Darkness pulses like a heartbeat through the twisted veins of the Shadow Realm. Cold winds howl through obsidian corridors laced with screaming stone. At the heart of it all, a dimly lit chamber glows with cursed energy. Blue, black, and violet flames flicker along the walls like they're alive—watching.
In the center of the room…
He sits.
Ghost.
Clad in blackened robes laced with dark steel, a smooth porcelain-white mask covers his face—expressionless, featureless save for a single black vertical line down the center. His fingers, gloved in shadows, gently run across the Sky Blade, its surface humming with trapped celestial energy. The runes on the weapon flicker and squirm like they're trying to speak.
Ghost (softly, to himself):
"So... they've finally seen me."
He doesn't look up. Doesn't need to. A presence enters—trembling.
A Shadow General kneels behind him, head bowed, voice shaking.
Shadow General:
"M-my lord... the humans—"
Ghost (interrupting):
"They tremble. They scramble. And now they bleed for what they refused to understand."
He rises slowly, the Sky Blade now sheathed and attached to his back by threads of black mist. His movements are smooth, ethereal. Inhuman.
Ghost:
"The game has started. And none of them know the board has already changed."
Looks up at the ceiling—into the stars no one else can see.
Ghost (softly):
"And when the final blade is drawn..."
His gloved hand tightens.
Ghost:
"I become the end of all stories."
The general dares to raise his head slightly.
Shadow General:
"What is your will?"
Ghost:
"You talk too much."
He raised the Sky Blade.
With a single movement, a rift of energy tore across the chamber.
In less than a breath, his entire inner circle was sliced apart—turned into nothing but blood mist and fragmented bone. Their screams never made it past their lips.
Ghost (quietly):
"You were never meant to see what comes next."
The cursed gates of the Underworld burst open. Ghost stepped through, the Sky Blade humming with unnatural rage. The souls of the damned recoiled. Demonic overlords gathered, sensing an invader—but it was already too late.
Ghost stabbed the blade into the heart of the Underworld.
THE GROUND TREMBLED.
THE SKY COLLAPSED.
REALITY EXPLODED.
A blinding eruption of blue-violet light obliterated everything—layers of death, memory, time, and torment—gone in a single cosmic breath.
---
PORTAL – EDGE OF OBLIVION
Ghost floated amidst nothingness, stepping back through a swirling black portal as the explosion behind him swallowed the last scream of the Underworld.
Ghost (softly):
"One realm down."
The portal closed.
The tower loomed like a dagger in the stormy sky, rain slashing the windows as lightning danced along the blackened stones. Inside, Ghost stood in the council chamber, his silhouette lit only by flickering hellfire torches.
Surrounding him were his last remaining subordinates—Shadow tacticians, beastmen veterans, dark elf lords, and vampire strategists—each one kneeling in anticipation of their next orders.
Vampire Lord Marvek:
"My lord, the Underworld is no more. We await your—"
Ghost extended his hand.
The Sky Blade materialized in a slow ripple of distorted space.
Ghost (calmly):
"Yes. You await."
Without warning—he moved.
In a single breath, every throat in the room was slit, their heads snapping back as black blood painted the walls. Some tried to run. A dark elf lord screamed and hurled magic at him—only for the spell to be devoured midair, reversed, and turned into a twisted lance through her spine.
A beastman commander slammed a war hammer down—Ghost caught it with two fingers, crushing it to dust, before snapping the beast's skull sideways.
He walked through the chaos like a shadow made flesh.
Ghost (low voice, to no one in particular):
"You were all pawns... pawns who thought yourselves kings. You schemed, you whispered, you dreamed of my throne..."
He raised the Sky Blade again and carved a circle in the air—the sigil of ruin. Flames erupted, crawling up the walls, licking the stone like a hungry predator. The council chamber became a furnace.
GHOST:
"Now let the show begins."
As the flames climbed higher, swallowing the bodies and banners of the Shadow Empire's inner circle, Ghost turned his back to the inferno.
He walked toward the edge of the chamber, toward a window that overlooked the war-torn continent.
The fire reflected in his eyes, and then he whispered—
Ghost:
"We all go down the rabbit hole… together."
He stepped into the shadows and vanished, the fire devouring the citadel behind him.