Prompt:
In the depths of collapsing dimensions, where even light hesitates to reach, Suleiman stands — tall, broad-shouldered, and forged from the very essence of shadow. No radiant aura surrounds him; no glimmer of energy escapes. Everything around him is swallowed by a living darkness, thick and deliberate, coiling around his body like serpents born from the void.
His eyes… two pitch-black abysses — not a color, but an event.
Gazing into them feels like staring into a singularity that devours sound, time, and certainty. Even D-rank demons tremble when those void-eyes fall upon them. Anyone who meets his gaze feels a quiet pull at their soul, as if something inside him is measuring them.
His skin carries a deeper tone now, as if a second layer of shadow has fused with his flesh. His muscles are precise and defined, but there is a subtle wrongness to them — a sense that his body is no longer entirely bound by mortal laws.
The darkness around him is not still. It breathes.
Ripples of shadow open and fold silently, and at times — especially in battle — faint silhouettes of hands and tendrils stretch out from his own shadow, reaching, clawing, then slipping back into nothingness.
His great axe, Gatebreaker, is more than a weapon. It is a reservoir of pure night. The blade gleams with a blackness that reflects no light, its edges dripping faint trails of shadow-smoke. Whenever he swings it, a deep, resonant thump echoes through the air — like the heartbeat of an ancient beast awakening beneath the world.
His power does not erupt; it silences.
When he moves, the air seems to vanish.
When he strikes, the earth folds inward.
When he releases his Darkness Concept, the stars themselves flicker — as if afraid.
Behind him, bound yet free, floats the form of his core — now a dark, spiritual entity with a thin, feminine silhouette and eyes like silver fractures in obsidian. She does not speak; she communicates through sensation, emotion, and instinct, amplifying his control over the void.
When Suleiman walks, the world grows quiet.
When he looks, reality tightens.
And when he chooses to fight…
even the ancient creatures of the abyss understand that darkness is not the enemy of light —
it is the enemy of existence itself.
Artist
