Cain's eyes fluttered open to the faint crackle of fire. His breath hitched. The pain was gone, no hole in his stomach, no blood, no trembling limbs. Just warmth. He sat up slowly. The air here felt heavy. Old. Like time itself lingered too long.
Around him stretched a vast room, lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves carved from blackened wood. The spines of the books shimmered faintly, some pulsing with a dull red glow, others whispering as if their pages breathed. Between the shelves stood silver candelabras, each flame burning steady, casting long shadows that danced across the marble floor.
The fire before him roared quietly inside a stone furnace. And beside it, in a deep leather armchair, sat a man.
Or rather, something wearing the shape of one.
He was tall, his posture regal yet relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, an ancient book open in his lap. His hair was black streaked with dark crimson, as though blood had seeped into his strands. His eyes glowed faintly. They weren't eyes at all, more like voids filled with galaxies, endless and alive, as if each blink collapsed stars.
He closed the book slowly, looking up at Cain with mild amusement. His voice, when he spoke, rolled like soft thunder, an ancient echo shaped into words.
"Cain," he said. "That was an interesting last stand."
Cain didn't respond. He couldn't. His throat was tight, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and awe.
The man smiled, the corners of his mouth sharp yet oddly kind."I suppose introductions are in order. I am Ares, First of the Dark Primes. One of the Enders."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in faint curiosity."And you… you are the one who caught my attention."
The flames dimmed. The room itself seemed to bow to his presence.
"Welcome," Ares said, gesturing faintly to the world of fire and ink that surrounded them. "You stand in the Archive of Destroyed Knowledge. Where all lost knowledge exists. Have fun trying to find anything useful, though."
A little lesson, then. Primes. There are many kinds of humans.
The normal ones, with below-average energy levels, who lead the simplest, most fragile lives.
The Bruisers, those with above-average energy who can only imbue it into their physical strikes or, at best, release short bursts of Energy.
The Technique Users, capable of manipulating energy into one, sometimes two, special abilities.
The Inheritors, who possess fragments of a Prime's power, echoes of what they can do.
And finally, the Primes.
Concepts given form. The strongest beings in existence. At their pinnacle stood the Enders, those who witnessed the birth of the world… and will one day end it.
They are:
The Darkness Prime.
The Light Prime.
The Nature Prime.
The Space Prime.
The Time Prime.
Ares turned back to face Cain, his expression sharpening into something both regal and predatory.
"So," he began softly, "let's get down to business. I want you to be my next vessel. There's something about you… this space in your body, much, much larger than any I've ever seen in someone of your low caliber. I believe I can give you whatever you want so long as you accept."
Cain's eyes narrowed. "I don't do anyone's bidding. I won't sell myself to you for power, just like I told Charlotte. I'll grow in my own way, on my own terms."
Ares smiled faintly, almost indulgently. "Yes, yes, the pride of mortals. But I'm not asking you to do anything big. The world simply needs a Darkness Prime to keep moving in The Intended Direction. You'll do what you want, live as you please, and have access to far greater power than you can imagine."
He extended a hand toward Cain, the faint outline of black fire curling around his wrist. "All at the cost of letting me, and the other two hundred or so former Darkness Primes, reside in your mind."
Cain eyed the hand suspiciously. "That's it? You just need a vessel? I can do anything? No rules? No servitude?"
Ares's grin widened. "Exactly. How does that sound?"
"Too good to be true," Cain muttered. "What does it really cost me?"
"Well," Ares said, tilting his head, "other than being the Darkness Prime, nothing at all."
Cain's gaze hardened. "And what are the drawbacks of that?"
Ares let out a low chuckle, though his tone carried an edge. "You ask too many questions, you know. You ought to be a tad more respectful to your elders, especially to the one saving you from death."
Cain said nothing, forcing himself to hold the Prime's gaze.
Ares sighed and shrugged. "Fine. It's not a fair deal if you don't understand it. Primes are bound by something called a Maledictum. It feeds on a predetermined primal emotion. For instance, the Fire Prime feeds on victory—when he wins, he grows stronger. But if he goes too long without feeding… or worse, if he feels the opposite emotion, the Maledictum starts manipulating the world itself until it can feed again."
Cain's voice was quiet, but steady. "You're avoiding something. What's yours?"
Ares's smile faltered, just for an instant. When he spoke again, his tone had darkened."Anything negative. Rage. Despair. Hatred. It's what gives us power… and what destroys us, eventually."
He extended his hand again, the shadows gathering tighter around his palm. "So, Cain. What do you say?"
Cain hesitated. His heart pounded, his thoughts flickering between every scar, every humiliation, every dream he'd buried under years of struggle.
If I become a Prime… I could become the strongest. And if that's true… I'll just defeat whatever this Maledictum throws at me.
He took a slow breath, then reached forward and shook Ares's hand.
The moment their palms met, the air exploded in a shockwave of black light. The world cracked, stars flaring in his vision, and Ares's voice echoed through his skull, deep and resonant, filled with satisfaction.
"Excellent choice."
The flames dimmed to embers. The books whispered. And through the ringing silence, Ares's smile cut through the dark like a blade.
"I'll make you stronger than Michael ever could."
And with that, Cain's world was consumed by shadow.