Crk—
A crooked sound echoed from the shadowed hallway.
It wasn't just a noise — it was a tear in reality,
as if the devil himself had clawed his way out from the rotten, silent belly of a forgotten Concept Dlump.
The hallway pulsed with a sick red hue, and the air grew heavy — not hot, not cold… but hollow.
Out from the tight seams of space, Zeph stepped.
The Concept Dlump loomed before him — a paradox, a space small on the outside yet endlessly vast within.
Its walls shimmered like glass dipped in ink, warping the world around it.
Zeph's boots echoed softly as he moved closer.
His voice, calm but laced with bone-deep tension, slipped through the dark:
"At last... the devil stirs from his eternal slumber."
A presence cracked through the void like black lightning.
Noct.
He rose, eyes sharp like daggers carved from pure madness.
A prince not of blood — but of agony itself.
His gaze locked onto Zeph, radiating pure contempt, like a god staring down a stain.
Zeph tilted his head with mock amusement.
"What's wrong... Prince of Agony?"
Noct's voice slithered like oil across a blade:
"You don't know who you're dealing with."
"You, your kind, your entire wretched species will kneel beneath the weight of your arrogance. I will burn the illusion of freedom from your minds."
"You'll see why humanity is fragile. Worthless. Born to be broken."
The space shook — not from force, but from truth.
Zeph's face didn't flinch. His aura shimmered like twilight steel — calm, cold, godlike.
"Even if your hatred runs deeper than time, Noct… even if your heart is forged from cosmic suffering…"
"You forget one thing."
He took a step forward, his shadow splitting into three directions — none aligned with the light.
"I am Sacred. Not just in power, but in purpose."
Noct snarled, his voice now a hymn of violence:
"Then I shall show you true pain."
He raised both arms. His fingers unfolded into a strange shape, twisting like broken wings — a butterfly made of hands.
The world trembled.
"Evernight Ascension."
"Butterflies of Pain."
From behind him, thousands of dark butterflies poured forth — not insects, but living fragments of torment, stitched together from memories of screams and forgotten deaths. Their wings whispered names no human should ever know.
They flapped silently… then dove toward Zeph.
The light dimmed. The air vanished. Reality forgot how to breathe.