Death—the final end to everyone's beginning. Yet for a rare few, death is not an end, but the chance for a new beginning. Reincarnation.
A phenonon so mysterious, so shrouded in miracles, that not even the gods possess the power to bend reality so profoundly. Neither reincarnation nor resurrection has ever been grasped by their mighty hands.
Such power belongs not to those who dwell above, but to those who dwell below. To the one who points the way—the chosen one, the "Guide of the Damned." This, they all believed.
Even the Book of the Damned, written by the Mother of Demonkind herself, foretold his coming: The chosen one will rise to guide the demons, granting true immortality to those who preach his words, share his abyssal wisdom to those who pray, and his relentless ego gifted to those who follow in his footsteps.
"...And that ti has co now, Elders," the Crimson One declared, his voice brimming with conviction like never before, his voice slicing through the oppressive silence like a blade forged from Truth itself. His words dripped with belief so fervent it felt almost unholy—a spark threatening to ignite chaos within these ancient halls.
Surrounding him were towering pillars, each casting long, grotesque shadows that writhed like restless phantoms. So stands were empty, their occupants absent or perhaps lost to ti. Others bore figures cloaked in darkness, their presence heavy and suffocating. Among them sat the weary elder, his voice sharp as shattered glass.
"@$$$%@%%.... So you say, the Guide has co?" the old demon rasped, skepticism dripping from every syllable. His grip tightened on a gnarled staff etched with runes older than sin itself.
The crimson one nodded stiffly, raising the human arm once more. Blood spilled from the wound he'd reopened, floating upward like molten blood before coalescing into a shimring orb. He offered it silently to the elder, who tasted it with visible comfort.
".....Taste of foreign death and despair," the elder murmured after a mont, his tongue flicking out like a serpent's. "It is as you say... But #%#$%@." His tone turned venomous. "You should know—it is still not evidence enough."
"Aaii..."
"AAii"
"AAII."
"Aaaaiiiii," echoed the other elders, their voices overlapping in discordant harmony.
Crimson clicked his tongue, frustration bubbling beneath his carefully maintained composure. He knew this would happen. Knew these covenants—these self-proclaid custodians of demonic lore—would cling to doubt like leeches to flesh. They feared change almost as much as they craved power, and convincing them otherwise was akin to trying to teach pigs how to fly.
'This is fucking typical.... I can't believe cunts like these are running our Cult,' he thought bitterly, glancing sideways at his corpulent companion. The green fatty gave him a smug look, clearly thinking, 'Told you so.'
"@##$$$.." One of the elders called out to the Crimson One.
"Well? What do you say? Still refusing our offer?" the elder questioned, gripping the wooden staff of the Grand Mage.
The Crimson One gazed downward. "I am unworthy of such an unholy position, my Covenant Elder. But I take your offer as a complint. I still have eons to learn from the Book of the Damned," he replied.
The others grunted in displeasure but did not voice their dissatisfaction. The Bloody Crimson was an old soul like them—wise in the ways of the damned. Yet such beings were rare, rarer even than neon crystals and their posts empty as half of them knew the other half only shout power not faith.
with those final words they exited from the gathering, The crimson demon still deep in thought. "So... you got rejected by the actual Unholy Divine Guide of the damned, you got rejected by the Covenant Elders, and the only reason the queen listened to you was because your perverted ass and ass wanted to be squished by her foot..." the fatty drawled, waddling closer with a grin wider than a canyon. "...aaa what else am I missing?"
Crimson clenched his fists, nails digging into palms slick with sweat and blood. Yet he remained silent. Now wasn't the ti for rage. Not yet. What he needed now was support—and miracles. Miracles that would set the Demon world ablaze, Garnering their faith once more. History was about to be made soon, and he, as the follower of the damned, with it's full faith, wanted to be apart of it.
.
.
.
The lowest Realm - Dark Continent.
After three days...
Deep within the bowels of the Dark Continent, beneath layers of earth and shadow so thick they swallowed light whole, three eyes flickered open. The air shifted, heavy with anticipation. Its nostrils flared, catching a scent that made its massive tongue slither out in delight.
{{{...Is it that human again? ....hmmmmm....Luck is with today...}}} it hissed, its voice reverberating like thunder trapped inside a cavern.
The ground trembled as the colossal creature stirred, shaking off his of slumber. Mountains groaned under its weight, forests bent low, rivers split apart as though fleeing from an ancient curse. One mont there was silence; the next, chaos erupted—animals scattering, monsters roaring in terror, the very fabric of reality quaking beneath the presence of sothing far older than ti itself.
Gradually, Jörmungandr rose above the landscape, its head towering over mountain ranges while its body stretched across the whole lower continent. A portion coiled lazily through deserts, another segnt crushed entire forests beneath its coils, and its tail erged from an enormous pond, draining half its water in one swift motion. With each movent, catastrophe followed—a symphony of destruction played on the strings of nature's fragility.
HAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!
A deafening roar tore through the skies as the serpent reached the Fifth Realm within seconds—a new record if it had bothered to keep track. Its three eyes widened at the sight before it: golden trees glowing faintly, their leaves shimring like molten sunlight. The forest had transford entirely, every green replaced by radiant gold.
Without hesitation, Jörmungandr descended just enough to avoid obliterating the ground below but close enough to feast. Its maw opened wide, revealing jagged teeth sharp enough to shred galaxies. To so, the inside of the serpent might have resembled the abyss itself—an endless void waiting to consu all who dared approach.
In seconds, more than half the newly evolved trees vanished into its gullet, devoured without rcy.
{{{....the boy...he must have done this...}}} Jörmungandr thought, its third eye piercing through illusions crafted by the world itself. It saw what others could not—the truth hidden beneath layers of deception. What it tasted wasn't rely fruit or life—it was human blood mixed with the essence of light and vitality. But sothing puzzled the serpent. Humans didn't possess such vast quantities of blood. Not naturally, anyway.
It circled once more, scanning the area until finally spotting them—two figures lying side by side amidst the wreckage of the battle. Their bodies still, unmoving save for the occasional rustle of wind brushing against their hair.
HAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!
it roared, indicating its presence as always, the clearing of the sky, the shaking of the earth, even the light wobbled, the world tree's branch shaking it's fruit.
{{{.....Not moving?....oh, they deeeaaaddd....Silly ...}}} The serpent chuckled darkly, observing the gaping hole in Atlas's chest and the matching wound in Eli's stomach. They lay lifeless, their breaths stolen by death's cruel embrace.
{{{Lucky for ...Unlucky for them.}}} Satisfied, Jörmungandr prepared to leave, ready to return to its realm when—
{....ther!!}
{Mo.....ther!!!!}
The call ca soft yet insistent, cutting through the serpent's thoughts like a blade slicing silk. Turning slowly, its third eye scanned the shadows clinging desperately to Atlas's corpse. There, hiding within the remnants of the young man's form, lurked a familiar presence.
{{{...Void Veil?...}}} Recognition sparked within the serpent's mind. It turned fully now, its monstrous jaw lowering slightly as it addressed the small entity peeking out from the darkness. {{{....What happened to you, my child? I thought you went away centuries ago to eat so fruit?}}}
From the shadow erged a single eye and mouth, floating eerily in the air. The Void Veil, the dark entity which was once a proud and enormous creature of darkness now riddled to sothing so small,so helpless, it spoke, its voice trembling with desperation.
{.....Mother, Please... Revive them....} it requested all of a sudden.
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