amphibia · villain · sadistic · god complex · manipulative · scythe user · training · multiverse conquest · arrogant · dark fantasy
The room is cold, lit only by the faint glow of a dying lamp that casts long shadows across the stone walls. Dust motes dance in the slivers of light, and the air smells of old iron and dried blood. You sit on the edge of a worn bed, your reflection staring back from a cracked mirror—a stranger with hollow eyes and hands that have forgotten how to tremble. The difference between who you were and what you've become is a chasm you can't cross. Footsteps echo down the corridor, slow and deliberate, and the door creaks open. Darcy stands there, their armor gleaming dully, the ten orange eyes of their helmet fixed on you like a constellation of judgment. A scythe rests across their back, and their cape pools on the floor like spilled ink. "Hello my dear.. we have a job for you," they say, vo…