Chapter 3: The Village of Shadows
The countryside village of Eldermere lay tucked in a serene valley, far removed from the bustling cities and the grand temples of the Seven Churches. Life here revolved around worshiping Eliora, the Goddess of Healing and Mercy. Her humble stone church stood as the heart of the village, its simple bell tolling each morning to call the faithful to prayer. The villagers believed in Eliora's light, clinging to her blessings to ward off sickness and calamity.
Allen watched from the shadows of the forest as the villagers gathered in the church courtyard under the pale moonlight. Clad in simple robes, they knelt in prayer, their voices rising in soft, melodic chants.
"Merciful Eliora, shield us from harm. Heal our wounded hearts and guide us in your light," they intoned.
Allen smirked faintly. "Light and mercy," he muttered. "How easily the mind bends to such fragile promises."
The Void Knull template stirred within him, its power a faint but potent hum. Even at 0.01% integration, it was enough to bend the will of others to his own. A mere taste of the power that would one day make him a god among gods. Tonight, he would begin to lay the foundation for his dominion—not as a ruler in the open, but as the unseen hand that shaped the world.
He extended his hand, and from his fingertips, tendrils of darkness slithered across the ground like living shadows. They crept toward the praying villagers, unnoticed until they began to curl around their legs. The villagers froze, their prayers faltering as an unnatural chill washed over them.
"What is this?" one of them whispered, his voice trembling.
Allen stepped forward, emerging from the shadows. His form was shrouded in a cloak of black smoke, his eyes glowing faintly with an eerie light. The villagers recoiled, some clutching their prayer beads as if to ward off the dark presence before them.
"Do not fear," Allen said, his voice low and resonant, carrying a faint, otherworldly echo. "I am not your enemy. I am your savior. Your goddess has abandoned you to frailty and weakness. I offer you something greater: strength, power, and freedom from the chains of this so-called mercy."
The villagers looked at one another, confusion and fear etched on their faces. One of them, a woman named Elda, stepped forward hesitantly. "W-Who are you? What do you want with us?"
"I am the harbinger of a new truth," Allen said. "A truth that lies beyond the light. Join me, and I will show you the power that lies in the shadow."
Before they could respond, Allen raised his hand, and a wave of black smoke surged forward, engulfing the group. The smoke seeped into their skin, twisting through their minds and bodies like a venomous tide. Cries of fear turned to gasps of awe as the transformation began.
The villagers' eyes turned pitch black, their pupils vanishing into the void. Muscles rippled and grew, their bodies infused with an unnatural strength. But more than their physical forms, their minds were altered—rewritten by the Void Knull's essence.
Elda dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "Master… forgive us for doubting you. We are yours, body and soul."
The others followed, kneeling before Allen with expressions of fanatical devotion. "We live for you, and we die for you, our lord of shadows," they intoned in unison, their voices eerily synchronized.
Allen looked down at his new followers, satisfaction flickering across his face. The Void Knull template, even at this early stage, allowed him to corrupt and dominate the minds of others, bending them into unwavering loyalty. These villagers were no longer mere peasants. They were his instruments, extensions of his will.
"Rise," he commanded, and they obeyed instantly. "You are no longer bound by the frailty of your former selves. You are my shadows, my harbingers. You will act when I call, and through you, my will shall shape this world."
The villagers stood, their postures straighter, their eyes glinting with dark purpose.
Elda stepped forward again, her voice trembling with fervor. "What would you have us do, Master?"
"For now," Allen said, "you will remain as you were. Do not arouse suspicion. Continue your prayers, your rituals, but remember: your true loyalty lies with me. When the time comes, you will act, and this village will become the first stronghold of the shadow."
"Yes, my lord," they answered in unison, their voices carrying an almost hymn-like reverence.
Allen turned his gaze toward the church, its walls emanating a faint, warm light that stood in sharp contrast to the darkness he wielded. He raised a hand, and a thin tendril of shadow lashed out, carving a black spiral into the stone above the church's entrance—a silent mark of his dominion.
"Let this serve as a reminder," he said softly. "The light will fade, and only the shadow shall remain."
As his followers dispersed, returning to their homes with newfound purpose, Allen retreated to the edge of the forest. He gazed back at the village, the faint glow of the church now overshadowed by the creeping influence of the Void.
"With time," he murmured, "this world will be mine—not through armies or thrones, but through whispers and shadows. The gods will tremble, and even they will fall before the power of the Null."
The Void within him pulsed faintly, a promise of the strength that would one day make him unstoppable. But for now, patience was his weapon. Time was on his side, and the seeds of his empire had been sown.
With a final glance at the village, Allen vanished into the darkness, leaving behind a people who now worshiped him as their true god.