(The Void)
A soul, featureless and shaped like a male figure, glowed with pure white energy.
Two bright, glowing eyes were the only distinguishing features on its smooth form.
It silently drifted through an endless void, pitch-black and lifeless.
The only source of illumination came from the soul itself, casting a faint glow into the darkness.
The soul was motionless, falling endlessly through the void.
But inside, it burned—a seething fury silently screaming within.
Baldwin. Archibald. You two... I will make you pay.
The hatred within the soul had reached an unimaginable level.
It could no longer contain the storm brewing inside.
Suddenly, as if time itself had stopped, reality froze. A dark whisper echoed around the soul.
"Just forget your pain and hatred... and move on."
As though compelled by the voice, the soul obeyed. The names, the anger, the memory—all faded.
Baldwin? Archibald? Who are those people?.
Its glowing eyes closed, consciousness slipping.
"It doesn't matter... I'm just so tired. I'll think about it after I wake up..."
The soul's memories faded, but the fire within remained—growing, not extinguished.
As it continued to fall, the pain began to grow, coursing through its entire being.
It hurts... Why am I in pain?.
This fire was not just hatred. It was sadness. Regret. Despair.
The pain was too much. The soul stirred, its hand twitching as it slowly began to regain awareness.
It hurts... Someone, make it stop.
But one feeling rose above all others—an insatiable thirst for revenge.
As the pain peaked, the soul clenched its hand into a fist.
It opened its eyes, fully awake now, and screamed into the void with all its power.
"Someone! Anyone! I can't take it anymore! Make it stop! Make the pain stop!"
Elsewhere, in an unknown place, an unknown figure smiled and spoke in a dark voice.
"So... you're finally ready."
Back in the void, the soul writhed in agony, its scream unanswered. It clutched its head, overwhelmed by the chaotic storm within.
All this rage, sadness, regret, and despair... but worst of all—the need for revenge.
The soul, stunned by the weight of its own emotions, thought.
How can so many emotions exist in one soul? This isn't normal. It feels like they belong to thousands.
A golden light appeared beneath the soul, gentle and warm.
As the soul drifted into it, the pain began to subside, and consciousness started to fade once more.
This light... it feels familiar.
But just as peace seemed near, tendrils of dark energy laced with crimson vines erupted, devouring the golden light completely.
Pain surged back as consciousness returned. Confused, the soul thought:
What's happening? What was that dark thing?
Then a dark voice echoed through the void.
"That was close. I nearly missed you."
the soul asked confused.
"Who are you? ".
The dark voice chuckled at the soul's question, then replied in a serious tone.
"I am the one who will end your pain."
A rift tore open in the void beside the soul, and from it emerged a colossal hand formed of dark energy, laced with crimson-red, vines pulsing with power.
It reached out, seized the soul, and dragged it into the rift.
the voice said with excitement,
"Finally"
"I've found you—the one who carries my gift."
(Void Prison)
In the heart of the void, where nothing existed, a single platform floated.
It was forged from dark energy, with crimson red energy pulsing across its surface like veins.
The soul lay unconscious on the platform, but slowly began to awaken.
As it rose to its feet, its gaze settled on the strange, pulsing texture beneath it.
"Where... am I?"
The same dark voice interrupted.
"So you've awakened."
Recognizing the voice, the soul thought:
It's him. The one who told me to forget... and the one who summoned that hand.
The soul looked up—and saw him.
A featureless male figure stood before him.
His body was composed entirely of dark energy, red vines pulsing through him.
Two glowing crimson red eyes that seemed ready to devour anyone who dared to stare too long.
Hands behind his back, he spoke calmly:
"How are you feeling? I used extra power to bring you here without causing too much discomfort."
The soul stood, wary and doubtful.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?"
The dark figure met his gaze with unwavering confidence.
"I am Omega."
He extended a hand—just like the one that had pulled the soul from the void.
"As for your second question... I already told you—I'm the one who will end your pain."
The soul didn't move, keeping a neutral expression and a steady mind.
So he's the one who brought me here. Fine. Let's see what he wants.
With a calm but firm voice, the soul asked:
"So, Omega... how exactly do you plan to do that?"
Omega chuckled.
"Isn't it obvious? To free you from your pain... you must destroy its source."
The soul was skeptical.
"Then tell me. What is the source of my pain?"
Omega shook his finger
"Not what—but who."
"Who? You mean someone did this to me? Made me feel all this pain?"
Omega didn't answer right away.
His eyes gleamed with delight, sensing the soul's eagerness to find its tormentor.
But the time wasn't right—yet.
"Do you want to hear a story? I promise it'll be worth your time."
The soul, nearly at his limit, snapped.
"I don't want a story. Just tell me who did this to me! Do you understand, Ome—"
Omega raised a finger, his eyes flashing with a deathly glare.
The soul froze mid-sentence, instinctively silenced.
Then, Omega's expression softened, the threat vanishing.
"Story first. Don't worry. Listening will make everything much easier to explain."
Left with no choice, the soul remained silent as Omega prepared to tell his tale.
Omega looked to his right, and with a wave of his hand, a statue materialized—formless at first, sculpted from dark crimson energy.
He began to speak, his voice serious, completely focused on the swirling figure before him.
"There was once a man trapped in an endless cycle of life and death."
With a snap of Omega's fingers, the statue shattered into particles.
"Each time he drew his final breath," Omega continued, "his eyes would close, and he would surrender to death..."
Suddenly, the dark crimson energy reformed into a new statue.
This one looked like a commoner and was made from the same dark energy.
Omega's eyes locked onto Amadeus as he said in a deep voice:
"The man would awaken in another life, in a different body, with a different name and background."
The statue shattered once more, only to reform as a nobleman.
Omega snapped his fingers.
The statue shattered and reformed—this time as a mercenary, complete with a sword strapped to his back.
Another snap.
Now, the figure was a king, crowned and regal.
One more snap.
The statue turned into a slave, heavy chains binding its limbs.
With a final snap, all five previous statues manifested simultaneously.
"Each life was unique," Omega said.
"Each brought its own trials the man had to overcome."
A smirk curled across Omega's face.
"But through all those lives, there was one thing the man never lost."
Omega tapped his head.
"His memories."
He turned back to the five figures, their forms slightly altered—evolved.
"Using the knowledge and experience from his past lives, he reached the pinnacle of every life."
Omega pointed to the commoner, who now wore noble attire and bore the insignia of a duke.
"Status."
He pointed to the nobleman, now swimming in gold.
"Wealth."
The mercenary stood atop a mountain of bodies, victorious.
"Power."
The king now wore a grander crown, with others kneeling before him—rulers themselves—symbolizing that he had become an emperor.
"Dominance."
Omega looked back at Amadeus.
"He achieved it all—seeking the pinnacle in every life, no matter the circumstances, treating each as a challenge to conquer."
He snapped his fingers, and the five statues shattered.
A new statue emerged.
It wore dark, sleek armor beneath a long, flowing coat embroidered with crimson energy.
The figure's expression was prideful—arrogant.
Omega looked at it with a grim expression.
"After hundreds of thousands of lives—perhaps more than I can count—the man became unbeatable."
"Having mastered all fields, with nothing left to pursue, he began conquering entire worlds. Not out of necessity—but as a sport. A hobby."
The statue's face twisted into a demonic smile as Omega continued.
"He grew arrogant, prideful—believing himself chosen by existence itself."
"He wasn't just defying death anymore. He defied the very concept of an end."
"Everything—everyone—has an end. But not him. He became the embodiment of the endless. A creature reality itself refused to write his ending."
The statue raised its hand. In its palm, a small doll appeared—fragile, lifeless.
With a smile void of empathy, Omega said.
"He began to see others not as living beings, but as tools—dolls."
The statue clenched its hand, and the doll crumbled into fragments as Omega said.
"Mere steps to climb on his path to supremacy."
Omega's tone shifted as a second statue began forming beside the first.
"The cycle continued... until the man finally met him."
Omega's voice grew darker, more menacing.
"Another man who looked upon the world with the same eyes."
The second statue completed—wearing light armor, a sword at his side, hooded, with a radiant golden symbol on his chest.
The two statues faced each other—both bearing the same prideful expression.
Omega spoke with a voice filled with the weight of painful memories.
"The one he met was..."
"The Sovereign of the Beginning—Alpha."