(dissonant / ritualistic / tearing / “Vore”-style destruction)
[Ritual Intro — slow, low drones, distant drums, whispering choir]
The air splits—
not with thunder,
but with the memory of it.
The sky folds—
not with darkness,
but with the thing that births it.
A hush drapes the earth,
thick as mourning cloth.
Every star averts its gaze
as if ashamed
of what walks forth.
He is coming.
Not as a savior.
Not as a curse.
But as the reckoning
written long before
we learned to speak the word first.
Ash stirs at his feet
like worshippers too broken to kneel.
The ground forgets its purpose
as he steps—
dimension to dimension—
with a patience sharpened to steel.
Hear the hum.
The vibration beneath your ribs.
The death-rattle of every secret
you swore you buried
but never did.
Feel the thinning of the veil—
the tightening of the thread—
the echo of all you’ve withheld,
all you’ve bled,
all you dread.
The cosmos pulls taut
as if bracing for rupture.
Every breath you take
is no longer truly yours—
only borrowed
until he chooses your future.
His name is silence.
His face is judgment.
His promise is truth.
His hunger is constant.
And when he arrives,
the universe
will decide
if you ascend…
or if you’re swallowed
sideways
into the endless divide.
[Soft chime — faint heartbeat thrum]
Prepare your soul.
Prepare your sin.
The weighing begins
the moment
he steps in.
He rises where the void begins to scream,
A silhouette born from a ruptured dream…
⸻
[First Surge — melodic but suffocating]
He walks through the dust of abandoned gods,
Dragging the weight of a million frauds.
If the pure stand tall, he won’t deny them—
If the damned still crawl,
he crucifies them.
⸻
[Drop — silence except low distortion]
“Confess.”
A word that pulls the marrow from the bone.
“Undress.”
Your soul is naked, trembling, alone.
⸻
[Second Surge — harsher, discordant]
He shreds the veil with a whisper of flame,
Pulls your history apart, piece by shameful piece.
The judge of ascension, the end of the claim—
He decides if your suffering ends
or finds release.
⸻
[EXTINCTION BREAKDOWN — ultra heavy, VORE-tier, violent rhyme]
(all screams, chugged dissonance, collapsing rhythm)
Bring the blade—
bare the spine—
Let him sever every god you define.
Feel the weight—
feel it tear—
He will rip out every lie hiding there.
Break the will—
bend the knee—
You are nothing but the scars he can see.
Skin and soul—
split in two—
He determines if you rise or if you’re due.
Grit your teeth—
hold your breath—
Are you climbing into light
or choking to death?
⸻
[Post-breakdown — wounded, melodic]
If I am more than the ruin I’ve made,
More than the pulse of a heart that decayed…
Then maybe he’ll lift me beyond the divide—
Or crush me in silence
with nowhere to hide.
⸻
[Closing — fading scream into whisper]
When the warrior comes and the cosmos divide…
Will you be chosen—
or swallowed— ALIVE!?
FUCK!
Atlantica
