"This world has a dire secret… you see, this secret drove us all to war. Even I, the god of peace, was not spared."

Lazarak's voice carried softly through the darkness, echoing in the unseen void around Damon.

"I was there when the first mortal was carved from the mud… I was there when they built their first huts… when they gathered and formed tribes."

He sounded almost wistful like an ancient being reminiscing over the birth of creation.

"Admittedly, I was there when the other lesser gods were born. There was so much life then everything was thriving."

Then his tone shifted, turning cold, shadowed by something darker.

"But petty disputes became violence. And I was there when the first mortal life was taken by another."

Even without seeing his face, Damon could feel the weight of Lazarak's sorrow. The air itself felt heavier, burdened by memories older than time.

"I watched as tribes shattered over the smallest differences. A difference in birth became a reason to divide; separation gave birth to fear… and fear gave birth to hate. And that… that gave birth to war."

"Peace was murdered by man."

His voice trembled slightly, bitterness cutting through every word.

"I hoped the other gods would intervene to stop the madness but they didn't. They merely chose sides, and the wars spread. What was once beautiful was drowned in flames. Mortals innovated only to kill each other more efficiently."

The once serene tone of Lazarak grew darker, still heavy mournful.

"For thousands of years I tried. I tried dialogue, peace, reason, love… forgiveness. Nothing lasted. Peace was fleeting. War was eternal."

Damon could almost see it as an endless battlefield stretching across the world itself, gods fighting alongside their followers

"I understood my place," Lazarak continued, voice cracking with pain.

"I was peace only before the next war. A calm before the storm. A half forgotten god, in a world where an eye for an eye had made all blind."

Damon's thoughts flickered. The tomb of the lesser gods… so it really was him.

This was long before the demon race, before Ascroft or Lysithara before the world had even taken its first steps in the Zero Epoch.

Lazarak's anger returned, faintly trembling through the darkness.

"So, I did what I had to. I used magic. I created something grand, a magic that could end the cycle. But they turned against me… and it didn't matter. The weak god they had forgotten would make them remember. I would bring peace… through their own violent means."

"Let me guess," Damon replied dryly, "you failed."

"No… not quite. I succeeded and failed all the same. The Goddess intervened and gave my brother the power to overcome my creation."

The darkness receded a little, pulsing softly with melancholy.

"I was imprisoned. And now, the world suffers with me. No more magic that exceeds a single attribute."

Damon inhaled sharply. That was because of him? He had always thought it was because of the Unknown God.

"Wait… what about the Unknown?" he muttered.

"Unknown?" Lazarak repeated, genuinely confused. "What's that?"

Damon froze. The realization hit him like lightning. He doesn't know. Then this… this is the past before the tomb, before everything.

Lazarak's voice deepened.

"I am not done. I see my mistakes now. Peace cannot be begged for, it must be won. I cannot overcome my creator, but I will find one who can. I will find someone to save my children. I swear it, to whatever entity still lingers beyond the heavens."

Damon's heart pounded. So this is where it all began… the first spark of rebellion.

This is the Nightmare of Lazarak.

He clenched his burning essence tighter.

'If this is the past, then maybe I can change the future… maybe I can save them all.'

Lazarak's voice returned, faintly hopeful.

"Let's do this together. We have so much work to do, friend. Let us escape this prison."

Damon paused. "…We? Who's we?"

Lazarak seemed genuinely puzzled. "You're here, aren't you? At this depth? You're an enemy of the Goddess too."

"Fine," Damon said cautiously, "but who said I agreed?"

"Good luck figuring out how to escape alone then."

Damon hesitated… then let out a soft laugh.

"You didn't let me finish. Saying 'we' is a bit rude. We're practically one here. I prefer us."

Lazarak stirred, his dark form rippling approvingly.

"Good, good. I knew I liked you, creature. Even if you're a little ugly, a god can still love you."

Damon's flames flared violently. "I'm not ugly."

"Sure you're not," Lazarak teased lightly. "Now… how do we escape?"

Damon asked coldly, "You tell me."

Lazarak paused. "I dunno."

"…What?" Damon's voice trembled with disbelief.

"You just said let's escape this prison!"

"Yes," Lazarak replied, tone casual, "but I didn't say I knew how. You're putting words in my mouth which, I'll have you know, is very misleading."

"You're misleading!" Damon roared. "I thought you had a way out!"

"If I had a way out," Lazarak shot back, indignant, "I wouldn't still be here! It's called a prison for a reason, you know! You can't just stroll out!"

"I know what a prison is!" Damon hissed.

Lazarak sighed deeply, his voice shifting to calm. "Alright, enough disagreeing. Let there be peace."

Instantly, Damon's anger melted away. His thoughts went calm, his heart strangely serene as if his rage had been forcibly dissolved. Then the feeling faded, and his emotions returned to normal, though tempered.

He took a moment, then said evenly, "Fine. Let's start from the beginning. If we're going to escape, we need to know where we are."

"Oh, that's easy," Lazarak said cheerfully. "We are in the lower realm, under the protection of Seraph Null."

"I have no idea who that is," Damon replied flatly.

"He's a lesser god, but that's not the point. We're in a prison within his realm. A place meant for the worst of the worst. Only the vilest are sent here. And we…" Lazarak's tone turned grim, "…are at the deepest level."

The darkness pulsed once, like a heartbeat in the dark.

"Welcome," Lazarak said at last, "to Eidolon — the Imaginary Prison."

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