After several breaths, the motion ceased. The light faded. And Spark lowered his arm.
For the first ti since it had begun, stillness returned.
Azeroth remained at a distance, his form suspended within the fractured void. Slowly, he turned his head, taking in the surroundings.
Everywhere the light had touched, the abyss showed signs of collapse.
Wide fractures stretched across the space, so so deep that faint distortions bled through them, as though sothing lay beyond the void, pressing against its weakening shell. The domain he had believed secure now stood on the verge of breaking apart entirely.
Azeroth's expression darkened.
If that light had reached him even once…
He did not finish the thought.
Even with his divinity solidified, even after ascending to a higher authority, he could not be certain he would have survived it.
A faint sensation stirred in his chest.
He frowned. "…Is this fear?"
The word felt distant, almost foreign.
In all his long existence, only a handful of beings had ever forced that sensation upon him. One had been the Mother Witch during the height of the Emperor's era, a presence so overwhelming that even he had been reduced to caution.
And now…This incomplete, unstable existence before him, this puny human, had stirred that sa feeling.
Azeroth's gaze returned to Spark.
The figure stood exactly where it had reford, no longer releasing that pale radiance. There was no sign that he intended to continue the attack, nor any indication of awareness beyond that sa quiet, detached observation.
Azeroth watched him carefully.
Then, slowly, understanding began to take shape.
His eyes narrowed. A low chuckle escaped him, building into a cold, echoing laugh that spread through the fractured abyss.
"I see…" His voice regained its steadiness, tinged now with mocking clarity.
"In the end, you are nothing more than a mindless construct."
He studied Spark's unmoving form, the earlier unease receding as his thoughts sharpened.
"You never once initiated an attack," he continued. "Everything you've done… was rely a response."
The realization settled firmly in his mind.
Spark had not acted on his own will.
He had only returned what was given to him, twisting, reflecting, reshaping it into sothing far more dangerous, but never beginning the exchange himself.
Azeroth's laughter deepened.
"As long as I don't rely on energy… you cannot harm ."
"If that is the case…"
His gaze locked onto Spark, now sharp with intent.
"I will crush you with my own hands."
Azeroth's laughter had not yet fully faded when the void stirred with a sound that did not belong to it.
The void around him shuddered with a deep, structural unease, as though sothing beneath the surface had begun to shift.
The thin fractures left behind by that pale light did not nd. Instead, they widened, slowly at first, then with growing insistence, their edges pulling apart like strained seams unable to hold.
Azeroth's movent halted before it began.
His gaze snapped toward the nearest crack. A sharp, brittle sound followed.
Crack.
The white void split further.
From within that opening, sothing moved.
It was not light, nor energy, nor any form that belonged to this world.
A darkness deeper than the abyss itself pressed against the fracture, before forcing its way through.
The space resisted, trembling violently as the breach expanded just enough to allow a single form to erge, An enormous hand.
It was vast beyond proportion, its surface shrouded in a dim, shifting darkness that seed to swallow even the concept of light.
Its fingers stretched outward, pushing through the crack as though testing the limits of the opening, yet the rest of its form remained beyond, not because it chose to.
But because the world refused it.
Azeroth stood frozen.
All the violent energy he had gathered monts ago receded instinctively, drawn back into his core as if even his power recognized sothing it could not confront.
The suffocating dominance he had displayed until now vanished without resistance, replaced by a stillness that carried sothing else. Fear
IT was not the caution he had felt before. Nor the asured wariness of a powerful opponent. This was sothing deeper, primal, and instinctive.
"…An entity from beyond," he muttered, his voice low, tightened by the effort to remain composed.
In the vast expanse of the cosmos, there existed beings whose existence alone could overshadow entire worlds. Such entities did not descend lightly, for every world carried its own laws, its own will, rejecting anything that did not belong. The mont such a being attempted to enter fully, the world itself would respond, casting it out into the endless void.
And so, they found other ans.
Incarnations. Projections. Fragnts of will shaped into forms that could slip past the boundaries of rejection.
They were known as outsiders.
So outsiders brought destruction, reveling in collapse and annihilation. Others guided civilizations, nudging worlds toward growth and prosperity according to purposes no one beneath them could truly comprehend.
Their motives were never simple, nor were they ever fully understood.
To encounter one was to stand at the edge of sothing far greater than life or death.
Azeroth's thoughts sharpened with urgency.
If such a being had turned its attention here, then this world was no longer a sothing he could control. It was a place on the verge of becoming sothing far more dangerous, a crossing point between worlds.
He began to consider escape.
Then the hand moved. Not with force, but with a slow, searching intent.
Across its surface, sothing stirred.
One by one, eyes began to open.
They appeared along the palm, across the joints of its fingers, along the length of its wrist, dozens at first, then more, until the entire surface of that enormous limb was covered in them.
Each eye unfolded silently, revealing depths that reflected nothing of the surrounding world, as though they gazed from a place far removed from reality itself.
They shifted. Scanning. Observing.
As if searching for sothing specific.
The abyss grew unbearably still.
Azeroth did not move.
For the first ti in countless years, he understood what it ant to be beneath sothing.
Then, the eyes stopped.
Every single one of them turned. And settled on him.
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