Abyss Draconis

What lay before him, he couldn't fully determine with certainty, but vividly, he could remember the words that he had once heard about it:

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"When Aetheris Energy and Abyssal Energy merge, it creates the birth of a unique special energy—The Energy of Hurricane."

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And now, it was before him.

Whilst Ryuk had no idea whether the Hurricane Essence would be the same as Hurricane Energy, he could already feel the white motes of light that made up his body bouncing in joy, flaming all around him.

It was like what the Entity held out to him was something that had been denied and starved off from them for so long.

Now that it was before him, they couldn't help but be excited about it, and that excitement transferred to Ryuk as well, whose hands reached out, taking hold of the Essence gem.

He looked at the Entity: this new bloodline that wasn't his—but he saw no ripple in its eyes.

There were no words between them, but they could both communicate, and right now, it seemed to be telling Ryuk to take the Essence.

"He had no idea why it required him so, but if his own cells wanted it, then perhaps there wasn't much to doubt."

'All or nothing,' he thought to himself, steeling his mind.

An instant later, Ryuk's mouth opened as he tilted his head upwards—and then, he swallowed the gem.

It didn't need to be chewed at all.

The second Ryuk felt the gem touch his tongue, it suddenly melted into something liquid.

A taste he couldn't quite define—as it was neither sour nor sweet—filled him.

But then, the sensation spread just a moment later.

Ryuk's arms, resting on his lap, instantly froze in their tracks.

His body turned rigid, his legs vibrating intensely.

Like a broken disk, all of his actions came to a stop—but they glitched.

His hands rose halfway to his head, then glitched again, raising and latching against both ears.

Then it glitched once more as his upper body bent toward his legs.

Once more, he glitched—appearing halfway through the motion of roaring—purple blood streaming out of both his eyes.

In his mouth, the White Entity could see the vortex of purple that had revolved from the depths of his throat.

And once more, he glitched.

This time, his eyes turned into blackholes of full purple energy.

When he glitched again, the white-scaled Entity backed off from him, as Ryuk lay paused in motion.

He had stood up from his throne, his hands reaching for the face of the white-scaled Entity—his face stuck in a motion that the Entity couldn't tell whether to interpret as pain or anger.

But it took a couple of steps backward and remained on its feet, simply staring at Ryuk, who continued glitching in and out of existence.

This was the physical perspective of things from the view of what stood closest to Ryuk.

But to Ryuk himself:

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Unravel.

It was the only word that came close to defining what was happening to him.

For one, the tether to his physical body was the first thing he felt unravel from him.

His breath hitched from instinct, which he felt was a signal from his own body.

Ever since, he had always wondered what it was—something, like his own body trying to communicate with him.

It did, oftentimes.

Like when he knew danger was near him, or things would get bad soon. Like when he had Zar'kull inching on his tail.

His body warned him of it.

And now, his body was once more speaking to him.

But what it spoke of now was the horrors of him allowing in something older and wilder than it could comprehend.

It knew not what, but its fears were sent to Ryuk.

But that was only for a moment.

Just a moment, that was the least of what Ryuk needed to worry about.

For the next moment, he felt consciousness ripped out from his own body—and like a spectator to a match, he watched as a singularity burst open in his core.

Not outwards—but inward.

He saw the cells of his flesh folding into themselves, his spine arching in its ear-slice curve shape, thrown in disarray, and watching his stomach get hollowed out by this explosion of purple.

Every vein within him became a tunnel for raging purple lightning currents, and he could feel each nerve screaming out to him, not from pain, but from sheer overwhelm.

He watched his lungs inhale nothing but violent purple pulses, and his heart stopped beating—and instead started pulsing in spirals.

It resonated with unknown waves, and with each one, sent forth an arc of pulsing energy through him.

Muscles were shredded and rewoven with each pulse, ligaments torn and reknitted—stronger.

"It's not breaking," the realization hit him.

"It's all being unraveled, and then rewoven," he concluded.

But then, his mind came to the realization, as he found himself asking:

"What is it being rewoven into...?"

That was the last of his thoughts, as his mind was fractured briefly after.

He felt himself—he felt his body—an illusion which he now knew to be in the same place, but what he felt was contradictory.

His sense of self, tethered to identity, the illusion of form, was yanked free, and seemingly ground into a spiraling, infinite descent.

You see, there was no ground. Nor sky. Nor air to breathe, nor even a substance or clue to grasp about this sensation.

There was, in fact, only movement—realities being soared through, his original essence stretched thin across dimensions he could neither name nor anchor himself in.

Every second resulted in thousands of visions colliding together.

Burning worlds. Frozen stars. The birth and death of galaxies.

These were views that would be enough to break the minds of any mortal and render them insane, mumbling endlessly till the end of time.

He was made to witness all of this in rapid succession, like a spectator, denied the right to form any opinions about them.

A point came where he was lost—where he couldn't tell whether he was the one moving or if reality was spiraling around him.

And this continued—until he felt it all halt all of a sudden.

Now, he felt stable, regaining connection to something he didn't know, and in a realm he had never encountered.

"Where... Where... is... this?"