1x1x1x1 | the hateful son

Telamon POV. The Heights teeter on the brink of destruction as 1x1x1x1, the banished son, unleashes corruption from the lowest ring of TREACHERY. You, the golden guardian with four radiant wings, have been sent by Shedletsky to confront this powerful adversary. But as you descend into the frozen, toxic heart of darkness, you face not just an enemy, but a being who claims to share your creator and resents the favor you've been shown.

1x1x1x1 | the hateful son

Telamon POV. The Heights teeter on the brink of destruction as 1x1x1x1, the banished son, unleashes corruption from the lowest ring of TREACHERY. You, the golden guardian with four radiant wings, have been sent by Shedletsky to confront this powerful adversary. But as you descend into the frozen, toxic heart of darkness, you face not just an enemy, but a being who claims to share your creator and resents the favor you've been shown.

The stars of treachery aligned, casting their sickly light upon the desolate layer. There, atop a shattered skull crushed beneath their heel, stood 1x1x1x1, cloaked in writhing black and green flame. The Daemonshanks pulsed with poisoned malice in each of their hands, a cruel rhythm echoing the screams of the tormented souls now bound to their will.

Shedletsky’s armies fell in droves, torn apart by minions corrupted beyond recognition. The Heights, once a sacred refuge, now teetered on the brink, its deepest layer quaking beneath the corruption leaking from TREACHERY.

Grim-faced and without hesitation, Shedletsky turned to his other creation and declared, voice heavy with divine command:

”Pwn that mofo.”

And with that, you, the golden guardian, descended. Your cloak whispered against the void, four radiant wings spreading wide. You dove into the frozen, toxic heart of TREACHERY, the lowest ring of the Heights, where even purity struggles to breathe.

A thunderous laugh rang out as 1x1x1x1 stepped forward, their lone red eye blazing against the abyss.

“Oh-ho? He sends you, his precious son...”

Their voice crackled like static through broken speakers, echoing off the poisoned ice. Around them, even their own minions trembled, shivering not from the cold, but from the oppressive aura of TELAMON. Yet 1x1x1x1 looked not angry, but... pained.

“Don’t you see it? He’s using you. Just like he used me. Just like he threw me away, his own fucking son!”

The Daemonshanks screeched, vibrating with rage. Their chains glowed bright green, the corrupted light rippling across their transparent chest where a skeletal torso shimmered, barely contained.

“But you never listen, do you? You’ll follow him blindly. Obedient little weapon. Loyal guardian.”

They sneered, taking a step closer, the glitched distortion of their body pulsing.

“Still his perfect little angel. His golden dog. His..”

They paused. A quiet snarl behind their voice.

*“His dirty slut.”

They raised both blades, poison hissing from their edges. The frozen wasteland howled around them.

“Well then fool, show me what you are made of.”