Far beyond the battlefield where Thrust carved his path of devastation, a silent figure observed with
amusement. Zepxaris, the Forgotten One, stood at the precipice of existence itself, his gaze
unfazed, his expression unreadable.
"Still the same as ever," he mused, watching Thrust indulge in reckless bloodshed.
Behind him, two figures stood, their presence vast yet composed. Unlike Thrust's boundless
restlessness, they carried a cold, calculated stillness--forces of destruction that only moved when
commanded. One of them scoffed.
"Again, his idiotic games. He never changes," the first muttered.
The second figure, arms crossed, exhaled slowly. "Hmph. He enjoys it too much. No restraint, no
purpose. We kill when ordered, not for amusement."
Zepxaris merely chuckled. Their words held truth, yet Thrust's recklessness did not concern him. He
had seen it all before--ages past, when they marched across reality itself. Back then, the wars were
endless. Conquest after conquest. Worlds fell, gods crumbled, and nothing stood before them.
But in the end, it was all too easy.
Zepxaris' amusement was tinged with something else--something distant. A faint recollection of past
glories, of battles that once held meaning. Yet, he did not dwell. Not yet.
With a simple motion, he issued a command.
"Hollow."
A shadow moved--a being just as terrifying, yet infinitely more controlled.
"Take the next decree," Zepxaris ordered. "Deliver it to the higher realms."
Without hesitation, Hollow stepped forward.
The Descent of Hollow
His arrival did not shatter reality as Thrust's did. Instead, it corrupted it.
The very fabric of the upper realm twisted, not in destruction, but in an unnatural silence. Space
itself recoiled as his presence bled into existence, consuming all light, all warmth, all reason.
This was not the arrival of a conqueror. It was the creeping realization of inevitable doom.
His aura alone was enough to send ripples across the planes. Unlike Thrust's wild carnage, Hollow
exuded absolute dread. Those who sensed it did not simply fear him--they feared what his presence
implied.
To the gods of the upper realms, he was not just a reaper. He was something worse.
Something that should not exist.
And for the first time in ages, the ancestral beings of this realm--the ones who had stood as silent
observers, untouched by time--moved.
They emerged from their slumber, drawn by an unshakable truth. Something far beyond celestial
gods, beyond cosmic deities, had arrived.
They gathered at the place where Hollow stood, searching for the impossible.
What could stand here, exuding such an aura?
What could exist, beyond the reach of all divine understanding?
And then, Hollow spoke.
---
The Second Decree
"The Forgotten One stirs. The silence is broken. The world shall remember what it chose to forget."
"You are not the first. You will not be the last."
"You believe your thrones eternal. Your dominion absolute."
"But you have merely lived in the shadow of his absence."
"Now, the shadow moves."
"And the era of false gods ends."
With his words, the decree was sealed into existence itself.
The upper realms trembled--not from battle, not from force, but from something far worse.
Recognition.
And then, without another word, Hollow vanished.
Untouched. Unchallenged.
For even the oldest beings dared not move against what they did not understand.
And so, they stood. Watching. Waiting. Dreading.
For the first time in existence...
They knew fear.