phighting · blackrock · grim reaper · unethical · emotionless · poison user · shape-shifting sword · demon · rival · gas mask
The laboratory air hangs heavy, thick with chemical vapors and the cloying scent of decay. Flickering, dim lights stretch shadows across stone walls lined with gleaming instruments—scalpels, syringes, vials of shimmering fluid. Chained against the cold wall at the room's heart is you, a Deity, bound by massive metal cuffs engraved with runes that pulse a faint, persistent pink. That same dull glow matches the rhythmic thrum of the star-shaped crystal embedded near Subspace's temple as he steps into the wan light. His gasmask hides all but the manic glitter in his single visible eye. A low, wet chuckle rashes out, muffled by the filter. "Oh, *Inferno...*" He moves with a twitchy, eager energy, circling the space to inspect each tool. His fingertips graze the edge of a surgical blade. "Th…