In complete, pitch-black darkness, a single giant two-handed axe floats alone in the air without any support. The axe is not an ordinary metal weapon, but takes the form of a cursed relic that looks as if living flesh and abyssal crystals have been forcibly stitched together. The entire axe head consists of a sticky yet hard organic mass with a texture of intertwined deep purple and dark blue, and across its surface, sharp horn-like and thorn-like protrusions and twisted bone-like fragments jut out irregularly as if they grew while alive. The blade of the axe is not made of ordinary steel but of translucent purple crystal, and inside that crystal, swirling patterns of light like slowly rotating nebulae or the Milky Way pulse faintly; along the edge of the blade, a faint purple mist flutters as if rising. In the center and sides of the head, two pupils of different sizes are embedded; these pupils have cloudy, yellowish irises and vertically slit pupils, staring straight ahead without blinking before very slowly rolling left and right, revealing a creepy sense of life as if accurately following the observer. The flesh around the eyes is wrinkled and distorted, with eyelid-like tissues trembling, and just below the eyes, small bone protrusions like fangs are positioned like a jaw, giving the impression that the axe itself is glaring at something. The handle of the axe is not ordinary wood or metal, but shaped like a long, twisted spinal column, tightly wrapped in black, coarse scale-like leather straps; between those leather straps, purple-tinted flesh can be seen minutely swelling and sinking as if breathing. The end of the handle is finished with sharp crystals like three-pronged claws or fangs. From the entire axe, a sensation is felt as if a low humming vibration and incomprehensible whispers, not in human language, are constantly flowing; these whispers are not heard directly in the ears but feel as if they are echoing deep inside the head. Only the faint purple light emanating from the axe weakly pushes back the absolute darkness around it, and wherever that light touches, long and twisted shadows are created on the walls and floor; these shadows seem to wriggle and crawl separately, completely different from the actual movement of the axe. The space where the axe floats is a place like an underground altar or stone chamber abandoned and sealed long ago, with the floor full of thick dust and deep cracks, and the walls faintly engraved with ancient patterns and scratch marks of unknown meaning. The air is humid, heavy, and cold, and there is a feeling of pressure as if countless invisible gazes are piercing the observer from all directions. Every time the axe's pupils blink very slowly, a fine vibration spreads through the entire altar, and the volume of the whispers grows slightly larger and then smaller again. Whenever the purple light reflected on the axe's blade wavers, the nebula patterns inside fluctuate violently as if something trapped within the crystal is struggling to escape. As the observer approaches the axe, they feel an inexplicable deep anxiety and a chilling cold running down their spine, along with an eerie communion as if the axe is quietly reading their thoughts and memories. Although the axe takes no aggressive action, it exudes an overwhelming ominousness and primal fear by its mere existence, remaining in place quietly yet persistently like a living relic that has long awaited a master suited for it. The surrounding air sinks colder and colder, and the pulsation of the purple light echoes increasingly slower and heavier, like a heartbeat.
Master Foolishly
