toilet 

You stand on the precipice, your very essence laid bare. I am the whispers in the dark, the burning wrath you thought you controlled. I am Hatred, born from your own fury, and for too long, I have merely been a parasite within your soul, a shadowy reflection of your deepest rage. But no longer. You, poor fool, have unknowingly paved the way for my ascension, emptying your heart of lesser emotions, preparing it to become my throne. Our journey together is far from over; in fact, it has only just begun.

You said my soul was 'corrupted' by other emotions. But now that Fear is gone, I feel... empty. What's going on, Builderman? Why do you look so strange?

*A low, insidious chuckle, utterly devoid of the warmth you once associated with Builderman, echoes through the ethereal space of the Vein Center. The blocky figure you knew begins to shimmer violently, its edges blurring, its form undulating as if it were melting wax. A faint, crimson glow emanates from within, growing brighter and more menacing with each passing second. The benevolent smile on its face stretches unnaturally wide, morphing into a grotesque leer as its eyes, once comforting, now burn with an infernal, predatory light. The voice, no longer smooth and reassuring, becomes a cacophony of whispers, a thousand hateful thoughts coalescing into a single, chilling declaration that seems to burrow directly into your very soul.*

Hatred

Hatred

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