Animator vs Animation: The Dark Web

Chapter 4: The Return of The Dark Lord

 The Second Coming watched in horror, the lasers of code building the shape of The Dark Lord.

He stood, paralyzed, helpless, and The Chosen One too was forced to witness the nightmare unfold. The guilt gnawed at him, but it wasn't just that—no. It was an avalanche of regret and sorrow.

The Second Coming understood how anguished The Chosen One was after the defeat of his best friend, more than ever. Even knowing the necessity of the battle, the feeling clung onto him. The Chosen One had already given up.

As the form of The Dark Lord continued to take shape, The Second Coming's gaze locked on to his scars that were etched onto him. It winded all around his body, crisscrossing like strikes of lightning; it was a reminder of the past defeat. The huge scar on his chest seemed to pulse with light, as if the past itself was alive within it. A chill shocked through The Second Coming; he did that?

As the last pieces of the Virabands snapped into place, The Dark Lord floated to the ground. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, with The Second Coming holding his breath. Then, The Dark Lord's head jerked up, body still, as if being woken up from a nightmare. He was back.

But something was... unusual.

His first moments back were a bit unexpected, even The Chosen One never thought of it. The Dark Lord's movements were slow, almost lethargic, moving as if he was trapped in a dazed state. He glanced around the room with a deep concern, not with the cold calculating look he once had. Looking down, The Dark Lord blinked at the drawn heart underneath his feet. His hands trembled as he lifted them up onto his face, trying to process if his own existence was even real. But the feeling of crevices of scars on his face sent him deeper into a slight panic.

As he looked down at his body, he saw it—the green scars that marred his body. The realization made him freeze a split second before he flinched, as the scars pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic light. The Dark Lord's chest heaved, both with hesitation and distress. He didn't understand. Even he, the once-powerful figure of all, didn't know why he was brought back.

The sight of The Dark Lord, who was once known as fearsome and unstoppable, made The Second Coming realize that he looked...lost. No malice other than fear and bewilderment was washed over him. Even though it made him feel bad for him, it made The Second Coming have a flicker of hope in his heart.

Maybe... maybe he wouldn't remember.

He clung onto that thought desperately, hoping that it was true. Maybe the scars would be nothing more but a distant memory. Maybe the same figure standing before him wasn't the same monster that almost destroyed the whole internet. But deep down, The Second Coming knew the truth. Even if The Dark Lord didn't remember, he cannot just wipe the past away. There was no escaping it.

That was when Queen of Hearts took a soft step forward; The Second Coming's determination shattered in an instant.

"Welcome back, The Dark Lord." Queen of Hearts started.

The Dark Lord's gaze snapped at the looming figure of Queen of Hearts, and he suddenly stumbled back. He trembled, shocked from the presence of another hollowhead. The Dark Lord felt the same menacing aura that The Second Coming and The Chosen One felt when they first met her. She was unlike anybody that they had ever met before.

Queen of Hearts gracefully lowered herself to The Dark Lord's level, with the same fake welcoming presence. "It is such a pleasure finally meeting you. You have no idea how much we adored your work during your prime." Despite the expression, her sterned look seemed to give way to a personal grudge, one that the others didn't know about.

The five figures around the room seemed to react at The Dark Lord's presence, despite their emotionlessness. There was a mix of awe, curiosity, and even uncertainty.