Bruno felt his breath leave him, as if the very air had been stolen. The monstrous form before them seethed, a writhing mass of flesh, bone, and shadow, all fused together into something unspeakable.
The villagers were gone. There was nothing human left in what stood before them now.
A grotesque skull-like face emerged from the shifting mass, its hollow sockets oozing darkness. It had no fixed shape, no true form—a god forgotten by time, existing as a nightmare stitched together from those who had worshipped it.
A voice, layered with a thousand others, spoke.
"YOU HAVE REFUSED THE SACRIFICE."
The very air trembled. The ground cracked beneath their feet. The entire dimension was reacting, as if the god's very presence was warping reality itself.
Silas took a slow step forward, his shadow writhing unnaturally beneath him. "Varen," he muttered. "How much can you handle?"
Varen exhaled sharply, gripping his relic sword tightly. "Enough."
His sword pulsed, the crimson glow flickering—a warning. He had to calculate every swing carefully. Each strike drained something from him, something he could never get back.
But there was no turning back now.
The Forgotten God lurched forward.
The Battle Began.
The god struck first.
From its amorphous body, black tendrils lashed out, twisting in impossible angles, aiming to ensnare them.
Silas was the first to move.
His shadow expanded, stretching unnaturally as if it had come alive. In an instant, it split apart, forming jagged blades—they shot forward, intercepting the tendrils mid-air.
SHHHHRIP—!
The tendrils were severed, but they did not bleed. Instead, they dissolved into the air, reforming just as quickly.
Silas clicked his tongue. "It regenerates."
Varen moved next.
With one calculated step forward, he swung his relic sword.
One strike.
The air rippled as his blade cut through space itself, cleaving into the god's shifting form.
A horrible screech tore through the dimension. The cut did not heal instantly. It lingered—a wound in reality itself.
But Varen's hand trembled slightly. He could feel it—his sword was consuming him.
He had to be careful.
The god retaliated.
It expanded unnaturally, moving like liquid and shadow combined. The tendrils reformed—not just dozens, but hundreds, all reaching for them at once.
"Bruno!" Raine's voice rang out. "Behind you!"
Bruno turned—too slow.
The god's tendrils wrapped around his arm, the icy touch burning straight through his skin. Pain shot through his body as the abyssal energy inside him flared violently in response.
Something inside him snapped.
His Abyssal Fragment pulsed—and the world twisted.
The tendrils wrapped around his arm began to distort. Their movements slowed, as if time itself had fractured.
Bruno gritted his teeth, forcing his ability further.
The tendrils—they were rejecting him.
The Forgotten God let out a deep, inhuman screech, recoiling for the first time.
Bruno had resisted its reality-warping nature.
But it wouldn't last forever.
The Core Is Exposed—But Then the Bell Rings
Silas wiped blood from his lips. Using his ability at this scale was costing him.
Bruno clenched his fists. "The core," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Every abyssal entity has a weakness. A center."
Varen nodded. "It has to be inside that mass."
Silas's eyes narrowed. "Then we carve it out."
Another wave of tendrils surged forward.
Varen took the lead—his relic sword cutting through the incoming darkness.
Two strikes.
Each cut tore through the god's body, splitting open the mass of writhing flesh.
Silas followed up instantly, his shadows surging like jagged spears—piercing deep into the wound.
The god screeched, staggering backward.
And for a moment—they saw it.
A core.
A black, pulsating mass buried deep inside the god's shifting body. It flickered like an exposed heart, twisting with an unnatural rhythm.
Bruno's heart pounded.
"That's it."
He stepped forward, raising his hand—
And then.
The bell rang.
A deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the entire dimension.
Bruno's entire body froze.
The same eerie clock tower bell, the one that should have only marked the passing of time, was ringing for a different reason.
It was ringing for the arrival of something else.
The god shuddered violently.
And then—it changed.
The Forgotten God's True Form
Its body contracted, then expanded violently.
What was once a shifting, amorphous mass solidified—dark, jagged armor formed over its limbs.
Its skull-like face twisted, breaking apart into something worse.
The hollow sockets burned with black fire—and for the first time, it spoke directly into their minds.
"YOU HAVE HEARD THE BELL."
Reality fractured around them.
Bruno felt his knees buckle—the sheer weight of the god's presence was enough to suffocate him.
Varen gritted his teeth. "It's… absorbing the dimension's power."
Silas's shadow flickered erratically. "Then we have to kill it now."
The god moved.
Faster than before.
Tendrils lashed out—but this time, they tore straight through Varen's sword defenses.
Silas barely managed to react, shadows forming a barrier just in time. But even then—he was pushed back.
Raine was breathing heavily, panic creeping into her expression. "We can't—"
Bruno clenched his jaw.
No.
They weren't dying here.
His Abyssal Fragment burned inside him—and he forced his ability to its absolute limit.
The god's movements slowed again, but now it was fighting back—reality itself was resisting Bruno's influence.
Varen took the chance.
"Bruno! Hold it for just a second more!"
Bruno let out a choked breath, his entire body screaming in pain.
Varen moved.
One final strike—his relic sword gleamed, cutting through the god's shifting armor. The momentary wound exposed the pulsating core once more.
Silas didn't hesitate. His shadows, weakened but still lethal, speared toward the core, locking it in place. The Forgotten God convulsed violently, its mind-breaking screeches shaking the entire dimension.
Bruno forced himself forward. Every muscle in his body burned, but he pushed through, his Abyssal Fragment twisting reality itself to create an opening.
He reached out—
And plunged his hand straight into the god's core.
A soundless explosion.
The god's entire form collapsed inward, flesh, shadows, and time unraveling into nothingness. The weight pressing against their souls lifted. The suffocating darkness cracked.
The bell rang one final time—
And then silence.
The world around them began to break apart, the dimension crumbling as if the god's existence had been the only thing holding it together.
Bruno staggered back, gasping for air. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to stay conscious.
Silas exhaled sharply, wiping blood from his mouth. "It's done."
Varen looked at his trembling hand. His relic sword was dim, its energy spent. "We need to move. Now."
Raine, still catching her breath, nodded. "The Rift—it's opening again."
Bruno turned, and there it was. A fracture in space, flickering, unstable—but open.
No time to think.
Together, they ran.
The moment they stepped through, the world behind them shattered.
[ To Be Continued ]
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[A/N] The Forgotten One - The Forgotten God was once a judge, a divine executioner who weighed the souls of the damned. It did not grant mercy, only atonement through suffering. Those deemed impure were unmade, their flesh stripped, their sins burned into the walls of its domain.
But judgment demands sacrifice.
When the world it once ruled crumbled, its worshippers—desperate, afraid—offered themselves to keep it alive. Their faith turned to madness. Their prayers became chains. Bound by their devotion, the god twisted, no longer an arbiter but a parasite, feeding endlessly on those who sought salvation.
Now, it waits, blind and forgotten, longing for the sound of the bell—the call to judge once more.
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