Pain, cold, pain was all Mo Xing could feel as he drifted in swirling mass of darkness.
Fool, the darkness whispered. You thought you could consume so much? You're just a shadow of what you once were. Especially since you didn't fully accept me. It scoffed. You just accepted my powers without embracing what I truly am.
The voice echoed through the void surrounding him. Memories fragmented and reformed like shards of broken glass, each one cutting deeper than physical wounds ever could. Faces he had known, lives he had taken, worlds he had walked—all swirling in the maelstrom of unprocessed dark matter.
You expected me to trust you? To trust that you wouldn't hurt her? He shouted back, his voice hoarse, guttural—the sound raw with frustration and desperation echoing through the endless void of his own consciousness. I needed your power, yes, but I couldn't risk losing myself in that moment.
