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CRAWLING BACK TO YOU

°•.♪.•°


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Henceforth, you are the other Y/N.
















Y/N's POV




The underground palace seemed to breathe with you as you sat at the centre throne, silent and pondering. The usual smile on your face was gone and was replaced by coldness that seemed to penetrate through the bones.

The red-and-black vaulted halls pulse faintly, veins of infernal light running through the stone like a living circulatory system. Gothic arches loom overhead, carved spines, and screaming angels frozen mid-lament. Silk banners hang from iron balconies, embroidered with sigils that twitch when you pass, as if recognizing you as their sovereign.

This place was built for you.

Kleist had done an excellent job at it.

You sat in a throne at the central chamber, a cathedral-sized expanse swallowed by shadow, the floor inlaid with concentric circles of blood-etched runes. Some arachne underlings cling to the upper walls like living ornaments, al.lmost could be mistaken for a statue. They were your maids and butlers that Kleist got for you. They wait at the edges of the room, perfectly composed, eyes lowered, hands folded.

You observed them, cane tapping once against the floor, the sound echoing.

You lift it slowly, fingers tightening around the handle. The metal turning warm, the 2 black and white snakes coiling on it, eyes gleaming like it was alive.

Your magic coils up your arm, familiar and restless, eager to be used. Obviously, you haven't really used it as much—no, the former you have neglected it so much.

With a casual flick of your wrist, you draw a sigil in the air. Something immediately took form, a golden key, then shifted into a sword, then the next second it flickered and changed into many things in a few seconds, making you chuckle.

How useless.

The only thing useful that the former you have conjured was the Asmodean crystal and various weapons, making your combat more flexible as you can switch weapons mid fight for a surprise attack.

You lift your other hand and conjured a golden crown, it floated gently atop of your palm, quietly shining in brilliance, but a few breaths passed by, the golden crown rusted and eventually turned to dust.

Your eyes squinted at the results.

"Reality bending? This is more like a half assed creation, isn't it?" You jeered and fisted the handful of dust on your palm that was once a golden crown.

Your eyes glowed with an unhealthy gleam and laughed, "Reality Manifestation..."

The ashes glowed in lustre and successfully got moulded into a glimmering gold statue. You waited for a few minutes, and it was still there. You grinned maniacally, successful in your experiment.

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