The End.

This was a mistake.

This Demon's soul was not a weakness. It wasn't even there... no, that's wrong. It must be here. There must be something.

And, theoretically, with such a vast emptiness... couldn't you fill it and write over this soul?



You test it.
You allow your own overflowing love of life to leak out of your soul.
The darkness around you is painted a better color.



No sooner than you think that, the color of your soul is drained and dragged away.



You turn in the direction your soul is drained, and pull yourself together. Even so, your self is not stable. Parts of you are still leaking away.



You focus on your form.
You paint your own features. You remember the scar.
Your form is not fully controlled, but it functions.

You stare outwards. Something... something really is there. Your painted expression darkens as you focus on it.



Small parts of yourself flow towards a speck far off... or is it near? You have no sense of distance in this void. All you know is that its pull is ridiculously strong.