Hours passed.
The inky threads twisted and balled up, struggling to take form. Sweat ran down his forehead. His arms ached from holding the position, but he didn't stop.
Finally, as the outside world began to slip into the early orange of sunset, Meeyn opened his eyes.
Floating above his palms was a tiny, pebble-sized blob of abyssal matter — quivering slightly, like it was breathing.
But it wasn't truly alive.
It had no mind, no hunger, no will.
Just a dead, twitching piece of blackness.
Meeyn stared at it for a long moment, the muscles around his jaw tightening.
Then, with a huff of frustration, he let the failed creation drop, the tiny blob splattering harmlessly onto the stone floor.
"Tch. Not enough," he muttered.
Annoyed, he turned sharply, stomping toward the cave entrance. He planted his foot against the massive boulder sealing the opening — and with a grunt and a sharp shove, kicked it loose.
The rock rolled aside with a deep rumble, and fresh air rushed into the cave.
Meeyn stepped outside, stretching his arms wide as the last light of the day bathed the world in muted gold.
His joints popped. His muscles flexed.
He tilted his head back, letting the cool evening breeze wash over him.
He tilted his head back, letting the cool evening breeze wash over him.
For a moment, he just stood there, breathing in the fading warmth of the sun. But then his gaze dropped back to the small, twitching lump of failed abyssal matter resting near his feet.
He crouched, scooping it up between two fingers.
"...Maybe you're not completely useless," Meeyn muttered under his breath.
Tossing the pebble-sized blob into his palm, he started moving, his footsteps light against the rugged ground.
Night was coming quickly.
And with night came the perfect opportunity.
It didn't take long. As the last traces of light vanished from the horizon, Meeyn spotted one.
A half-collapsed Titan slumped against a rocky outcrop, its massive chest rising and falling slowly like a mountain breathing. The thing's body was littered with old wounds and scars, moss growing over its cracked skin. Harmless now. An easy target.
Meeyn approached cautiously, the tiny failed symbiote throbbing faintly in his hand.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, he rolled the black blob between his fingers, feeling its cold, sticky surface.
"Let's see if you can do something," he said, voice low.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he hurled the failed creation toward the Titan's exposed chest.
The blob splattered against the creature's skin — at first, doing nothing.
Then, sluggishly, the Living Abyss within it reacted.
The black mass spread like spilled ink, tendrils seeking to cling to the Titan's flesh.
For a heartbeat, Meeyn felt a flicker of excitement.
But it was short-lived.
The mass quivered, shuddered — and then broke apart, sliding uselessly down the Titan's body like rainwater.
Dead.
Lifeless.
"...Tch." Meeyn clicked his tongue, turning away from the sight.
It was progress. Barely. But progress nonetheless.
Meeyn narrowed his eyes, watching the black smear vanish into the dirt.
He stood still for a moment, thinking.
If he couldn't control Titans by force, maybe he could control the darkness inside them.
They were once human. Humans carried darkness long before they became monsters.
And as the Primordial God of Darkness, that darkness should respond to him.
Meeyn stepped closer to the Titan again.
The creature was barely alive, breathing shallowly.
He stretched out a hand.
This time he didn't try to control its body. He focused on what was left inside — the hatred, the fear, the anger that had once been human.
He pushed his presence into it, slow and steady.
"Remember."
"The things you hated. The things you wanted to destroy."
At first, nothing happened.
Then, the Titan's fingers twitched slightly.
Its breath grew heavier.
A thin trail of black mist leaked from a crack in its chest.
The Titan's head shifted. One bloodshot eye opened a sliver, and there was a clear flicker of awareness — not animal, but human.
It worked.
Not perfectly, but it worked.
Meeyn pulled his hand back.
It wasn't full control. The creature would still need guidance, maybe even restraint, but he had found the way.
He didn't need to control their bodies like puppets.
He would wake the darkness inside them.
That would be enough.
They would move because of their own hatred.
And he would decide where that hatred pointed.
Meeyn stood motionless, eyes locked on the Titan's twitching form. The first steps were always the hardest, but he was making progress.
He had a dozen more Titans nearby, their hulking bodies sprawled across the rocky landscape. The night was thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of earth and decay. The dark sky stretched above, the stars barely visible through the shadows.
He moved methodically, one Titan after another, slowly working his way through the line. One by one, he reached into their darkness, pushing his presence deep into their minds.
The Titans were sluggish at first, their massive limbs stiff and uncooperative. But the anger and hatred, that deep-rooted despair that once made them human, began to stir.
But just as the Titan's body began to stir, a sudden, jarring sound cut through the silence. It came from the depths of his mind, like a mechanical voice cutting through the dark.
[System Notification]
Synchronization Level: 1% → 1.9%
Meeyn stood there, the notification still echoing in his mind. Synchronization Level: 1% → 1.9%.
His body felt different, stronger. It wasn't just the darkness around him that had changed; it was him. The power he had before now felt almost doubled.
The Titans around him shifted slightly, their massive bodies reacting to the surge of energy. Meeyn could feel their hatred, their anger, more clearly now. It was like his connection to them had tightened, their darkness responding to his presence in a way it hadn't before.
He flexed his fingers, testing the power. It felt natural, like it had always been there, but now it was stronger.