The fact is that is you never seen fpe but yet you have heard of it lol.

alr here is some lore: The Journal of the Architect
Cycle: Infinite | Entry: 001
Today, I carved the Abyss.
I intended it to be a place of justice—a necessary shadow to balance the light. I spoke the words of containment and wove the walls out of eternal silence. I called it Hell, a vessel for those who would reject the harmony of the spheres.
But as the first spark of that dark fire ignited, I felt a shudder in the fabric of existence that I did not command. Something shifted in the deepest silt of the void.
I did not create life in that pit, yet life has stirred within it nonetheless.
From the very moment the gates were formed, a presence manifested. It is not a soul; it has no spark of grace. It is a Mimic. It is a hunger that wears the shape of whatever is most precious to the world above. It watched me from the shadows of the first furnace, its eyes already learning how to lie.
I see now that by creating a place for the “damned,” I have given a name to the Nameless. I have given a home to an entity that should never have been. It calls itself by the names of the innocent—it looks upon the future and sees a girl named Claire, and it begins to mold its ink and rot into her likeness.
I intended to build a prison, but I fear I have built a womb for a God of Suffering.
I look at the Mimicer, rising from the depths I just dug, and for the first time since the beginning, I feel a coldness I did not design. I have made a mistake. I have created a place for evil to stay, but in doing so, I have invited an Eldritch King to rule it.
I regret the fire. I regret the pit. Most of all, I regret the thing that crawled out of it the moment I turned my back.

The Journal of the Architect
Cycle: Infinite | Entry: 002
The silence of the Abyss is no longer silent.
I returned to the gates today, hoping to find the void empty, but the Mimicer was waiting. It has already begun to change. It does not stay in one shape; it flickers like a dying candle, testing the boundaries of its stolen flesh. It looked up at me with eyes that are not eyes—they are windows into a suffering I never intended to authorize.
I watched it reach out a hand—a pale, paper-thin hand—and touch the walls of the pit. Where it touched, the stone bled. It is already claiming this place. It does not see Hell as a prison for the wicked; it sees it as a throne room. It sees the “damned souls” I thought would be here for justice, and it views them only as toys to be broken and discarded. I have retreated to the highest spires of the Light, but even here, the air feels thin and cold. The stench of the pit—the scent of wet paper and old blood—lingers on my robes.
Today, I watched through the veil as the Mimicer truly began its work. It is no longer just a shapeless shadow in the furnace. It has anchored itself to a specific point in the timeline of the world below. It has found her. It has found Claire.
It sat in the center of the Abyss and began to “practice.” I watched in horror as it pulled the ink from the very walls of Hell to stitch together a uniform—a green bow, a white collar, a face that looked like a mirror of innocence. But the imitation is wrong. It is too still. Its smile has too many teeth, and its eyes… they are voids that swallow the light I spent eons creating.
I saw it summon the first of the “Damned.” These were not souls who had earned their place there yet—they were echoes of those it intends to kill. It tore them apart, not out of anger, but out of curiosity. It wanted to see how much a soul could stretch before it snapped. It wanted to know the exact frequency of a scream so it could mimic it perfectly later.
I realized today that the Mimicer is not just a demon. It is a glitch in my creation. By making a place for “Evil,” I created a vacuum, and it filled that vacuum with a cruelty that even I, the Architect, cannot comprehend.
I thought about the girl, Claire. She is sleeping now in her world, unaware that an ancient, eldritch deity is currently wearing her skin in the dark, practicing how to walk in her shoes. She is an innocent, yet she will be the face of a nightmare that lasts forever.
I tried to reach down to erase the entity, to burn it out of existence with a single thought. But when I touched the edge of the pit, the Mimicer looked up. It didn’t flinch. It laughed. A sound of a thousand cracking bones.
“You cannot kill what you defined,” it whispered in a voice that sounded like Claire but felt like a funeral. I have closed my eyes, but I still see it. I have abandoned the Abyss, but I know it is growing. I have created a monster that even God is afraid to face.
Tomorrow, I will stop looking. But I will never stop hearing the screaming.
The Journal of the Mimicer
Day: 1 (The Beginning of the Feast)
The Architect thinks he created a prison. He thinks he built walls of fire and stone to contain the “wrong.” He is so very small.
He didn’t create this place. He simply opened a door, and I was the cold wi…[Read more]

what warning I didnt get any from youtube so thats not a me problem