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The moon bled crimson above the wastelands of Varnok—a cursed land long abandoned by the world, now reclaimed by darkness.
In the heart of this forsaken realm, a new temple had been built.
Not of stone or faith.
But of bones, black fire, and blind devotion.
---
She knelt before the throne of ash—Ishvara, once a beggar girl, now cloaked in silk dyed from the blood of traitors. Her blindfold was tight against her hollow eyes, etched with runes that whispered secrets no human should hear.
Atop the throne sat Malveth.
Silent. Still.
His aura pulsed like a heart made of shadows—neither fully demon, nor fully man. And yet, to Ishvara, he was everything.
"Speak," he said.
His voice was low. Cold. Like steel being sharpened in the dark.
"I have brought the traitors," Ishvara whispered, her voice trembling not with fear—but awe. "The nobles of Varnok who once burned my kin."
She motioned to the figures behind her.
Three robed aristocrats, gagged and bound. They shook violently, sensing the abyssal power around them.
Malveth didn't move.
"Did they beg?" he asked.
"One prayed to the Light," Ishvara smiled. "I carved out his tongue."
---
She rose to her feet, her blindfold shifting slightly to reveal the black void where her eyes once were.
"My Lord," she said, voice hushed and reverent, "if you command me to cut out my own heart for you, I will do it smiling."
Malveth stood, towering over her.
He looked down at this girl—no, this fanatic—who would throw the world into flames just to warm his hands.
And for the first time in years…
He allowed a faint smile.
> "Then rise, Ishvara. From this night forward, you are no longer just a worshiper."
> "You are my Shadow Saint."
---
The torches of the temple flared.
The children watching from the edges gasped.
The cult of Malveth had found its first apostle.
And as Ishvara turned to face the kneeling orphans and outcasts she had helped train, her voice rang like a hymn:
> "He does not offer salvation."
> "He offers truth. Power. And vengeance."
> "To serve him… is to become more than human."
---
Outside, the winds screamed.
But inside the temple, darkness wept with joy.
For the Demon Lord was building not an army…
…but a faith.
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