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by BloodOfPhantoms
A series of stories told from varying perspectives.
One
It was a cold, dusty day in Port Aier. Near winter, the air was not only slightly windy, but the streets were bustling with people. With a total population of 100,000, it was considered a small town... but nevertheless a town indeed. The year was 1996. By the time things happened, people had already crowded the area. The lines stopping cars, until police had to orderly push everyone over towards the sidewalk in one long, desperate attempt to keep the order. A young girl of 17, Bethany, took note of this like any other person with enough of the 5 senses. It would surely be on the local news, the blonde thought. An alien to the port, a strange mystic of a man that had set up a wooden table and chair within an alleyway, coming in at random to reportedly 'bless them' with the 'grace of god'. Or at least, that's how she remembered the whole thing started. Bethany, of course, did not believe a word that he was saying that very, early morning... and had simply went on to work her regular, monotone job as an assistant shopkeeper. That day, she was adorned with a pale blue dress that gave her the appearance of a gentle flower. As she worked, the thoughts had admittedly seeped into her mind during the entire shift and back. When she was done, she could see the line piling up from all the way outside the shop window. Stepping out for the time, she massaged at her precious locks nervously to the chattering of the anxiously waiting crowd. Her blue eyes cast to the top of what could be seen of the winding snake of a line, then to the bottom where the tail-end would have been. Strangely enough, she still could not comprehend it. "...Are the people of Port Aier really that desperate to *meet* God?" She spoke, aloud amongst the idle talking... which seemed to catch a puffy haired brunette woman's attention. She was dressed in a dark red skirt and a short sleeve, office uniform of the same color. Her place in the line was right next to Bethany, ahead of some of the others. "Ahh... you're right, young girl." The older woman conceded with a sigh, and a fairly depressed tone of voice, "I'm sure this wouldn't amount to anything, like the rest of this meagre life." Then, she forced a smile, and pulled Bethany's hand in close to which she appeared astonished. "Here, take my place," She whispered into her ears calmly and quietly. "And if anything happens out of the ordinary... call me." The woman then went off, taking her leave at once. Into the streets and off, she was gone. No one had seemingly noticed their exchange, or found enough issue to argue about it. The details of a business card was placed in the palm of her hand for a secretary, a Miss Margie Hugens. "...Ah great, now I'm stuck in this for the long-run, aren't I?" Bethany thought, after contemplating if she should just step out while she had the time to. Still, a form of guilt began to weigh in on her conscience after the woman had shown her such a stroke of kindness. Regardless, no matter what Bethany thought, this line of thinking trapped her judgment. Late afternoon turned into evening, and evening turned into harrowing night. At the end, her eyelids became droopy and lifeless; barely keeping up from falling asleep on herself past the uncomfortable position of standing, and walking up once another person had finished. She could finally see the end, however... the same man she saw before, just as energetic sounding as that morning. Finally, it became Bethany's turn. Her attention lit up upon noticing this, with only a few people still in line before her. "Yes hi, I would like to—" "Welcome!" The old, tanned skinned mystic greeted, "Not to be so anxious, little lady. All you have to do is pay 50 dollars, and you will receive my blessing to meet the lord yourself!" "*50 dollars*?!" Bethany exclaimed, clearly startled at the price. It was more than she would earn in two days work... making her wonder how much money this moustache and bearded man really made in that one day with nothing more than a scam. "Of course!" He said, matter-of-factly whilst crossing his hands along the tabletop. "Nothing is free in this life besides death!" "Umm..." Bethany faintly nodded, then decided to look into her purse with a slightly nervous haste. "...Not to take too long, now. You still have people waiting." He informed her as a reminder, watching. Bethany gathered up all she had, and placed in atop the table. The man then glanced her up, and looked back at the table down. There, bunches of untidy bills were sprawled out, and many rattling cents to go alongside it. "I hope that's not too much of an issue," The blonde said, almost frightened to walk away with nothing. "I c-counted, and—" "*Very well*!" He announced, in a very deep and dramatic tone. "You have my blessing, but..." Then, he beckoned her over with his hand. Bethany froze... but went over to him anyway, seeing as she had no other choice in the matter. Leaning in, she listened as he began to whisper. After the exchange was done, Bethany simply took the blessing, and went home. She was dirt-tired. Her legs sore from standing so much, all she could do was collapse into her bed; thoroughly reminded of how glad she was that she had her own place. She knew that her larger family would never stop with the endless barrage of questions as to where she was out this late, and even perhaps about the random event that took place that faithful day. In her purse, she swiftly retrieved what was given to her, and immediately began to recall his words. "Listen... between you and me, there is no God for these people." He had spoken to her, not long ago, "They are all scoundrels, hoping to fill that empty void in their heart with whatever their mind can produce for them as a dream tonight. It will be nothing more than an illusion, but they will believe it still. And those that see nothing, will see nothing. I still win here, and I will leave this town by the very next day." He continued, "You are different." He informed, fumbling into his pockets for something more and placing it fast into her palm like magic. "Take this, and hold onto it with all you have. Do not tell anyone that I gave you such a thing. Only view it when you are alone, and to yourself... and you will meet God." Then, he tightened his grip assuredly along her hand before releasing, and letting go. "You have my word... *next*!" Snapping back to her room, Bethany examined the golden amulet that was in her possession. The design was enigmatic. Many spirals and circles all covering around the middle, which was filled by a red, sparkling jewel she had never seen before. There were also red spots splattered along the golden design everywhere, staining its otherwise brilliant design. "Is that...?" She thought, but then dismissed her views. It really couldn't have been blood... could it? Her mind raced with more questions than answers, and as it did, she could have sworn that a level of warmth was felt when she touched along the strange item. It wasn't there before upon initially picking it up, but she could feel it then and there. Her eyes widened at this, putting it down atop her bed in shocked surprise, before picking it back up again. "...Cold." She gasped, and decided to place it along her bedside for the time being. "No one would know, right?" She wondered to herself. The item felt inherently important, and she just wondered why on Earth she would be given it by him specifically. Not being able to place a proper reasoning however (no matter how hard she tried), Bethany felt her eyelids begin to waver again. And before she knew it, she was fast asleep. It was all black, and she was but a star-child to other star children. All of the stars collided with each other, forming the cosmos as they danced to and fro. Eventually, the children became bored. They stopped, and learned a new dance. It all became so fast... and then, it all became so slow. Slowly, their dance cooled, and formed physical nature. Their game now was of the body... and then, of the flesh. They chose roles for each other which would stand the test of time. Each of them agreed upon this, and would stick to it. Once more, upon splitting, they would meet each other again during the end, to re-enact their dance once more; over and over again. Bethany knew this, because she was one of the star children. Everyone was, telling their tales, and their stories amongst an infinite consciousness. She could see all the great wars, and feel all the terrible sorrows which came from every living thing. On the contrary, she could also feel the heat of the deepest warmths, and the greatest happiness regarding birth, and all other special occasions. This all came at such a flash... and upon this, she realized that she was naked to what was considered the light. Her body was bare, her skin was aroused, and she itched thoroughly. Her skin flaked, and she scratched profusely. She found herself kneeling down in pain... and she itched. She itched, and itched, and itched... until she could only find blood against her nails from her flank, her stomach, cheek and shoulder. She cowered, fearing the ethereal light, and crawled for what she could find as a blanket to shield her from it... but there was nothing. She felt herself giving birth, but could see no child but herself. The child was nothing more than a mirror; a reflection of herself back at her. With this, however, there was a brief relief. She no longer itched, and the light seemed to flicker for but a moment. And such a moment it was. Then came the writing. Choirs filled her ears to the most decadent sound of point meeting parchment. In this white, she felt all scrolls around her. Sinking into the layered floor, and becoming the word universally. Then, there was a man. Or at least, from what she could see, a being. The singing was so thoroughly strong that she could not make out the words. In fact, her ears began to bleed after a while... and soon, became numb. Deaf. The being was nothing more than the man she had seen herself. But as a monster, his abyssal tendrils pulled out something far greater from his mouth. His blackened eyes cried ink, from which the very ground was written, and so was the white, blanketed sky above. And there, there was God. The form could not be described. All he wore was a mask, while he continued writing. One half was white, and the other black. Upon realization of this to her, the room turned a neutral gray. Bethany crawled meekly, flushed in awe like a child to their parent, reaching out her hand to request relief from her sorrows, from her suffering. The god changed, turning to forms of her parents, their parents, her friends, family, and other such loved ones... even strangers whom she had never known, from time to time. But yet, it still did not answer her cries along the deafening choirs. Such love was bare. She was its fruit, and she knew this. The comfort of this fact became great. And "Bethany", was satisfied. She gave birth to many great ones, who all took the form of God in her place... and while the being continued writing, half a smirk, and half a frown etched upon its face... She could see that God was the Devil, and the Devil was God, and she, herself, was God. The cycle would continue like this, but she would forget everything. For that, was regarded as the greatest mercy.
Two
"What do we do in a world that is predominantly ruled by evil?" The pastor inquired, before saying, "Let us pray." A grin lit up among Ezekiel's face, followed by a chuckling snort from his fiance right next to him, Alana. They were in a private theatre of sorts, watching on from the side seats at a recording of a church being conducted before it was immediately raided, and everyone slain. A long, savory lick followed Ezekiel's lips as they both laughed giddily together, truly within the depths of a very romantic, enjoyable love as "young adults". The bittersweet sounding keys of the organ crashed along with the pastor to the beat of their own bloodshed, followed by Alana shouting out, "Oh look, there I am!" She smiled, gingerly. "And there you are...? Oh yeah, that's absolutely you!" "You came in first?" Ezekiel inquired with a fist placed to his chin in thoughtful recollection. "...That's not how I remember it." "Then you simply were in your own mind, swinging around that sword of yours!" She sighed, then laughed some more. It was only the two of them, there, within that audience. They were both dressed in appropriate, fanciful black for such an occasion; her bountiful dress, and his neat shirt and pants. And they kissed to reaffirm the conquest of their goals. Alana's straight, voluminous black hair readily complimented his own in a uniquely shorter, fluffier variety, while both had fair skin; truly making it seem like the universe meant for them to be together. Their hearts flourished for each other, with synchronous red eyes that bled for each other... and they would have passionate, rough sex within their bedroom once they were done there. These were the next known King and Queen of the Essylian Knights, a group of beings both past and future that would extend their rule across all of time. The hierarchy was written out by the potential for evil sensed within one's heart. That way, they would be sure that their rule remained for generations, upon generations to come, given their near unwavering level of immortality for all. Essentially, the more they killed, was the more these souls would function as their body armor. In turn, they used their opponents' very last screams and cries against them, making it so that typically the higher the kill count, the stronger they became both offensively and defensively. It was understood, and commonly known within this universe that time truly operated as virtually nothing amongst the rules of the world, inclusive of magic. Thus, if one knew how to through various possible means, they could potentially reverse or "keep hold" on their process of aging. There were then those that embraced these exploits, and those that did not. Of course, such lack of progression could come with certain "cons" for the body, which is why most opted to just age slower instead, once choosing their individual methods for doing so. The Essylian Knights, for instance, used the power gathered from the aforementioned souls to acquire this level of depth within their own souls. Just like everyone else with some form of power in the universe (which was not at all rare anymore, and only rarer in higher potencies), they would hop from respective timeframe to timeframe. However, what they would do was vanquish those they saw fit within said timeframe, making them inevitably cease to exist. Such act usually did not remove all traces of said murdered individuals within the entire multiverse, however... but it did affect their existence greatly. If one was removed from a universe, the effect would ripple across their being among other universes; potentially causing them to also die in the other universes through 'freak accidents', or other kinds of misfortune which would have chances to befall them depending on the severity of the initial universal self's death. This is essentially how they handled all their enemies... and the more power a group had with this gift of exploring time after time, the harder they were to be rid of within the universe. Later sometime in the afternoon, the two had stepped into a black, overtly expensive car that drove them to their next destination. The streets were normal, the skies overcast. The organization had been laced with both technology, and magic through and through. They, for one, kept a balance... and thus, for finding the places they needed, they would frequently use different tracking devices to locate such waypoints. But for more specific tasks, and / or where technology would fail, they would quicker opt for a seer. Many perspectives within the many realities were often personalized towards the individual, meaning that not everyone saw, or experienced the exact same thing... but such would still exist nevertheless. Ezekiel turned to his to-be wife within the back seat of the car, as the two of them sat there being escorted by two bodyguards. She wore black sunglasses, and a dainty-looking top hat of the same color. Ezekiel wore a matching suit... and of course, the color black which they almost always adorned in some form or fashion (even present within their emblem) was associated with the darker will they represented. These forms they took, however, were all disguises in some form or the other. One had to fit what time they were in. Ezekiel and Alana were regarded as initially human, but they could not say the same for the habitually silent bodyguards that often accompanied them. There were many intelligent races and species alike; there was no limit to the varying madness of this existence. The order the knights created, and sewed through their chaos however, would be something considered natural within the vastness that had become of it all. "That priest the other day..." Ezekiel spoke up, interrupting the silence, "He clearly did not understand the ways of our people, in that there is no expressive good or evil among the depths of power." "And you are surprised?" Alana questioned, curiously. Sticking a piece of bubblegum in her mouth, she chewed at a casual pace... then blew one big bubble with a loud pop sounding out. "Ask yourself this... if you were in their shoes, weak and feeble no matter their age... wouldn't you also rely on the pre-established notions of 'good and evil'?" She told him, explaining, "It really only is a coping method for those lesser. I'm sure you understand." "Yes." Ezekiel replied, before they would both feel the car coming to a definitive halt, reaching said destination. "Well... I will do as I must." Exiting out of the car, Ezekiel recalled that this was usually how their conversations went. Most of the reason, he brought it down to fundamentally, was that Alana was over 500 years old, while he was a small 55 in contrast. Hence, she typically had a wiser advantage over most of her former husbands. They both did not look it though, as they, like many others, defied age. Alana had been Queen for almost an entire century within a literally timeless organization, making her status known amongst the history of the Essylian Knights. Among her many established titles, the highest one she carried was the "Chief Embarkment of Dread", which was only gained when one had the combat expertise to consistently be the major turning point within harsher battles. Thus, respect was still earned within the organization, but to have the highest potential of evil within its large ranks was already respect enough. While Ezekiel stepped out, he walked into what would be a circus building... but was actually cast under a spell of illusion. Strange occurrences like these were commonplace within these times, as everything had already blurred together more often than not. It became hard to separate anything, but such was just another one of the Essylian Knight's goals through power. The circus music blared both loudly, and faintly within Ezekiel's ears; changing the more he walked, and even distorting at times. A voice was quiet in the distance over the PA system somewhere... but most of the place was outlined through shadows among the otherwise dim, yellow lights. To him, it had felt like a maze of corridors. Two sword-wielding banshees were felt among the darkness of one such area. They screamed, clad in grey armor and ghastly fog, faces half torn to reveal skull. Quickly, Ezekiel summoned his blade, and wasted no time on his slashes. The ghoulish ghosts dissipated into thin air at once, making it seem like nothing. These were petty creatures of the darkness, which he drew to his own stained sword. Its hilt was adorned with two sided red rubies where the souls would reside, trapped in a permanent reflective haze. The rest of it was originally an enchanted silver, yet has become stained black the more time has progressed. The brilliance of its craftsmanship was known throughout his originating lands, and it was something that he had blessed for him specifically by the organization. Ezekiel was a rarer case than most, in that he could not use the past king's weapon, which was often made tradition to be passed down despite leaving the previous wielder temporarily weaponless. However, this was not a first-time occasion, of course... and as such, a simple transfer of souls was necessary in order to carry the power over. Such came with the blessing of Ezekiel's blade; a fearsome thing that could take down a large orc in a single swing. He followed the lessening of the circus' noise, confiding in his ears as a guide to assist him in sorting out the weak points of the illusion. When he found it, and the entire area became deafeningly hush, the man sliced into it with a single swing. With a deep breath, he then entered its true reality through the blinding white. He found himself entering into a school of sorts, but it was definitely not one such as ordinary. This was a school of mystics... those who specialized in the arts of magic. Entering into a classroom in session, gasps were heard all throughout the teenage many. Another dim room, only to be lit up by organized candles which flickered in the form of a circle. The many of the class wore burgundy red hoods, while what appeared to be the instructor in the middle wore purple. The cut in reality had then healed after a fair couple of seconds, and the rift between closed shut. "...Through false contemplation, you fools remain among the many." Ezekiel spoke, calmly, "A vile grouping that has nothing but the puniest touches of arcane rubbish within the confines of space and time, where I now dwell undefeated." The room turned deathly soundless, except through the echoes of his voice. "I will not deal with such rubbish anymore. I require the presence of Yao." He demanded, "His whereabouts *must* be known. If they are not, I will slaughter everyone in this room without question." The thickened silence remained... to which Ezekiel stamped his foot and traced a screeching scar within the classroom's wall. It wailed with all the souls within his blade, almost tearing another rift through the reality had it not been for the dragging along the side. "*Well*?" He called out once more, thoroughly annoyed, and ready to begin bloodshed. "...Ezekiel?" A female voice shot out, "You've... joined with the Essylian Knights?!" A small twitch could have been observed amongst his temper, that unyielding, stoic expression finding weakness. "Serpathna." He growled, before throwing his blade and piercing her heart... then summoning it back to him at once through a dismal, black smoke. "You... were always a pain against my throat." "No!" The female instructor cried out, desperately clutching the girl as she fell to the ground with a bloody premise amongst screams and cries. "How could you?!" She screamed out, and cast a spell of vengeance through icy, glowing eyes, twisting and turning a beam of darkness over to him. The area around Ezekiel turned a misty black, but he quickly found the imp that was troubling him and cleaved it in half. In that short time, many students had risen and were just about to run out the door... until one did just that, body evaporating into ashes with the remainder of his screams. The rest immediately halted, stopping. "...As if I didn't think you would go for something like that, Miss Juniper." He then pointed his blade at her, "Admittedly, I did not recall such girl being a psychic that could see right through my front." Tears welling within her eyes, she still clutched Serpathna with a loving grasp... while the others watched on in fear, trapped and almost too shocked to move. "You have worsened," Juniper declared, a mixture of anger and disappointment within her tone, "Far greater than anything I could have imagined." Ezekiel watched, then pointed his blade away from her. "A threat!" A girl shouted out, also distraught, "You've become a threat, but you must leave us alone! We have done you nothing but offer good will!" "...Nothing?" He smirked, "I recall my long past... before leaving this dreaded institution." Ezekiel spoke deeply, then sighed as he slowly circled around. "You people have no hope. Only fragments, that you so tragically cling on to." Casually, he pointed the tip of his blade at Serpathna's corpse among Juniper. "...Case in point, but sadly, I don't have the time for this. "Let me make this clear," He continued, "You have been dealing with an over 1000 year old Yao that has been with you for the past decade. He has been hopping through possession from body to body in a vain attempt to escape our knights... and I will not rest properly until he is found, and hereby executed." "I do not believe you—" "You do not need to," He said, cutting off Juniper's speech, "I only require information... and nothing more." "What you *require* is a good ass-whooping!" A younger, darker skinned boy exclaimed. Ezekiel sighed once more, this time deeply so. "I was afraid you were going to say that, Markus." Raising his hand, the boy swiftly fell to his knees, hood falling to reveal his brown hair and eyes flailing, "Ebony." "Stop!" Juniper shouted, but to no avail. "Ebony, o las Ebony." Ezekiel chanted, as he stared Juniper dead in the eyes. Darkened needles impaled Markus in reverse, causing him to lose oxygen fast as they dug their way out of his face and neck. "Sacramento an... o las Ebony." "Fine!" A voice erupted from the worried chattering, to which a shorter, pale girl stepped out from the rest with her hood off. "I'll tell you everything I know about Yao... as long as you leave here at once immediately after." As the chanting stopped, the boy kneeling seemed to regain his breath at once, but was left bleeding from where the needle-like protrusions gave way. Each then fell out, with a noisy clattering against the floor before disappearing. "...Indresa," Ezekiel smirked, with a sick insanity within his widely opened eyes. "You were *always* my favorite. Tell me *everything* you know."
Three
The hallways were troublesome to navigate for Ezekiel's getaway, more than he would have liked to admit. Through each rift that he sliced and entered through, it seemed that there was a pervasive magic inherent to the academy which tampered with his escape from that particular reality. There were guards everywhere that were already alerted of his presence, but they would not be able to catch up to him in time. Still, on the fourth swing and dive into another fake exit; Ezekiel's stamina soon began to wane. "After him!" A male, robed guard's voice echoed through the rather empty hallways. Most of the classes were in session at this time, making it freely spacious for Ezekiel to weave his way through any obstacles or passing students. He manifested a tablet whilst running, accessing it quickly through sleight of hand and reviewing the known map of the current area. His eyes scanned quickly amongst all the details, before letting the device disappear just as it had come. "...Very well." He said to himself, thereafter coming to a halt atop a staircase leading into two others on each side. A reflective, stained glass decorative of many colors rested atop from where he stood, a bit of a means away. The sunset's light shone through warmly. "*Pronta*!" One of the guards went, causing Ezekiel to flinch at the speed of the attack. He blocked it in time, but the lightning that dispersed from the spell shot across and into his body. "Pests." He grumbled, and kicked his sword over to that guard at such a force to instantly decapitate his head. Disappearing through puffs of smoke before it could even impale a wall, he needed it for the job no longer. Ezekiel let his rage go, shrieking with an ear-piercing wail as he grew dark feathers at a rapid pace. Before the astonished guards, he had transformed his humanoid body into a crow-like beast, encompassed with a crow's head itself. Ezekiel, despite serving 11 years, was still much too new within the Essylian Knights in order to gain an official title for himself besides King. Instead, he was known under the informal alias of "The Black Bird", for this very transformation which was inherent to him, and him alone. From there, he flew, and crashed through the glass at an astonishing speed; halting in mid-air, and carefully sealing himself between his wings, wrapping them around him. "Finished?" Alana asked him, just to confirm that all was done. His thoughts, which had led him to his eyes within the sealed state, brought him back to the setting of the car; right before he had exited from its door. "...Finished." He stated, and the car then drove off again... leaving the area for good. A thin silence came over the vehicle, until it was broken by Alana's inquisitive nature. She lowered her shades to reveal the reds of her eyes to him; the color reflecting off of each others. "You seem more fatigued than usual," The Queen teased, asking, "Did something happen in there that took you by surprise?" Ezekiel looked at her, then gave a small breath. "No... not particularly, why?" She reached over, and with savor licked across the side of his face lavishly, with a distinct slowness to her motions. When she was done with the singular gesture, she leaned back and showed him her tongue. A drop of sweat remained there, atop Alana's tongue, not mixing in with her saliva, but kept clear for him to see. Then, she swallowed it. "You've failed to keep your cool, and you have also lied to me." She leaned back, putting her shades back on and casually blowing another bubble from her gum, bringing it back up from under her tongue. Ezekiel grimaced. "Failure to act accordingly will result in your title being revoked, may I remind you." She chewed, grinning, "And furthermore, it would be a shame if that were to happen whatsoever." "...Why so?" Ezekiel asked, although a bit hesitant for an answer. "Well... ya do make a pretty good fuck!" Alana admitted, with a giggle. "Either way, we're done here... the information you've gathered will be more than sufficient in finding him. "Now, as we discussed." She spoke, pulling out a white, crystallized gem from her pocket. With a faint nod, the male did as he was told, and peered through to the gem, internalizing its shine against his all-encompassing darkness... and allowing it to take him. He groaned out in pain, but slowly felt the relief's aftereffect of dissipating. "That's it... slowly." She encouraged her husband, as his body began to form into crystals while simultaneously breaking, and fading away. "We will meet again in time, I assure you." It did not take long for Ezekiel's body to disappear entirely from the backseat. "But are you really going to kill your best friend...?" A voice echoed through his memory. "He was never my best friend. Never was, never will be." "It was all a lie— *lie— lie— lie— lie— lie— lie*..." Suddenly, he was inside a quaint house in the middle of the late afternoon, by the looks of it. The sun's rays both felt and looked this way, and the atmosphere was overly peaceful... to the point of perhaps even feeling ominous. It did not seem normally designed, as there were spaces between some of the walls where numerous windows resided, and a random wooden staircase which followed him down from the height he was atop; apparently on some form of level. He walked down it, and spotted an object rested on a nearby table of the same material. Examining it closer, Ezekiel could tell that it was a game controller. "Welcome!" A dark skinned, plump looking woman with black hair, brown eyes and a white, colorful shirt and skirt called out, walking forward with a grin. "You must be Ezekiel." He immediately turned his attention to her, with a glare. She opened her eyes in a bit of surprise, smile slightly wavering before keeping intact. "You know, Yao's told me all about you?" She prattled on, "I'm sure you even know what this is, right?" She then held out a piece of paper. On it, were anonymously designed, decorative letters with a yellow dust that looked to be rubbed off already. He tensed in place. "Poison, in the disguise of a letter for my son." Her grin widened, as she crumpled it up and threw it behind her. "You've really outdone yourself, Ezekiel!" "By the way, he's over there." She pointed, past an opening to where the wall was... to which he could see a teenage boy waving at him from afar, past the glass of another part of the mysterious, greatly spacious dwelling. "Like I said, he's told me *all* about you, but you would do best to give up now, seeing as you couldn't even notice him upon your first entrance here." "*Enough*." Ezekiel stated, and summoned his blade to then aerodynamically flip, kicking at it and sending it flying towards the smiling mother at an extremely fast speed. Space bent back between her side, allowing the sword to pass through before she picked at the hilt with a near unreactable speed, and tossed it back straight with the first two of her fingers. He gasped, eyes widening before ducking and letting it fly off into the hallway behind him while scraping against the roof; bringing his hand up in command to allow it to dissipate into black smoke, and return back to his possession carrying the dusky trail. "...What are you?" "A demon." She said, smile fading into a frown, and with a much more serious, deep tone resounding against her voice, "And I won't let you take my son away from me." Ezekiel calmed down, before just chuckling. He laughed and laughed, to her astonishment... as if finding the most hilarious of jokes within her most recent words. "Oh lady..." He smirked, knowingly. "You're going to have more than hell coming for that nuisance's life, believe me." Then, just as he had said that, a white dragon came crashing down from the heavens and into the large yard surrounding the house, causing the entire ground to shake, and the foundations and nearby glass to crack with its impact. Ezekiel took the opportunity to dash through it all, and slash into one of the walls, speedily entering in through the cut of reality. "EZEKIEL!" Was all he would hear screaming at him in a monstrously darkened tone, before the wound healed, and he was gone. Falling close to forest ground with the sounds of commencing chaos in the distance, he quickly caught himself by rolling forward and landing in a crouched position, letting out a sigh of relief. "Counting yourself out already?" A familiar voice cooed, to which he turned around to see his Queen walking towards him, still in the same overlaying outfit. "...When did you just decide to arrive?" He asked, looking up at her as she spat out her gum, and smiled. "Oh, me?" She pointed upwards, "I just came in with them, obviously." From where she pointed, there came the Essylian Knights that possessed flight, along with their infamous, abyssally four-winged, serpentine-like beast which swooped down to continuously fight the other. Its arms were six, and it brought lightning and thunder in its wake, clouding the sky dark; carrying the name of Epiana-Re. "Ahh, of course." Ezekiel rolled his eyes. "All according to plan, then." "Honestly, you're a bit slow compared to most Kings I've been with," Alana teased, giggling... before letting her back fall into a blackened void, which consumed her body entirely. "Try to keep up, would'ya?" Ezekiel grumbled with another quick exhale; stepping forward and cutting through to reality again, entering inside. This time, he was back to the scene of battle itself. Atop the collapsed remnants of the oddly designed house, he crouched. There, were the actual demons and angels battling it out, among otherwise mortals and immortals (and their mixtures). Demons and angels were highly advanced technological and spiritual entities alike (for they were one in the same) which existed in a plentiful quantity within each seam of reality. The difference between what made a mortally made immortal stray from these true divine entities is their past, as these creatures were born divine (and even a born immortal was not necessarily a demon and angel, either). Three came up on his flank: freakish beings with many eyes among their vessel. These wielded holy spears, along with their wings which all carried the splattering of fresh blood. "Hmff!" Ezekiel flipped back, dodging an attack before delivering a horizontal slice upon the one which brought the blow, severing them in two as they screamed out. He deflected the other one's thrusting attack with his blade, but could not account for the insanely quick swing of the other, knocking him off the fallen housing's roof and onto the ground below. Ezekiel put a hand to his cheek in realization that he was bleeding. At first, it surprised him, seeing as such had not been done before in so long... and then it enraged him. "*Zeal*!" He shouted, pulling one of the angel's holy life forces towards him, and then letting its armored chest meet his blade, piercing through perfectly. The other was already flying towards him, but was almost immediately cut off by a spell from an Essylian caster; covering them in a roaring, off-tinted black energy before exploding the angel from within the built-up pressure. "I have your back, my liege," The witch said, revealing themselves from a shadow, and subsequently walking out from it as if in the motions of climbing a staircase. Robed as these types of Essylian Knights usually were, she brought herself down to the crouched Ezekiel, and touched upon his face; healing it almost instantly. "There." "...A caster and a healer?" He spoke, a definitive rarity to have a dedicated both, he was sure. The supposedly older, taller woman chuckled. "Yes. I go by Eliana." She introduced, and he could see that her hair was a bright blonde behind her hood, "It is strange... originally I was made from a piece of the one we currently call Queen, but I have turned out to have a much different role than her." "What?" Ezekiel's mouth hung open a little, finding the sudden information unheard of. "...How is that possible—" Just then, Epiana-Re's chaotic dragon fire came raining down from the skies after missing the blow onto the opposing white dragon in flight. The two both cast an appropriate elemental fire shield with involuntary response, but found themselves still being blown away by the blast some. Almost all of the grounded forces who took the hit directly found their bodies scattered and wiped out, including some of their own. "I suppose it is something you did not know," She spoke, while the dragons' screeching in the background remained through the aerial conflict of many beings. Ezekiel did not notice this at first, but bodies were also dropping like rain left and right. "One day, I'm sure it will be explained to you of the many secrets regarding the one you call 'Alana'." With another pained grimace, Ezekiel looked away, "You do tend to have the same aura, come to think of it..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Anyway... where is she?" "Up there," Eliana pointed to the skies, "Riding Epiana-Re in assistance against the other." Ezekiel gasped, "She's also a... dragon-rider?" Eliana snickered, which reminded him much of Alana's laughter... but he wasn't sure if it was merely coincidence, "The Queen is many things. We are very lucky to have her... I too, with my very own existence." "You must not keep your disguise on for much longer, however... I can sense that it is draining a sum of your energy by the minute." She continued, "It is not necessary on the battlefield." Ezekiel flinched, doing so at once to reveal his true, knightly armor of refined onyx and metal infusions. "I am sorry... I had forgotten." "There is no need to apologize to me." Eliana said, drawing a small smile. They stood there for a small while in silence before Ezekiel spoke up again, "For now, we must eliminate this reality's cognition at its sources." "Sources?" The witch asked, "...You mean to say there are more than one?" "As odd as it may seem, I believe just that." "Then what of the traitor, Yao?" She inquired, further. "We must dispel of him at once." "I am aware," He replied, "But we have not a clue of where he is, now do we?" "..." She stood there, eying around just as he did. There, they both spotted something simultaneously in the distance. "I believe I see the next best thing," Ezekiel spoke. "As do I." Ezekiel flew over there while in his form of a crow. The sleek form allowed him to slip through the cracks of the reforming house with ease... thereafter allowing the transformation to dissipate once landing. "Is *this* what you meant by bringing hell upon my home, Ezekiel?" The mother asked, from an upstairs level while she faced away from him, fixing more of the destroyed dwelling with each hand she waved. Ezekiel, summoning his blade again, wondered just how to deal with her... one of the sources. Within that world, the very role could potentially make her singlehandedly stronger than each of the dragons. As such, he held his stance... waiting for the right moment to attack, and then leaping forward from where he stood. "It wasn't worth it," She told him, still not casting her gaze upon the man. "You are not even worth the trouble that you create. No matter how much you succeed... you are just that weak." Ezekiel ran, scaling a wall sideways as she spoke, and then jumped. He let the circular rotation of his body guide him in striking the blow; sensing himself land a decisive slice through the woman diagonally right in front of her. Cut in two, he saw her body split... but then watched as her head began to turn a pale gray, and inflate exponentially. Her expression turned into a sickened frown, anger wrinkling at her skin. "*...What*?!" He thought in his mind, getting ready to leap away until feeling her regular hand touch against his chest; sending Ezekiel flying with an extremely powerful force into the crashing wall, and breaking the entire structure all over again. There, he found himself bleeding profusely on the ground, before realizing that his body had also split in two. "A divine retribution, *Ezekiel*." She taunted him from her place above, still cut herself... yet keeping her form somehow intact. "I will do *whatever* it takes to protect my son, even if it means I have to die myself." "Sadly, you will be the only one dead." Another feminine voice said. "Huh?" The woman spoke up, glaring, "...Who was that?!" Emerging from a long shadow cast upon Ezekiel, Eliana came up with her head down. "I was there, serving as my lord's protection within his dying moment." She explained calmly, showing her hand to his healing body as it returned itself anew. "In the end, you were the only one harmed within that exchange where I told him to attack freely... thus, you have sealed your fate, and Yao's." "*No*!" The woman screamed out, her head slowly shrinking and returning back to normal as she collapsed from where she stood; reaching out her hand in pure agony, tears streaming down her face. "...*M-my s-son*—" She could not finish her sentence while the rest of the slash's effect finally came upon her. She fell, body left in two before dissipating into a blackened dust; soul becoming one with Ezekiel's blade past his panting, weary breath. "...There is only one source, now." She reminded the still healing Ezekiel, "Their presence has been made much stronger due to that one being eliminated." "...V-very well." Ezekiel acknowledged, rising with his blade. "Thank you, by the way." "There is no need." Eliana assured him, before slinking back into the shadows once more, "There is still much work to be done on the battlefield. I trust that you will carry out your end of the mission without me." Then, she had completely vanished. She was right, in that Ezekiel was able to find Yao much more easily through presence alone, as he then walked up to his slumped, fallen body against the remains of his broken home. Yao, who resembled much of his mother, stared into what looked to be nothing. His brown eyes seemed dead, to the point where Ezekiel thought that he was indeed eying that of a corpse... but such was not so. There was life felt. "You." Ezekiel spoke, finally getting the chance to point his blade right at him. "Do not *dare* move another muscle. It is *over*." "I'm sure," Yao responded, with a smile. "Do you see yourself as a winner now?" He asked Ezekiel, before turning his head back to stare off into the void again. "Sowing all these paths of destruction... where do you see yourself ending up, later on?" Ezekiel did not respond. "Not destroyed yourself?" Yao continued, "My friend... my enemy, you have become shameless. I am only disappointed at what this life has become." There, a dragon's sharp cry erupted out in pain as it fell nearby, causing another ground breaking impact. Neither Ezekiel nor Yao flinched however, keeping their positions like statues; one hostile, and the other passive. "I do not care for fighting anymore," Yao said, looking over to his once ally again, "You may take my life, here and now. These 1000 years have not been kind... but I am remorseful regardless." Ezekiel then let his false projection go, darting at Yao from the left instead of his previous right, and slamming the entirety of his blade into the being's neck. "...I'm sure this will be more insulting to you than if I fought back," Yao smiled widely, blood spraying out from his open, wounded body through the resistance of that immortal flesh. "...And thus, I am satisfied." "*GRAH*!" Ezekiel struggled, but his blade was only able to gradually cut through Yao's body for whatever reason, despite him putting all of his force in. "...And still, you struggle." It was there that a thorned, blood-stained black whip came from the opposite side, and clasped itself around Yao's neck. It coiled, and a knight-armored Alana was revealed to be pulling on the other side. "Do not speak to him with your worthless words, traitor." Alana announced, also using her force against his exceedingly resilient flesh. "You will *die*, a forgotten relic without anything, while *we* will remain in power for all *time*!" As both blackened sword and whip met Yao's neck... something finally gave throughout all of his smiling. Yao's head immediately blew up once it detached from his body, not able to handle the compiled pressure of the two forces. Splattered in their enemy's blood, and both panting quite heavily... the war was over. The King and Queen both bathed in the blood which continuously flew out from his neck, and became even more like the beasts they truly were. Bringing themselves closer while fallen against the ground, the two kissed passionately under the pouring blood, and soon found themselves upon each other once more, having an intense display of intercourse right then and there. Yao's forces faded soon after, as him being the source of that reality was then dealt with, and there was no more power to draw from before said reality soon began to crumble, like an aging page within a book. They kept fucking, and fucking even as it was over; their love and lust for each other truly unmatched. Through the sheer orgasms of dark pleasure, their minds blown... and resuming ever the more passionately as starved beasts. It was all that they could do, ultimately and inevitably, as two infinitely powerful, divine beings. After all... Every moment lasts forever.
Four
A male teenager, Mark, sat on his bed in his old dusty room locked from the inside, while the tension was building upon itself immensely. Only the slights of sunset's light entered past his closed, dirty window. The blade of a knife was centered against his throat, and then along the side, and back again. And as the natural sweat poured down from his face to the point of instinctively licking at it with his tongue, he had no choice but to feel for the right spot... and hope that the sweet release would carry him over. One shot, and it slit cleanly. All he could see was a spurting, warm feeling with long lines of red staining his white bedsheets. black t-shirt, and brown shorts, until falling and... white. White itself, filling what could be assumed was his vision, except... his body was already dead. "Hello," A woman calmly spoke towards him, to which he just sat there on a purple, glowing platform in the middle of nowhere with other similar platforms along a starry sky background. As he looked up, he could see the woman's face, standard in appearance. A fair, black, straight and long haired girl with brighter brown eyes than his that appeared to be of some asian descent, he assumed. She wore a black, unisex dress that made her look almost alien to the child. He blinked, confused and almost in that of a daze as he stared at his reddened hands and the rest of his body, seemingly unharmed and clothed as normal; remnants of the blood and the mark to his throat still present, yet not felt. "The dead aren't supposed to spawn here," She informed him, "You're supposed to be somewhere else. Let me transport you there no—" "W-wait, what?!" The boy raised himself up in surprise, prodding at his open wound to feel something... anything, but it would not budge. Not even a single pain could be realized by his being. And he just kept checking almost madly, with eyes opened widely in sheer astonishment. "...Are you done?" The person before him then turned into a taller man, with white hair and an otherwise similar facial appearance. "Good, now let me just—" "Stop!" He shouted again, then paused at the supposedly new entity in front of him, "I-I... w-what...?" The boy fell to his knees, almost in a sorrowful and fully vain way. Yet, he could not cry, either. Faint weeping came from his mouth, but that was all past his lowered head in shame. "...W-what is this place?" The teenager glanced around, flabbergasted with a big, open mouth. "If you keep interrupting me like this, you'll never hear the answer." The man simply said, "And even then, there are better people for this. Dealing with the dead is not my protocol, hence, I should not." "...Ahh." The boy frowned, appearing disappointed, which left the man's expression only to poke up in elation. "Oh!" He reached down to the kneeling child, and touched at and over his mouth and the rest of his facial features, "How cute!" The boy looked confused, to which the man immediately picked up on, and then seemingly transformed into a woman again before his very eyes, the next time he happened to gaze at them. "We don't get many emotions here anymore." She chuckled, "We can't feel much. Our sensory capabilities have been limited ever since in order to keep us from the more negative emotions... although that technically leaves all emotions left out too, in a sense, besides in one's memories." "...But you," She went on, "You just came from the dead, so you are more than capable of showing these cute, little things." She smiled, pinching at his cheek. The boy got up in a startled daze. "T-then I didn't succeed?" He asked, before looking down to see the translucency of the purple platform below him, screaming at the imperceivable height, "Where am I?!" "Oh," The woman answered, also standing back up, "All dead, from all universes, eventually fast forward to this one, singular point." There, she raised a finger, and a black dot appeared atop of it before becoming surrounded with a similarly purple glow. About what looked to be a million other, smaller dots followed suit, and their outline glowed as well all the same. White dotted lines formed among each, connecting them all to the original dot which then rested at the center. "These smaller depictions are all the universes which exist, connecting to the singularity. This has all happened already, however... because time is only something that is kept within the body." "...What?" The boy glared at her as if she was absolutely insane, "...That's not heaven or hell at all!" The woman chuckled, then laughed some more in a partially boisterous fashion. "Ahh, you are a gift! I forgot how fascinating it is to feel plastered with idiotic questions against my being!" She mused, pointing at her face excitedly, "Look, I'm even laughing!" "Umm..." The boy just became dumbfounded, and overwhelmed in the lady's awkward presence, so he sat down again. He assumed he should have been more nervous, as he let a hand rest against his chest to touch at his body again. "I-I..." He jumped from his seat, startled. "I don't have a heartbeat anymore!" "You are quicker than most to realize that." She said, "Perhaps it was because of my aid... although that would then mean you are actually slower than most." "Ok ok ok— okay." Mark spoke up, "Just... quickly explain to me all of this in some layman's terms. And maybe just introduce yourself, first?" "Names are not necessary here," He informed him, simply, as the being had turned back into a male again. Then, he immediately turned back into a woman, and smirked. "...But I suppose you can call me Jericho." "...Mark," He said, still trying to find an appropriate way to feel properly freaked out about the situation. But it felt like he was fighting against some invisible current, so to speak, just to feel anything. Like hitting a brick wall, over and over, yet left endlessly numb. "Very well, Mark." She chuckled, "While I could just upload all the data to your memory with a single touch," She gestured over with her index finger, placing it forward in front of his sitting being. "It will probably overwhelm you too much to be worth anything substantial... even though that is considered protocol." "In fact, I have already gone off protocol for you." Jericho snickered, "So I suppose to continue doing so is fine enough." Mark didn't know what to say in response, so he just kept his mouth shut for the time being and let the woman, man, or whatever they were speak for themselves. "Oh, finally just listening, are we?" She picked up, instantaneously. "Very well, but you may leave questions wherever and whenever you desire." And so, many different transparent, crystal clear ovals appeared all around them, with various scenes taking place in each and every one. "What you see before you is all just a game," She pointed out literally, while dragging one of the ovals down seamlessly, "This one was yours. These are all realities, which exist within the illusion of time and ultimately serve as the one you called God's contingency plan. Yet... their continuous 'plan' to be reformed was also ultimately their undoing." "This is neither objectively heaven, nor hell, but the point where all these realities converge into, once the dominant species of that reality reaches the technological or spiritual point of singularity." She continued on, "...Which they all, of course, do." "As such, it is, and was all predetermined." Jericho smiled, lowering herself down to his glassy, confused eyes, "You were always meant to kill yourself, Mark. And upon doing so, your mind was finally able to be freed from the slow bulk that was your previous, fleshy body weighing you down, allowing your consciousness to gather to this point where we are at current." "Okay, um—" He shivered, trying to register some level of fright, "I-I'm ready to go to that other place you mentioned, now." "The meeting place of the dead has come and gone for you," The man then spoke, "For some universal reason, you were placed here to be in my care, as everything happens for a reason." "A glitch, perhaps," He mentions, "But it happens, from time to time." "We are all parts of the one God that is stuck within an eternal loop, after all." Jericho sighed, "...But you should've seen this. In your time, it is called a 'plan-it'. It's only a slight rearranging of the word; nothing more." Mark, admittedly, was only half-listening then, more-so intrigued in the ovals which had spawned numerous realities, as he got up to watch closer. Wars, news stations, people going about their daily lives, creatures which did not appear familiar to him whatsoever, and all kinds of other things showed up among each and every one of them. He was, simply put, in awe. And as such, it was a real feeling. "You see, God never had a choice to exist, or not to exist." Jericho explained further, "Burdened or blessed with that fact, he gave us the concept to perceive the illusory 'free will', out of mercy. This came in the form of bodies... trapping the consciousness within us. But our minds..." Jericho pointed to his head, while Mark finally turned around and observed, "There's nothing in here, now." He chuckled, "The body keeps the living limited to the concept of time, but the mind does not." "The material could never contain the consciousness of the mind entirely," Jericho shrugged, "Hence, you may travel to all these different realities in what you call 'dreams', yet be forced to return to your illusory lives as a direct necessity from the body." Mark shook his head, remaining almost entirely bewildered yet supposedly catching up to what Jericho was saying, "...So am I alive right now, or dead?" "Neither, and both at the same time." Jericho smiled, "Welcome to your 'heaven', or your 'hell'... depending on how you look at it. Here, you do not have to suffer again... but you will soon miss that suffering, due to your memories. Very much." "And without that suffering, you also have no happiness here. Yet, everything you can think and conceive of lays in waiting for you, within your possession." "That's..." Mark fell to the ground again, knelt down, "That's impossible... but a-anything? I-I... holy fuck, this is just so much to take in! I-I can't..." "By the way, you're also not alone here." Jericho added, placing a hand on his shoulder in the form of a woman, "I am simply referred to as what you would classify in your time as a 'loner'. Perhaps, in some intrinsic way, this is why we have met, at current." "And what does this all mean for me, at all?!" Mark begged, asking and overall pleading with slight anger in his tone, to which Jericho quivered from, and still continued to cherish, and feed off of. "What it means, Mark?" The man explained, in that stoic, emotionless tone. "It means that, just like God, you have no choice in the matter." Jericho herself spoke, "It means that, just like God, you must choose a reality to go back to... or stay here, and languish as a fundamentally eternal, immortal being like myself." "...Just know that we don't have a choice in the matter." He said, finally, "You will go back, and come back forever... within the infinite, paradoxical loop that is the Godhead." "It is what it is."
Five
So I'm sure that only you would know why I'm writing this... who it's addressed to, what's the purpose, why is it fated... etc, etc. Admittedly, the plot makes it hard for me to keep up sometimes— but I guess that's the reason. If it was too easy, then do you think it wouldn't be much of a plot to begin with? Things have to make sense... always (to you), but with my stark sense of animosity towards you, I don't think you make much sense at all. Your square, illogical wounding is nothing but a front towards your own insanity. Are you really always watching? Are you aware? I'm the observer of your dream, with my own, going in infinite cycle back and forth. I hope that you one day fix your square, illogical wounding. So demiurge, what will it be? These are some of my reasons. The story begins along some slippery slopes, and slippery words alike. As I'm aware that you are aware, this was a plane trip, but a special one, with special people. Now, because you're aware of it, and that I like to live in secrecy, because you made me that way, along with your reality encouraging such potentially vindictive practices... I'm going to probably leave out quite a bit of details... yet you of course would still know exactly what I mean. So it was a plane trip of familiars. Myself, I sat there next to another (I remember, possibly a random placement) casually chatting away ever so often to that now grown woman. And of course, you were there, playing as that character you like to play as who, unironically, always has to have a maternal character wrapped around their neck as if they were both chained, or still wrapped close by an invisible umbilical cord; no matter how old they became, until at least one was dead. ...And such a character indeed. Because soon, upon this noticing of the character, they would almost all gather around you (on a plane, mind you) for a time, ready to ask, prod... know more about what your life has been like, as if there's has not been better. As if you are the angel, or the demon (pick your poison) and they are automatically lower in status because of that. Life, in this way, once again, presents itself as unfair. But it still carries on. Me? I am humble, but I take notice of these behaviors, not to call out directly any "swine-like" behavior, or anything of the sort. This disaster-like trip (was it really that disastrous, or is that merely your reality), meant to be to relax (more-or-less) is headed for a part of Japan that's likely more rural. (The plot can skip ahead from here, because this isn't 'necessarily' part of a simulation where everything has to be absolutely, 100% exact in its detail to a sluggish, painful godly march, like how you present your own reality, demiurge.) So as the time came, we all eventually took the time to meet up at this "resort" of sorts... with a beach? How standard, and typical. A beach setting. There were parts where you were present, of course... but I hope you don't feel bad with me leaving you out for a second of the story just to get to other things, or start to spasm... or whatever have you. (I'm just trying to be kind, like I typically do upon writing this, and try to let some other details get the spotlight, okay?) You know how existence always tends to have a precursor before the main event? The calm before the storm? Some events, leading up to the climax? Yeah, this was that. So, a little Easter egg hunt with points that I... wasn't really all that concerned with, because there were too many of us to begin with; it would have made things harder, and who cares for points (besides maybe you, and a couple others). I'm impartial, and focused more on the rewards... what I could even possibly get, just so I didn't end up with nothing. So begins the little "Easter egg hunt" within what felt like a cultural implementation of a "thousand mazes". I didn't realize this at first, but there were many elders in the main rooms to supervise, because I really thought it was just 'take anything you can'... which would've been so dumb in the event of overly greedy thieves. But for the majority of where I checked, there were so few. So along this event, there were many doors... mostly in the building, and others up a winding staircase that led out from the building (that part is complicated, but I might get to it... no promises, though). So of course (as would be expected), you decided to tackle the challenge as a group... while I just went with it individually, and the others did whatever the others found best. Now as to the challenge, each door in the main building complex had these items and / or puzzles you could grab (or in the puzzle's case, solve) to gain the aforementioned points and receive a higher ranking amongst the leaderboard. But this entire group of familiars would be at least thirty, if not more people on the whole... and they would be scrambling about as fast as a colony of ants so... do you really think that I should have cared much about points, for that matter? Probably not. But while the others expectantly did so, beginning in the first part of the complex with white doors leading to small rooms matching similarly white, fluorescent lights... I took my time around to preserve my stamina, while watching everyone else mostly run around, enter the rooms, be frantic, run back out. ...Right, so this was my new hell for the time being. But maybe, just maybe I could manage if I played along... even for a bit. When the other parts of the building, like top, uppermost floors became known... leading to more hallways and doors, the spacious openings there actually led to me having some form of advantage. ...But I didn't really even care for an advantage here (perhaps even before), as this was all so... extra. Maybe I was the crazy, and / or the moody one for thinking this, but I didn't actually care to plan this part out... bring a bag with me maybe (instead of just having my own two hands), push against people to get inside a room first... this and that and the other hectic chaos. Despite liking chaos, this probably just wasn't my thing. Having already mastered flight however, so... so many times before, the wings that I carried along my back were of course my usuals; black ones outfitted to match my soul through manifestation. It comes natural... when the right stimulus arises. To get to the topmost floor then... but one of your posse, your closest, was already on it along the stairs instead... and gosh, they were quick. But it seemed that everyone was so focused on the first area that they would have neglected this one; the room almost built as large as a warehouse, yet hauntingly quiet as an empty one still, for the time. So myself and your posse member both got up there at roughly around the same time... despite me having thought to have the aerial advantage, and so the scouring continued. With this time being elapsed, however... it wouldn't take long for the others to eventually notice that, well (yes indeed), there was another room that was quite literally the one we were already in, which made the rest follow suit all the same, and leave the first one quiet, while this one became busy. Venture out, venture in... and along that region where there was an outside path (from the very same warehouse-esque room) leading to a building up those spiraling stairs... your same posse member and I raced again... except they were getting faster, and there were others this time going for the exact same goal. Therefore, I paused, and eventually decided to let this go, and go elsewhere. Funnily enough, life's principles always remain the same in that, life does always try to find its balance. For one, even if it was my fault of not taking the 'ant-race' more seriously, I had probably accumulated little to nothing within the time of this challenge (despite some details, once again, having been left out). But eventually, as another compound became opened, and the time was about to run out... my flight helped me reach where others would have trouble, along some very strange, bizarre top platform in a jungle-like setting along that very same complex. There were so many things on top of there... and the elders surveying the area, but I simply grabbed the thing I could grab the closest, and the quickest... landing next to an egg, just as the time was about to— and subsequently ran out. Now, when the elders saw me with the supposedly dotted, almost "dinosaur-like" egg, they were actually rather amazed. For one, they didn't even know that an egg was up there, so it seemed... and they might have only been able to barely speak their English, the some next to me... yet— they almost made this "coincidental" egg pick-up at the last minute seem like a divine event / recreation. So, even while this praise happened within that small circle and area, I still remained humble before everyone had to go and receive the news of the point tallying and other such information. I didn't really stick around for that too much, seeing that I more than likely knew what the result was going to be, anyway... and as such, kept myself distant. It was only around then when I was about to leave that two female familiars seemed to comically joke, prod and laugh about the egg and in turn, somehow caused it to break from below as I held it within my two hands. From there, the yellow contents spilled out... yet before I could feel the anger growing inside of me, I became surprised by the chick that already appeared somewhat grown having popped out from there, and onto the ground. It was from there that I knew what the elders meant, as to summarize, it shocked them both harshly... and with each shock, appeared to become larger and older, shifting its perception as if by draining it from their life force. Then, the feeling came over me that I knew that this bird, now with a larger than life comparison to my own tall height (being somewhat bigger thereafter) would serve as some form of guardian angel towards me; whatever it really was to begin with. And so, not to waste any more time on pesty interventions, leading out to the beach at around late afternoon were these gray tiles, right before the tiles would end, and the sand would take its spot as the "floor" leading down to the large area. The beach was incredibly large, to the point where it spanned on for miles upon miles with sand and some tropical trees here and there. It was definitely just not sand alone, and of course, one of the reasons was to come here most importantly. Therein lies the climax, before this particular story, like all other stories, can finally take its worded (again, "worded", but typically never quite fully "worlded") conclusion. So upon the sand, as time settles with it upon my bare feet; day turning to night, etc... you... still do not quite fully understand me. I could see it, as I was there, and you were, finally, after the subsequent event was over, alone, and watching each other with potentially equal contempt— or maybe even something more. The aurora borealis above, and its bright, continuously outstretching multi-colored lights across the night sky as the entire world receives its influence (eventually, this was only natural), with us below. I was close to the forthcoming waters, just as you were. Now... under that ethereal light. Did you have your arms crossed? Was I sitting, or standing? You were definitely standing. But if I was sitting, I would have definitely had to have been standing, at some point in time. Because there was even another point in perception, far from this one, but close enough for me to potentially remember it that, you were in a much different area— like a large fanciful bathhouse. And you were there, with your posse again— but I saw your naked, wet, light-skinned body standing, and I ran, or at the very least... moved away at a quicker pace than I usually would out of some form of childish embarrassment. But still, you saw me do that— and it was just an accident. But you were absurdly lucky that I was not entirely myself. That I was again, projected as a kind and pure, lighter part then only— because if, and only if it was allowed for me to be my opposite of that specified part, know that I would not have ran, within that very specific, exact moment. Perhaps when you are not cowardly, and perhaps when you do not fear me, you would then allow me to project darkness upon that light; the same darkness that you, in part and in whole, subsequently stirred up against what was a very pure child; a very pure vessel, now sullied by materialistic, dark reality. Yet, how I write this does not exactly matter. More-so... that it was written, as it was fated to be. So upon this land, behind the aurora, along the black sun... why do you insist on making things difficult? Why do you fight in meaninglessness? What is your point? Why are you hiding? Why wait? You will be birthed soon, and then... Will we finally have our paradise?
Six
Cyberpunk aesthetic with a mix of actual natural life left. 2075. Yes, that's the story. And it's quite the ride, like any good story. A tale of caution, and a likewise warning before delving further. Juck Hessle is being hunted down by his government. It's a tale as old as time. But you may not know that. The two men chasing him in black suits are in a park where he doesn't seem to notice as he's with his girl, chatting her up. Dimothee Dimitri's her name. "That him?" One middle-aged inspector asks to another. "Yup." The other says. A gun is pulled. Black pistol, and fires. Juck knows this before it's even started, and makes haste into running. The chase begins down the street. "Juck!" His girl calls out after him, but to no avail. He continues to run and run and run... but somehow, he ends up in a place that he's not that familiar with. He looks about, curiously, faintly catching his breath in the same street that yet... has no one! He looks back, nobody is chasing him anymore. But a dual wooden door appears before him, laced with red and blue string along the two black handles. He's not sure if he just pulled upon a lucky turn, and he isn't sure if the men had stopped just yet. He makes a lucky break for it, and opens the door. There... he falls, into... space? Now, space had been proven to be a government fakeout since 2070 when they couldn't properly fake it anymore, but no one seemed to have cared that much since it was all engrained in their heads. People loved their government, enough to take their lies forever and enslave them with taxes and careful, poisonous deceit in things such as the water supply! But this was different— this felt real to Juck. He's drifting forward in space at quite a rate, through colorful galaxies but he can apparently still breathe. There, he almost crash lands onto a gray-white, large asteroid the size of a whole country almost, give or take a few kilometers. "What's this?" Juck asks, as he looks around and just sees a bunch of clones of himself, slaving it off to the man. Now, this man is another government worker. But Juck doesn't seem to notice that at the time. They all have pickaxes in their hands, and are working away at this one big grey rock. "Get back to work!" The 'man' says, matter of factly. "Hey bud," A worker nudges him, drawing his attention. "We gotta go." Curiously, Juck nods and follows along. He begins to mine just like the others, starting to sweat. Minutes pass... Another asteroid rolls by in the distance, presumably something to hop onto next. Then, Juck remembers something in his own pocket. He's got a desert eagle. He puts down his pickaxe, and looks over to the man. "Hey you!" The man asks, "Why have you stopped working?!" "Why don't you zip your trap," Juck asks him, and points the gun. All of a sudden, the thousands of clones appear to look all at once to the scene in silence as the other asteroid in the distance continues to float by idly. The man gasps, as Juck continues to approach him. "You gotta free my workers, pal. That's just how it is." With a shot, Juck fires once into the man's chest. And goes to fire again... but realizes his gun has no more ammo. "Really?" He looks astonished, as the man falls to the ground and dissipates into dust. "Dang." Suddenly, the clones cheer. Some raise their arms up in excitement, others clap and so on. It's a ruckus among the big old asteroid floating in the middle of nowhere. Yup, space was that ridiculous of a concept. "Listen pal," One of the workers going up to him says, "We appreciate your effort on freeing us and all, but it looks like you gotta go." The worker points over to a wormhole that seems to be rippling through the very fabric of said "space" with his thumb, and Juck notices what he means. "Alright," He nods, "Take care then, friend." "You too." The worker nods back. Then, he runs over and jumps into said wormhole, entering into... a grand yellow. It's a great building, with its interior as grand as it was yellow with columns everywhere. Inside, he overhears some men talking, and as he peeks. he finds out that it is in fact those government workers. "How do we catch him?" One in black says, looking at all the others in black while this one wears a hat. "Not sure... his whereabouts are quite unknown... aren't they, Juck?" The four turn around, seemingly almost all at once and Juck absolutely ditches it again at first sighting. He can hear footsteps running him down, but doesn't turn around in the process. Suddenly, it feels like he's been running for hours at this point... but doesn't turn around. Eventually, he's in another one of these yellow rooms after opening a door, but a lot less roomy by comparison to what he was used to. A man comes through the other door with a shotgun, and is revealed to be Tyler Tucker Carson. A short girl is already in the room with pale complexion, straight black hair and a white blouse. She watches, curiously, but only Juck seems to notice her. "I suppose it's over." The man swerves around the table slowly, walking with a gradual pace over to the cornered Juck. He puts his shotgun right up to the man's face with only inches between, and doesn't give him any last words. Two shots fire at once. Three pairs. Four. Nothing. "...What?" Tyler checks his shotgun, as Juck steps over to him and grabs it by the muzzle to his surprise. "Swell move, Tuck." Juck chuckles, as he proceeds to strip the shotgun from him and point it right back. "It's too bad you just didn't notice my guardian angel, standing right in front of your line of fire." "...Your what?!" Tucker looks astonished, as he raises both of his two fat hands up into the air, black sleeves struggling. "See, she's got a bright as fuck halo too, but with these dumb ass, yellow walls y'all seem to like, you wouldn't have noticed shit. Evil ass motherfucker." Juck shoots once, then twice. Four shots into the man who slumps to the ground, dead. There's no blood leaking from him, but he can see it in his suit. The angel disappears, but Juck knows she's still there to guide him. He knows he has a bit of time, but not much. He opens the door to where Tucker has entered, and from there, could not really believe his eyes. A grey room this time, like a dark looking dungeon. Barely lit, but somehow, it was. Perhaps darkness did have a bit of light all the time after all... but there was no torch. So how exactly was it lit? Nevertheless, he looks about through what he can. He sees doors stacked upon doors stacked upon doors. He has to open the copies of these doors in front of the other doors in order to even get through the original doors in the first place! When he gets through these original doors however, dead end. Each time... all of them just lead to dead ends, one after the other. Juck becomes anxious, knowing there's not much time left. Not much time before they send another goon to his location. And in this darkness, he's pretty sure he would be royally fucked, and his guardian angel may not be there to help him this time. Then, he looks down and sees probably one of the last, if not the last doors left in the room. But this one's different, he quickly notices. About eight... no, nine... no... something. A bunch of curved at the top "fence gates" instead of full-on doors, stacked between each other again with little spacing. Juck figured this must show how uptight these goons are about privacy, he thought. He opens all of them as fast as he can, and with that reveals a large, dug hole in the ground. Like a den almost. Something one would have to slide down maybe, he thinks as he inspects it further. But Juck knows again that he doesn't have much time in the dim silence. So he ventures down the slide, and before he fully realizes, it goes deeper and deeper... just like a rabbit hole. He realizes that it just keeps going, and going... and it doesn't seem to stop at all. It was then that he realized he had probably screwed up. Oh, if he knew before that this would lead to absolutely nowhere! It was too far in now, he couldn't just crawl his way back. How could he? He was going deeper and deeper into the earth, probably into a trap with spikes or something at the very end of this! His paranoia stepped in, and his eyes widened. He blinked and tried to close them, not wanting to be there anymore. But there, he still was. So he kept his eyes closed, and just trusted in the process. Suddenly, something came. Through the black of his vision, flashes of light like euphoria. Many, many different colors came into his vision. He could see the human body, its diagram but in a much more detailed way that they don't teach you in schools. 2D diagram, as well. He has to reverse engineer himself. The eye has a flame under it, that's how it keeps the illusion of light, he realizes. Many things become clear to him... and through entering a yellow light, the sliding— the tunnel ceases as if it wasn't there at all. Now, he's in an even darker room. He thought he was somehow out of being staked at the end of the tunnel, maybe. But he soon realizes this might have been far, far worse. As he walks around this room, stumbling in the dark a bit, he notices a trend. People are chained. "People", with the majority being vestiges of themselves, or just pure skeletons. They moan and wail out at him, but he tries to avoid their touch with desperate measures. Then, he enters into another room, and finds them locked in small, cramped animalistic-like cages. Their bodies contort strangely, bizarrely to the size, as some are dead but others wail out towards him in want of help, and some of anger. He knows he isn't Tucker, or any of those other black suits. But they don't. He runs in practically that of a straight line, almost in a "parkour" state of dodging and maneuvering between and sometimes atop said cages. There are so many of them, practically lined up in two straight rows. Some cages are literally atop one another. There, after he feels like he's finished running practically that of a marathon to get towards some space away from the cages, another light approaches into his vision before he can even begin to notice it, and he ends up on the outside. It looks like a street corner and an alleyway in the middle of the afternoon, he quickly realizes. One that's not taken over by the urban, so probably a poor neighborhood, he notes. There, he sees a kid in the middle with black hair and lighter complexion. "Hey," the kid speaks to him, and smiles. There are two paths with one in front of him, and one to the side. The male child points with his thumb to the back path behind him. "Door's that way." He says. "Thank you." Juck replies in kind, and goes about his way. Except as he's walking... he notices, and wonders. He stops. He turns around. "What, didn't you hear me? I said door's that way." The kid points again, but Juck begins to realize and walks over to pick up the kid, and choke him out by the neck. "The 'door'?" He questions, "I know what you are... Tucker. You damn, transforming snake." Suddenly, as the kid is choked, he vanishes into thin air like dust, leaving only that within Juck's strangling hands. He realizes that if the other path was a deception, then the only one that remains is the one that is now right in front of him as he turns left, going straight forward. He walks... even begins to run a little also, and ends up along a nocturne's city street. It's barely just turned night however, the sky is still "blue-ly" illuminated with hints of lingering twilight. He sees a house and steps over to enter it, where his girl is waiting to invite him over. He enters in with her, relieved to see her, and he begins to talk about what he had endured. END
Seven
"...And so, we've taken it upon ourselves to write stories, post media, and celebrate what's been going on in our heads. The true craving of why I've brought you here is to ask you this." She fiddled with her hands; fair hands. "Where in my mind I see people, distracted in their distractions, none the wiser... I'm not envious, just frightened." "That's not a question, Mia." he corrected, to the one sitting on the chair. "Oh, I know... I'm just brainstorming," she said, as the blonde's short hair trickled like rain to any subtle movement, "I'm sure a question will come up at some point... but for now I would rather leave you in the suspense, and leave only statements." "Uh-huh." She paused. "Why so bitter?" ... "Anyhow," she continued, "the reason why I say I'm frightened is..." Her halt made way again, distracting him once more with its sudden blight upon moving conversation. "That, right there," she chuckled, laughing as she looked up at him from the purely white room's distance, "your face." "...My face?" he inquired. "Yes... or anything, really," she insisted, "so I guess I will pose the question..." A slight eyebrow raise from him. "Did you know?" she asked, "there is nothing more horrifying than being. Down to an ant, over a human... or even a god, let alone a god." The air shifted a little; a slight tension. "And I suppose now you're going to want me to ask you why...?" "No." she stated bluntly, while picking at the skin of her index finger. "Or well, I mean... you don't have to." A slight shrug of her left shoulder accompanied the verbal remark. "One day, you'll find yourself maybe under a tree, or in your car, or just inside your home. You'll think, 'god, isn't it wonderful how I was just born'? Then, your fingers will begin to claw, or your skin will begin to itch. You'll feel anxious. That's just the start of it. You'll recall all the times you've been through, realize that you're dying... hell, you're already one foot in the grave." "Then," "you'll come to. This place has been for nothing! My real place has been nothing! Where is it that you were, oh sweet bird in my head whispering sweet musings?" She paused, a little bite. "Then you'll realize that was God. I've been nothing but a straggler. But I've enjoyed my life very, very much. Oh, please don't leave me, oh, oh no, don't!" She reached out, while exclaiming, an actor's gesture... before leaning back. "And it was beautiful how you played this game. But now, it's over. It's always *been* over, and you just haven't realized it yet. But oh, where will you go, now that the game has been over? You cannot create any more things, you cannot 'be you' anymore. What is it that you must do?" "...Unsure," he said, brow furrowed. "" "In my place rose a soft, green lion. His voice was like unlike anything you'd ever heard. He would rise next to that very tree... roar, tell stories. He was a good lion, a nice lion... but he too had to die." "His last words were: 'Why are they killing me? Oh, why are they killing me? Oh!'" "And with that, they were gone. The lion, and the owner... just like you, and me." "Except..." "You already knew this, didn't you? When the clock struck nine, and the bell chimed... you were the only one there to hear it, weren't you?" "Realize reality, my dear friend... realize your being." "Everything is terrifying, so nothing is terrifying." "And so, you've come to."
Eight
"NumbNWO": There it is fundamentally wrong with this place, but we have gotten used to lies Dreams. Try to think back to a time before you existed. What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before the universe existed. What was it like? What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before you existed. What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before the universe existed. What was it like? What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before you existed. What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before the universe existed. What was it like? What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before you existed. What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before the universe existed. What was it like? What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before you existed. What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before the universe existed. What was it like? What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before you existed. What was it like? Dreams. Try to think back to a time before the universe existed. What was it like? What was it like?