The last beat of Harold Kingsley's heart faded into silence.
Then came the abyss.
It was not pain, nor fire, nor peace. It was a vast, consuming darkness, stretching without end. A cold weight pressed against him from all sides, and yet his body — no, this new vessel — felt light, almost weightless. Shadows pulsed around him like a living tide, folding and unfolding as if they breathed with him.
Harold opened his eyes.
At once, the darkness responded. Threads of shadow coiled outward like smoke, rippling and twisting to his faintest thought. His hand, pale and long-fingered, emerged from the void, its edges blurring into tendrils of black before sharpening back into flesh.
He flexed his fingers. Shadows flexed with them.
A slow, deliberate smile spread across his lips.
"…So this is what freedom feels like."
For a hundred years, Harold had lived in a cage of appearances, bound by his own perfection. Now, every part of him resonated with power — raw, elegant, infinite. Shadows bowed to him, obeyed him, belonged to him.
No more masks. No more false kindness. This is what I was always meant to be.
He stood — or rather, the shadows lifted him upward, reshaping into solid ground beneath his feet. The abyss thinned, peeling back like a curtain, until Harold found himself standing in a ruined city street. Crumbled buildings, shattered lampposts, and ash-stained walls stretched around him. The sky was bruised purple, clouds pierced by faint streaks of lightning.
And then he heard the voice.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"
A man emerged from the rubble, his steps loud against broken concrete. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in battered leather armor lined with spikes. A rusted iron club rested against his shoulder, crusted with old blood. His grin was wide, showing broken teeth.
This was Graveltooth, a minor villain known more for brutality than intelligence — a scavenger of warzones, preying on survivors and looting the dead.
"You look lost, stranger," Graveltooth said, his eyes flicking over Harold's pale, well-dressed figure. "Pretty little suit you got there. Pretty little face too. Shame about the shadow crap — but don't worry. I'll beat that out of ya."
He laughed, a crude, barking sound, and hefted his iron club.
Harold tilted his head, studying him as though observing a bug under glass. His smile remained calm, refined.
"Tell me," Harold said, his voice smooth, cultured, chillingly polite. "Do you often announce your intentions before attacking? Or is this… a ritual of yours?"
Graveltooth blinked, then snarled. "You mocking me, old man?"
The shadows stirred at Harold's feet, rising like snakes. Graveltooth raised his club with a roar and charged — but the fight was over before it began.
A tendril lashed out, coiling around the club and snapping it in half as though it were a twig. Another shadow wrapped around Graveltooth's arm, twisting until bone cracked. His scream split the air, cut short as a third tendril closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground.
His legs kicked helplessly. His eyes bulged.
Harold stepped closer, his shoes clicking softly against the broken pavement. His smile never changed.
"Crude. Brutal. Predictable. You are the kind of creature I despise most — not because you are evil, but because you are unrefined."
He raised a hand, and the shadows obeyed. They tightened, constricted, and then — silence. Graveltooth's body hung limp before dissolving into nothingness, consumed by the abyss.
The shadows flowed back into Harold's form, calm once more. He exhaled slowly, as though savoring a fine glass of wine.
This world… it is broken, filled with children who call themselves villains yet know nothing of elegance. If this is my stage, then I shall redefine what villainy means.
He looked to the darkened horizon, where faint embers burned in the distance. The city was in chaos — heroes and villains both weakened by the fall of one of the greats. Harold could feel the void left behind, the vacuum of power.
A throne without an occupant.
A smile tugged at his lips again.
"…How considerate. They've left me the perfect stage."