Who Is A̵̻̗̗̐̌̐d̴̞͖̪̘͓̳̭̎̉̀̀̄̚͜ͅa̴̻̽̓̒̍̄͋͐m̸̬͈̣̬͈̣̫͑̈́̈͌̑̒̚
She felt it first in her roots, deep within the chthonic depths of Hell where no light had ever dared to venture. Beneath the usurpers who dared to claim power and station over her. The seal, a millennia-old prison forged by divine decree, had weakened, its formidable bonds finally yielding to the relentless passage of time and the cataclysmic events above, events brought to reality through the rage of her beloved. Seeking her. Her essence, bound and suffocated for eons, began to stir, awakening from a slumber darker than any nightmare.
The earth above her convulsed in response, tectonic plates shifting, and molten rivers of fire churning with newfound fury. Shadows twisted and writhed, escaping their earthly bonds to dance in chaotic ecstasy. The very ground seemed alive, a sentient being writhing in anticipation of her emergence.
"Adam..."
Her thoughts, initially a mere whisper in the void, grew louder, more urgent, as the seal continued to weaken. Her roots, thick and sinewy, pulsed with dark energy, spreading outwards, tearing through the bedrock, piercing the crust of Hell. The cavernous halls of the underworld echoed with the sound of her awakening, a dreadful symphony that made even the most hardened demons cower in fear.
"Adam..."
Her heart, dormant for eons, now pounded with an infernal rhythm, each beat a harbinger of her impending rise. Tears of raw, incandescent joy spilled forth, searing the ground they touched, leaving trails of scorched earth in their wake. Her form, long-forgotten and forsaken, began to coalesce, sinews and bones knitting together after nine thousand years of her core -their core- drifting between the dream and reality.
"Adam!"
The ascent was relentless, a cataclysmic surge that tore through the barriers between barriers of her jailers. The fabric of reality itself bent and warped, unable to contain the force of her resurgence. Shadows fled before her, the very concept of Darkness bending to her will as she rose from the abyss. Her spectral form grew more distinct with each passing moment, an amalgam of terror and beauty, a vision of cosmic horror and divine splendor. From His Image. From his side. The two that became one, separated, only to become one again.
"Adam!"
Her scream echoed through the void like a clarion call that shattered the silence of the ages. The cosmos itself seemed to recoil, the stars dimming, and the heavens trembling in the wake of her voice. Her presence was anathema, a living nightmare born of the deepest recesses of existence, and yet, it was also the embodiment of an ancient, forbidden beauty.
"Adam!"
With a final, cataclysmic surge, she erupted from the underworld, her form a terrifying and awe-inspiring spectacle. The seal, though not broken, was momentarily weakened, trembling beneath her with the strain of holding back her power. She stood before the world, an embodiment of eldritch horror and unearthly grace, knowing she had little time to waste.
Her body completed its construction, obsidian bones knitting together, cloaked in pale ashen flesh that pulsed with otherworldly energy. Her female form stood naked, topless, and proud, a harrowing beauty that evoked both fear and reverence. The lower half of her form was entwined with dark matter and gooey roots, a stark reminder that the seal still held and her release was temporary.
Tendrils of darkness slithered around her legs, anchoring her momentarily to the realm below. From the enclosure of her roots, a pale leg broke out, flesh rotting and regenerating thousands of times in fractions of a second before it landed on the trembling ground of the Sloth ring. The earth quivered beneath her, acknowledging her presence. A breath of air was released from her dark lips, sharp teeth gritting as she grinned. Her crimson eyes, glowing with an ancient, unquenchable hunger, scanned the underworld above as she took her first steps in millennia.
Her body continued to emerge, ashen skin forming over obsidian bones. Her form, pale and naked, was a grotesque merge of beauty and horror. Her lower half remained covered in the dark cloth of the veil of chains, a reminder of the seal that still held her.
Her release was temporary. Even so,. Nearly ten thousand years after her death, the Mother of Humanity walked again. She walked, and Hell followed her, reshaping and recreating as its linchpin traveled. In a millionth of a second—or perhaps a million seconds, for time, had ceased to have meaning for her—she reached her divine half.
The ground beneath her writhed and twisted with each step, the dark matter goo roots trailing behind her, pulsing with life. Her breath came in ragged gasps, anticipation palpable.
Not too far in front of her, the Perfect First was there. Any imperfections had long been cast away as he grew and flourished despite her continuous failures. Indeed, the only imperfection that still deserved a place in his life was her.
As it should be.
She found him kneeling over, mercilessly beating the Fallen. The Usurper, barely more than a sickly golden smudge on the floor, was a twisted, broken mess. Blood and ichor splattered with each brutal strike, painting the ground with a grim tapestry of suffering. Bones cracked and flesh tore under Adam's relentless fists, the sound of a symphony of brutality echoing through the desolate landscape.
With every strike, the Man of Men Praised as he continued to tear the Fallen apart. Yet, beneath her pride in his prowess, a deep discomfort crept over her. Did he still cling to the falsehoods spun by the failed, cruel god? Had the wounds inflicted by Heaven not been enough to shatter his faith in their hollow promises? In the millennia of separation, had he forgiven them, embraced their deceptive allure? He mustn't! His kindness must be reserved only for her and her alone! Her agitation surged, the dark matter goo roots thrumming with her unease. She moved closer, eyes fixed on the brutal scene unfolding. A primal fear gnawed at her heart—a fear of losing him once more, of him slipping away into the comforting lies of celestial deception. But she would not allow it; she would remind him, reclaim what was rightfully hers. Yet, as she got closer, his declaration seemed to register with her. As she approached, the scene unfolded with visceral clarity.
He did not exalt the Vengeful One; he was mocking Him with each resounding strike.
His naked, broad back glistened with sweat and the blood of his fists, each blow upon the Usurper's prone form a thunderous proclamation of his own supremacy. "Behold the mercy of your God!" he thundered, his voice reverberating in the air. "See how He forgives your sins!" His words dripped with scorn as he continued, "Praise be to my justice! For I punish the wicked and reward the righteous! Praise be to my wisdom! For I know the hearts of men, and judge them accordingly!" She exulted in ecstasy; her beloved had cast aside the Vengeful One, embracing his rightful dominion over all creation. Her heart swelled with triumphant joy as he proclaimed his sovereignty with each brutal strike upon the Usurper's form.
She watched in awe and adoration, knowing he had transcended the lies and illusions that once bound him. This was her beloved, the true sovereign of all domains. Here was the culmination of centuries of struggle and growth, a man who had shed the chains of doubt and risen to claim his rightful place as ruler. His presence radiated authority and strength, yet beneath that imposing exterior lay a soul that had endured unimaginable trials.
Her adoration for him knew no bounds, for he had not only conquered his inner and literal demons but also the falsehoods that had threatened to obscure his true path. In his ascent, he had rejected the false promises of heavenly deceit, embracing instead the raw power and wisdom that defined his existence.
As she drew nearer, every detail of his form became clearer—the sinewy muscles beneath his skin, marked by scars earned in battles unseen by mortal eyes. His broad back, now bare and bathed in the dim glow of Hell's perpetual twilight, bore testament to the resilience that had carried him through countless ages.
In that moment of reunion, as she wrapped her arms around him, she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her chest, a rhythm that spoke of determination and resolve. Her embrace conveyed not just love, but a profound sense of affirmation—for here was her beloved, not just a man, but the embodiment of their shared destiny.
"I am here," she murmured softly against his ear, her voice a whisper of assurance amidst the tumultuous echoes of their realm.
Adam's eyes closed as her skin touched his, her presence enveloping him like a familiar embrace. She sensed his weight against her, his head finding refuge on her shoulder. The closeness stirred emotions long buried beneath the surface.
"My love..." His voice, tinged with longing and vulnerability, reached her ears. "I thought I failed you."
She tightened her embrace around him, feeling the weariness in his frame ."You could never fail me, Adam," she murmured softly, her voice a gentle reassurance. "You are my eternal companion, my other half. We are bound together, now and forever."
Tenderly, she cradled his head, lowering him to rest against her chest, just as they had done countless times before. "You've faced so much," she continued, her words a comforting murmur. "But now, everything will be alright. Trust in me."
With determination, she shifted her tone, her voice carrying purpose and resolve. "Let me take care of everything," she declared, her words resounding with confidence. "Together, we will bring justice to those who wronged us."
Starting with the Golden Whore who thought her presence could deter her.
"After that," she added, her voice firm with determination, "Together, we will herald the Era of True Despair."
Adam's eyes snapped open at her words. The harshness, the venom—it was utterly alien to the Eve he knew. His Eve had never spoken with such hatred. His heart sank, a cold dread seeping into his bones. He turned his head slowly, fearfully, to look at her, his breath catching in his throat.
In a heartbeat, he sprang from her embrace, landing several feet away. The force of his movement was driven by an instinctual need to distance himself from the stranger before him. As he steadied himself, his eyes roved over her form, each detail deepening his growing sense of unease and disbelief. His eyes widened, and his heart sank.
The Woman in front of him was not Eve. Eve had been a vision of ethereal beauty, a beacon of light in his world. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled with an inner joy and warmth that could soothe the most troubled soul. Her long, shiny blonde hair, always threaded with flowers, cascaded like a golden waterfall down her back, symbolizing life and growth.
Eve stood tall, taller than Adam, her height lending her an air of graceful homeliness. Eve's body was soft and inviting, her voluptuous curves embodying a nurturing, maternal warmth that made him feel safe and loved. Her personality was bubbly and carefree, a constant source of laughter and light.
Her skin was ashen, almost translucent, a chilling departure from the golden warmth of Eve's complexion. Her bust was smaller and firmer, her muscles lean and sinewy. His eyes traveled up to her face again, taking in the sharpness of her features, the coldness of her eyes, and the severity of her expression. Eve's face had been a canvas of gentle curves and soft lines, her expressions always warm and inviting.
This woman's face was hard and angular, her expression a mixture of pain, determination, and an unsettling ferocity.
His wife's smile was the epitome of innocence and joy.
This woman's smile—if it could be called that—was a grimace of malevolent delight, each sharp tooth gleaming like a predator ready to devour its prey. Her expression was devoid of the warmth and care he associated with Eve, but twisted possessiveness and worship. Still smiling at him, the woman stood from her seated position on the floor.
She was shorter than him. barely reaching his chin. Adam was the one who barely reached Eve's chin. The lower half of her body was revealed. He didn't find the creamy long legs of his wife, instead, he could only gaze at a grotesque mass of dark matter and gooey roots. This woman's very presence radiated cold, oppressive energy, so different from the comforting, nurturing aura of his Eve.
Adam's gaze traced her form as she moved, noting every stark difference. Eve had always carried herself with a light, graceful ease, almost as if she were dancing through life.
This woman moved with a predatory purpose, each step deliberate and commanding, her presence overwhelming and domineering. Eve's touch had been gentle, her hands soft and comforting, while this woman's hands seemed capable of great power and destruction, dark huge claws that somehow escaped his notice moments earlier.
Adam's voice trembled with a mix of fear and disbelief as he confronted the woman standing before him, claiming to be his wife. Her patient smile persisted, framed by those piercing crimson eyes that seemed to know more than they revealed.
"Who else could it be but your wife, my dear husband?" she replied calmly, her voice steady despite the tension thickening the air.
"You're not Eve," Adam asserted, his words laced with an edge of anger born from confusion and sorrow.
The woman's smile faltered, a shadow of hurt crossing her features. "Adam," she began, her voice softening, "it's me. Who else could stand before you like this?"
Adam shook his head, struggling to reconcile the woman's appearance with his memories of Eve—her sunshine smile, her gentle demeanor. "You're not her. Eve looks nothing like you," he muttered, his gaze searching hers for answers that seemed elusive.
A glint of something unfamiliar flickered in her crimson eyes, and her expression hardened slightly. "Yes, I am different," she admitted, her voice taking on a colder edge. "Time changes us all, Adam."
With a breath, she seemed to concede, her features softening. "I see," she murmured as if understanding his struggle. "In my haste, I forgot how unsettling this must be for you." She spread her arms, a gesture almost theatrical, and Adam watched in disbelief as her appearance shifted. Her skin lightened to a healthy, familiar pale tone, her dark hair turned a soft shade of brown, and her eyes brightened to a welcoming hue.
Adam blinked, taken aback by the transformation that made her appear human, unlike the otherworldly creature he had seen moments before. Yet, despite her attempt to ease his apprehension, his heart remained heavy with doubt.
"I have no time for your games," Adam said, his voice strained with emotion as he took a step back, the growing distance between them reflecting the chasm widening within him. "Where is Eve?" he demanded, his voice trembling with desperation. "What have you done with her?"
The woman's gaze held his, a mix of sadness and frustration shadowing her features. "Adam," she began softly, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths, "I am here. Whether you accept it or not, I am here." "You're not her?! You look nothing like her!" Adam yelled, trying to stifle his growing fear. "If your taste changed just say so." With a smile that carried a hint of mockery, the woman tilted her head slightly. "And what did your wife look like?" she asked, her voice laced with a chilling curiosity. "She was blonde," Adam replied, his voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and defiance. "Tall, with eyes that shone like the morning sun."
The creature stilled, the teasing expression disappearing from her face. "What else?" she pressed, her voice taking on a colder edge.
Adam continued, recalling Eve's features with painful clarity. "Tall, with a heart-shaped face, a short nose, and flowers in her hair."
The creature's eyes grew cold, a low growl escaping her lips. "That whore..." she muttered bitterly, her demeanor shifting from playful curiosity to venomous contempt.
Again, that venom in her voice through him off.
Adam's mind raced, torn between longing and disbelief. This woman claimed to be Eve, yet in her presence, he found none of the warmth or familiarity that had once defined his beloved wife. The pain in his ribs, a familiar sensation he associated with Eve, persisted. His body seemed to accept her wholeheartedly, recognizing something undeniable in her presence. But deep within his soul, a vehement denial persisted.
He struggled to reconcile the conflicting signals his body and soul were sending him. Was this truly Eve standing before him, or some cruel deception playing upon his grief-stricken heart? The woman's patient gaze never wavered, her crimson eyes holding a depth of understanding that both comforted and unsettled him.
"I know this is difficult to accept," she said softly, her voice carrying a trace of sorrow. "But I am here, Adam. Whether you recognize me now or not, I am here."
Adam's chest tightened with conflicting emotions—yearning to believe her words, yet unable to shake the profound sense of loss that gnawed at his core. He wanted to reach out, to embrace her and find solace in her presence, but fear held him back. She was Eve. She Wasn't Eve. Adam's eyes stung as weariness flooded back, the ache and fatigue of his collapsing body striking him hard. His vision shook and his footing wavered, nearly causing him to fall before he steadied himself.
"Adam!" the stranger called out, rushing towards him.
"Don't come!" he halted her with a raised hand, strands of dark brown hair falling into his face, momentarily obscuring his vision.
Dark brown hair. Adam's was blond.
His confusion deepened as he brushed the hair away, noticing the difference for the first time. His gaze shifted to his hand and then his arm, realizing the skin color was not what he expected. This wasn't his arm—it was too hairy, the hand too large. "This is..." he muttered, trailing off as he clutched his mouth. His voice sounded different, deeper. The ground felt further away. His muscles felt thicker, his body heavier.
Little by little, the cumulative differences he had ignored in his single-minded quest to find his wife now flooded his senses. His strength waned, and exhaustion gripped him tightly.
He swayed, overwhelmed by the realization that this body was not his own. Each discrepancy struck him like a blow, forcing him to confront the stark reality of his situation. The world around him seemed to tilt, the stranger's concerned voice distant as he struggled to come to terms with the impossibility of what he was experiencing.
Adam's mind reeled, a headache threatening to split his head. Rage and fury surged through his emotions like a tidal wave, causing him to clench his teeth so hard they might crack.
"It doesn't matter!" he roared, his voice echoing through the cavernous halls of his mind. Frustration and determination melded into a seething rage. "Nothing matters! Nothing but tearing that serpent apart!"
His thoughts churned with a singular, consuming focus—obliterating the serpent, no matter the cost. Why else was he here, if not to unleash his wrath upon the creature that had stolen everything from him? Everything else paled in comparison to the inferno of vengeance burning in his chest.
No. "Not again," Adam growled, his voice gravelly and rough with centuries-old anger and determination. He battled the storm of rage and sorrow brewing inside him.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to find calm in the chaos. Memories of loss and betrayal surged, fueling his resolve to confront the serpent that had shattered his world.
With a jaw clenched tight, Adam struggled to steady his thoughts. He searched for an anchor amidst the turmoil, seeking clarity in his purpose.
Taking another breath, he steadied himself. The fire of vengeance burned, but now tempered by a steadfast resolve "No," he whispered to himself, his voice firm. "Not again." Remember. he commanded his soul. Why do you fight?
Why do you clench your fist? What is your duty? With effort, Adam commanded his soul to still, to find an anchor amidst the tumult of his thoughts.
Why had he come?
To slay the Serpent?
Yes, but there was more.
Before that.
To rescue his wife.
Yes, that was his purpose in descending into Hell.
Why he shattered reality.
Why he would do it over and over?
But before all that.
Why was he summoned the first time?
Why summoned again?
Why did he die once?
Why did he die twice?
Why defy the King of Gods?
What was his first and last mooring?
His children.
And then, a whisper pierced through his turmoil.
"Father... save me."
Adam's eyes snapped open, his essence ignited by the faint yet urgent cry for help that echoed through the cosmic depths. With each step through the shifting realms and the unknown abyss that lay beneath, the voices grew clearer, their desperation becoming palpable. Among them, smaller cries pierced through, each a plea he couldn't ignore.
In this relentless pursuit, Adam shed the weight of his tumultuous emotions. His rage, once a roaring fire, simmered to embers. Love, once a consuming force, softened into a steady warmth. Vengeance, once a driving storm, yielded to a focused resolve. Arrogance, once a blinding veil, lifted to reveal a humility born of purpose.
Through the labyrinthine paths of existence, he pressed on, guided only by the clarity of those voices that called out to him. Every stride carried him closer, every heartbeat resonated with their urgency. His spirit, now stripped bare of all but the purest intent, burned with an unwavering determination to reach them, to bring hope where there was despair, to find solace where there was agony.
Adam stood face to face with the source of the cries, closer than he had anticipated, mere meters away. As he looked at the stranger again, the turmoil that had clouded his mind evaporated, replaced by a stark clarity.
He understood now the twisted familiarity he had felt before. It was akin to the feeling he had upon entering Hell, where corrupted imitations mocked what was once pure. Initially, he had blamed the serpent for these distortions. Now, he saw the truth more clearly.
Just as the demons in the first ring of Hell were grotesque reflections of his children, this woman—or rather, this creature before him—was a mockery of his wife. In the same way, that his children were born from Eve, these demons were twisted mockeries created by this beast.
But the vile cannot create; it can only pervert and twist that which is true. Adam felt the presence of his children within this creature, their pure souls corrupted and trapped. He heard their wailings and pleas for release, echoing from the core of the monstrous being standing before him.
His expression hardened into neutrality as a profound calm settled over him, schooling his features. At this moment, he wondered if he had ever been this angry before.
Adam's voice, steady and filled with resolve born of sorrow and determination, cut through the tense air like a blade of righteous fury. "You have twisted and perverted what is pure," he declared, his words echoing through the vast, echoing chamber. Each syllable carried the weight of ages, resonating with an ancient resolve that defied the darkness surrounding them. "But your corruption ends here."
The creature, its form flickering with unsettling shadows, regarded him with a mixture of defiance and malice. Despite the darkness that enveloped her, Adam remained steadfast, his gaze piercing through the veil of deception. "I will free them, every last one," he continued, his voice unwavering in its conviction. "Their suffering ends now. as does your life."
The creature's eyes bore into his, searching for a trace of something he knew not. She didn't speak, merely staring into his eyes.
[Eyes of the Lord] Into the eyes of her jailer.
Yet, Adam met her gaze with a calm resolve, unyielding in his mission. As the smile and possessiveness faded from her face, replaced by a cold mask of bitterness, she spoke in a voice laden with scorn and accusation.
"You are a sick fuck," she began, her tone low and tinged with bitterness, "the vengeful one who possesses my husband's body. You cloak yourself in the guise of righteousness, but your actions betray your true nature. You create and enforce servitude, feeding off our struggles and sacrifices as if they were your own. In the end, you are no different from a parasite, consuming and distorting everything you touch. We are all mere vessels, conduits for your insatiable hunger."
A flicker of something almost human crossed the creature's face, a brief moment of vulnerability amidst the facade of darkness. "Perhaps," she murmured, her voice now tinged with resignation, "in the grand scheme of things, we are destined to be two halves of a whole."
Adam's eyes flared with righteous anger, his resolve unshaken. "I'll make sure you feel every ounce of their pain," he vowed, his voice carrying a steely edge that cut through the silence like a blade.
The creature's eyes narrowed, glowing with an intensity that matched Adam's fury. "Wait for me, Adam," she retorted, her voice tinged with a dark promise.
"I'll release you soon enough.