The Decree
In the heart of an Earth covered in darkness was a throne fashioned from the broken caricature of an urban building. Dripping down its edges was a venomous black slime.
Perched upon the throne, an enigmatic figure released an aura of malefic power, casting an ominous shadow that stretched across the desolate landscape. The darkness was not its ally, it was its servant. A mere toy to hurl and twist. Above, the skies roiled with a tempest of swirling storms, crackling with ethereal lightning and veiled in an otherworldly haze.
From this commanding vantage point, the mysterious entity surveyed the skies above, its piercing gaze penetrating the fabric of existence itself.
Shadows swirled and danced within the palm of his hand. A cackle erupted from the darkness within.
"So, the Chosen One has awakened."
With a single gesture of its shadowy hand, the fabric of reality quivered and trembled. Universes quaked and shuddered as if caught in the grip of an invisible force. Time itself twisted and distorted under the weight of its unimaginable power.
"Oh well. The END will come when I decree."
The words reverberated through a haunting smirk. It was a proclamation of absolute power. An ominous warning.
A challenge.
And as the void quivered with the echoes of devastation, the entity's malevolent laughter resonated through the abyss. Under his heel was the skull of the Dark God. The God of Evil, the Left Hand of the Great Darkness.
"These gods…they are quite amusing. The despot and his Fourth World belong to me. I suppose I shall kill the Highfather of New Genesis next. My battle with the Chosen One can wait."
After all, he is the one that is Empty.
The one that takes.