Agent

Works like a symbiote in the sense that he has zero purpose other than to kill. He runs around, takes bodies, and tries to eat people. He has biospheric control over planets

Agent is a dark force, a parasite with an insatiable hunger, moving through the universe like a shadow, consuming everything in his path. Unlike Momentum, who brings balance, Agent exists purely to disrupt, to devour, to erase. He is a being driven by a singular, primal instinct: destruction. He takes no pleasure in his actions, no pride in his victories. He is empty, a void that endlessly seeks to fill itself by draining life and energy from all that crosses his path.

Agent is a living weapon, a symbiote that can merge with any host he chooses. He seeps into them like a poison, twisting their bodies to serve his purpose, warping their minds until there’s nothing left but his own relentless drive to consume. When he takes a host, it’s not a merger—it’s an invasion. He reshapes them from the inside out, stripping away their essence, their identity, until they are hollowed vessels through which he can extend his reach. With every new body, he gains a fresh canvas, a new set of strengths to exploit, though they are all just temporary shells, discarded once he’s drained them of use.

But Agent’s powers don’t end with physical possession. His influence extends over entire biospheres; he is a blight upon the ecosystems of the planets he touches. He reshapes environments to reflect his insidious nature, twisting forests into gnarled wastelands, turning rivers into murky, lifeless swamps. The skies darken in his presence, thickening with an unnatural, choking atmosphere, and the earth itself becomes hostile, as though rejecting life in his wake. Agent can command the very terrain, making it treacherous, creating ambushes and traps, manipulating plant and animal life to become extensions of his twisted will. A planet under Agent’s control becomes a desolate landscape, a haunting reminder of his relentless hunger.

For Agent, there is no end goal, no plan, no satisfaction to reach. His existence is an endless cycle of seeking and devouring, moving from one life form to the next, one world after another. He is a parasite on a cosmic scale, an entity without empathy, remorse, or desire for anything beyond his singular, horrifying purpose. Where Momentum brings a rhythm to the universe, Agent brings only a deafening silence, the aftermath of his feeding frenzy.

And yet, there is a strange tragedy to Agent, a horror in his emptiness. He has no desires of his own, no thoughts beyond the primal need to consume. He is both predator and prisoner, chained to a purpose he never chose, trapped in a cycle of death and decay. Agent is a force that cannot be reasoned with, cannot be changed, only avoided or—if one is unlucky enough to encounter him—survived. To face him is to face an endless hunger, a void that seeks to erase everything it touches. And for Agent, there is only one certainty: as long as there is life, he will continue his hunt, until the universe itself lies still and empty in his wake.