The plain did not simply shatter—it disintegrated.
Stone became dust, dust became nothing, and that nothing stretched outward like a wound, bleeding into infinity. Rick staggered as the ground gave way beneath his boots, only to find chains lashing upward again, weaving fragments of white stone into unstable platforms that rose and fell like waves upon a black ocean.
The first strike had landed, and it had not been fire nor steel, but absence.
The kind that eats sound, breath, even thought.
Rick clung to his spear, chest heaving. His whisper still lingered on his tongue: "Devil… hold on." He had expected silence, expected the void to laugh at his hope. Instead—he had heard it. That faint voice, fragile but sharp enough to cut through the endless hollow.
But had he?
The rift above screamed, vomiting chains of fire that spiraled downward like falling stars. Each impact carved gouges of pale light into the dark. The masked figure stood unshaken, fragments of its shattered mask swirling around its faceless void like planets around a dying sun.
"You think you hear her," it said. Its voice was deeper now, soaked in the echo of countless others, as if the Hollow itself had chosen to speak through it. "But the Hollow remembers every voice. It can wear them all."
Rick's stomach knotted.
The voice—it had sounded like Devil. Weak, but real. But what if it was nothing more than this parasite's trick? What if he was clinging to a lie?
The chains surged. Rick hurled himself sideways, rolling across a platform just before it cracked and sank into the abyss. The spear pulsed in his hands, a heartbeat of white-gold, dimmer than before yet alive. He slammed the blade down, carving a flare of light that burned the encroaching chains to ash.
And then—
"Rick!"
The voice again. Sharper this time. Closer. Not the infinite echo of the Hollow, but something that struck his chest like lightning.
He froze, every nerve screaming.
It was her. It had to be.
"Lies," the figure hissed. The void within its broken mask rippled, eyes—if they could be called that—blooming in its depths. A thousand golden fires, mirrors of Rick's own. "You severed her root. You burned her memory. She is ash. She is silence. Only the Hollow remains."
The ground beneath Rick's feet convulsed. A spire of chains burst upward, coiling around his arm like a serpent. He fought, dragging the spear through it, but each link burned against his skin, leaving trails of fire and frost. His knees buckled as the weight dragged him down.
"Rick, listen!" The voice was clearer now, cutting across the roar of the Hollow. He turned, wild-eyed, searching.
And he saw her.
Not whole, not flesh—but a figure of shadow-light flickering on a distant platform, hair wild, eyes bright with fury and fear. Devil. Her form bent and twisted with the shifting void, never steady, but there.
His chest clenched. "Devil—!"
The masked figure's laugh drowned him. "A mirage. The Hollow digs into your longing, your weakness. Would you shackle yourself to a ghost, crown-bearer?"
Rick's jaw locked. He wanted to believe. No—he needed to.
He wrenched his arm free, sparks flying as the chain snapped. Every breath he took tasted of iron and ash. The spear burned hotter, sensing his resolve, feeding on it. He pointed it at the faceless figure, shoulders trembling but eyes unyielding.
"If she's an illusion," he spat, "then she's my illusion. And if she's real… then I'll tear through all of you to reach her."
The void surged. The figure spread its arms wide, and the rift overhead vomited another wave. This one was worse—chains woven with eyes, mouths, fragments of faces half-formed, whispering in languages Rick almost understood. His own voice bled among them, screaming, pleading.
The storm fell.
Rick planted his feet, spear raised. White-gold fire flared, cutting into the oncoming flood. Chains shattered, faces burned away, the wave splintered—but it did not stop. It pressed harder, grinding him backward, threatening to drown him in endless hunger.
"Rick!" Devil's voice again—louder, desperate. The flickering figure raised a hand, and for the first time, he felt it. Not just sound, but pull. A tether, thin as spider-silk, wrapping around his hollow heart.
It was real.
It had to be real.
The figure saw it too. Its void eyes narrowed, rage quivering through its form. "No. She cannot reach you. You severed her root. You belong to me!"
The chains struck harder, cracking bone, tearing flesh. Rick fell to one knee, spear rattling in his grip. He bled fire and shadow, body breaking under the storm.
And yet—he laughed. A ragged, broken laugh, but real.
"You're afraid," he said. Blood dripped down his chin, sizzling as it hit the stone. "You wouldn't fight so hard if she was only in my head."
The masked figure shrieked. The storm doubled. Platforms shattered, chains rained like meteors, the rift widening until the plain itself was no more—only fragments of stone adrift in endless dark.
Rick staggered to his feet, refusing to fall. The spear roared now, no longer weak but alive, a chorus of fire and fury. He pointed it at the distant silhouette of Devil, the tether between them glowing brighter, binding him to her across the void.
"Devil!" he shouted. His voice tore his throat raw, but it reached her. "If you're real—hold on. I'll cut the Hollow apart if I have to."
The tether blazed. The figure screamed. The storm collapsed inward, chains lashing in every direction. The void shrieked like a wounded beast.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The rift froze. The chains hung suspended in midair, trembling like strings pulled taut. The masked figure flickered, its form warping, collapsing in on itself. Its voice fractured, breaking into dozens of echoes.
"No… you are not free… you are mine…"
Rick's body burned. The tether glowed hotter, pulling him toward Devil, but the chains snapped tight again, dragging him in the opposite direction. His chest felt as though it were being ripped in two.
Devil's voice pierced the silence one last time. Clear. Fierce. Unmistakable.
"Rick. Don't you dare give in!"
His hollow howled. His crown burned. His heart split.
And then the plain shattered for real.
Everything fell into the Hollow.