On the other side of the world, just outside the void, Melissa has been waiting for him to come back in the hope of something better. She knelt down with a tired expression and tied her pony. The sweat was all over her body. She was tired and had no more energy left after the huge battle. Her whole energy had been exhausted, and her injuries grew deeper. After resting for a while and taking a long breath, she spoke in a soft manner towards the back void portal. She said, "Only you can do it. Only you, please don't die, Dylan."
In a desolate expanse, far removed from the comforting embrace of familiarity, Melissa found herself ensnared in a world teetering on the brink of despair, just outside the swirling abyss of the void. She knelt upon the coarse, uneven ground, her weary body sagging under the overwhelming weight of exhaustion. The sun hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows that danced eerily across the landscape, while the air was thick with the scent of burnt earth, a reminder of the fierce battle that had transpired.
Her fingers trembled as they deftly tied her disheveled ponytail, yet even this simple act felt monumental. Sweat trickled down her brow, mingling with the dirt that had settled upon her skin, each droplet a painful reminder of the relentless struggle she had just endured. Her body bore the scars of conflict; deepening bruises marred her arms, and a sharp ache pulsed through her side, each throb resonating with the ferocity of the fight. The gusts of wind carried whispers of her anguish, wrapping around her like a shroud of despair.
Despite the throbbing pain coursing through her, a flicker of hope remained lodged within her chest, a light that refused to be extinguished.
Turning her gaze toward the foreboding portal of darkness, she felt an overwhelming sense of urgency swell within her. "Only you can do it. Only you, please do not die, Dylan," she implored, her voice breaking the suffocating silence. The void, a swirling tempest of shadows and uncertainty, seemed to reverberate with her desperate plea, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. In that moment, Melissa recognized that her hope was not merely a fleeting sentiment; it was the steadfast anchor that tethered her to the possibility of a future—a future in which Dylan would return, and the light of their shared dreams would pierce through the encroaching darkness.
Dylan had spent weeks decoding the unexplainable resurrection of the sentinels — these monstrous entities that should have stayed dead. Patterns began to emerge, faint at first, like whispers at the edge of a storm. They weren't just reviving; they were returning, drawn back from something deeper, something unspeakable.
He was standing now at the edge of that horror: a vast sea of darkness, blacker than the void between stars. It stretched infinitely before him, its surface unnaturally still, almost glassy — yet beneath, he could feel it moving, breathing like a living entity. Dylan's heart hammered against his ribs as he took cautious steps forward, his boots crunching against the gravelly shore until the stones turned slick with black ooze.
The closer he approached, the heavier the air grew, thick and cloying. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, but Dylan pressed on, drawn by a need to understand, to end this nightmare once and for all.
The first touch of the water against his boots was icy, far colder than any natural sea. It wasn't just temperature — it was like the water was hating him, rejecting him even as it reached hungrily for more. In an instant, the black tide surged, climbing up his legs and pulling at him with unnatural strength. Dylan tried to resist, tried to step back, but the tide swallowed him whole, dragging him down into the abyss.
He plummeted through the inky darkness, senses overwhelmed. There was no up, no down — just endless, oppressive black. Dylan twisted his body, struggling to orient himself, but it was as if he were adrift in space, weightless and utterly alone.
Then — light.
Faint at first, like bioluminescent tendrils weaving far below him. Dylan squinted through the gloom and his breath caught in his throat.
Beneath him, stretching out into the abyss, the sentinels were being reborn.
Great vats of writhing flesh and bone, towering cocoons of twisted metal and sinew, sprouted from the sea floor. Sentinels, fully formed yet mindless, crawled from their birthing pods, their soulless eyes gleaming. The horror was beyond imagination — Dylan was witnessing the endless cycle of their resurrection, the hidden mechanism that made them invincible.
Terror rooted him in place. His mind screamed at him to flee, but before he could act, the dark ocean around him shivered. Thousands of sentinels turned their dead gazes upward — toward him.
In a heartbeat, they rose, the water parting around them as if answering to their will. Dylan was surrounded — an ocean of death closing in.
He barely managed a whisper, his voice cracking under the weight of pure terror:
"This is beyond insanity and madness... How can I stop them? How the hell...?"
Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He clenched his fists, teeth gritting so hard he felt they might crack. There must be a way out. There had to be.
Then, as if from the deep itself, a voice rang out — sharp, commanding, impossibly loud.
"Retreat, my fellows."
Instantly, the sentinels froze. One by one, they turned away, sinking back into the dark like obedient soldiers.
Dylan blinked in shock. Why? They could have torn him apart effortlessly. Why retreat now? What force commanded these unstoppable beings?
The momentary reprieve turned to horror as Dylan felt his body seize up. Something — invisible yet solid — snapped tight around his wrists and ankles. It was a hollow string, impossibly strong yet seemingly intangible, like woven strands of darkness itself.
"No! No! What is happening?! WHY ME?! WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT?!" Dylan shouted, thrashing against the bindings, but they tightened with every movement, dragging him down onto his knees.
The water beneath him shifted, parting like curtains being drawn back. A towering figure emerged from the gloom.
At first, Dylan thought it was a mountain, or perhaps some kind of ancient god.
Sitting atop a massive black throne carved from jagged obsidian, the being radiated an aura so intense it made the air shimmer. The creature was humanoid in form, but its body was colossal, rippling with impossible muscle. Its skin wasn't merely dark — it was a cosmic tapestry, swirling galaxies and burning stars contained within its flesh. Every movement it made seemed to bend reality around it.
Massive black wings stretched out behind the throne, their edges trailing strands of inky mist. Around its body, tendrils of dark energy twisted and danced, like snakes caressing their master. The air smelled of ozone and ancient stone — and something older, something vile.
Behind the creature, the void pulsed, framed by ethereal clouds and a blinding celestial light, forming a grotesque halo around its massive head.
Dylan could only stare, heart pounding so hard it drowned out the distant roaring of the sea.
The being spoke, its voice deep and resonant, vibrating in Dylan's very bones:
"Dylan..."
It laughed — a guttural, chilling sound that seemed to shake the very fabric of the abyss.
"Wonderful... I can already smell the potential rotting inside you. Such promise — wasted. It's tragic, really."
The being leaned forward, resting clawed fingers against the armrests of its throne. Its eyes, swirling pools of black and gold, bore into Dylan with predatory amusement.
"But alas, like all the others who dared trespass into the void, you will never see the light again. You should have turned back when you had the chance. You should have listened to the fear clawing at your soul. Instead... you followed them."
Dylan's mouth was dry. His muscles strained against the hollow bindings, but he couldn't break free. Every word from the creature was a hammer blow against his hope.
"The sentinels..." Dylan managed to croak. "You made them?"
The being smiled, revealing teeth like obsidian knives.
"I did not merely make them, Dylan. I birthed them. I breathed my will into the abyss and gave it shape. The sentinels are my children — my soldiers, my hands upon the mortal world."
It rose from the throne, wings unfurling with a deafening boom, casting a massive shadow that engulfed Dylan completely.
"Every time you struck one down," it said, walking slowly toward him, "you only fed their essence back to me. Their deaths were... investments."
Dylan's mind reeled. Every battle, every desperate fight — it had all been for nothing.
"But why?" Dylan rasped. "Why attack the world? What do you want?"
The creature tilted its head slightly, considering him.
"Want?" it echoed, as if amused by the simplicity of the question. "I am not driven by your petty mortal desires. I am the embodiment of the void itself. I hunger because hunger is my nature. I destroy because destruction is my breath. I consume light because it offends me."
The swirling darkness around Dylan thickened, becoming almost suffocating.
"Your world... your fragile little realm of light and hope... it is an infection." The creature sneered. "And I am the cure."
Dylan's fists trembled with rage and fear.
"You won't win," he whispered. "Someone will stop you."
The creature threw back its head and roared with laughter, a sound that shook the endless sea around them.
"Someone?" it mocked. "Look around you, Dylan. There is no one left. You are alone. You are already mine."
The bindings tightened further, forcing Dylan's head down in submission. The throne loomed above him, a monument to despair.
But deep within Dylan, something stubborn refused to break. A tiny ember — fragile but defiant — still burned.
The creature knelt beside him, lowering its massive, clawed hand to cup Dylan's chin, lifting his face to meet its gaze.
"Still fighting...?" it purred. "Good. It will make your fall all the sweeter."
The creature's wings unfurled again, and a swirling portal of darkness opened behind it, crackling with unnatural energy.
"You will become my next sentinel, Dylan Daniels," it whispered. "Stronger than any before. My new general. A hero... reborn in darkness."
Dylan's mind screamed in denial, but his body was frozen, helpless.
The void yawned wider. Shadows reached for him.
And just as they touched his skin, Dylan heard a voice — faint, but unmistakable.
"Dylan... fight it."
It was a memory. A voice from long ago — someone he had loved, someone he had lost.
And in that instant, the ember inside him flared to life.
He gritted his teeth, summoning every shred of willpower he had left. The dark tendrils recoiled slightly, surprised.
"NO!" Dylan roared, his voice cutting through the abyss.
The creature's eyes narrowed.
"Impossible..." it hissed.
The battle for Dylan's soul had just begun — and somewhere, deep within the void, hope sparked against the encroaching night.