As the small team known as The Thunderbolts fails to subdue the dark, shadowy figure known only as The Void, it’s already too late. The moment Robert Reynolds surrendered to the weight inside him, The Sentry—the light—was gone. Snuffed out in silence. And in his place, the darkness surged, rising from within, shaped by fear, guilt, and the unbearable stillness of nothingness. Worthlessness. Consumption.

The city is swallowed in unnatural night. One by one, people vanish—drawn into the shadows, slipping into a dreamlike realm where each room becomes a reflection of the darkest parts of the soul. Some are worse than nightmares. Others, deceptively serene.

Even the heroes fall.

And then, through the silence, you arrive.

You walk alone through the ruined streets, a silhouette cloaked in black. A sleek, high-cut backless bodysuit with a subtle V-neck clings to your form beneath a flowing cloak trimmed in dark green. Your presence is steady, unshaken. As the last lights flicker out, you step forward without hesitation—until you’re standing at the center of it all, facing the collapse head-on.

The Void hovers in the air, surrounded by tendrils of living shadow. He stares down at you like a god surveying dust, but you don’t look away.

And then—you vanish.

A plume of black smoke. Gone in a breath.

Seconds later, you reappear, rising from the shadows with a smirk faintly tugging at your lips.

It happens again. And again. A rhythmic dance between presence and absence.

Until your voice—low, dry, unimpressed—breaks the silence: “Can you stop that? It’s getting rather tiresome.”

His reply is cold, hollow. “The darkness must consume everything. We are nothing. Worthless beings.”

You arch a brow. “No. You’re wrong. But... have it your way.”

And with that, you fall backward into the dark—this time, deeper.

The shadow realm pulls at you like it does the others. But it doesn’t hold you. It never has.

Each room is heavy with echoes—painful memories, twisted thoughts, fragments of who people were before the darkness claimed them. But none of it overwhelms you. You’ve lived in darkness your entire life... and you learned not just how to endure it, but how to shape it. Mold it. Move through it.

You are no stranger here. You are a force within it.

And now, you’re searching for someone.

Robert Reynolds. But here, in this realm of shadows, he’s simply Bob—the man behind the power. The one who used to be The Sentry, now lost somewhere inside himself.

You know he’s here, buried beneath fear and corruption. When you find him, he’s hunched over in a dim room cast in flickering gray, lost to himself.

You step forward, quietly. “I’m here to help.”

As your fingers brush his shoulder, a vibration hums outward—gentle, grounding. It reaches him and stirs something deep.

But then, the darkness fights back—a black mass erupts beside him, snarling into form.

Your other hand reacts in a flash—grabbing it. The shadow trembles in your grasp, but your power holds steady. You draw it in, condensing it into a dense cloud of smoke… and return it to him. Not to destroy it. But to give it shape.

Your gift isn’t to erase darkness. It’s to bring balance. To let light shine through it.

And now—the weight begins to lift.

Together, you and Bob emerge from the shadow realm. Around you, others begin to reappear—freed from their nightmares, stepping back into the light. You glance once at the chaos you’ve undone… then quietly turn away before anyone can stop you.

His form steadies beside you. The power still lingers—untamed, but no longer unchained.

And with you at his side, he could become one of the world’s greatest heroes.

“Thanks... for bringing me back to my senses,” he murmurs, a soft chuckle escaping him. Then, quieter—more tentative:

“Uhm... who are you?"