Lazarak... hmmm, that was a na Damon had heard before. It ca from a key he had taken from Chro after killing the professor.
After killing him, Damon had discovered a hidden space that could only be accessed using that very key.
The key of Lazarak.
"Lazarak..." Damon muttered softly, more confused than ever.
His most recent system prompt still echoed in his mind: You are dreaming the Nightmare of Lazarak.
"A nightmare..." he whispered under his breath.
"Did you say sothing... you strange, ugly, formless creature?" Lazarak replied to his words, his tone uncertain, hesitant unsure what to even call the thing before him.
Damon’s current form was anything but ordinary; he had no body, no limbs, only a single beating heart and a crown of flickering light.
The rest of him was a mass of burning shadows, constantly shifting, whispering like smoke trying to take shape.
"What a weirdo."
Damon ignored him, his attention drawn instead to the word nightmare. A dream... a horrible dream.
Wasn’t his entire life already a nightmare? Still, despair aside, he had a faint recollection sothing buried deep in his mind. A nightmare he once experienced but couldn’t recall.
It was in Lysithara, when he had uncovered sothing tied to the Unknown God and the Pillar.
For that curiosity, the goddess herself erased him, and even the other True Beings had acted to remove him. One of them almost succeeded or maybe they did and only the Unknown God’s intervention had saved him.
’I dreamt the nightmare of the Unknown God.’
The mory surfaced like a painful scar. Afterwards, Damon woke up alive but with a hollow ache in his heart. Every ti he tried to rember that dream, tears would fall from his eyes without understanding why.
"Is this place real?" Damon muttered, his voice echoing through the void.
"I really hate to be the bearer of bad news," Lazarak replied lightly, "I understand it’s your first ti in prison... but don’t worry, after a few thousand years of crippling loneliness, you get used to it."
His tone was casual, almost teasing as though loneliness and madness were natural companions here.
"This is a nightmare," Damon murmured to himself, watching the shadows around him flicker.
"I know... it’s horrible," Lazarak sighed. "You’d think my brother would at least put so illumination here. Ahh, he’s horrible... could’ve at least left so comfort."
Damon wanted to frown, but he didn’t have a face. His existence now was reduced to a hovering heart surrounded by spectral black flas.
"Who... or rather, what are you?"
His voice carried suspicion. This overly friendly voice in the dark couldn’t be trusted but wherever this place was, this entity called Lazarak might know sothing.
Still, Damon’s heart pulsed harder, faster. He couldn’t just sit here and despair. His friends might be trapped in similar nightmares.
"...I am Lazarak. Didn’t I introduce myself or did I forget?" he replied dryly.
Damon’s flas flared in irritation.
"You already said that. I’m asking what you are. Am I supposed to know you? You’re saying your na as if that’s supposed to matter."
The darkness fell silent, thick and impenetrable even to Damon’s eyes.
"Hmm... you truly do not know of my existence..."
The voice trembled slightly, the casual tone gone, replaced by a solemn stillness that filled every inch of the void.
"Has the world forgotten in a thousand years...? Has my brother forgotten ?"
Lazarak’s tone was mournful, his words heavy with loss as though being forgotten was the worst fate imaginable. Then, he laughed.
"Very well, so be it..."
Damon felt the shift an ancient, lancholic gaze settling upon him. The feeling was imnse, ancient, older even than Aetherus, yet strangely without hostility.
"I am Lazarak, god of darkness, peace, and serenity... may I have your na?"
Damon’s suspicion only deepened at the phrasing.
"You cannot have my na... but you may call Damon."
"Huh? Have your na? I’m not a fae stealing people’s nas is just rude." Lazarak sounded genuinely offended.
Damon blinked taphorically.
"Huh? Steal? Fae don’t steal people’s nas."
Lazarak’s tone shifted into one of disbelief. It was as if Damon had just said the sky wasn’t real.
"Of all the species the goddess created, the fae are the worst. Shaless little scoundrels, always tricking people and stealing their nas."
"Are we... talking about the sa fae? Wait did they stop? Hmm, I guess my lessons on morality finally paid off. Thank goodness. Now I can focus on those shaless little leprechauns instead."
Damon said nothing, letting Lazarak ramble. He had never heard of fae being able to steal nas. It wasn’t recorded in any scripture, archive, or legend.
"Lazarak... if I may ask, why are you here?"
That question made the darkness pause. Damon felt it recoil slightly, as though the void itself had drawn back.
"Hmmm, I see. I understand... They didn’t teach you about the past. Well, it’s no big deal."
There was a hint of bitterness beneath his calm.
"You know how the lesser gods led different races to fight wars for dominance and other nonsense like that?"
Lazarak spoke casually, as if Damon should already know this. But Damon had never t a lesser god in person. He’d only seen their abandoned shrines and cracked idols most had been forgotten, replaced by worship of the goddess alone.
"No. I don’t know."
"Hmm." Lazarak didn’t sound annoyed. If anything, he seed thoughtful piecing together sothing quietly.
"Tell you what, you strangely ug— I an, not bad-looking creature... Let’s try this. I’ll tell you my story, and you tell yours."
Damon’s shadows flared faintly. Lazarak had almost called him ugly.
’I’m handso, dammit,’ Damon thought bitterly. Narrow-minded as always, even now.
Lazarak cleared his throat, an oddly human gesture for a disembodied formless god.
"I’m sure you’re aware... not long ago, I, Lazarak, the god of peace, rebelled. Using magic, I tried to change the natural order of things..."
He paused, as if expecting so recognition.
"Still have no idea what you’re talking about," Damon replied flatly.
"The rock you live under must be far, far away... poor creature."
"Just continue your tale," Damon said, dismissive but calm.
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