I launched forward, cloak of void trailing behind like a sentient storm.
The aberrant reacted not with panic, but with understanding. Its body unfolded into tendrils of thought—like it had studied my every strike long before I returned.
We collided.
The chamber cracked.
Not from raw power, but from authority clashing.
It spoke as we fought—every word weaving into the reality around us like commands.
"I remember the silence between your thoughts."
"Then remember this," I growled.
I unleashed the Sovereign Spiral, a vortex of inverse magic designed to consume will itself. It devoured the light in the chamber, the warmth, the concept of up and down. Everything spun toward oblivion.
The aberrant resisted by fracturing itself.
It split into seven mirrored selves—each reflecting a different path of evolution I had once denied.
"You taught us despair," said the First.
"You fed us purpose," said the Second.
"You abandoned us," hissed the Third.
"You crowned yourself alone," echoed the Fourth.
The Fifth raised its hand and unmade time in a radius around me.
Everything stopped.
My thoughts froze.
My pulse halted.
But I was Sovereign of the Forsaken.
Even without motion, my will remained.
And will… is never bound by time.
I tore through the stasis with raw Void, shattering the Fifth like glass.
The others screamed in symphonic agony. But not grief—respect.
They reformed into one.
Bleeding concept.
And it laughed.
---
"Even Netherhold wonders why you returned," it whispered.
Around us, the walls began moving.
Stone twisted. Pillars bent. The very floor tried to reject my presence.
This was no longer my domain.
The fortress had begun to evolve—shaped by the aberrants' collective will, no longer tethered fully to mine.
"You were our spark," the aberrant said. "But we have become flame."
I slammed my palm to the ground, flooding the chamber with Domination Pulse. The energy surged outward, flattening everything, overriding all rebellion.
Walls screamed.
Ceilings cracked.
The chamber bled black ichor.
For a heartbeat, Netherhold remembered who ruled it.
The aberrant knelt, body smoking, crownless once more.
"Am I your Sovereign?" I asked.
It trembled.
"Yes," it whispered.
"Say it in your bones."
It bowed fully.
"You… are the Sovereign."
I lowered my hand.
But before silence returned… the Rift behind me hissed.
And from within… something stepped out.
---
It wasn't Vorenth.
But it wore a piece of him.
A fragment, shaped like a child—small, cloaked in layers of nothingness, eyes reflecting every kingdom I'd ever destroyed.
It looked up at me.
"Azrael."
"You know my name?"
"I remembered it… because he did."
It raised a hand.
And without warning, I was ripped into the past.
---