Wilhelm found himself standing in a vast, endless white void. There was no horizon, no walls—just an expanse of blinding white stretching into infinity. He glanced down, surprised to find solid ground beneath his feet, grounding him in a place that should have been weightless.
Confusion filled his mind as he tried to piece together how he'd ended up here. Then it struck him, this was a dream. He couldn't explain how, but he felt it in his core.
As he scanned his surroundings, something caught his eye—a massive, imposing battle-axe embedded in the white floor. It seemed almost too large for any human to wield. Its blade was jet black, forged from an otherworldly metal that drank in the surrounding light, leaving an aura of shadow in its wake. The surface of the blade was etched with intricate, ancient runes, faintly glowing with a deep crimson hue, pulsating rhythmically like a heartbeat.
The axe's dual blades curved outward in a menacing arc, each edge razor-sharp, gleaming faintly despite the blade's blackness. Between the blades rested a dark, spherical core that seemed alive, swirling with a chaotic, smoky energy, hinting at the immense power locked within.
The handle was crafted from an obsidian-like material, smooth yet unyielding, with subtle grooves for a firm grip. It was wrapped in black leather, accented with silver studs that provided both stability and a dark elegance. Near the base of the handle, a sharp spike extended downward, perfect for close-quarters combat or delivering finishing blows.
The weapon exuded an aura of dread and authority, a black sun that overshadowed everything in its presence. Its mere existence seemed to weigh heavily on the air, filling the hearts of onlookers with both awe and fear. This was no mere weapon, it was a force of destruction made manifest.
It stood like a lone beacon in the endless void, drawing Wilhelm toward it.
He took a cautious step forward, then another, the ground beneath him firm yet surreal. The axe appeared closer with each step, yet an unsettling feeling nagged at him as if the distance between them refused to shrink.
The closer he moved, the more the axe seemed to shift, like an illusion teasing him. The solid ground beneath him began to feel unstable, as though he were walking on the edge of reality itself.
Then the whispers began.
Familiar voices, cruel and haunting, filled his ears. They echoed the nightmares of his past the words that had scarred him since childhood.
"Useless pig."
"Disgusting."
"You'll never amount to anything."
The pain clawed at his heart, reopening wounds he had tried to bury. A dark, suffocating weight began to take hold, feeding on his doubts and fears, trying to consume him.
But Wilhelm refused to give in.
Summoning every ounce of willpower, he pushed the darkness aside, silencing the whispers. He focused on the axe, his beacon of hope, and pressed forward.
Each step grew heavier, the air thick with the weight of despair. But Wilhelm roared in defiance, forcing his body onward. The axe was so close he could almost feel its handle, yet the space between them remained stubbornly unyielding, as though mocking him.
He blinked, and in that moment, the axe seemed to retreat further away again. The endless loop felt like a cruel joke, a test of patience and perseverance.
But Wilhelm refused to stop.
Time became meaningless. He walked for what felt like an eternity. Days blurred into years, then centuries, then millennia. At first, he tried to count the time, but when the numbers stretched into the trillions, he abandoned the effort, focusing instead on the singular goal ahead.
Finally, after an immeasurable expanse of time, he reached the axe.
Without hesitation, Wilhelm wrapped his fingers around its handle.
The moment his hand touched the weapon, a surge of power coursed through him. His black irises turned a brilliant gold, his pupils shrank into pinpoints, and a single black ring encircled each pupil like a dark halo.
"Gasp!"
Wilhelm bolted upright in his bed, gasping for air. Sweat clung to his clothes, and his chest heaved as he struggled to steady his breathing. Ignoring his drenched state, he stumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.
When he looked into the mirror, his breath caught in his throat.
The reflection staring back at him was both familiar and foreign. His once-black irises now shimmered with a radiant gold. His pupils had shrunk, and a thin black ring encircled each one, giving his gaze an otherworldly intensity.
Though no one had told him, though he had never seen or heard of them before, Wilhelm somehow knew exactly what they were.
"Golden Eye," he whispered.