The shadows coiled like smoke around a craggy plateau of obsidian, floating far above any known realm. Suspended in an endless void between worlds, this place reeked of stale blood and fading light.
The Ascendant Tyrant Tusker, freshly dragged through the swirling void, crashed into the rock with a bestial snarl. Its claws scraped the jagged floor as if sensing danger—though there was no one in sight.
Yet it whimpered.
And then fell still.
Chains—eerie, ethereal bindings forged of shadow—descended from the black sky above. They wrapped around the beast's limbs, muzzle, and tail like serpents, pinning it in place.
Footsteps echoed softly.
From the mist ahead, a figure in a black coat emerged, his hood still drawn low. The very same man who once stood over Helios during the fall of Nightfall.
He stopped before the bound beast.
And pulled back the hood.
Baldr.
A youth, barely older than Helios, with fair skin, flowing white hair that fell past his shoulders, and two piercing yellow eyes that glowed with a cruel light. His presence was unnatural—silent yet deafening, like a scream caught behind glass.
"Still fighting," Baldr murmured, watching the Tusker snarl beneath its chains. "Even after ascending. I suppose I can admire the instinct to survive."
He extended a pale hand.
Tendrils of dark energy poured from his fingertips, wrapping around the Tusker's body and sinking deep beneath its corrupted plating. The beast screamed—a low, distorted howl that echoed across the abyss.
The Tusker began to shrink, compressing in size and mass. Its body folded into itself, imploding until only a single orb of swirling shadow remained—dense, violent, and pulsing with malicious power.
Baldr caught it effortlessly in one hand.
The orb squirmed.
He smiled faintly.
He raised the swirling orb to his lips and bit down. The crack was not natural. It was wet, organic, like a bone snapping beneath skin. The shadows within fought him, pulsing down his throat like a swallowed storm. His throat convulsed. His skin bloomed with black veins lit up with dark energy, writhing and slithering like serpents or parasites beneath porcelain flesh. A moment passed and the veins receded.
Then came the cough. First a rasp, then a roar, as if his very soul was rejecting the devouring. His knees buckled. One hand gripped his chest while the other reached out to steady himself.
And then his eyes snapped open having turned silver.
"Quickly I must hurry. No... not yet," Baldr muttered, his voice now sounding different. It now sounded emotional and desperate as if there was no time.
He staggered to his feet and held out his left hand.
A burst of cold light erupted—and a Keyblade materialized.
Its shaft was a muted, pale gray—sleek, metallic, and unadorned save for a ball-like node at the top. The teeth resembled the Kingdom Key, but with its center hollowed into the shape of a Wayfinder. The deep blue guard was industrial in design, lined with screw holes and two hydraulic-like cylinders at the base. The keychain hung as a gold, five-pointed star, hollow and flickering faintly.
The weapon vibrated in his grip.
Baldr gripped it tightly. The silver in his eyes flickered for a moment—a flash of something else. Something terrifying. He took a deep breath and raised his free hand to his chest, as though he were about to pierce himself with the keyblade.
But before he could pierce his heart, the silver in his right eye bled away like ink in water, revealing that familiar, lifeless golden color beneath. Another voice rose, the same—but hollowed.
"What...?" Baldr muttered, his fingers trembling as he stopped himself. His right hand shot up—grabbing the one holding the blade.
The keyblade clattered to the ground, sliding across the stone.
BALDR (silver): "No… I have to stop this… before he…"
"Still squirming, Baldr? After all these years?" the golden-eyed half of Baldr's voice cut in—but now with the same voice he used when speaking of the Tusker. Calm. Cold. Completely devoid of emotion.
He tilted his head as if examining his own hand. "After all these years… You still exist in here?"
"I'm surprised you're still clinging to life and this body. It's been decades yet your will keeps you bound such a marvel," the voice continued, mocking. "But are you sure you can live without me? After all you've done. After killing Heimdall, Helgi, Vidar, Vali, Vala, Vor, and Sigrun. You worked with me, after all—how could I forget how we worked together to get Hoder killed?"
A flicker of memory—Hoder smiling, sunlight in her silver. A time before betrayal.
Baldr clenched his head with his left hand. "No… noo! You made me kill them! I never wanted this…"
Baldr's expression darkened. The silver eye flickered, then slowly faded, turning back to golden yellow. He clenched his fists, but the eye's voice persisted, mocking him still.
"I never expected you to be this weak, Baldr. A mere mention of those you killed is all it takes to shatter your will such a disappointment."
Baldr's body stiffened, and his shoulders slumped. "I need to find a new host… this body is reaching its limit. Consuming powerful heartless can no longer halt the decay," he muttered, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.
He looked up at Helios, his expression unreadable. "I will need another soon. It's a shame… the body of that young man I had my eyes on was taken by those two insignificant specks at the last moment."
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a keyblade—not the one that he had just wielded, but the No Name, a weapon drenched in darkness and power. Its blade is long and sleek, with a jagged edge that glows with a malevolent energy. The handle is adorned with intricate black and silver designs, and the tip of the blade seemed to feature a single silver-green eye that seems to stare into the soul of its wielder.
The air around him crackled.
Dark energy surged around his feet.
He reached down and picked up the fallen keyblade—the hollowed one—holding it in one hand while No Name pulsed in the other. With a flick of dark energy, he crushed the keyblade.
His gaze pierced through the void, as if watching Helios from afar—beyond space, beyond worlds.
"Hmm," he said. "I never would have thought another one of us 13 True Darkness would survive to this age. For it to take the host I previously wanted is surprising in some way but why hasn't it taken the body? I will need to investigate this further. What should be done about the body?"
And the void answered him—with silence.
"A pity," he whispered, eyes cold. "I had such plans for that boy."