Pain.

Cold.

Dark.

Hurtling through a formless, endless void of incomprehensible colors, he felt his mind slipping away, as his body disintegrated, bit by bit, being devoured by the primordial storms that surrounded him.

All for naught, as he felt his very soul being consumed.

He had amassed fortunes, and armies, and powers beyond compare, and yet in his final moments, it all seemed so futile, so meaningless. As he fell, he saw his life flash before him, his triumphs, his failures, and he felt only regret, only bitterness.

He had accomplished so little in the end.

Born into war and poverty, raised in a world filled with strife, he'd risen to power through his own cunning, charisma and ruthlessness, building loyalty with his men starting from adolescence.

Yet he'd been a tool of others. First the Empress, and later a puppet to his own ambition.

The world she'd built was a cruel one. One where the strong preyed upon the weak, where the powerful oppressed the powerless. He'd grown up in the slums of the heart of the empire, a place of poverty, and disease, a place of suffering and cruelty.

His heart had grown cold and hard, like a stone. The only warmth he ever knew was the fire that burned within him, a fire fueled by ambition and the desire to be the one to control others. And the fire had consumed him, driven him to become more and more ruthless and callous, to do anything to achieve his goals.

Until one fateful day, his mother had announced she was once again pregnant.

He had been a mistake. His parents had never desired to bring a child into the empire, but they had done it again. His mother had always been kind to him, despite her own hardships. She had always shown him love and compassion, despite her own pain and suffering.

He had always known she was a kind soul, a good person, but he had never truly appreciated her until he was a man. When both she and his father had been ordered to be executed on the whim of the Empress. He'd been powerless to do anything.

He had not shed a tear since childhood, but that day he wept. He had never felt so alone, so lost, so broken.

Yet his little brother, barely out of the womb, had been spared.

Even with the status he'd attained as a rising star, he could not stay the execution of his own parents.

It was the last time in his life that he had cried, and he had sworn that no matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice, he would never allow his brother to experience the cruelty and injustice of this world, even if it cost him everything he had achieved in life. He had to create a better world. For his brother.

He'd promised him, and himself, he'd do whatever it took to make the world a better place for him.

He'd wanted to take his brother with him and flee the empire to the north. But he could not abandon the crew who had helped him climb to the position he held. The lives of so many people depended on him.

So he stayed, even when he realized that it was not just his parents who suffered under the Empress's rule. The whole of the empire suffered.

It would ironically be the empress's own right hand who would teach him love again. Not in the romantic sense. No, it was a love that came from compassion, from kindness, from empathy.

A girl he'd once seen as an obstacle, and later as an enemy. She was the first person who had made him feel anything other than hatred. And in doing so, she showed him the way, showed him a path to follow. She and her beloved. The woman who had been his own mentor and older sister figure

And so he had become the Empress's most loyal servant.

Waiting. Watching. Biding his time for his chance. And when it had come, he'd taken it.

But in his hubris, his arrogance, he'd made the most fatal of mistakes.

As he twisted his knife into her during the final battle of his rebellion, and the moment he felt the life fade from her, she'd laughed in his face.

In his arrogance, his need for revenge had consumed him. And so when he felt his soul begin to unravel, he finally realized his error.

It had been the world's brightest star who'd saved him as the storms of the gate raged and tore at him back then. He would have perished in moments had she not been there.

She'd shielded him with her magic, the dazzling pink light that always seemed to surround her enveloped him and protected him.

He had never felt anything like it.

The empress and her archnemesis, the young woman who would become a legend and the woman he had betrayed, the woman he had sacrificed to his own lust for vengeance. Both had fallen into the gate, but the magical girl who had intervened had managed to fling him back out.

A hero until the very end, she had not hesitated for a moment, and he'd watched as she'd leapt into the raging storm of chaos to save the one person in the entire world who she had every reason to despise, the teenager who had been her sworn enemy for as long as either of them had existed.

That single moment, seeing that woman leap into the abyss without hesitation or fear, to save another, it had shattered his heart, shattered the stone cold wall he had built around it for so many years.

As he was hurled out of the portal, the shockwave had knocked him unconscious. He distinctly remembered his ears ringing and his head spinning, as the world around him had seemed to blur into a smear of colors and lights.

He could dimly remember the magical girl's companion. A man in power armor scrambling to grab onto her, and then vanishing into the gate after her, and the portal vanishing.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

When he awoke, he'd found himself lying on the cold hard ground, his body battered and bruised, but otherwise unharmed. His eyes had turned blue as the sea, but he would never forget the feeling of his soul fraying, being ripped into pieces. The same eyes would plague him with vision after vision in years to come.

For a moment he had felt an emptiness and a despair unlike anything else, a void of emotion.

He was alive. He was free.

And so he built his own legend. No matter what, his brother would have the future he had promised.

But he had not forgotten his past.

The unsettling ramblings of the empress.

The warning the demon in human form had given him as he had plunged a dagger through her heart.

"I see... everything... all roads... all worlds... the future and past... you think you can stop it. But it will all... all... all come to an end. Meaningless. Pointless... Nibiru... will come in the end as foretold."

It was that which drove his actions. That which had driven him to create the foundation for his new fiefdom.

A new world order. A new era. One that he would create, one that would endure.

And it had been the empress's last words, her last prophecy that had haunted him. That had made him prepare.

For he understood that the veil had been pierced that day. The world of man and the other had been brought into contact. The boundaries had been weakened. It was inevitable that they would be torn again and that the world of the dead and the demons would bleed into the world of man.

But in the end, it was all for naught.

He tumbled through the endless abyss. His mind was beginning to fade, as he was being consumed, piece by piece.

"Remember..." a woman's voice whispered.

Remember what?

He didn't know what he was supposed to remember. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. Nothing had any meaning. He was dying. And he had failed. The world he had tried to create, it was gone.

A young woman in an orange sun dress, and with raven dark hair stood in front of him.

The image was blurry, but he could make out her farm. Her eyes were a brilliant orange, and he could make out a hat of some sort.

Who was she?

And why did he feel such a connection with her?

"Remember..." she whispered.

"Remember what?" he called.

"Your promise..."

What promise? He didn't remember.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't fail us... Save them."

Her voice was fading, and he felt himself fading too.

He didn't understand. He didn't know why, but he wanted to reach out to her.

But he did remember something.

The bright blue light, the color of her eyes, was all he saw. The only thing that kept him from fading into nothingness, was the memory of her face. He could hear the sound of her laughter, echoing in his ears.

The song of a Nightingale.

But did he truly have to perish like this?

No.

He could not.

A song stirred in the primordial abyss.

He would not.

The song of the Nightingale echoed in his ears, in his heart.

She would not have perished so easily. Even with child and tainted by the void as he was on that day.

She had taught him the value of a world beyond what could be seen.

A world beyond what was possible.

The impossible.

And he had built an empire off that.

He recalled the cry of a babe. Hungry, and yet healthy and full of life.

He would not die. He would not leave this child alone.

A cry in the dark.

His brother.

His promise.

He had sworn an oath.

His ambition would not be extinguished. Not yet.

The cry of a babe as he changed his destiny. His fate.

His little brother was safe and secure, tucked away in his crib.

The world of man was about to be destroyed, and it was up to him to protect his little brother from the horrors that were about to befall them.

Form returned to his reality.

He was no longer tumbling, he had control over his body again.

Buck naked and in an alien void, but he had control over his body. His body was whole. He was whole.

The space he found himself in was surreal nonsense, but he found his footing nevertheless.

And he opened his eyes.

Legions upon legions of untold horrors surrounded him.

His heart pounded in his chest, as he looked around, his eyes darting from one monster to another.

He had been transported to a place where monsters roamed free. He had no weapons, no armor.

Gnashing teeth and blood-soaked fangs surrounded him, frozen in time, but his heart was calm.

The air was filled with the stench of blood and death. He could feel the evil and malice radiating from the creatures.

Unspeakable colors swirled and shifted, and the void stretched out seemingly infinitely in every direction. He was standing in the middle of a giant, empty expanse, and there was nothing around him.

But he could see a bright blue and orange light in the distance, a small dot of hope.

A melancholic song began to play. It was a beautiful and sad song that filled him with a sense of longing and loss. But he was alive. Alive.

And he recognized the voice singing.

It was a woman's voice. He didn't know where it was coming from, but it was clear and pure. And familiar.

The monsters that had surrounded him had frozen, their mouths open in silent roars of hunger and bloodlust, and their claws outstretched.

He nursed his wounds, inflicted by the crushing grip of the beast that had impaled him. He was weak, but the blood loss had slowed and he could move.

And just as quickly as it began, the woman's song ended.

The legions of monsters around him began to stir again.

The monsters around him roared into motion as he stumbled forward, his eyes focused on the light in the distance.

He squinted, feeling the drain of the void around him as his vision blurred. His body felt heavy.

'Heh. To give a man hope only to dash it against the rocks like that. How cruel.'

He gritted his teeth.

'So this is how it ends for me.'

His vision blurred as his consciousness waned, his strength fading away, his life slipping away. He was so close, and yet so far away. So close, and yet so far away.

So close...and yet so far away. So close, and yet... so far... away....

He stumbled, and then fell to his knees, his body giving out on him.

The light began to dim as the monsters rushed forward.

...

The laughter of children. A little toddler of a boy, and a young girl.

He raised his head. A small smile formed on his lips as he remembered the sound of their voices.

He could see a young boy and girl running through a meadow of wildflowers.

A poor wretched thing he'd found in the inner sanctum that fateful day, and a younger boy with a mischievous smile. Their faces were bright, and they laughed with joy. The sun was warm, and the air was fresh and sweet.

A scene of happiness.

His hand clenched, his body shaking.

This was not how it was going to end for him. No.

His body trembled as his blood boiled. The world was full of pain. And he would be the one to end it on his terms.

Steel filled his eyes as the monsters rushed at him, their jaws agape, and he reached into the void.

And grasped something cold, and metallic, and familiar.

The monsters leaped at him, and he felt his strength surge, and the familiar weight of his knives in his hands.

The cold, familiar sensation of the knife in his hands.

He gripped it tight. And a cold smile formed on his lips as he faced the unending tide.

And he roared, meeting the horde head on.