CHAPTER 26: DARK FATHER AND HIS SONS

Finally, they all stood at the heart of the broken vampire dungeon, gathered around the door, hesitation etched deep into their bones. The presence behind it was overwhelming — even though they stood far apart, their hearts pounded and their breaths came a bit ragged from the lack of oxygen in the suffocating air.

The arena was dark. No sun. No moon. Only the faint glow of molten magma crawling from the cracked earth lit the space dimly, adding both heat and oppression. The air was thick with the chaotic smell of blood and sulphur.

The chamber that once enclosed the door had not survived Zarynth’s bloodlust-fueled destruction. Walls lay in shattered fragments across the ground — all except the door. It remained, embedded in the floor, fastened with chains from top to bottom, as though even ruin dared not claim it.

And even though what it imprisoned had somehow reached their minds, its voice never left their skulls — whispering, again and again:

"Come to me, and I will make you devourers of men."

It was a voice of divine supremacy, ancient, commanding.

"Are we sure bringing a higher power into this world will actually benefit us? We could dominate on our own," muttered the werewolf personality. His feet touched the obsidian tiles, yet those same feet shivered at the power radiating from the sealed door.

The demon personality exhaled sharply, crouching uneasily. His monstrous face twisted. "I’m not so sure about that either. But domination still feels impossible without something greater take a look at what that boy did to the entire planet."

The human personality remained silent, hand on chin, thinking calculatedly like a man with thirteen children to feed. "Survival was always the goal... but with a dark master, that could evolve into something much more."

"Yahhh," the goblin personality sneered, walking steadily toward the door. "You all sound like kids asking their mama for permission. Where’s the fun if we conquer the earth with no rival? Maybe the unknown could just be what spice things up."

"Yes, my son... carry out your father’s will," the voice whispered in the goblin’s mind.

He crouched beside the door, prying, cutting, and undoing the chains — using his own teeth when necessary.

Crack.

"ARRGH!"

His own teeth shattered in his desperate attempt. The sound of mocking, rattling chains echoed as just a drop his blood fell feom his mouth onto the iron door.

Then — BOOM.

The door detonated from the sheer pressure of the dark wind inside. The impact snapped the chains and flung the goblin personality across the chamber, slamming him into a wall with fatal force. His body crumpled — broken, bleeding, nearly flattened.

But the darkness didn’t stop.

It spread.

Far and wide.

Across the earth — like a networking signal.

Animals raised their heads in awe.

Birds fled trees that trembled to move but we’re held firm by their roots.

Even the wind halted for a second in reverence.

And far away, Lilitu turned her gaze from her palace, heart pounding, the signal was one she never dreamed on feeling yet reality had been written. She tilted her gaze to the high wall at the side where the vampire dungeon laied then a whisper escaped her lips.

"The sacrifice... has been made."

---

"Damn it."

"What?"

"F*ck—"

The remaining personalities reaction varied as they backed away, eyes locked on the swirling blackness now pouring from the shattered doorway.

’Rule one: devils are never friendly — not even to their own. That’s what you missed, Goblin,’ the human personality thought.

His weapon was never brute strength — it was intellect.

’You don’t give to a devil expecting a return. You give... while preparing to risk something greater than what you offered.’

Dread from three powerful beings filled the space — but it was nothing in the presence of what followed: a god.

At first, it was smoke.

Black. Dense.

Flooding the arena like water rising up from ground level.

Zarynth’s remaining personalities trembled as the pressure rose, rendering them blind even with eyes wide open, lost in absolute darkness and paralyzed by fear.

The werewolf shook most of all. His teeth chattered like death itself knocked at the door.

"No... no... I don’t wanna—" he whispered, turning to run. But he froze mid-turn, heart seizing in terror.

Over his shoulder... a face.

White, like bone powdered in ash.

Eyes black, with white irises like dead stars.

A twisted smile stretched far beyond normal — wider than any clown’s — revealing unsettling humanoid teeth.

Nothing else could be seen — just his face, suspended in the eternal blackness that rose high above them.

"Fear," the being grinned.

"There is nothing I cherish more than fear."

’Move!’ the werewolf screamed in his thoughts, but his body stayed frozen — limbs like ice, breath trapped in his chest.

Then, the being turned his attention forward — drawing the werewolf’s gaze.

He turned... and saw it too late.

A long, black claw — still wrapped in shadow without no seen hand that connected to it — pierced straight through his chest.

"ARRRRGHHHH!!"

The scream wasn’t just from pain — it was from the surge. Blood, dark and cursed from the being, flooded into his veins, fusing with him, tearing apart everything he once was.

His abilities burned out.

And in their place: a curse — and a new power.

He could now turn the fear into nit only strength but lifespan.

But it cost him everything:

His soul.

His consciousness.

His will.

His loyalty.

All of it now belonged to the white-faced god.

The werewolf collapsed to his knees, clutching his head, screaming as his eyes turned pitch black — swallowed by darkness.

The god whispered in a voice laced with ruin, his long claw resting gently on the werewolf’s shoulder:

"From now on, you are Lykos — the First Son of Darkness."

---

"Get away from him!"

The demon personality charged, roaring blindly toward the voice.

"Ohh... courageous," the god smirked — and his claw was suddenly buried in the demon’s forehead.

The blood flowed again.

This time, it destroyed even more — tearing apart his fate, his identity, his future.

Now the demon, too, was nothing but a child of darkness.

In return, the god gave him strength... and a cruel ability: to die and return stronger each time.

A reward... for charging into death without hesitation.

’Fool,’ the human personality thought, still frozen.

’You don’t oppose a god. You submit. Then... you consume him from within. But I’m not sure that rule applies here. Not when his taking away your consciousness.’

His eyes darted to the goblin’s crushed corpse, now slowly dissolving into the otherworldly dark.

The demon collapsed beside him, his body shaking, voice gone.

"You shall be called Pyraegon — the Second Son of Darkness," the god declared.

---

Then, the god turned to the human personality.

He stepped forward — fully visible.

Skin pale and ancient.

Back hunched with time like a two thousand year old witch.

Hair long, black and white like corrupted moonlight.

His feet never touched the ground — the darkness carried him like a throne.

Old... but agile. Sharp like death.

"Humans," he spoke, circling the human personality with slow steps.

"Always rising... always surprising...always different. Such troublesome creatures."

He stopped behind the human personality, who never flinched.

"You have earned my admiration. I shall give you a title together with my curse."

"Yes... give it to me intellect withoit power is nothing," the human whispered, as the claw pierced the back of his skull.

But there was no scream.

No resistance.

He wanted it.

He welcomed the curse, the power, the transformation.

Dark blood fused into his mind, stripping away all identity and replacing it with something far worse.

His soul was gone.

And in place of all that wad taken and ability was given: mind control — the ability to bend thoughts and actions of others.

He dropped to one knee.

Eyes black.

Smile hollow.

"Your wish is my command, Father."

"You shall be called Dolonides — the Third Son of Darkness."

---

The surrounding darkness sucked itself back into the god like breath returning to lungs. He floated above the ground, dark winds swirling around him.

"I am Hadas," he declared.

"God of the Underworld. Your Father. Your Salvation. Your Master."

Lykos and Pyraegon knelt at once, eyes void of darknes, memories deleted, loyalty absolute.

"Father," they echoed, voices like tombs.

"How shall we repay your unmatched blessings?"

Hadas smiled.

"Build fear in the hearts of men. Make me their nightmare. Feed me their terror."

"Consider it done," they said, vanishing into mist.

He laughed — low and sinister — arms raised in triumph.

"Soon... my worn body will be renewed. My strength will reach its peak. And I will come for you, Zeus."

---

He turned to Dolonides, still kneeling.

"I have a different task for you yet you seem younger than you know."

"Black Temple," he chanted — and a cathedral of darkness rose from the ground. Its silver doors gleamed, a striking contrast to the black stone.

Hadas floated down and walked inside.

Dolonides followed, hands behind his back — like a loyal son.

Inside, only candlelight lit the void standing on obsidian floor. A black throne of sin stood tall in the center.

Hadas sat.

Dolonides stood beside him — silent, still, empty — waiting for command as his life was now own by hadas

"Dolonides," Hadas said, resting his chin on one clawed hand.

"When the time comes, there is a System I want you to steal... from a human like yourself."

"I will be waiting, my Lord."

Hadas grinned.

"Don’t worry... you’ll like him. You both have a lot in common."