take it, David Wilson. Embrace death. Command the void. And when the time comes… burn my enemies to ash, or let them live in peace. The choice will be yours."
David reached out, fingers trembling.
"I accept."
The instant he touched the seed, the void exploded into a storm of black and silver light—devouring, boundless, eternal.
Back in the rundown room, David's body arched violently. Black-silver lines raced beneath his skin like living fractures in reality, pulsing with cold death and infinite emptiness.
Anna gasped, clutching him close as tears streamed down her face.
"Come back to me," she whispered fiercely. "come back."
Deep inside her son, the spark no longer flickered.
It had become an abyss.
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