Скачать или смотреть Ashes Of The Immortal-Villain Song [Commission]

My RP Discord Server:   / discord  

My Friends RP Discord Server:   / discord  

Dark Matter Merch: https://dark-matter-shop.fourthwall.com


There exists a place where the divine and the dying meet—where elegance, once gilded in moonlight, rots beneath the weight of eternity. In that forgotten realm, silence is not peace but punishment, and every breath drawn is a quiet rebellion against the gods’ twisted sense of mercy. Immortality lingers like a blade half-buried in the spine, beautiful in its craftsmanship, unbearable in its purpose. The figure who walks this path carries neither vengeance nor hope—only a reverence for something long perished and a desire to finally fall where time has ceased to flow.

The memory of a towering man, once revered, now only speaks in echoes. His legacy haunts the ruined palaces and crimson-drenched fields, where oaths were carved into flesh instead of parchment. What was once loyalty has become inertia, the kind that traps the soul in cycles of devotion long after its object has turned to ash. Yet within the decay, there’s an honor that refuses to vanish—a brittle kind, like lacquered wood worn thin by the hands of ghosts. It is not hatred that fuels the final act, but a weary kind of gratitude—twisted and sincere all at once.

As divine blood seeps into soil that no longer blossoms, the cursed one drifts with the grace of falling leaves—detached, weightless, ready. The blade he carries is not raised in challenge, but as a final gesture of clarity. There is no fear of death in one who has seen centuries of it. There is only the hunger to end the loop, to become something finite. Something mournable. To die not in battle, but in meaning.

And so, the last guardian stands not to defend, but to be released. The air around him is heavy with mist and memory, the scent of old incense and broken prayer. The path ahead is not one of conquest, but surrender—not to another, but to the silence he has long awaited. Here, in the place where water once shimmered like starlight, a relic seeks rest—not redemption. Not forgiveness. Just an ending.