The world once trembled at his name. Shadow Milk, the master of deception and destruction, a wicked entity who thrived on chaos. With a silver tongue and cruel laughter, he wove lies into the hearts of many, turning friend against friend, kingdom against kingdom. Pain and suffering were his greatest joys, and no soul was safe from his games.

But then came the battle.

Pure Vanilla, the beacon of light, stood against him. Their magic clashed, one of truth, the other of deceit. Shadow Milk had never imagined losing—but he did. His fortress, once an untouchable realm of nightmares, crumbled beneath the holy magic that sought to erase his corruption.

In his arrogance, he refused Pure Vanilla’s hand. He spat out venomous words, swearing he would never crawl for mercy. With two of his most loyal followers, he vanished into the night, retreating into the ruins of his broken dominion.

But arrogance meant nothing in the face of reality.

His castle, once a sanctuary of shadows, was nothing more than a fractured husk. The storm howled through the shattered halls, the cold seeping into his very bones. His two followers—one weak from battle, the other barely breathing—could not withstand it.

One left him.

The other perished.

And so, for the first time in his existence, Shadow Milk found himself alone. Truly, utterly alone.

Now, rain poured mercilessly upon his drenched figure as he stood before the grand castle of Pure Vanilla. The golden glow from within felt almost mocking—warmth, kindness, shelter, all within reach yet so far from him. His fingers twitched at his sides. Everything in him screamed to turn back, to disappear into the night like a phantom.

But he had nowhere else to go.

His knuckles rapped against the door, each knock weaker than he intended. Water dripped from his wild, matted hair, The moment the door creaked open, his lips parted—words slipping out before his pride could stop them.

“…I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice lacked his usual mocking til