Shadow Monarch Deku: Primordial of the Void

Izuku I: Pain of the Long Forgotten

A/N: Okay, so, as an apology for the short chapters so far, the extremely late update, and general guilt (and to prove Project wrong), I'm going to try to double the amount of words after this chapter. I say "try," because I don't know if I can. Maybe. I've yet to figure that out.

P.S. TIL that the average novel word count is 70K. That's... I don't know how to feel about that yet.

Anyway, CHAPTER TIME.

Izuku I: The Pain of the Long Forgotten

Izuku hated feeling so vulnerable.

He couldn't even take in the smallest of breaths or make the barest of quivers without being in a near indescribable amount of pain. His everything hurt in ways he didn't even know was possible, nor did he believe was a thing until now. Everything felt like he had hypothermia, hyperthermia, went through a shredder and twisted into rope all at the same time.

All in all, the worst pain he's ever felt, aside from being disintegrated. 0/10, wouldn't recommend. Unless you're into that. If so, go for it. We'll only silently judge you in the back of our minds.

As if being flambéd and in constant agony was less than enough, his mind was flitting from one broken memory to another. Blurred countenance of those he felt he should know, faceless bodies of those who died in some sort of conflict. Whether their death was planned and deliberate or an unintended casualty, Izuku couldn't tell. And it frustrated him. But little did it matter to the sands of time

The evocation mutated into another broken memory. This time, it was... peaceful. No rampaging Chaos Inhabitants, nor any infuriated Higher Beings vying for his life. Just sitting there as his mother types away on her laptop, watching the news of his latest Gate clearance.

Something felt off about it, though. The energy was wrong, almost eerie.

A static-filled voice reaches his ears. "H̷o̴w̸ ̴l̴o̸n̴g̶ ̶d̵i̷d̷ ̸t̶h̴i̶s̶ ̴o̷n̷e̸ ̴t̷a̴k̵e̴ ̶y̶o̵u̴?̷"  It sounded like this mothers', but it was artificial; fake. Almost like it was generated.

"About a couple hours. Wasn't too much of a struggle." He responds, ignoring the scratchiness of his own voice.

"T̵h̴a̴t̵'̸s̸ ̷t̸o̴o̷ ̷b̸a̷d̸.̸ ̷I̷ ̸w̸a̸s̸ ̸h̸o̴p̵i̶n̷g̷ ̴y̶o̷u̵ ̶d̴i̸e̸d̵.̶"

Izuku turned towards his mother, shocked. She never said that, why wou-

He had, what felt like, a heart attack.

His "mother" had turned towards him, an expression of pure terror plastered on her face. Slowly, everything sloughed off of her, leaving just the bare skeleton, a mere remnant of a human, surrounded by shadowy figures laughing. The penthouse's skyline view of a bustling cityscape had morphed into a barren wasteland, clusters of rusted and broken buildings dotted around the horizon. Faint cries from human stragglers pleading for help were drowned out by the echoing roars of battling monstrosities. Giants crushing smaller beings underfoot while aerial combatants of multiple types spewed flame-imbued liquid elements towards similar adversaries. Pillars of fire erupted out of massive caves and tunnel systems, scorching anyone who got too close for comfort.

He almost jumped out of his skin as one such pillar shot out directly into his face. Scared wasn't an emotion he felt in any capacity, though. Just highly surprised, as he should have been able to sense something coming towards him. Plus, nothing below Primordial Fire could singe even a single cell on his body. His passive stats made sure of that.

He looked down at his smoldering clothes. Couldn't say the same for human-made coverings, though.

Another scene change. This time, it was definitely war. A sea of Chaos Inhabitants charging at another. Colorful spells whizz past their chitin or metal-covered fleshy bits, boiling the blood-logged patches of mud as it hit the ground. Bloody, mangled bodies were piled into tall hills, dotting the horizon. Some were lit on fire, acting as deterrents to the olfactory-enhanced combatants.

Above the battlefield, towering dragons collide into each other, dark red and bright gold blood spilling onto the ground. A spear made of metallic shards pierced through the skull of one of them, ending in an instant death. Its body flattened the ground and fighters below, uncaring about friend or foe.

For an eternity, or what felt like it, millions of similar  scenes passed through Izuku's mind, clogging this mental drainage system, filling up empty space. His mind was stuck in the unbearably painful and inescapable grip of memory lane, unable to do anything except watch these memories he's surely never had.

Even opening his eyes did nothing. The pure darkness he saw was only helping the memories gain hold in reality.

Not being able to move or scream made the feeling of utter helplessness worse. He had no way of diminishing the pain constantly spiking through his body with every breath, nor ameliorate his brain's state.

Is this what Mania felt? Is this what happened to all of the Ten True Primordials? Pure pain and mental inconsistency? Inability to control something; to move anything? Constant loss or mutation of a memory with every passing second?

Or was it each minute? How long had passed since he woke up? Hours? Days? Izuku couldn't tell. Every mental action he did merged together with his broken memories, immediately slamming a wall on any mental progress that was made.

Endless cycles of madness-inducing broken memories intertwined with reality strained the crack-entwined grip Izuku had on his sanity; his shattered mind breaking down even further, losing sight of what he is, who he once was.

Eventually, all that's left is a pile of dusted memories, far too faded and fragmented to tell even the slightest of differences between people, of right and left, up and down. Gone were the memories of anything happy; the memories of anger and sadness. All except one.

It was one that he didn't think had survived, had kept going. And yet it proudly shone, the dusted and scattered memories basking in its pure white light. It was like righteous spite was its creator, as it stood there, undeterred by the violent storm wanting to smash it, wanting to beat it into submission.

It was of Eri finally smiling at him. Relief, happiness, comfort... Emotions too strong to fade, too optimistic to shatter even in a sea of endless depression and suffering.

"Heh," he chuckled. "She was so happy..."

His vision started to fade, darkening at the edges. His body weakened in strength, once again struggling to hold himself up. In one last hurrah, he reached out at the defiant memory, pulling its surprising warmth closer to his stomach, body once again screaming in agony.

The darkness grew, encompassing his entire vision. He curled around the somehow resilient memory, unwilling to let it shatter. Shards of fragmented memories whipped past him, leaving gashes and slits. They dug into his skin, burrowing deeper and deeper as the wind buffeted his helpless body.

The darkness crept further, leaving only a sliver to see though. The wind picked up, sending more glass dust and shards into the air, making it feel as though there were bees stinging his lungs each lungful of air he took.

It blew faster, the fragments now hitting bone. His agonized screams were silenced by the sound of wind rushing past his ears, blood now oozing from it.

Faster and faster and faster-

Black.