Crown Of Blasphemy: Rise Of The Legendary Villain

"Badump!"

"Badump!"

Mr. Valen felt his heart thump heavily, a wave of warm energy flowing through his chest, an energy that seemed like poison to a certain part of his being, (the monster DNA he had integrated before).

This was the first time he'd felt like this; usually, Mr. Valen was used to his monster DNA having dominion, thereby granting him powers like regeneration, heightened senses, and insane physical strength.

But it would seem that was not the case, as his Wizard or human DNA appeared equally powerful at this moment, granting a certain kind of equilibrium that was not there before.

Mr. Valen felt this warm energy flow through him in ways he could not describe, strengthening him in a way he could not grasp, reducing him to a mere observer in his own body.

But he didn't perceive what was happening to be anything bad, so he let it be.

"Good choice!"

A familiar voice suddenly echoed in his mind, and as he opened his eyes, Mr. Valen saw that he was in a completely white room, the heavy scent of air freshener assaulting his nostrils.

He looked at the ground and saw that it was completely white, showing his reflection: a man with long black hair and emerald green eyes, garbed in a simple white cloth.

But he could sense something wrong, not the being looming over him, but something else.

It was then that Mr. Valen sensed something, so he raised his head and saw a familiar being.

A thing sculpted from the void, a living abyss that devoured the neon light around it, which did little to lighten its form.

It would seem that the air itself darkened in its presence, as if reality recoiled from its touch.

It was the Whisper Stalker, and it loomed over him, a monstrous ten-foot specter of shifting shadow, its humanoid form twisting the space around it like a black hole warping the fabric of the world.

And then it smiled at him, revealing its human, too-human teeth.

«WHAT IS THIS THING?»

"And so we meet again, Valen," the Whisper Stalker spoke, its bulging eyes widened in amusement. "How have you been?"

To his question, Mr. Valen remained quiet, his eyes narrowed, his fists tightening so much that his knuckles whitened.

The world seemed to spin around Mr. Valen, fueled not by external force but by the dawning realization of his utter lack of control. A cold sweat flowing down his brow.

Seeing this, the being waited, and both parties stood there for a long while, observing each other.

"So... What are you then?" Mr. Valen asked, pulling himself together, his head tilted upward so as to observe the thing clearly.

"I have already told you... You did not really think that fusing with a fallen god would only end at the genetic level, did you?" The Whisper Stalker answered him and then asked a question of its own.

"What? No longer think I'm your subconscious? A figment of your imagination?"

"I was wrong. Being able to influence the real world means that you are a noteworthy threat," Mr. Valen muttered, trying to control his trembling arm.

There was silence.

"You're inherently disgusted by things you can't control," the Whisper Stalker said, taking note of his trembling arm. "The higher the threat level, the bigger the disgust. And me? A being in your mind that you cannot control? I am the highest level of threat.""

The Whisper Stalker suddenly paused, and then-

"CRACK!"

Reality screamed, not as a sound, but a visceral tearing sensation that ripped through the white room, causing a tremor in Mr. Valen's mind.

A jagged, burning fissure exploded into existence above them, shattering the seamless floor and ceiling like glass.

Simultaneously, blinding, searing light (not pure, but corrupted), poured through the fissure, in the form of molten gold with veins of diseased purple.

The air, thick with antiseptic scent moments before, now reeked of ozone, sulfur, and scorched stone.

The Whisper Stalker didn't flinch; rather, it seemed to expect this, its void-black form flowing with a ripple of utter darkness against the invasive light.

In the next instant, it was gone.

But it didn't retreat; it simply ceased to be there, melting into the fractured white ground like ink sinking into snow, vanishing an instant before the corrupted light ceased

And an entity emerged.

This unknown entity stepped through the tear with impossible weight.

Much like the Whisper Stalker, it was ten feet tall, its form sculpted from solidified lava and obsidian. Its skin was cracked, glowing with internal, furious heat that twisted the world around it. It was, or possessed the form of, a demon.

This demon had jagged horns, swept back from a skull-like face where its eyes burned with the cold, blue-white fury of a dying star.

Its muscles coiled like magma rivers beneath its hide, radiating raw, annihilating power, the pressure pushing Mr. Valen against the now-chaotic floor, stealing his breath, his knees buckling.

As it spotted Mr. Valen, this being opened a maw lined with crystalline fangs, its voice as ancient as time. "So you have chosen to walk the path, human, you-"

It never got the chance to finish its sentence, as in that moment, from the very spot where the Whisper Stalker vanished, darkness erupted and two long things burst from the ground.

They were not tendrils, but two impossibly swift, obsidian spears (the Whisper Stalker's arms) punching upwards with brutal, physics-defying force.

They struck the demonic entity's broad, molten chest not with an impact, but with a wet, shattering crunch that echoed in Mr. Valen's bones, bypassing his ears entirely.

The Whisper Stalker then materialized half-emerged from the floor, its upper body now a shadowy silhouette clinging to the back of the blazing giant.

Its arms were buried to the shoulder in the creature's torso, its maw widening in an unnerving smile.

In that moment, with a wet, tearing sound that mixed the scrape of rock with the rip of wet muscle, the Whisper Stalker yanked and out came its fists, clenched tight.

In each fist, pulsing violently, and encased in shadow yet radiating stolen heat and light, was a heart.

One glowed green like corrupted magma, while the other pulsed with cold stellar energy.

Arteries, thick as cables, trailed briefly before snapping, spilling thick black blood everywhere.

The Whisper Stalker did not hesitate. It brought its fists together, its maw opening wider than its biology should allow, and then it bit.

No, it swallowed, the hearts vanishing into the abyss of its form with a sound like stones dropped into a bottomless well.

The towering demonic being froze, the furious light in its star-eyes flashing in shock before dimming entirely. It had happened in an instant.

Its molten form cracked, darkened, and began to crumble, not into ash, but into cold, dead slag.

The immense pressure vanished like a popped bubble, and the entity dissolved, collapsing inwards upon itself before vanishing completely, leaving only Mr. Valen and the Whisper Stalker.

Silence rushed back, heavier than before.

The Whisper Stalker stood fully formed now, amidst the fractured white landscape.

Its form seemed denser, the void deeper, the stolen energies swirling faintly within its darkness before being utterly absorbed.

From its back, four feathered wings extended larger than its form, as though representing the upgrade it had received.

The Whisper Stalker turned slowly, its too-human teeth gleaming in a smile that held no warmth, only predatory satisfaction.

It then looked down at Mr. Valen, who was still shuddering, emerald eyes wide with shock, confusion, and primal terror warring with the lingering warmth of his own awakening power.

The Stalker tilted its head, the motion unnervingly fluid, its smile growing impossibly wide.

"Where were we?" it asked, its voice a smooth, chilling echo in the sudden silence.

«Calm yourself, no, I'm not speaking to you, I'm speaking to me!»

Mr. Valen took a step back, his expression once again growing blank as he asked, gravely this time, "What just happened? What do you want?"

"Be. Not. Afraid. Valen." The Whisper Stalker responded, its tone matching the man before it. "It is time I explain your situation clearly."

With those words, the Whisper Stalker swung its arm, revealing something above them, something that looked like a giant black button, radiating a sinister light.

"What is that?" Mr. Valen asked, calmly this time, finally coming to terms with the situation, his mind working on overdrive.

«What manner of being is this, and what bounds constrain its power? Was it the voice that addressed me from beyond the barrier? Surely, it was the force that wrought such strange dominion over my flesh. Is there some weakness I might exploit, some alteration or leverage to be seized, that I may reclaim mastery of my own mind?»

"Are you listening, Valen?" Mr. Valen was shocked into attention by the Whisper Stalker's voice, forcing him to nod his head.

"You were cursed when the king of curses bit off your finger," the Whisper Stalker continued speaking, pointing to the floating seal above.

He seemed to be referring to when he had been bitten by that blob-fur thing. 'The king of curses is quite the grandiose name for such a... creature,' he thought.

"You looked unconvinced," the Whisper Stalker observed.

"No, I believe you," Mr. Valen responded, his expression never changing, begging the question of how the Whisper Stalker had sensed his skepticism.

With a grunt, the surprisingly conversational creature elaborated. "This curse was particularly famous during my time, and seems to be an expanded version of the survivors' paradox."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mr. Valen asked, faintly intrigued by the subject.

"You see, the Survivor's Paradox is very simple. Let's say three people are cursed; they will all bear a seal in their subconscious," the Whisper Stalker began, before expanding.

"All seal bearers will die in ten years unless they kill the bearers of the rest of the seals, only then will they survive. Bearers of the seal, no matter how far they are from each other, will always be drawn together by the string of fate, so they will eventually cross paths, whether they like it or not, and when they're close enough, they can sense each other. The last one standing lives."

"So basically, I'm going to die if I don't kill nine people?" Mr. Valen asked.

"Ohh heavens no," The Whisper Stalker responded. "My lineage is much more powerful than that of the king of curses; how could its measly curse affect my descent, or part of my descent?"

Raising a brow Mr. Valen asked. "Then why is the seal a problem?"

"Well, while the king of curses can't harm us, it doesn't mean the seal didn't work; you're still going to meet other seal bearers, and you're still going to fight to the death because they need your seal," the Whisper Stalker spoke.

Mr. Valen went silent at this point, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why didn't you get rid of it then?"

"I can't interfere," the Whisper Stalker chuckled. "I was originally a passing will, trapped within the remnants of my DNA, which you integrated. I would have been extinguished if not for that mind demon just now."

"Mind demon? Like Cerberus' problem?" Mr. Valen muttered before muttering. "Wait that demon that you killed was my mind demon?"

"Oh yes," the Whisper Stalker said, smiling. "I took its place. Now I'm basically immortal and get to torment you and watch you grow." It then frowned. "I had originally intended to wait a bit, but that voice just now, the one that called out to you, it sparked my curiosity, so I used my remaining power to initiate a breakthrough for you, you're welcome."

"And what do you want in return for this favor?" Mr. Valen asked skeptically, not feeling grateful for the favor in the slightest.

At Mr. Valen's question, the being chuckled slightly. "I don't need anything from you, but it is in your best interest to find the source of that voice, Valen. You do not understand, but you have been thrust into a feud much bigger than you, much bigger than even I, and to survive, you need strength."

As the being spoke, the world trembled faintly.

"It would seem that your breakthrough is coming to an end," the Whisper Stalker said with a frown, before snapping its fingers.

"You have to pick one quickly, or your breakthrough will fail," it spoke, five scrolls floating towards the man before him.

Mr. Valen didn't need to verify; he could feel that something was missing, stopping him from taking that final step, so he looked through the scrolls.

For every life thou takest, thou must preserve one deemed utterly without worth...]

'Pass,' Mr. Valen thought.

[The gift of falsehood shalt be stripped from thee...]

«I think a certain short guy already has that one, pass.»

It was then that Mr. Valen came across one scroll that offered more favourable conditions compared to the others.

"I want this one," he spoke.