The cold air of the chamber stilled as the creature's screams faded into pitiful sobs, its monstrous form quivering. Zephyron and Lucian stood before it, dispassionate, their curiosity now outweighing the novelty of its suffering. The metallic sheen of the dim lights flickered across its grotesque body, the once fearsome beast reduced to a trembling heap of raw, terrified flesh. For a moment, silence fell—save for the faint, shuddering breaths of the creature.
Zeph looked at it with a mixture of boredom and impatience, his youthful features twisted in disdain. "What are you?" he asked, voice steady, cutting through the quiet like a blade.
The creature whimpered, its voice hoarse, broken from hours of screaming. "I... I don't know," it stammered, the words tumbling out between heavy breaths. "I don't have... parents. I just... came into being." Its many eyes darted frantically between Zeph and Lucian, searching for mercy where none would be found. "I have never seen another like me," it confessed, its voice a pitiful echo in the cold chamber.
Zeph narrowed his eyes. The absence of identity, of purpose, made the creature's existence seem hollow. He frowned, dissatisfied. "Then why did you attack me?" His voice held no anger, only the faintest trace of curiosity, as if he was examining a strange specimen under a microscope.
The creature trembled, its body recoiling as though struck by an unseen force. "I was... hungry." It swallowed, clearly terrified of answering wrong. "Your energy—it was unlike anything I had ever seen before." It hesitated, a deep fear seeping into its tone. "I-I was just trying to feed. I saw your soul—so bright, so full of power. It was like a star... shining in the darkness."
Zeph raised an eyebrow. "A star?" He looked at the creature, puzzled. "What do you mean?" Zeph had never considered anything unusual about his soul—he had always felt his own presence, but never saw it as something so remarkable. "I haven't felt anything different," he added, confused.
The creature's many eyes widened in terror, its voice trembling with fear as it continued. "No, no, your soul... it's not normal. From afar, it's the brightest star in the sky, brighter than the sun or any constellation," it whispered. "I have seen gods, mythical beasts, calamities of the universe, but nothing—nothing comes close to what your soul emanates. It holds the power of gods, the energy of beasts... but it surpasses them by a millionfold."
Zeph blinked, taking a step back. He glanced at Lucian, whose eyes had narrowed in thought. Lucian's mind was always calculating, dissecting every word, every possibility.
Lucian spoke then, his voice calm and detached. "Perhaps what the creature saw is the soul core inside you, Zeph." His tone carried a sharpness, as though pieces of a larger puzzle were beginning to fall into place. "We know you're the only one we've encountered with a soul core in this universe, but perhaps it is more significant than we thought."
Zeph turned toward his father, intrigued. "The soul core? But why would that make my soul... different?" His youthful curiosity was stirred, the notion of his soul being extraordinary captivating his imagination.
Lucian's gaze never left the creature, studying its quivering form as though it might yield further answers. "It may be that the soul core grants you a level of power far beyond what is common in this universe. Perhaps even beyond what we currently understand." His words were measured, thoughtful. "If what it says is true, then there may be others—beings far greater than we've yet encountered."
Lucian's eyes narrowed further as he leaned closer to the creature. "Tell me," he said, his voice soft yet commanding, "you speak of gods. Are there gods in this universe?"
The creature hesitated, then nodded shakily. "Yes... there are gods. Many. There are lower gods, higher gods... even primordial gods and origin gods." It shuddered visibly. "They are the strongest beings in the universe. Even beings like me... even we fear some of them."
Zeph felt a strange chill run down his spine. Gods. The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. He had never considered the possibility of encountering gods. This universe—his new world—was already full of wonders and dangers, but gods? That was something else entirely.
Lucian, however, remained impassive. "And what of creatures like yourself?" he asked, his voice steady. "You said there are more of your kind—beings that prey upon gods?"
The creature's eyes flicked nervously between Zeph and Lucian, clearly terrified. "Y-Yes," it whispered. "There are many... many like me, though each of us is different. We are old, ancient even. The Terrans... the humans, they only know of the gods and worship them. But beings like me..." It shuddered again. "We prey upon them. We consume their power when we can."
Zeph's eyes widened slightly. The idea of creatures that could prey upon gods stirred something in him—a thrill, a hunger for knowledge. What sort of beings could rival gods? What sort of power could they wield?
"And yet," Lucian said, his voice soft but dangerous, "you were so easily subdued by my son." His words were a reminder of the gulf between them—of how far the creature had fallen in the face of Zeph's power.
The creature whimpered, bowing its head. "I... I underestimated him," it whispered, its voice barely audible. "His soul... it is different from anything I have ever seen. I thought I could take it, consume it, but... I was wrong." It sobbed, defeated.
Zeph looked down at the creature with a mixture of fascination and disdain. It had sought to prey upon him, to feed on his soul, but it had found itself utterly outmatched. His soul—his power—was far beyond anything it had expected. But why? Why was he so different?