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Lark had been strangling his nephew to death. It was a pity, how he could change into this monster over the years. He was killing the thing he had raised since little. He was exanimating his nephew of his life. He was, of course, soon to then take his own.

Life was but a monotonous thing. Dobby's body started to become lifeless. He would have fought back; but it was this folly yearning of his for death that had forced him to oppose initial reasoning. Had he truly become a monster himself? Elves lived longer than humans; but never before were they immortals. Was he deprived of his ability to die? There was, unfortunately, merely a single way to seek truth. 

But then Dobby had remembered something. Something that had drived him through this monotonous life of his. He believed value, his life had not. But then this memory had caused him to betray this stupid belief right then. 

He remembered his friends; he remembered his struggles, and mostly importantly, he remembered himself. Irrefutably, Dobby was not so absurd as to take his own life. What was he doing! This was not him at all. The cause of this must have been the anomaly: this strange deprivation of lethality. 

Now, Dobby had profound hatred for his uncle. He had never experienced times of merriment when around such a depressing man. From youth to young adult, Dobby was abused. Domestic violence throughout the entirety of his life. No one knew about the struggles he faced when at homes, not even his friends. 

Everyone knew that Dobby was not the young man to accept maltreatment. He was, in fact, a bully—wholeheartedly, and instinctively. He would mostly likely be the one to land the first blow in an escalating argument. If so, then why was he letting his uncle take his life?

Dobby went from almost loosing consciousness, to furrowing his brows. He would not allow his uncle to take advantage of him for a nanosecond longer. He had been oppressed for too long by this man. 

He loathed Lark excessively. In fact, his hatred for Lark was on par with the hatred Lark had for himself. Profound hatred. Dobby had to fight back.

Right then—at that moment—Dobby felt memories rushing through his mind like a spray of bullets. Almost at the speed of light. He remembered the agony endured throughout the years. The pain that was brought when pretending to be an independent young man who had no major problems at all. The heartbreak. The anger festered within. But then, this anger had started to burn within his skin. His face grew warm. In his ears, blood thundered. Like a drum, his heart throbbed. Then, he opened his eyes ... his fierce dark eyes; pitch black in color, disturbingly ominous.

Lark peered into these dark eyes. His lips had parted. It was as if he had been staring into an eternal void. The beautiful blue to Dobby's normal eyes were simply not there. Lark had grown speechless. 

Dobby's skin grew pale. He felt cold, but hotter than the sun concurrently. Words came rushing into his mind. You're a useless piece of trash. You fat fuck. You're nothing but a bully Dobby. What's the matter, got daddy problems? Oh yeah? Well at least my parents hadn't abandoned me at birth! Dobby ... you're nothing. Dobby, you're garbage. Why don't you just die? It's all your fault! 

Dobby felt nothing, nothing but rage. The rage flooded him, coursing through his body. It was almost perceiveable, like an energy source. It was like a churning sea within him, fueled by hysteria. He drew forth some of this energy. And then more. Then more again. He slowly raised his hands, as sinister words of pure temptation had filled his mind.

The diabolical words were like deafening whispers from hundreds of men. 

Yes, awaken your power. The souls lie within you. You can move mountains. Break the world, mortal! The power is within you—use it! Use your power! Use it now! Use it! USE IT NOW! USE IT NOW! WHY ARE YOU FORESTALLING? USE IT NOW, MORTAL! 

Dobby suddenly directed all of this energy at his uncle; and pushed on his chest. The room had shaken. Dobby slammed into the wall behind him. Lark's torso had been torn to shreds. His internal organs were turned inside out. He crashed into the wall at the far opposite end of the room, head first. Blood littered the room. 

Dobby's hands were crushed. He groaned in pain, as he slumped against the wall. He panted heavily. Thousands of dark clusters of black energy had began to orbit him. The sinister voices were louder than ever. 

The seal is broken! Eureka! We are free! It has been done! Free. We are everlastingly free. We are to become gods! We will make the boy our own! Freedom! 

Dobby felt a surge of energy rushing through his body. He jolted, raising his head as high as he could. Veins ran up his neck, as his pupils vanished. He grunted. Then, his body fell again. His eyes had regained their natural colors. He had regained consciousness. 

He heaved, relentlessly. And from the time he had landed eyes upon his uncle in the far end of the room; he had gasped in shock. Crushed organs littered the floor. Guts. Liver. Kidney. 

Dobby had almost thrown up. He quickly covered his mouth as his body spasmed. 

Lark slumped against the wall, with only remnants of his body. He was only half man now. He smirked widely, peering at the disturbed Dobby. "The D-Dark ones ... will be so ... proud." Then his smile had fallen. His eyes began to close, and his head began to fall. "The seal ... it's b-broken. O Dacien, what have I ... done?" His head fell onto his chest. Quietus. 

Dobby panicked. He was horror-struck. He quailed, turning to the door. He rushed outside. His thoughts flooding his head. I'm scared. I'm really scared. What did I just do? I need to get to Jin's place! 

Shirtless, he rushed outside with broken hands; and staggering feet. Thousands of tainted, freshly awakened souls pursued his path.