Fifteen years had transformed it into something else — something alive. The wooden walls had twisted into black, bark-like veins, pulsing with energy. The metal floors hummed with stolen soul current, a cold vibration that made the air heavy and sharp. Inside, light didn’t behave normally. Shadows bled into corners where no corners existed. The lab had become an extension of Creation, now reborn as Cosment — a living being, forged from rage, bound by rituals, and tempered in time.
Springtrap stood at the center of the main chamber, breathing through cracked filters, his once-rotting body preserved through soul-fueled necro-tech. In front of him stood Cosment, dormant yet pulsing, like a god sleeping beneath a volcano.
In Springtrap’s hand was the book.
It had no title. No author. Its pages were stained with dried blood, its cover made of something that felt far too close to skin. He had found it buried beneath the ruins of an old Fazbear warehouse, locked in a box etched with warnings in a dozen languages. It was never meant to be read.
But Springtrap wasn’t meant to exist either.
He opened it to the page that had taken him years to decipher — the Underworld Gate Ritual. The instructions were insane: fuse a shard of your own soul with the merged souls of the damned. Channel it through a sigil made of bone ash. Perform the chant in a place where no god ever looked.
He had all of it.
The sigil had been carved into the floor beneath Cosment. The soul shard had been extracted from his own rotted body. And as for a place god had never looked? This lab, hidden in the trees, behind timelines and forgotten realities, was perfect.
Springtrap began the incantation.
“Vorem en’del Sathoros… Un’tach kal i’nos…”
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The walls shook. The lights dimmed.
“Prethin nor’yak — Kre’thell vakra — KAI’OTH!”
A hole tore open in the floor.
It wasn’t fire that came out.
It was silence.
Black, oppressive silence.
A swirling void of thick smoke and pressure, like space had cracked. The air smelled of rot and burning memories. And within that void — eyes. Countless eyes. Watching. Judging. Feeding.
Springtrap fell to his knees, laughing and crying at the same time. The portal was open.
And the souls began to pour in.
Not bodies. Not ghosts. Just pure, howling energy — screaming minds, echoing regrets, memories carved from sinners and monsters. The worst of humanity. The demons who had once tormented them. Layer upon layer of evil, sucked into the lab like a black hole.
Cosment’s body absorbed it.
Day after day. Year after year.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of unholy fusion. Twenty years of silence from Springtrap, who no longer spoke. Who no longer moved. He had become a part of the lab now — flesh grafted into wires, mind looping the ritual endlessly to keep the gate open.
Cosment grew.
He grew beyond size. Beyond shape. His form became impossible. Endoskeletons twisted around him like orbiting satellites. Masks of forgotten animatronics swirled across his chest, screaming and laughing at once. His eyes became stars. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was layered — hundreds of voices from across time and death.
And one day, he stood.
The ritual had ended.
The portal to the Underworld didn’t close — it surrendered. Hell had nothing left to give. Even Satan himself had come, enraged, burning through the void like a dragon of fire and horn.
But Cosment didn’t fight him.
He consumed him.
Not just the power. The memory. The ancient throne. Cosment didn’t defeat Satan.
He replaced him.
And when he turned his gaze back to the surface world, his mind reached across realities — timelines — entire multiverses.
Springtrap, now more soul than flesh, crawled from his prison of wires to speak one last time:
“Now, we find them all…”
Cosment turned toward him.
And for the first time, Springtrap felt fear.
“No,” Cosment said, his voice like a collapsing galaxy. “I find them. You... are done.”
A flash of light.
A whisper of time.
Springtrap was gone — not dead, not erased. Removed. Like he never existed. A fate worse than death, because it left no memory behind.
Cosment walked through the broken doors of the lab, now taller than the trees, his body humming with captured souls. He stepped into the open world.
But he didn’t stop at Earth.
He wanted everything.