Warlock of War: My Ares System

As I sat there, facing my father, the void within me pulsed with dark energy, a tangible reminder of the power I had harnessed over the years. It was a power that had been born out of the very darkness that had consumed our lives, a power that had led me to this moment of reckoning.

"Tell me… why did you have to join a gang in the first place…" 

"To feed my family," I didn't have any special powers, yet I could tell he was genuine. "It's just… I never realized how dark and brutal the underworld is… so now we're here. Let's leave no regrets." 

The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with the weight of our shared history. My father's confession had laid bare the truth of our existence, a truth that could never be undone. Our reunion was a collision of two worlds, a confrontation that would forever alter the course of our lives.

At that moment, I knew that I faced an impossible choice—whether to seek vengeance for the pain he had caused or to find a way to heal the wounds of the past. The answers I had longed for had been revealed, but they had come at a steep and unforgiving price. 

I took this chance. I wielded the void consuming my body with my father retaliating in a fiery fashion. The very air seemed to crackle with tension as we faced each other, the power of our respective abilities charging the atmosphere with an almost palpable electricity.

My father, a seasoned gang boss, wielded the formidable power of fire. Flames erupted from his fingertips, dancing in a fiery display of his mastery over this destructive element. His eyes blazed with ferocious intensity as he hurled fiery projectiles in my direction, the searing heat scorching the walls and ceiling.

In response, I summoned the void within me, allowing it to consume everything around me. The darkness spread like a relentless tide, creeping up my neck and face, leaving only my eyes as beacons in the inky sea. I had become a vessel of nothingness, a blank sheet of darkness that absorbed all in its path.

As the battle raged on, my father's flames clashed with the consuming void, creating a breathtaking spectacle of light and darkness. Fire and shadows clashed in a chaotic dance, each force vying for dominance.

I felt the power of the void surge through me, its insatiable hunger growing stronger with each passing moment. It was as if I had become a black hole, a force of nature that could not be contained. My father's flames flickered and faltered in the face of this all-consuming darkness, his powers waning against the relentless onslaught.

The room itself began to tremble as the void expanded, its gravitational pull tugging at everything in its vicinity. Objects were drawn toward me, their forms distorted and twisted as they were devoured by the consuming darkness. The very walls of the room cracked and splintered, unable to withstand the relentless force of the void.

In a final, desperate act, my father unleashed a torrent of flames, a last blaze of defiance. The fire roared and surged, pushing back against the encroaching darkness. The clash of elemental forces reached a crescendo, the room itself on the brink of collapse.

And then, in an instant, it was over. The room crumbled, its walls and ceiling disintegrating into nothingness as the void expanded to devour even the physical space we had occupied. My father's fiery power flickered and died, extinguished by the overwhelming darkness.

I was left standing amidst the aftermath, a blank sheet of darkness that had consumed everything in its path. The room was gone, and I was now a vessel of emptiness, a living void with no beginning and no end… so I perished. My life ultimately amounted to nothing but a stupidly small amount of revenge. I didn't even have time to bathe in its satisfaction as my heart was instantly consumed by darkness and my brain quickly died out. 

But then, as fast as I closed my eyes, letting the cold embrace of death take me, I opened my eyes, only to find myself in a sprawling expanse of trash. Six legs, two kaleidoscopic eyes allowing for a three-hundred-sixty degree vision, and a body wreaking of death. 

I had become a fly. 

…

(Cy POV) 

[The King of Concepts has blessed you with his presence]

[Gluttony descends upon the realm]

[Failure descends upon the realm]

I could feel it. The transformation of the monstrous fly-human hybrid into a more humanoid form, reeking with concepts like gluttony and failure, is a harrowing spectacle that defies conventional notions of both physical and moral decay. This creature's metamorphosis is a dark and twisted odyssey that personifies gluttony and failure in the most grotesque and horrifying ways.

Its skin, once a patchwork of grotesque insectile exoskeleton and human flesh, now clings to its emaciated frame like a tattered shroud. Pallid and stretched tight, it accentuates every bone and sinew, creating a visage of skeletal hunger. The creature's eyes, once multifaceted and eerie, have transformed into bloodshot orbs that dart feverishly, forever seeking its next indulgence. The grotesque transformation has elongated its limbs, giving them a spindly, arachnid quality, and its fingers have become elongated, bony claws, ready to grasp and clutch at its desires.

Gluttony is not manifested here in size, but rather through an insatiable appetite for consumption of all forms. Its maw, now a more humanoid mouth full of needle-like teeth, is a relentless, chomping nightmare, capable of devouring not just sustenance, but also ideas, dreams, and hopes. The creature's incessant gnashing of teeth produces a dreadful cacophony of crunching and grinding sounds, an audible manifestation of its boundless hunger.

Tattered remnants of clothing cling to its emaciated form, adorned with symbols of failure that serve as gruesome reminders of its past missteps. Heaps of trash symbolize ambitions unrealized, crushed by the decaying surroundings, contracts of unspeakable amounts of money speak to wasted potential, and faded photographs of happier times are haunting mementos of dreams long abandoned. These symbols of defeat hang in tatters, mirroring the creature's own tattered soul.

Surrounded by an aura of decay and filth, this abomination exudes the stench of squandered opportunities. Its breath carries the acrid odor of dreams left to rot, and every sluggish movement is a living testament to its moral bankruptcy. The creature leaves a trail of desolation and despair in its wake, embodying the consequences of unchecked desires and unbridled ambition.

Instinctively, I knew just what this man was. What his title was- no what his title had to be. I felt it with every fiber of my being. 

"Sin of Gluttony, Apostle of Failure… what a sad existence you are." 

"Throne World…" Two sad lips cracked open. "... Abyss of Unquenchable Craving."

A darkened portal ruptures open, and reality itself quakes in response to the emergence of the Abyss of Unquenchable Craving. A cold and foreboding wind sweeps outward from the portal, carrying with it the faint scent of decay and an unsettling, oppressive aura. The very air seems to grow heavier, as though the world itself recoils from the encroaching malevolence.

Objects and structures in the vicinity are gradually corrupted by the Throne World's malevolent aura. Buildings contort into grotesque, decaying facades adorned with twisted, oversized representations of indulgence and failure. Streets buckle and twist, forming labyrinthine paths that lead deeper into the heart of the Throne World.

The sky overhead darkens into an eternal twilight, casting a grim pallor over the land. The sun's feeble, sickly glow struggles to pierce the suffocating gloom, leaving everything shrouded in a perpetual dimness that adds to the eerie atmosphere of despair.

Shadowy tendrils, imbued with the essence of the Throne World, slither and writhe across the ground, taking on disturbingly humanoid shapes. These sentient shadows appear to be distorted, spectral reflections of the creature's own inner turmoil, and they move with malevolent intent, seeking to ensnare and torment any intruders.

Those who venture too close to the emerging Throne World are subjected to intense psychological torment. Visions of past failures and regrets manifest as nightmarish hallucinations, driving them to the brink of madness. The victims are compelled to confront their innermost fears and guilt, amplifying the emotional distress inflicted upon them.

As the Abyss of Unquenchable Craving takes hold, it summons a massive, nightmarish palace of failure and gluttony at its epicenter. This grotesque structure, fashioned from shattered dreams and wasted potential, looms like a grotesque cathedral of despair. Its walls are adorned with grotesque tapestries depicting scenes of unrestrained indulgence and shattered ambitions.

Within the palace's grand halls, endless banquets stretch out, filled with a nightmarish feast of bizarre and grotesque dishes. The guests at these spectral banquets are twisted phantoms, embodiments of the creature's insatiable hunger and remorse.

The sprawling palace is a labyrinthine maze of corridors and chambers, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare blur. Time and space become distorted, and those who enter may find themselves lost in a never-ending cycle of gluttonous excess and despair, unable to escape.

The malevolent influence of the Throne World drains the life force and hope from all living beings within its grasp. It leaves them with a sense of profound hopelessness and a profound longing for what they have lost, driving them further into the clutches of the nightmarish realm.