Kezess laughed—loud, raw, a jagged bark that tore through the black of Raizen's mindscape, tendrils thrashing wild, black fuel splattering the slick stone with wet, hissing slaps that echoed faintly into the void. Red eyes glowed unevenly across the faceless mass—dozens of them, some flaring bright, some dimming to dull embers—mocking Raizen's quiet stand, his boots scuffing faint on the cold floor.
The air hung thick, sour with rot and ash, a stench that clung to the back of Raizen's throat, heavy and wet like a swamp left to fester. "That's what weak people say," Kezess sneered, voice slithering thick, dripping with scorn, curling around Raizen like damp smoke he couldn't shake. Then the mass stilled—tendrils froze mid-thrash, red eyes sharpened into cold, piercing glints, glowing harder in the endless dark. "Don't you want to know what kind of an atrocious creature you were?" His voice dropped, low and heavy, each word sinking into the stone like a hammer on wet clay, reverberating through the emptiness.
Raizen startled, breath hitching sharp, boots scraping louder as he stumbled back a step—heart thudding loud in his chest, a frantic knock against his ribs. "What... what do you mean?" he asked, voice trembling, cracking on the edges, eyes wide and darting over the writhing form—those red eyes stared back, unblinking, scattered across the mass like stars gone wrong. He opened his mouth again—cut off as Kezess snapped his tendrils, a sharp crack splitting the air, loud as a whip in the silence. Pain slammed into Raizen's skull—white-hot, sudden, like a blade splitting his head open, spilling fire inside.
His knees buckled, hands clawing at his scalp—nails digging deep, drawing blood that trickled warm down his temples, matting his hair—and then the memories hit, a flood of horrors, fast and brutal, drowning him.
He saw Kezess—himself—kneeling over a girl, no older than ten, her brown eyes wide with terror, snot bubbling at her nose as she screamed, shrill and jagged—his hands plunged into her gut, ripping through soft flesh, blood gushing hot over his fingers, her intestines spilling out, steaming in the cold air, pink and slick, twitching faintly as she gurgled, choked, died.
The scene shifted—a battlefield, air thick with flies buzzing loud, bodies bloating in the sun, skin green and splitting—Kezess barking orders, voice cold, vials of black sludge shattering on the ground, releasing a mist that turned lungs to mush, men clawing at their throats, coughing blood and foam, eyes bulging red before they dropped, twitching. Another flash—an old man, gray beard matted with dirt, pleading soft, "Mercy..."—Kezess's fingers gouged into his sockets, popping his eyes free, wet and stringy, dangling by optic nerves as he shrieked, blood pooling in the hollows, Kezess tossing them aside, laughing low as they rolled into the mud.
More came—relentless, piling on—a woman's throat slit slow, blade dragging through skin, blood bubbling up like a spring, her gasps wet and desperate, fading as her head lolled back, eyes glazing over. A child's arm snapped in his grip, bone jutting white through torn flesh, his wail cut short by a burst of bluish-purple flame, ash scattering fast, mixing with the dirt.
A village burning—huts collapsing, thatch smoking black, screams rising then choking off as fuel spread, eating flesh to bone, Kezess standing amidst it, boots crunching ash, air stinking of charred meat and oil, a smirk on lips Raizen couldn't see now but felt in his bones. Each memory slammed harder—killing, breaking, ruining—until Raizen's screams ripped out, raw and ragged, echoing off invisible walls, his body crumpling to the stone, knees hitting hard, hands tearing at his hair, blood and tears mixing, soaking his face, dripping onto the slick floor in wet splats.
The mindscape pulsed—stone slicker now, glistening faint under some sourceless flicker, shadows twitching wild at the edges, like the dark itself was alive, feeding on the carnage in his head. The air thickened, rot-stench sharper, mingling with the oil reek of Kezess's dripping fuel—tendrils still, red eyes glowing dull across the mass, scattered and cold, staring down at Raizen as he sobbed, loud and messy, snot running, chest heaving, taking it all in. Those eyes held nothing—no pity, no rage, just a void, empty as the black around them, watching him break under the weight of what he'd been—what Kezess had been.
"So, what do you think?" Kezess asked, voice flat, cutting through Raizen's cries like a dull blade, tendrils twitching slow, fuel plinking soft on the stone again, a steady drip-drip in the silence.
Raizen stayed crumpled, breath hitching hard, hands pressing his skull like he could squeeze the images out—blood streaked his fingers, tears blurred his sight, seconds dragging slow as the pain throbbed. Then, stuttering, his voice broke out, shaky and raw, "If... if I—no,he—was such a monster" He swallowed, throat burning, tears still falling, "...no, a demon..." He rocked faintly, hands trembling, then raised his voice, rough and cracked, spilling out loud, "That means me getting reincarnated—it only signifies I should be the onerepenting for his sins!And that"s what I'll do!" His words bounced off the dark, fading into the rot-heavy air.
Kezess tilted the mass, red eyes blinking unevenly—some dim, some flaring. "Repenting, huh?" he repeated, voice low, cold, a faint edge of mockery—then surged forward fast. Tendrils lashed out, wrapping Raizen's throat, tightening hard—black fuel slick against his skin, cold and wet, choking him in an instant. His hands flew up, clawing at the coils, boots kicking stone, scraping loud—tendrils squeezed tighter, cutting his air. "With that physique," Kezess hissed, voice icy, sharp as glass, "and people treating you like shit—how are you going to doanything to pay for your sins?" Raizen's face reddened, eyes bulging, veins popping purple under his skin—vision spotting black, lungs burning, the girl's guts flashing again, the old man's scream. "Those words—without real capability—they're just meaningless," Kezess spat, tendrils crushing harder.
Raizen gagged, strangling, hands weakening—then Kezess dropped him, tendrils pulling back fast, fuel splattering wide. He hit the stone hard, coughing violent, ragged, spit flying, chest heaving as air rushed back, searing his throat raw. He curled there, hands on his neck, coughing still, tears and snot dripping, soaking the stone—looked down, breath shaking, those memories clawing louder now, the child's arm snapping, the village burning, blood and ash everywhere.
Kezess loomed silent, red eyes glinting—then stilled, tendrils slowing, like something flickered in the mass. A memory—not Raizen's—surfaced: a woman's face, soft brown eyes crinkling with a laugh, her hand warm in his, slipping away as fire roared up, ash swallowing her, Kezess's scream lost in the crackle.
The eyes dimmed for a heartbeat—then snapped back, sharp and cold. "Listen," he said, voice rougher, cutting through—Raizen shuddered, head jerking up, throat bruised, raw. "I don't have any problem dying,I could strangle you here,end this now." Tendrils twitched, fuel dripping faster, threatening. "But you—you want to live, so you better entertain me."
The mass leaned closer, red eyes locking on Raizen's—scattered, glowing, boring through him. "You don't want my accursed power, correct?" The voice slithered, cold and mean, tendrils curling back slow. "But you shouldn't have a problem going through a physical training regimen." Raizen's eyes sparked—widening faint, curiosity cutting through the haze of pain, fear, and those blood-soaked memories—glinting there as he stared back, breath still ragged, hands trembling on the stone, throat aching under the weight of Kezess's grip.