Shattered Remnants of a Dream

2012-01-19T17:50:00.000-08:00

Latest: 1.19

191. The Architects of The End

This is an original action/adventure saga by Dan Luffey, chronicling blood, battles, love, loss, and the destruction of our universe. New chapters are uploaded sporadically.

If you have comments on my verbiage, feel free to post directly on this blog -- but all the meaty chapter discussion happens on the forums. I also post previews of the new chapters there, so if you're interested, check them out!

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191

2012-01-19T17:28:00.000-08:00

191 : The Architects of The End

Now that I think back to it, Roufas and I were the perfect pair...because we had an illusion. Wouldn't you agree that in this reality, illusions are absolutely necessary to get anywhere near perfection? Whether it's the illusion of happiness, the illusion of love, the illusion of trust...only by fooling themselves can humanity ever near true bliss.

There was a great illusion in the partnership between Roufas and I. He looked at me like a pupil, one to guide and raise, while in reality, I was playing him no less different from that violin he so loved to pluck. Despite the man's cool and collected exterior, he was extremely impulsive, and often acted on pure emotion. Roufas was bitter at the world, but he was also extremely lonely and proud, so he sought those who shared his views. Likewise, I was in need of a strong, trustworthy pawn that would assist me in achieving my ends. It was a match made in heaven, one might say.

Roufas Ernst, being an emotional man, was also very sensitive, and had a code of justice he tried to uphold, no matter how twisted it may have been. He was keen to the corruption, lies, and infidelity that existed in every facet of modern society – including the corruption that existed within The Minstrels, the peacemongering group whose head he had just beat me to killing. Not even the Church was aware of this, but The Minstrels had been raking in money from their supporters to fund drug trafficking in the poorer sections of the town. They event went as far as preying on young children, charging high prices for hallucinogens that parents would feed their ailing offsprings to alleviate the pain.

Not just as a human, but a musician as well, this was an act Roufas could not forgive. And I commended him on it. I explained my world view to him, leaving out, of course, some key information, and he was instantly intrigued. Roufas was a strong man, but because of his emotions, he easily fell under my influence. And from that moment forward, we were “partners.”

They called us the Graveyard Hustlers at first, but we never revealed our names. In the beginning, we stayed in the city, finishing up Roufas' work on The Minstrels. We completely shut down their operations, taking over their territory and offering protection for monetary sums. We lived well, sleeping through the day, eating and drinking through hazy nights and not wondering about what was yet to come.

I'm sure you're wondering what happened to the order I had received from the Church. I went back and told them honestly that I had failed, of course. It was the perfect strategy. When I enlightened my superiors to the group known as the Graveyard Hustlers -- a group that had taken out all the key Minstrel members in less than a week, they were clued into an entity more dangerous than that which they had originally been focused on. And when it came to light that the Graveyard Hustlers were starting to do damage to the mafia in Winchestre -- the metropolis' largest organized crime syndicate.

This was a serious threat to the Church. Why? Because every single member of the mafia was a man of faith, even if it was only in words. That was still important. If even the bad guys of a world feared God, then there was really no question to one's spirituality -- and God's great plans would continue unhampered.

Grayson Lee, the trusted son of Father Zeigfried, was put on to the case, and from then on there was nothing capable of stopping us. Together, Roufas and I were like gods of death. Whenever we attacked a target, whether it was a mob of gangsters or an entire building, I would always dash straight into the crowd, cutting through flesh and bone with my bare hands while Roufas lurked in the shadows, channeling his psynergy violently through his soft violin.

Once we usurped the seat of power in the Winchestre mafia, we quickly extended to various other dimensions, seeking out the most fruitful ventures in terms of power and capital. As long as the Graveyard Hustlers continued causing problems in multiple dimensions at the same time, it was guaranteed that I would be sent out to handle them. After all, no one knew our names, and no one lived to remember what we looked like. We were untouchable.

Although this was lucrative, it wasn't our ultimate goal by any means. I hadn't forgotten the first conversation Roufas and I had together: a conversation about the destruction of worlds, about the revising of the universe...the birth of a new paradise. He insisted, however, that it was not something we two could do alone. And he was right. So long as I was trapped in this mundane flesh, I was restricted to the spatial, temporal limits of any other common human. We needed allies -- or, as I liked to refer to them, pawns.

There were two requirements that people had to fulfill in order to qualify -- they needed to be exceedingly strong, which disqualified the majority of the population. However, they also needed to share our philosophies regarding the universe...which made our fishing hole even smaller.

Most of the famous, powerful bounty hunters that existed served some greater organization, or fought for what they believed was the "greater good," so the chances of them crossing over to our side instead seemed very low. If that was the case, then why not go for their targets instead? Law-breaking, in some cases psychotic, violent people...these were common qualities of the most outstanding fugitives of justice, in any dimension. Of course, among them, there were the types who were possessed with greed and deeply attached to the material world -- they wouldn't work. What we were looking out for, rather, were the highly destructive kind, the types of people who embraced death, bloodshed, and lusted to sully the beautiful face of nature.

After months and months of searching, we thought we had finally found our man -- Xarles Klavier Van Kaen. Once a special forces captain in a far-off, obscure police state, Van Kaen had suddenly gone renegade years ago. Soon after, reports of slayings, arson and general destruction to public property had cropped up from the surrounding provinces. The unusual thing was that in each news report, the criminal was clearly identified -- it was Van Kaen, and sometimes there were even photographs to confirm this.

The problem was this: he couldn't be stopped. As time went on, Van Kaen spread out his mayhem, terrorizing other dimensions and taking the lives of thousands. No matter how great the bloodshed, or how severe the crime, there was always one commonality between them: There were never any demands or any hostages. No notes were left, no manifestos or blame thrown onto the system. Van Kaen spoke not a word. He never stole anything, either, but oh, there was theft...countless human lives and materials were destroyed by his hand. That included everyone who had been sent to stop him. Bounty hunters, police, small militias...nothing could stand in his way.

I was curious about this man for more reasons than simply recruiting him. There was something about his story that resonated with me...and the old flame of curiosity burned within me once more. I quickly returned to the Church, convincing the archbishops there that this man was a great enough threat for me to be sent out to arrest him. As usual, they hung on my every word.

Roufas and I moved the dimension where Van Kaen had most recently been sighted and began searching for clues as to where he would strike next. Before we even got to the dimension, Roufas and I already knew how we would corner him. As I was usually the tank when it came to combat, I'd act as the decoy to get into Van Kaen's range and keep him under our thumb. Meanwhile, Roufas would stay hidden, preferably above or below us. The violinist was capable of operating his psynergy at the speed of sound, so in case Van Kaen tried to run, he'd be able to catch the murderer with ease. It was a very simple plan, but that's always how we operated.

It was late afternoon by the time we made it to the city square of Macenople, a quiet town that specialized in exotic textiles. Here, the grass was green and there was a lake nearby. The ecology here was separated from the planet's massive desert by a wide mountain range, and so its inhabitants had no trouble living. There had been nothing but peace here, until they heard of how the nearby oasis of Iaschi had become a crater only a week ago.

As soon as we neared the fountain in the center, we felt it. A deep crimson aura, pulsating slowly like the heart of a hibernating beast. He was here. Hiding, somewhere...biding his time, most likely masking his aura. But we could sense it...our abilities were on par with his, at the very least. The real question was, did he sense us as well?

"Roufas..." As I turned to call out to my partner, I felt the aura shift. Immediately, we both knew exactly where he was. Beneath...lurking somewhere in a basement or the sewers, like a true creeper.

"He's used to this," Roufas replied.

"Yes," I said, as I began to release my aura. "But I doubt he'd expect us to destroy the town as well!"

Snapping my right heel downwards, I sent a bolt of psynergy crackling down through the ground, rupturing whatever tunnel Van Kaen had holed up in and allowing the dirt to cave in. At the time, I had doubted he would actually escape, and sure enough, the killer came barreling up through the earth to meet me.

As he burst up through the ground, I got my first glimpse of our target. He was clad in chipped, grimy body armor that hadn't been washed in a long time. His scraggly blue hair was caked in dirt and blood, matted to his back. And his eyes...dark and hollow, they resembled the corpses I had piled up to bring myself this far, more than that of a living human's. There was no hesitation or fear in those eyes -- he had long since abandoned his humanity.

As his right arm moved up to the surface, it wrenched forward, cleaving the town square with a massive blade. It was more like a sharpened stab of steel that had been melded to a sword handle. I made a shallow leap out of the way, while Roufas circled around and took cover behind me.

"Xarles Klavier Van Kaen..." I called out to the man as he raised his ragged legs out of the earth. "I'm not here to kill you. I just want to talk."

The man responded not with words, but with swinging his blade downwards in an attempt to slice me in two. I deliberately allowed our auras to touch, gauging his power. It was fierce...but not overpowering.

I can take him, I realized, with a bit of disappointment. But he is still a worthwhile material. I suppose I'll have to convince him in a way more suited to his nature...

Van Kaen clumsily swung his sword back around, this time barring it on his shoulders and running forward to skewer me.

Side-stepping only a tad, I lightly caress the tip of his blade with my hand, letting it slide along my aura as he continued to charge forward. Before Van Kaen could change trajectory, however, I surged power into my fingertips, pressing down on the weapon and snapping it cleanly in two.

Van Kaen stopped in his tracks, rearing his ghastly head to look at me.

"Now do I have your attention?" I asked calmly.

This time, he roared. I had broken his toy; he was angry. This was progress.

This time, Van Kaen dropped the hilt, dashing forward to do me in with his own hands. Each of his punches was like a wrecking ball, but I blocked them with ease. I did not intend to let this drag on, however, so I upped the ante immediately. Targeting one of the murderer's many opens, I gave Van Kaen a clean knee to the ribs, bursting through his aura and no doubt shattering them on impact.

But something was wrong. The crippling attack should have at least stopped his barrage, if not dropped him completely. Where was his cry of pain?

Nothing.

He continued barreling forward with a poker face, as if the entire man had resigned his brain to pure violence. The unexpected turn caught me off-guard, and I felt one of his spiked gloves jam into my shoulder. I recovered as best as I could, shifting my weight toward his arm to stay on my feet. Falling down against a monster like this could be problematic indeed.

Van Kaen was nowhere near stopping. Pulling his fist out from my shoulder, he continued his barrage. What, does he feel no pain? Or...does he just not care? I thought, strengthening my own aura as I continued to block each strike. But it looked like I would have to cut him down a significant number of notches before he would even blink.

By this point, I had already convinced Roufas that my psynergy ability stemmed from a special breathing technique I had developed to increase the power and flow of my psynergy. I imagine if he had known that the ferocious strength I was capable of was just a natural talent of mine, even the old man would have gotten a bit wary. But to him, the devastating blows I returned to Van Kaen were simply the results of me exercising the limits of my powers.

Our battled raged on, but I was game. I'll play with you as long as you want, Van Kaen...I decided. You've got me curious...I want to know what's going on inside there...what's spurning on this cycle of bloodshed?!

Our duel took us across the city, devastating the landscape and the people who lived there, too. At one point, I had the killer locked in a particularly sticky situation -- backed up against the boundary to a power plant, which could easily produce a blistering thunderstorm if stimulated in the right places.

Desperate, Van Kaen got hold of an automobile that happened to be traveling down the highway and decided to use it as a shield. No doubt, he imagined the sobbing, hysteric faces of the mother, father, and three children within would be the perfect way to turn the tables.

How surprised was he when he realized he was wrong. Pulling out the last stops, I wrung out the most psynergy I could in the next second and bent the car in half, crushing its inhabitants with a sickening squelch and slamming the entire mechanized death trap on to Van Kaen. For the first time, I heard it -- and what a sweet sound it was. A deep, guttural moan of horror, just barely audible over the grinding of metal and meat.

"Now do you realize who you're dealing with...?" I called out over it all, standing tall on top of the grotesque hunk.

Van Kaen was pinned below, with the hood of the car wedged deep into his chest. Behind us, a landscape of devastation that we had painted together glimmered gold in the dawn sky. It had taken a whole night, but I had done it.

"What..." Van Kaen rasped. "What are you?"

"Grayson Lee," I answered. "Now, it's my turn. What are you, Van Kaen? Why must you kill so much?"

"Because I want to my know my limit in this world..." he answered softly.

"Even if it means destroying it..." I answered knowingly.

Van Kaen was staring at me with a different set of eyes now. The hollow mask was gone, and those sunken eyes of his looked more sad than anything else. It was strange...where had all this emotion been earlier? Buried? Beneath what? His rage? His desire?

"This is good..." He coughed up blood. "I was searching for someone like you, Grayson. Someone who would stop me...this existence of mine...I couldn't help myself, and at the same time...I cursed my fate."

There was most likely a long story that existed, explaining what made Van Kaen this way, what changed him, what formed his psyche...but I didn't care about any of that. All that mattered to me was the man before me now...who, strangely enough, seemed very similar to myself. But if he was in so much pain, then why didn't he just stop living? Why didn't he kill himself?!

But I already knew the answer. Because it'd be like losing...My eyes widened. Losing to the world you've come to hate.

"Go on, do me..." Van Kaen croaked. "My arms and legs are about to fall off, I'm bleeding everywhere...I can't even feel my torso anymore. I won't make it. Thank you, Grayson. Now I can finally rest in peace."

Peace?! I watched as Van Kaen closed his eyes, and as an unbelievable look of gentleness spread across his face. The inhuman visage was completely gone -- he looked like a baby boy, relaxed, with not a care in the world.

There was a strange feeling growing in my mind, and I quickly pushed it out. What is this...? I shook my head, trying desperately to focus on the mission at hand. It can't be...jealousy...?

"No..." I grit my teeth. "I don't think so, Van Kaen...that would be a waste. You're still useful to us...and I always get what I want."

"Wait!" A voice called out from behind me, interrupting my train of thought. I spun around defensively, to see a balding man with black hair in a white uniform running down the road. He was tall, skinny, with a raw, fleshy aura.

"Wait!" He called out again. "Don't kill Van Kaen! I know it sounds crazy, but...just listen to me!"

I coughed, trying to shake out the wavering that had started to appear in my voice, and then addressed the newcomer. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't flatten you as well."

"I'm sorry, please allow me to introduce myself..." The sickly man bowed for some strange reason, and then looked up at me with dark, twisted eyes. "My name is Nord Phileas. And my wife was killed by Van Kaen."

"And?" I spoke coldly. "Don't tell me you want to kill him yourself, instead of me?"

"No...quite the contrary, really." Nord smiled, his eyes gleaming. "I want to keep him alive."

"Go on."

"His strength and madness intrigued me, you see..." Nord continued. "I couldn't believe it myself, but...I had never seen anything like it before. Or like you, either. And since my wife is complete...er, I mean, gone now...I so much wanted a chance to...pick his brain, you see. Maybe even...make a few modifications." Nord's grin never led his face as he continued speaking in a fervor. "I'd been following him for so long, but there was no way I could catch him myself...I'm far too weak...I was truly at a loss. But then you came along...it was perfect...providence, in fact!"

I listened carefully to the man's words, then looked the horizon. Roufas was still far off, staying in the shadows in case of an emergency. He wouldn't possibly be able to overhear us.

"Sounds interesting," I smiled. "I'll be happy to hand him over to you, then...with the promise that you'll make a few special modifications for me, as well."

In the end, Roufas and I agreed to hand the devastated body of Xarles Klavier Van Kaen over to the good doctor. Van Kaen would be the perfect weapon to lead our revolution with, but the body of flesh that still contained him was far too brittle. This way, Phileas had a specimen who was physically strong and mentally insane enough to withstand his sick experiments, and in the end, we would gain our first, and arguably most powerful disciple.

The work could not be finished in a day, however. In the meantime, Roufas and I decided to take a vacation of sorts, traveling far and wide in search of other sympathizers. We found an ally in Zhang Guo, a man who was once seen as a god until he decided that this plane of existence was no longer fit for him.

Finding our next recruit, Cecilia Schroeder, was an interesting event. From the moment we met her, Roufas was smitten with her, and she with him. She had a sheepish demeanor, yet was a truly powerful psynergy user who had been working as a bodyguard for the director of an underground fighting ring. I encouraged Roufas to woo her -- for she too had become bored with the art of killing -- if only because I knew it would only make him softer as a result.

Not long after that, we received a call from Phileas, and the four of us visited his new private manor, Paradis Perdu, which had been built near his practice in Enametropolis. The enhancements he had made on Van Kaen were stunning: every inch of the man's body was now a weapon. Metal had been merged with flesh, all connected and powered by the man's innate desire for violence. On one hand, he was still conscious, and on the other, he himself had been transformed into a machine, finally becoming one with the urges that once tortured him. And most importantly: Phileas had programmed a special executive role for me within the beast. While he was a vehicle of our organization, hierarchy-wise, I was at the top.

After we shared dinner and wine with Cecilia, Roufas, and Zhang Guo, Phileas pulled me aside, just before our group had planned to leave. The curiosity had been too much for him. He needed to know what we were planning...why I had that special installment made...but before I divulged, I needed to have a long talk with the man.

In the end, he was touched -- no, stunned, I should say -- by my story, and swore allegiance to me with the promise that he and I would be the ones to stand on the horizon of oblivion that remained in the end. Nord was a man with a sickness that clouded his mind, and that was the primary reason I chose to confide with him as well. But I swore that it would be the first and last time I would stir the ranks of the Dark Zodiacs.

We decided on the name after a suggestion made by Zhang Guo. The word itself, "zodiac," encompassed many meanings: a cycle, an otherworldly sphere, and a band of inhuman creatures. It seemed to gel with us the most -- but in order to complete the cycle, we needed six more.

When Roufas was voted as the leader, I chose the third spot, allowing Van Kaen, our poster boy, to fake the role of right-hand man. The other three were filed in order of their vows. Each of them, including Roufas and myself, were veterans of war. On our next hunt, I wanted something different...young meat, whom we could teach and form into vessels of death that would someday potentially surpass ourselves. Roufas, Cecilia, and Zhang Guo especially liked this idea, and so our next target was the Sagacia Research Facility, a well-known source for fucked-up, psynergenetically engineered children.

Madeleine, Bruce, and Rose were our spoils from that conquest, and they were the forerunners of the second generation of Zodiacs. They were our children, who owed their lives to us, and there was no finer disciple than that. We raged on, strengthening our ranks tenfold and sowing the seeds of destruction as far as our arms could reach. And as the bloodshed continued, I gradually began to forget about the experience I had with Van Kaen, and the strange, alien emotion it had germinated. The event had almost completely left my mind...until she appeared in front of me.

Next: The Dream of The Alchemist

190

2011-09-20T04:14:00.000-07:00

190 : The Weight of Existence

What's happening to me?

Immobilized by shock, I lay at the mercy of Mr. Finkle as he began to rub his filthy body up against mine, laughing and reveling in his crime. Then, I felt a sharp pain shoot across my back as he lightly slashed at it with a knife, letting my blood excite him.

This hurts! The pain ripped me out of paralysis, and my head jerked to the side as I tried to look behind. I...I don't like this!

More pain. More laughing. Mr. Finkle pressed himself harder up against my behind. I began heaving and shivering as the new feeling that had been bubbling up since earlier completely filled my body.

Fear. I couldn't comprehend it, but at that moment, I feared for my own survival, and was thinking only of removing my body from this mortal danger and restoring my own safety. Yes, a human part of me still remained.

“Stop!” I shouted desperately, trying to wrestle my body away from the powerful psynergy user. “I don't want to play this game!”

He's not listening to me...I realized, in a moment of true incredulity. How was it possible? I wanted freedom, but he wouldn't grant it...and so, my fear swirled back downwards, mutating and transforming into a new emotion that never left my mind for the rest of my life: rage.

“Sorry, but you can't back out now!” Mr. Finkle laughed. “You're the one who came here, it's time for you to pay the price! Besides, there's nothing to worry about...you'll learn to like it eventually!”

It was rage at Mr. Finkle for what he was – a human being that wouldn't listen to me, something that I knew never existed, and something that I most certainly didn't like. He was an element of reality I wanted to do away with, someone whose existence was nothing but a nuisance.

So, I thought. For the first time in my life, I purposefully willed the manifestation of my ability, focusing my mind on Mr. Finkle's demise. I felt two vortexes swirling within me, one black and one white, merging in monochrome hues.

Then, it burst out – a searing flash of green psynergy, ripping through Mr. Finkle's aura. The strength of concentrated psynergy is much greater than unconscious psynergy, and the fear and panic running through my body had pushed me completely over the edge. I fought like mad, wanting only to get rid of the man who assaulted and denied me. I only had a rough concept of violence, so I didn't attempt to mutilate his body – my psynergy simply ran through him, nullifying his existence.

“Wh...what are you doing?!” Mr. Finkle screamed. “S....stop! Please! What's happening to me?! You...you're no child...you're...a...monsterrrrr....”

I was no human child – I was something else, an anomaly. As I mindfucked the man, I realized what I was doing. All of this was happening out of my own power – it wasn't the way of the world, but the way of Grayson. The way I had been born, the way nature had made me.

I left Mr. Finkle's crumpled body there, walking back toward the dark streets as I tried to get my mind together. Tarlan had been right – I was no mere human. I was special. All at once, my questions and doubts about the world were instantly cleared up. Why were there people sitting on the street begging for food and money every day? Why did people have to work so hard for their entire lives? Why did I sometimes see people get in fights, argue, but never experience anything like that myself?

Because I was born to be loved.

In retrospect, I have nothing but gratitude for Mr. Finkle. Thanks to his atrocities, my eyes were opened to both the truth about myself and my ability. Thanks to his weakness, I grew infinitely stronger.

Practicing and strengthening my ability was a very easy and pleasurable task, for it only required me to interact with people – and squeeze whatever I could out of them. Since I was already using my ability so much in everyday life, it naturally made my aura stronger, so much that I was able to mask it at a very young age and deceive people.

Deceit was also something that came naturally to me. As a child, the concept and purpose of lying had been far beyond me, but it went hand-in-hand with my power, so much that I realize how much I was lying at first. Seeing how much I could string people along was like a game to me – a game in which I was always the winner.

That may sound like a very boring game, but the true fun lied not in the competition, but in the results and possibilities that varied with each person. You see, everyone has a subconscious limit that they won't step over no matter how much they're influenced, so in order to get around that, I would have to employ clever strategies and alternate ways of getting them to do what I wanted.

Influencing reality itself would have been the quickest way, but a task that great was still beyond me in my early years. Besides, I didn't have much interest in the ways of the universe at first – I was much too busy carousing and enjoying the heart-felt affection and trust people so easily flung at me.

Without parents or any sort of authority figure to leash me, I had nothing but my insatiable curiosity to guide me. As my interests widened and grew, the small town Tarlan's father had brought me to quickly proved too small, and so I left in search of new ventures. My travels took me around the lackluster world I had been placed in, and then later across numerous dimensions that proved much more interesting.

At first I desired to acquire and possess material goods and clothing, but I soon tired of that, and the time spent keeping track of them seemed to be going to waste, so I sold off everything before I turned eight. The rest of my single digit years were spent in competition. Psynergy competition, sports, battles of wit...I engaged in all forms of active entertainment until I completely dominated, upon which I soon lost interest.

I sought to excel, because I knew I could. If I began a new event that I wasn't used to, it simply meant I lacked information or experience – so I would instantly work to circumvent that, closing the gap between myself and whatever rival I had set my eyes on. I was talented at everything I set my eyes on. The psynergy competitions were especially interesting, for I would often meet young people like myself who had impossibly dense auras – but they were still nothing compared to my own, strengthened 24/7 simply by living my life.

Once puberty descended upon me, however, my focus immediately changed to the opposite sex – and as usual, I wasted no time in pursuing my curiosity. My first sexual encounter happened when I was 11, with a lonely 40-year old widow who was positively smitten with me. It neither satisfied me nor my curiosity, and only made my sexual desire burn stronger. In a few months, I was bedding a different woman every night. There was no stopping me. This was a curiosity that connected directly to my biological functions, so it overruled all else, and I became a hypercharged satyr. If I spent an extended time with one lover, using our time together to study and pick at their brains, they would eventually come to confess their love to me, wishing to stay with me forever.

And this was no puppy love, I knew. It was pure, selfless love, the kind that required nothing in return. They loved me no matter what I did – many even told me that they wouldn't mind if I continued to take on lovers.

As this continued, I soon came to realize just how loved I was as a being – despite having done nothing to earn that love. But this love was one that did not exist within my own mind, and despite searching desperately for a woman who could incite the same sort of pure feeling within my own breast, I never found anyone.

Or should I say, I never found a reason to even feel such love. What would be the point in changing how I naturally behaved? Valuing people, loving people....how would it change my life in any way, except waste my time? For without love, sacrifice, compassion, and all the other emotions normal humans feel, I was still able to get anything I wanted.

Except peace. Not even the love of an entire city could bring me peace. Nothing – no quantity of anything – material goods, entertainment, love or sex could ever satisify me. Soon, I grew bored with female humans, and searched to fulfill my sexual desire in any other fashion that was possible. Men, women, children, the elderly...no one and no act was off limits. I constantly needed something new to fuel my curiosity and stimulate myself. And since I could easily will any sort of disease or bacteria from my body with my aura, I never needed to worry about sexually-transmitted diseases. And so, sex consumed my teenage years.

I tried to love someone – I really wanted to, more than anything else. The more my interest waned with mundane pleasures, the more I envied the mundane humans were content with their lives. One time, I even killed one of my partners as an experiment, just to see if her passing would cause me a level of sadness I never experienced before. But I felt nothing, and quickly grew bored with staring at her lifeless corpse.

And so, just like fear had become obsolete for me, so did sexual desire. There was nothing left. I was too loved, I was too capable – and so I needed nothing. All I was left with was hatred, indignance, and repulsion. I wasn't just bored with the world, I despised it. Not just the way people of the world acted, or how it looked, or even the details of my own life – I hated the very notion of the world, the theories behind its systems, and especially the reason for its existence.

That last reason stemmed from my experience with God and church, which began shortly after puberty. I was confronted by another psynergy user, who had apparently been watching me for a while. Killing was something that became a fairly normal act for me after the event with Finkle, if only because it proved convenient in certain situations, and could easily be covered up. This man had apparently gotten hold of some proof regarding one of my murderers, and was appalled that it had been committed by such a young child. He was clever, professional, and powerful, and he was also a vicar at the Church's headquarters in that dimension.

“This is a city of God,” he spoke to me in a stern, caring voice. “And it's my job as a servant of the Lord to see all that goes on in it. You, Grayson...I've been watching you. Are you aware of what you're doing? Haven't you been introduced to God's love?”

Once I got over the initial shock that I had been 'watched' without my knowing, I began to study the man. His psynergy was dense and vigilant – my influence couldn't penetrate it. Furthermore, he seemed to be attempting to lecture me – telling me how I should live my life.

So this is what a 'church' is, I thought, having only heard the name in passing before. Like an army, perhaps? Except there's something different...his eyes look different than that of a soldier's.

“You may be able to trick people, my boy,” the vicar continued. “But you can never trick God. God misses nothing, not even your own thoughts. God is watching you,”

“You keep repeating that word...” I said finally. “What is God?”

The vicar smiled, as if he had been waiting for this question. “The creator of this universe, and everything in it. These worlds, the air we breathe...he even made you and me.”

My eyes widened. Finally, I had found something. After all these years...I had now had someone to turn my anger toward, someone on which to place the blame for this screwed-up reality.

“He's the one who gave me my ability?” I asked. “He designed this world?”

“Yes,” the vicar smiled. “All this beauty comes from God's grace.”

Beauty?! I couldn't believe the words coming from the old man's mouth. This God creature, whatever it was...if it had consciously given me this ability, and the unsettled mind I was constantly plagued by...then it surely must have been mad.

“Where is God?” I asked.

“In His kingdom of Heaven,” the vicar explained. “If you want to go there, you need to love God, accept him into his heart, and follow his rules for your life as a human. Otherwise...”

Rules? My hands spasmed with anger. My curiosity burned, and so I sat down with the vicar and had him explain everything – about the good rules of God, what his plans were for human race, and what the evil demon known as Satan did to those who turned away from their “father.”

It was unbelievable. I could tell from his aura, and the look in his eyes, though, that this man was not lying. He was 100% convinced of all that he was saying. I bid farewell to the vicar that night, but not without first telling him that I would come to mass, purely out of my own curiosity. I had to know more.

I did visit mass the next day, and even received a complimentary bible from the vicar. I tore through the tome, reading it cover to cover over the next few days. I didn't even have sex for that period. It was too overwhelming. This...this was the man responsible for all my life, and all the pain I had caused his people as a result. He did it himself! I never asked for this ability...yet he specifically designed me as a demigod in his own world, with authority to use and abuse his creatures as I pleased.

And yet, despite that, he asks me not to? He even goes as far to say that if I don't, I'll be swallowed up by some demonic enemy? No sex before marriage, no murder, no stealing...no envy, no lust, no wrath! These things are the very essence of all human beings...having looked into the dark hearts of hundreds of them, I knew better than anyone.

Bullshit.

This may be his world, but so what? He's even more of a tyrant than I am! Making a whole world filled of people, then purposefully creating a system in which they must live their lives tortured by the biological system he placed in them in the first place! All so that he has an army of creatures lower than him offering up eternal love in his name...

Bullshit.

This world is bullshit.

My emotions were overflowing, enraged and energized like never before. Finally, I had found it...after all this time, after all I consumed, destroyed, and trampled...this was the only answer there could be.

In my times of greatest weakness, I had even reached out to humans, asking what they thought of life...but they had given me no true guidance. And they couldn't, because I was different. The Church was only worse. People talked about the lightness of being they had felt after accepting God into their hearts, how wonderful it was to be alive. They were satisfied, all of them. But I could never be satisfied...and all the while this weight crushed my shoulders, the void weight of a thousand lives, a thousand loves, a thousand dreams that would never be enough to shut my mind up and let me live in peace.

This was the only way for me to be free from this world. The only way for me to have peace of mind in this place...was to destroy it altogether.

Go ahead, try and take my soul...My heart burned. Satan, God, whoever...I'll murder every last one of you.

I began, of course, with the vicar in that town. Throwing the “kindness” he had shown me back in his face, I brutally mutilated him in front of his morning mass, blasphemizing his God and sending terror into the hearts of all present. I erased that entire place from the map, but apparently, the vicar had been in contact with his associates fro the moment he found out about me.

Therefore, when they heard about his disappearance, they came after me. I could hide deep within a city, even in the farthest reaches of a remote country region, and they would still eventually find me. I looked upon it as a sort of game, however, and it did hold my interest for some time, as I was able to test my abilities on these servants of God, infused with His sacred might. I must have killed hundreds of the Church's servants in my later teenage years...all up until one man descended from the sky.

It was during an altercation I got mixed up in just before I turned eighteen. I had stopped by to watch a procession of church officials in the capital of Aegon Rocudo in the dimension of Epoch, which was little more than an external colony to the Church. The inhabitants of this world were more or less completely under the Church's radar, so I thought it to be the perfect training ground, for they were the only truly equal adversaries I had at the time. I had already tried bursting into the Church's home dimension of Eretz, but it proved futile. And so, with that frustration burning in my blood, I brought chaos to the holy procession, massacring priests and priestess left and right.

Then, he showed up. I wasn't sure where he had come out from, but the next thing I knew, he had alightened in front of me. And instantly, I realized something.

I can't sense his psynergy.

For the first time in my life, I had been faced with something beyond me – completely out of my reach. The man stared down at me with two dark, beady eyes, curly black hair trailing down to his waist, kept out of his eyes with a silver tiara.

“Father Zeigfried!” Prostrate citizens called from the roadside. “Father Zeigfried has come to save us! God is with us!”

Zeigfried cast his eyes up and down my body, scanning me with his mysterious aura. Then, he extended a hand to me and whispered:

“Come with me, my son.”

I obliged, instantly. For if there was one thing I knew...it was to keep your enemies closest. Just the fact that this man was impossibly stronger than me made him an immediate target...and if he was truly my father as he claimed, then even moreso. I was entranced, for the first time in my life, and eagerly let him take me back to the Supernal Chapel.

There, unspeakable horrors awaited me. I was bound with a mysterious material that somehow sealed my psynergy and left at the mercy of Zeigfried and two sadistic attendants. But I wasn't afraid. I knew in the end I would persevere. Even though I cooperated completely from the beginning, they still beat and whipped me over and over for every single recorded death that was connected to me, then repeated it all to “beat the evil” from me.

The most shocking thing was how Zeigfried whipped himself in conjunction with all of this. Despite the blood dripping from his back, he never once let out a scream, and even spoke to me in between the self-inflicted abuse.

“You are my sin...” he muttered. “Born from my foolishness...my lapse in reason...a sin. For many years have I searched...wondering if you really survived that day...wondering if there was any salvation for you.”

I learned the details of my birth much later...apparently, my mother is the archdemon known as Abaddon, who appeared in a female form to Zeigfried shortly after he had been appointed as 7^th Apostle – a sort of last temptation, I suppose. She was said to have been a tall, voluptuous woman with long, flowing black hair, porcelain skin, and long, delicate fingers. Being the lustful man he was, Zeigfried took the bait, and Abaddon took not only a little of his seed, but his testes altogether, ensuring that he would never have a normal child, and ensuring that Abaddon could foster the ultimate combination of angelic, demonic, and human blood.

All Zeigfried received after his grave error was a telegram, written in human blood:

The Grey One now roams the earth.

Set to inherit the world, to take back all the light has obscured.

Our days are numbered. This is the beginning of the next generation.

A new age of carnage, a living dirge to both gather and destroy.

And so the dreams of all God's people will be distorted,

Swirling into the eternal nothingness,

Returning to how it once was.

This Abaddon creature definitely had me interested. I beared the nights of torture, because I knew they would make me stronger, and because I knew I would need Zeigfried's trust if I was going to get anywhere near either Heaven or Hell. I stayed under his watch for some time, bonding and learning about all the man's distorted philosophy. He was both extremely passionate and brutally cold-hearted the same time – a vessel of God, and yet a cluster of perversion. If I hadn't desired to kill him so much, we might have even become good friends.

After learning all about the Church and what they were after, pledging my allegiance to them time and time again, Zeigfried finally sent me out on my first external mission – an inconsequential, simple mission to locate a man named Bretton Kaura, the leader of a band of musicians called The Minstrels. This traveling band of musicians had recently invaded the underground music scene in Winchestre, a place that was important to the Church both geographically and economically.

The Minstrels spread an astral, psychedelic message of peace and freedom – something that was obviously frowned upon by any religious man or woman. While any normal servant of the Church should have been able to handle the mission, Bretton was known to be an elusive, powerful man – and so I was sent.

It took some legwork, but I eventually tracked the man down with little problem. Learning of the next night he planned to go on stage, I slipped back stage and awaited his arrival. If everything went right, I would be able to coax him into coming back to the waiting point with me, where he would be taken and examined by Church officials.

Soon, I heard soft footsteps coming from the other end of the dark passage. In the dim light that escaped through cracks in the old basement, I could see the subtle wrinkles in the man's soft, gentle face. His cotton aura was as mellow as could be.

Then, I noticed something else drifting in from behind him: an eerie, jittery violin, chittering out from regions unknown. Bretton also noticed and spun around – and at that moment, the violin took a shrill leap up in volume. The minstrel's body crashed to the floor, and I barely had enough time to defend my own body from the audial onslaught.

Instantly, the music cut out. I sensed traces of a dim, opal aura rising from the dead man, and hastily leaped over his corpse. Using my own aura to illuminate the cramped space, I spied a tall, thin man standing right in front of the exit.

He had straight brown hair pulled into a ponytail behind his head, with a thin mustache and wide blue eyes. Fastened to his back by a peculiar strap was a beautiful violin.

“You weren't supposed to see that,” he muttered.

“But I'm afraid I did,” I replied back playfully as I slowly walked toward him. “Got a problem with that?”

“Come now, boy,” the violinist growled, removing his instrument and releasing his monstrous aura. “If you really want to die...then why not take the entire world along with you?”

Next: The Architects of The End

189

2011-09-14T08:40:00.000-07:00

189 : The Curse of Curiosity

My earliest memory is of hearing the story about how I came to that village in the hills.

“I could see the bear standing just on the edge of the copse,” the old man spoke softly to me. “He was dangling a baby boy from his mouth. There wasn't a speck of malice in the way he was standing, and just as soon as he had appeared, he dropped you down there and shuffled off. After watching for a bit, we went to go pick you up. You were the most beautiful baby we had ever seen...and you didn't cry one bit. The towel you were wrapped in was a perfect ashen color, neither too black nor too white, and so we named you Grayson.”

I don't know when or why I was put there, but I later learned that my mother was murdered shortly after she left me there, so I imagine this was only supposed to be a temporary hiding place.

I must have lived there for several years, though, because I can remember hearing stories about how the entire village cared for and adored me when I was a baby. There were only about a hundred people who lived in that small settlement on the hills, and almost all of them were adults. Regardless of age, though, everyone worked in the fields from sun up to sun down.

By the time I turned five, I was out helping too. While the village was mostly self-sufficient, the elder and his son would occasionally take yields off somewhere and come back with building materials, linens, and other necessities. It wasn't until I was about seven or eight when someone told me that there was actually a bigger place than this with many more people called a “city.”

The one who purveyed this information to me was the elder's grandson, a 14-year old boy named Tarlan. He had a relationship going on with one of the only other young females in the village, and one day I spotted them both sitting down by the river when they were supposed to be working.

When I first saw them, I was stunned. I had been taught since day one that working myself hard from day to night was the only way to survive – if even one person let up, then the village would crumble. No one ever told me what happened to people who didn't do their part, because there was no such thing – and since no one was there to tell me otherwise, I never thought about it, either. This was all I knew, so seeing Tarlan and his woman apart from us like this was quite the shock.

They weren't angry when they saw me, of course. Everyone in the village loved me. Tarlan invited me over to sit, but before I did, I asked a question that was burning in my heart.

“Why aren't you working?”

Tarlan paused for a moment before answering. “We'll be back soon, Grayson, don't you worry. We're just taking a little rest.”

His evasive answer satisfied me then, but the question lingered in my heart, and I saw them slacking off again in the days to come.

So a few days later, I asked Tarlan again – this time when he was alone. He was supposed to be cleaning the shed while he let the livestock graze, but instead I found him sitting inside, smoking and lazing around on a haystack.

I called out to him and he came down to greet me.

“I understand the answer you told me last time,” I spoke, remembering my manners, “but I hardly ever see you working. It's not just resting. You choose not to work, don't you?”

Tarlan smiled when he heard this and sat down with me. “You're really a curious kid, huh, Grayson? Alright, I'll explain it to you...but you'd better not regret it.”

“Regret it?” I asked, even more curious now. “Why?”

“It's good to know certain things,” Tarlan answered. “But knowing a lot doesn't always mean a person will be better off. Sometimes, people are better off knowing as little as possible.”

I didn't really understand his words at the time, but I never forgot them. “It's okay,” I said. “I won't regret it.”

“Fine then,” Tarlan nodded. “I'll try to explain it simply to you, Grayson. You've never been down off this mountain, have you? But guess what – there are many other people in this world, and they aren't just like us. There are huge places filled with houses, people, and all sorts of things you've never seen before. The world is big, and filled with all sorts of fun, new things for you to discover.”

I listened to Tarlan's every word, entranced. For some reason, his words sounded different than those of the other villagers and the old couple who raised me. They spoke of the mountain, of the village, of each other, but never of anything else. Yet Tarlan spoke of things I had never heard of, and with a zeal and passion unlike the sedated rhythm of the other villagers' words.

“Nana and papa never told me about that,” I said. “Why don't they talk about the other places?”

“The people in this village don't want anything to do with the other cities,” Tarlan explained. “They want to live on their own. Simply. Without the complications of newer, different things. Do you understand, Grayson?”

“Sorta...are those other places bad, then?”

“That's something you need to decide for yourself. I went with my dad a few times and saw the city, and I like it. I want to see what's out there. That's why I'm planning to leave. I have a reason to. I'm done with all this work. I'm going to go to the city and start a new life. That's the answer to your question, Grayson. That's why I'm not working.”

“You're going to leave?” My childish mind tried desperately to keep up. “But where are you going to go?”

“Somewhere else. One of the other cities. I want to see the world, and see what I can do in it,” Tarlan said. “But don't tell my parents. They wouldn't be happy, so I have to do it in secret.”

“Secret?” This was another word I hadn't much experience with.

“It means they can't know about it. So don't tell anyone, alright?” I nodded slowly, and Tarlan smiled. “Do you want to see another place, Grayson?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, then ask my dad,” Tarlan said. “He's really fond of you, so I'm sure he'll take you along.”

Obviously, Tarlan wasn't aware of my ability at the time, and neither was I. But at that point in time, for me, the idea of someone treating me with anything but the utmost love and respect had never entered my mind. Until I spoke with Tarlan in that barn, I worked simply because I knew nothing else.

The people of that village were simple-minded, so they fell under my influence without me even knowing. It wasn't until much later, after I first rode on the wagon into the city, that I experienced the first truly unpleasant feeling I'd ever had in my life.

Think about this for a moment. For as far back as I could remember at that point, I had grown up in a tiny, closed-off world, where I was the only child my age, and treated like a sacred gift from nature by all those around me. I could do what I wanted, because I was a simple-minded child, and everyone around wanted nothing more than to please me. That was my world.

Until I entered the city, that is.

How would I even begin to describe the feeling that ran through my body the moment I set eyes on that city? It was like they were being peeled open; an onslaught of the new and unknown flooded me.

The people from my mountain village simply looked upon all this wonder as 'things different from them,' and had no immediate interest in learning about them. For me, however...this entry into the city gave birth to something unstoppable within me.

There's more to this world...I realized, for the first time. Things...I don't know about.

Immediately, it took control of me, gripping my mind. Curiosity...I probably wasn't even aware of the notion at the time, but that was surely what fueled my desire to see more of the city. Once we parked, and Tarlan and his father began peddling their wares, I took off into the city streets.

For a small child like me, this feeling of being submerged in such a vibrant, new atmosphere was something akin to intoxication. My child eyes were wide open with wonder, staring at all the new sights around me.

I was first guided along a string of outdoor grocers displaying all kinds of food and fruit that I had never even seen, let alone tasted before. A multitude of new, mouthwatering smells assaulted my nostils, and I scanned the entire market hungrily.

Up until now, I'm sure this story sounds like you may have heard it somewhere else. It may sound like the typical tale of a sheltered boy from the country making his first steps into the big city, being surprised, and realizing how many possibilities the world has to offer.

Had a normal boy gone up and asked the man at the banana cart for a banana, he would have been asked to pay for it, thereby learning a valuable lesson about the world. When I did it, though...so many years ago, when I looked the fat, old banana man in the eyes and asked for one of his fruits...he looked back at me, let my aura wash over him, and gave me one.

I took it, ate it, and moved on. Because this was normal to me. I knew nothing else. This was the world I had been placed in – and consequently, it became my playground. For the rest of the day, I toured the city, grasping the hearts of every man or woman who came in contact with me, and experiencing everything that I could possibly experience – because I could.

Because I could. This notion didn't truly become important until I matured, but I think that at this time, it was an unconscious given in my mind. If it was there, I took it. If someone offered it, I received it. If there wasn't something I didn't know, or didn't understand, then I immediately demanded an answer. Because I could, because nothing could stop me.

They tried, though. As the sun began its descent into the western hills, Tarlan and his father finally caught up to me in the town square as I sat surrounded by villagers. I had been listening to their stories with wide-eyed enthusiasm, demanding more tales of their different, multi-colored lives as I sipped a tin cup filled with complimentary tomato soup from the nearby tavern.

“Grayson!” Tarlan called. “Come on, we're going home.”

Hearing this, I turned to face my older friend. I can envision exactly how my eyes must have looked then: furled, not panicked, just in absolute confusion as to why Tarlan would utter such a thing. It just didn't make sense.

“But I haven't listened to all of the stories yet,” I replied.

“We're going home, Grayson,” Tarlan's father added, giving a worried eye at to how happy I looked surrounded by city folk.

Hearing this, my mouth popped open, vocalizing a feeling that had been growing in my heart ever since I came into the village. “I don't want to go home.”

Shocked, Tarlan's father froze for a moment, but then he decided to try a different strategy. “If you don't come back with us, you won't have a bed to sleep in tonight.”

“Sure I will,” I answered matter-of-factly. “Ronaldo the shoemaker said I could stay with his family tonight if I needed lodging.”

Tarlan's father curled his fists, growing frustrated. But he dared not to voice the worries that clouded his heart – that I could be tricked, hurt, or even worse by the stranger known as Ronaldo. Deceit and violence didn't exist in our cozy mountain village, nor in my mind. It was unspoken of, unlearned. Likewise, I had no fears myself.

This time, the old man looked hurt. “Why don't you want to come back, Grayson?” He asked. “We'll feel lonely if you're gone.”

But it didn't work. It couldn't. I had no concept of loneliness, let alone work, or even gratitude. Everything had been in my reach since the moment I became conscious, even though I couldn't even comprehend that fact. And so I couldn't even answer him properly. The emotions were swirling in my heart, powered by the brain chemicals exploding out as my genes determined them, and they were what controlled me. Who put them there? God? Satan? A being completely different? Not even I know the answer.

“I want to stay here,” I answered simply. It was the only way I could make sense of what was going on inside my body.

“Dad...” Tarlan finally spoke up. “Go get loaded up. I'll take care of Grayson...I think this is partly my responsibility.”

Tarlan's father looked uneasy, but nodded to his son and walked back to the cart. Tarlan knelt down beside me.

“Grayson...” he began. “You remember what we talked about earlier, right?”

I nodded. “I know, Tarlan. I won't regret it.”

“I know that,” Tarlan said. “I mean the other part. About people knowing too much...how it doesn't always bring them happiness.”

I cocked my head again.

“Grayson...” Tarlan began once more. “I know we can't stop you. We shouldn't...this is your life to live. But there's something that's been bugging me...” He cast his eyes over the crowd of people waiting for me at the fountain. “The way everything just seems to work out for you wherever you go...even the way I personally feel about you. Something doesn't seem right. Do you even realize it yourself? Is this...somehow being caused by your ability?”

“Ability?” I cocked my head. “What are you talking about?”

“...so you don't know,” Tarlan said. “Maybe it's only because I have a strong aura myself that I can realize...I simultaenously love and fear you, Grayson. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

I didn't. But I never forgot his words.

“You have to go. You can't stay in the village...I've been thinking about this ever since our talk. But there's one thing I can't go without doing...you see, Grayson, I have the curse too. The curse of curiosity...that's why I want to let you go, Grayson. Because you can...you can achieve everything that I'll never be able to. I just have one request.”

I listened.

“Let me read your heart,” Tarlan said. “This is my ability, Grayson...I found my ability. I have to keep it hidden from everyone else, or they'd fear it. But I've been practicing it in secret...I can see the true shape of humans – what they're really feeling, what they really want to do. That's why I need to go out into the world. There's a chance that I could really do something, really help someone – really make a difference. But first, Grayson...I want to look inside you. I want to know what lurks within your mind. What you're really after. Is that okay?”

It was hard for my child's mind to follow Tarlan's enthusiastic ramblings, but I trusted the young man. So I said yes.

“Alright,” Tarlan nodded, reaching out a hand to my chest. “Here I go.”

I watched a pale green aura expand out from Tarlan's body as he began to use his power. Then, his body froze. Slowly, his eyes widened, and his mouth drooped. Tarlan's legs began to shiver and quake, and thin streams of blood began to trickle out from his ears, then his nose, then from the corners of his eyes.

“Tarlan?!” I shouted out, pulling myself away.

This severed his hand from the connection, and his aura dissipated, freeing him and possibly saving his life. Tarlan fell to his knees, desperately sucking air into his lungs and then heaving it back out. Hoarse sounds escaped from his throat as he tried to keep his heart going. Blood continued to pour out from his head.

“No...thing...” Tarlan heaved out in disbelief, once his body calmed down. “I never experienced...anything like that before...Grayson...” He looked up with blood eyes. “You have no heart, Grayson...there was only a void...aren't you a human?”

Now, Tarlan had said something that even a small child as I could understand. It was as clear to me as clear could be. I had no heart. And I probably wasn't even human.

As I took in this revelation, Tarlan's father returned, rushing to this side of his shivering son.

“What happened...?!” he shouted. “Tarlan!”

“It's fine, father...” Tarlan rose to his feet. “I...” he began, but then bit his tongue. “I had an accident.”

“An accident?!” Tarlan's father shouted in confused rage. “What did you just say before that? Grayson...Grayson isn't human?!”

Tarlan looked at me now, not with anger or malice, but with a bewildered confusion like a small animal cornered by a machine. Like all of the other villagers in the mountains, Tarlan's father possessed a fear, a subconscious desire to shut out and push away anything that wasn't familiar, anything he didn't immediately understand. I never forgot this moment, and looked back on it time and time again as I grew up in the city.

The more I thought about it, the more one emotion continued to grow: repulsion. I never hated Tarlan's farther for running away in fear from me that day, I simply hated him for what he was: another one of the villagers who had shut themselves off from society, vehemently rejecting anything that potentially threatened their simplistic, cardboard lives.

Tarlan wanted to keep his ability secret, so I understood why he kept quiet as he and his father left me there. It didn't bother me one bit – the minute I spun around to face the fountain in the town square, the people waiting for me greeted me and made me forget everything in an instant. I was mesmerized by all that I didn't know, and had to have it instantly: because I could. Tarlan was right – the curse of curiosity lived within me, as well.

The more time I spent in that town, hopping from house to house, from neighborhood, the more desire I accumulated. Since birth, I had been using my ability by instinct to get whatever I want, and this was no exception – save the sheer quantity of objects to amass. Exotic food, clothing, ornaments, friends, money – as I matured, I collected more and more, simply because I could.

It was a constant rush of desire, though, and I was never satisfied. As this torrent continued, images of the mountain village where I had been raised returned to my mind, and I marveled at their existence. Now that I was looking upon them with the eyes of an outsider, I could truly understand their essence. The way they lived, the way they thought...it was all so simple. And I was even a little bit jealous. I would hear people talk about feeling like they were in heaven, or that they were so happy they had found the person they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. How satisfied they were. This feeling never once slipped into my void of a heart...oh, sorry, I think I'm getting a little too ahead of myself here.

In the first few months of my stay in the big town, there was absolutely no one to stand in my way within the town. It wasn't until I had spent two or three months there that I met my first truly powerful psynergy user – and consequently, the first person who could actually threaten me.

The normal townspeople, of course, treated me like I was an angel who had fallen from the sky – and even if someone didn't fall completely in love with me, my influence was still capable of veiling their eyes enough so that they would not stand in my way. Up until I met my first truly strong psynergy user, I merely thought that this was the way of the world – and that it would never change.

It was chilly out the first season when I came to town, so usually people didn't go out late – there wasn't much to do, anyway. One night, however, I received a letter from a common messenger inviting me to a 'secret meeting' out at the harbor at midnight. My current guardian, and a rich elderly woman who was absolutely in love with me, took one look at the letter and got hysteric over the entire matter, begging me not to go, insisting that some evil being was waiting out there to kill me – despite the fact that I still had no idea what thhe word “kill” even meant.

I was too intrigued by the entire matter to listen to her. A secret meeting? In the middle of the night? The message was unmarked, too, so who knew who wrote it! It was not only the kind of thing a child would be thrilled over, but exactly the kind of mystique I as a child had come to love. I firmly insisted to the old woman that I wanted to go, and she conceded, not without a bit of worry. I still had yet to taste fear, however, so I simply shrugged off her pleas as elderly gibberish and ran out into the night.

I had to run a bit from her estate to make it downtown and then across the city to the pier, but I made it there by midnight, and was surprised to see only one other person waiting for me there – a tall, muscular man in a black trenchcoat and scraggly brown braids pouring out from a top hat.

He was sitting on a bench by the water having a smoke, but as soon as he saw me, he stood up, tossed the cigarette into the water, and then rushed over to me.

“Good evening, my boy,” he cooed as he looked down to me. His mouth was filled with cavities, he was unshaven, and he smelled like rotten fish. “Thank you so much for taking the time to come out to join my secret meeting. My name is Mr. Finkle. What's yours?”

“Grayson,” I responded cheerfully, too curious to care about the man's odor. He didn't talk like any of the townspeople, and certainly didn't dress like them – so he was a completely new type of specimen for me to experience. “So what's this meeting about?”

“Well, Grayson, I'm just passing through,” Mr. Finkle explained. “But I happened to spot you earlier during my stay here, and it looked to me like you possess the...proper qualifications, one might say, to participate in a little game of mine. Do you like games?”

“I sure do!” I grinned.

“I sure am happy to hear that, Grayson. What do you say, then, we start off by playing Mr. Finkle's special game?” The dirty man's yellow teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

“Okay,” I shrugged. “How do we start?”

“The first thing you need to do,” Mr. Finkle responded, raising up his hand a pointing a green, grungy fingernail at me. “is take off those nice little clothes of yours.”

“'kay, hold on,” I said, slipping out from the vest, trousers, and underwear that had all been given to me by my friends.

The minute I was naked, he was on me. I was tackled to the ground hard, and my face went smacking off the pavement. Scraps of flesh were ripped from my face as he pushed my head back down to the ground, overpowering me with putrid, rotten-fish psynergy.

I had experienced nothing like this before – neither the violence or the massive psynergy aura emanating from my assailant. I had never willfully sent out my psynergy aura before, but even my instinctual defenses were nothing against this trained killer's might. He shoved me down, crushing my influence, defeating me.

“I knew I'd have you...” The man known as Mr. Finkle guffawed madly behind me as he fastened his free hand around my behind. “The minute you crossed my eyes, my beauty, I knew I couldn't leave this town without you! I've never tasted flesh as white and supple as yours before...and look at this fresh round bottom...oooh, but first, I must have you! Mustn't rush ourselves now, Mr. Finkle...it'll all come in good time...all in good time...”

This was the death of my childhood – and the birth of a monster.

Next: The Weight of Existence

188

2011-08-13T22:59:00.000-07:00

188 : Doomsday Blood

Merry were the murderers.

Frolicking and reveling as the thick stench of flesh and blood rose into the air, the servants of the Coven of Profane Clarity mauled the acolytes of the seventh sanctuary, desperately trying to thwart God's will.

From afar, it looked as if the holy servants were being smothered in darkness as dozens of creatures cloaked in black merged on them, ripping and shredding without discretion. Behind them, the high priests and priestesses of the Coven were still in the process of unsealing their demonic blood, mutating their bodies into grotesque, ogrish hulks.

Having their metapsynergy barrier shattered was something absolutely unprecedented for the acolytes. Had this battle taken place in the Church's homeworld of Eretz, things would not have gone so easily. The Supernal Chapel acted as a satellite for holy psynergy, allowing any party of acolytes, no matter how small, to travel the planet and enforce God's will without any threat of interference. Powered by hundreds of devout servants, the chapel sent out packets of powerful psynergy twenty four hours a day, blocking all entry and exit from the dimension, and providing soldiers of faith with the fuel they needed to carry on their work.

It was in this environment that the Coven of Profane Clarity had trained themselves – assaulted daily by blinding light, constantly tormented by angelic psynergy. Metapsynergy was not a requirement for entry into the blasphemous unit – it went without saying that every single member of the cult could warp space with their own auras. They had grown up in a dimension populated by the servants of God – the being who crafted the human world, so there was no other choice. The only ones capable of embracing the darkness and surviving were those who had beaten their bodies so brutally that they had become equals with the overseers of the world.

At this point, there were over three hundred individuals releasing some type of metapsynergy aura in the vicinity of the northern shrine, and due to the extreme density of physical and mental energy at this minuscule point in space, those whose auras could not keep up were starting to see side-effects.

Phileas, Pan Dora, and Edward were the first to experience such. During the initial coming of the Coven, they had been knocked flat on their faces, unable to keep up with the sudden rise in power. Despite their powerful abilities, none of their bodies were hardened enough to withstand the mind-melting level of power that had suddenly appeared – and this was something that not even Grayson's invention could deal with.

Kamo and Mixam witnessed this, as they felt blood trickling out from their noses. Body movements felt more sluggish, eyes were hazy, and the space around them felt “looser,” as if it was gelatin slowly wiggling out of a tight glass container. Trying to sense psynergy auras now was completely out of the question – any attempt of escape into one's mental radar would only result in a brain-splitting jolt of pain.

“It's possible...” Mixam hypothesized, “that this is slowly rising to a level of pure psynergy that no human body can withstand...”

And so, Vance's allies were frozen, desperately trying to defend themselves as they experienced the true might of light and darkness. Cliff, Azuka, Toshizou, Ryouko, Frank, Saitou, and Yamazaki had all been healed by the Church, but that did nothing to assist them in overcoming this mental onslaught.

“This is what the shrine's keeper was speaking of...” Toshizou gazed at the massacre in wonder. “They are truly destroyers...not just of worlds, but of space, time, and all matter. They exist on a different plane of existence than us...the plane of Gods.”

“Toshi...” Azuka called out in pain to her lover, grasping his hand like her only lifeline. “We have to be strong...if anything, they'll destroy each other. We've been through so much, we can't let this dazzle and cripple us. This isn't just about Yamato...it's about the entire universe!”

“That's why we're afraid, Captain...” Cliff realized. “There's some deep feeling of despair rising up from a place I never knew I had...it's like we're finally coming face to face with the true form of this universe. I thought I'd fought a lot, overcome powerful obstacles...but that's nothing. In the face of nature, in the face of the universe...we're nothing!” He screamed, as tears ran down his face. “We're completely powerless!”

A series of screeching booms slowly began to drown out Cliff's distraught cries, drawing the attention of all those who were still able to retain consciousness. This time, it was Bob, the 11^th High Priest of the Coven, who had finished his transformation into a bloated, sickly purple tumor of flesh bound and strapped in leather and chains.

Roaring, he crashed down behind the developing battle between the heretics and the holy ones, releasing a mess of psynergy-powered chains and restraints from within. The bonds poured down onto the angelic soldiers, tying others to the ground, and simply smashing through others. Thick chain links tore through flesh, grinding and whipping, until a great number of the pristine warriors were effectively immobilized.

Thus began the orgy.

Energized by alcohol and bloodlust, the satanists abandoned all self-control, mentally transforming into beasts and letting their God-given DNA take over. Men or women, it didn't matter – the cultists ripped the clothes and armor off every blessed soldier, desecrating the most sacred of human actions – sexual union. The screams of man and woman, young and old began to sound out from the circle, as Zeigfried's chaste servants were both suppressed and raped.

“Daldoss!” Kapellmeister Springtune called out frantically to the Archbishop. “This is madness! How much longer will it be until the Rock of Ages arrives?!”

“I would estimate another hour or so...” Daldoss grunted out, as he evaded Bob's chains. “But it should be blocking out the sun very soon...”

“Where is Cardinal Mickey?!” Springtune bellowed. “And Sister Spaulding? They're our two strongest defenders! And Father Zeigfried...Father Zeigfried, please come to our aid!”

Sister Regina Spaulding, a high-ranking nun of the Church's Legion of Decency, had been quiet for most of the battle so far, but she could no longer sit still. Clad in durable black robes, she was currently engaged with four members of the Coven, desperately trying to keep them from fully transforming.

“Lord, please grant me your strength, so that I may smite this evil before any more sin is committed!”

Finishing her prayer, Spaulding proceeded to remove a massive metal weapon from her robes. Covered in scripture quotations and white ivory, it was shaped like a human-sized cross, with a large rectangular nozzle at the end.

“Let Christ into your heart!” She screamed, sending her psynergy into the machine and ejecting a cross-shaped stake that was slathered in ivory psynergy.

This holy weapon went sailing straight toward the breast of High Priest Mory, 3^rd of the Coven, who was currently too caught up in his own transformation to put up any kind of defense. It would have pierced him cleanly, too, if one other High Priest hadn't finished his own transformation in advance.

With a quick snap, a gargantuan snake head came swinging outwards, connecting with the cross from the side and splintering both it and the psynergy that covered it. Turning her eyes to the source of her failure, Spaulding could not help but stagger backwards – for standing there, where the 2^nd of the Coven had once been, was an impossibly long serpent with six hundred and sixty six separate, flailing heads.

“By the blood of Leviathan...” Malchius Cantor, the oldest and highest-ranking priest in the Coven growled through his serpentine mouth. “You will be purged!”

On the opposite side of the field, Enju continued to clash with Cardinal Mickey. His movements were impossibly fast, especially considering his human body, and he often beat out the enhanced being in both speed and reach. Every time he got close to striking Enju, however, the bronze man would produce and extra ligament and prevent the damage.

“There's no way...” Enju leapt back, taking a breath. “With those movements and that speed, you can't be all human...”

“I am as human as the day when God breathed life into my soul...” Mickey replied pleasantly. “My psynergy, however...that's a different story.”

“I knew it...” Enju spoke with interest. “You're not just human...inhuman, is it? Doesn't that go against your religion's teachings?”

“As long as there exist inhuman monsters who try and defile our God, we must be willing to go beyond humanity ourselves – that is, to borrow the strength of God in order to achieve his purposes. Any level of holy person who enters into service in the Church receives a certain level of angel blood infusion. It's absolutely necessary in order to exorcise these devils.”

Angel blood... Enju processed the information. Blood from the spawns of the being who directs this world...there's no way any mundane human could compete with something like this!

“Genuflect!” Once more, Cardinal Mickey came spiraling forward with both knees pointed outwards, preparing to drill through Enju's glowing flesh.

But I am no longer a mundane human... Enju planted both feet into the ground, bracing for the impact. Be it angel or demon...their blood is still part of this reality! A reality I can assimilate!

Enju felt the searing angelic psynergy dig into his flesh, but he held on, despite feeling both legs get ripped from the ground. With that, the two flew off, leaving the south end of the ruins almost completely deserted...except for two figures.

They stood facing each other, frozen in time, crystal green orbs locked on monochrome eyes.

“Eden...” Vance opened his mouth, staring across to the only girl he had ever truly fallen for. Despite her ghastly appearance, Vance didn't falter. He was staring at the whole of her – the past they had together, what she had made him feel, and how he had wanted things to be. He saw her turn toward him, and although he was shaking, he forced himself to continue. “I...I'm sorry.”

Eden's eyes were still as gentle and beautiful as they had ever been, but they lacked the child-like vacancy they had once possessed. Her face was taut and hardened.

“Vance...” She spoke, taking a step toward her friend. “It's been a while. What are you apologizing for?”

Vance clenched his fists. “If only...if only I would have been there for you, if only I would have protected you, like I should have...things wouldn't have ended up like this.”

“We were both weak back then, Vance.” Eden spoke calmly, flicking her eyes between the developing chaos, and the young adult she had once grown to love. “Staying together would have only stunted our growth...it was right, and inevitable that we be drawn apart...”

Eden's words troubled Vance. “What are you talking about?”

“When we were together, there were so many times I fantasized about running away...” Eden looked upon the Albavitrean with compassionate eyes. “About running away from my heritage, from our mission, from all the danger that lied ahead of us...”

“So did I, Eden...” Vance quickly cut in. “But that doesn't mean it isn't still possible! No one can control us! We--”

“You still don't understand?” Eden shook her head. “There's no happy ending possible for us in this world...we can't run away. You can't run away from blood, Vance...you can hide in the tiniest hole at the edge of the universe, but that won't change anything. Someday, it will catch up to you.”

Vance shook his head. “This doesn't sound like you, Eden...when did you become so bitter?” Then, the truth Cliff had taught him resounded in his hands, and Vance's aura flared. “It was Grayson, wasn't it...he did this to you! He changed you!”

“Grayson helped me. He opened my eyes,” Eden replied. “For the first time in my life, I had no one to protect me, no one to come and save the day...and for the first time in my life, my strength wasn't enough.”

“Shut up!” Vance screamed. “Don't say that! He's a coward, a liar, and a rapist! How could you say he helped you?!”

“He wasn't nice to me,” Eden replied. “He didn't think of me, he didn't want to protect me like you, Cliff, and the Seneschal did. It was painful, but it pulled me back into reality. It made me realize what I needed to do. There is one thing I regret, though, Vance...I'm sorry for not being yours. I'm sorry that I didn't love you innocently when I still had the chance...before everything changed.”

“No!” Vance raged. “We can both still fight, Eden...you should have seen me back there! I kicked Grayson's ass! We can stop this, and we can fix the balance of this universe. Just like my mom was planning to!”

“No,” Eden shook her head sadly. “We can't. God won't allow it.”

“God...?”

“I'm God's right hand,” Eden said. “His weapon. As long as I and my father exist...you 'demons' will never be free.”

Frozen in shock, Vance watched as Eden began to glide forward, the edges of her bodies shining brilliantly as they began to revert to pure psynergy. “Wait!” he cried out. “I still don't get all of this, Eden...hold on!”

“Grayson carries a heavy load,” Eden continued. “Unless one completely destroys all of their humanity, there's no way they could possibly change this world – or kill the ones who govern it. That's what he's aiming for.”

“Eden, wait!” Vance insisted, reaching a hand out.

Suddenly, he saw something dark flash from his left.

“There she is!” A shrill, female voice shouted. “Kill her!”

Judging that it was heading straight for Eden, Vance made a split-second decision, diving forward and protectively embracing her slender body. Inugami Kiriko's psynergy fetus went sailing over their head, followed by its grisly umbilical cord.

At the same time, two black high heels pierced the ground in front of the two. Picking himself up, Vance saw the distraught face of Wendy Caskett, with two pale arms crossed under her voluptuous bosom.

“What do you think you're doing...?!” Vance grit his teeth.

“That's my line!” Wendy screeched, axolotls spilling out from her body. “I can't believe you...after all the time we spent together, after all you said to me...I was just another piece of meat to you, Vance, wasn't I?!”

“So this is Eden...” Kiriko's scratchy voice floated in from behind the two. “She looks like even more of a whore than I imagined.”

“While I was desperately trying to heal all the wounds I got saving you...what did you do, Vance?” Wendy asked condescendingly. “You went off into the woods and preyed on some poor, mentally ill woman! What were you--”

“Excuse me?!” Kiriko barked. “Who are you calling mentally ill? I--”

“Shut up!” Vance roared, picking himself up, as he held his hands protectively around Eden. “Geez, Kiriko, what the hell are you doing here?! Why are you with Wendy...?! What...what the hell is going on?”

“Vance...” Eden glanced at the two women suspiciously. “Who are these people?”

“Yeah, why don't you explain it to her?” Wendy gestured with long, black fingernails. “Wipe that innocent look off your face and tell the fucking truth!”

Vance staggered, but desperately kept his hold on Eden, as if she was the only anchor to sanity he had left. The sounds of the earth grinding and shifting, the blood-curdling cries of the acolytes being raped, the stampeding of the Coven, and now the screeching of the two women whom Vance had made his own...it was too much to bear.

The thing that bothered him most, however, was none of the above. It was a tall figure cloaked in black, standing back towards the area where the Coven's massive portal had materialized. Masked with the red face of a demon, this figure stood still and lifeless, yet Vance could somehow feel that he was being watched. This entire time, Vance was absolutely sure he was being studied and analyzed by whatever existed behind that mask.

Suddenly, Vance felt a deep panic rising from below. Something was wrong...and it wasn't just the fluctuations in space that were warping the scenery. More than anything, he just wanted to scoop up Eden and run away.

You can't run away from blood... Eden's dark words resounded in his mind.

“I've had so many people tell me what I am, what my blood is...” Vance began to speak, keeping his eyes locked on that mysterious figure. “Human, inhuman, Albavitrean, demonic...I don't care. I'll bear what I want, and I'll abandon what I want. But I'm not just going to shut up and accept all this bullshit just because someone tells me to!” He turned his head to face the three women. “Do you hear me?!”

[I hear you.]

Vance felt a rush of green psynergy flow over his body. It was Grayson's, no doubt, but this psynergy felt like something completely new.

Vance swerved around, skipping his eyes over to the battlefield to see the figure of his biological father standing at the edge of the crater. Behind Grayson, Zeigfried was in the middle of a furious mid-air fistfight with Frake Urbain, leaving the Snake with a moment to call out to his son.

Grayson...? Vance put himself on guard.

[Words and thoughts can be transferred by psynergy if one possesses the proper mental faculties,] Another packet of information from Grayson explained. [Seems like you've never done it before – but it doesn't matter. I'm not doing this to have a conversation with you. And if you don't want to listen to me, then you can simply shake this off. But something has occurred to me, Vance. Since we spoke back at the bottom of that pit. If you want to listen, then close your eyes and concentrate. It'll be easier to transmit to you that way. Those foolish humans won't do anything to you. You'll be fine.]

Vance was intrigued – but he didn't trust Grayson one bit. The timing of Grayson's interference, however, couldn't have been more convenient. It was the perfect escape – the perfect way for Vance to momentarily retreat from all this chaos and recuperate. And so, Vance did as he was told, but kept his psynergy aura burning.

“What do you think you're doing?!” Wendy shouted, watching as Vance let go of Eden and fell into what appeared to be some strange kind of trance. She ran up to him and began to shake his body violently. “Are you trying to run away again?!”

A sharp crackle of citrus psynergy blew Wendy away from the man. “Get your hands off of him,” Eden spoke, staring at Wendy with threatening eyes. “I don't know who you two are, or what you are to Vance...but it doesn't matter. One of you mentioned something about killing me earlier...would you mind explaining that?”

“What's there to explain?” Wendy crossed her arms again, looking down on Eden from her heel-assisted height. “You're in my way. As long as you're still alive, Vance won't grow, nor will he commit. That's why he went and had sex with Kiriko. He's too confused, too torn between us that it makes him want to run away. Vance is a simple man, you know. All he needs is one woman – me.”

“Let's just hurry up and do this,” Kiriko gave Wendy an impatient tongue click. “And make sure you let me assimilate her before you kill her.”

“Oh, don't worry,” Wendy smiled sadistically. “I plan to make things go nice and slow.”

As the three women converged, Vance felt himself drift farther and farther away from the reality around him, focusing slowly on the dark green stream of psynergy that was drifting out from Grayson.

[Vance...I may have misjudged you when we first met. You're impossibly below the level of understanding I possessed at your age...but maybe the world hasn't completely wasted you yet. I'll take one last chance, and try to explain it more carefully. Who knows – making you understand may expedite the overall process a bit. Remember Vance – this is something your father, and even your mother somewhat agreed with. This is the truth of the world.

[Look around you,] the next packet began. [Think about this world you have grown up in – the world into which God placed his creations. He gave them a strict set of rules to follow, a way of training, one might say, to 'better' themselves. But what about the system on which the world runs? The system on which the genes that control humans' minds run? Does it fit with God's rules? No...the nature of the world is cruel, merciless, and without any sort of justice. That's the world God created – a world full of temptation, with which he tortures his people daily. Humans may not be inherently evil – but the DNA and animal urges that govern human behavior is certainly not 'good.'

[Yet God excludes the very system he built. His new sense of justice and good replaced the old blackness, the chaos of this world. By theory, whatever is not considered good by God is 'evil'...but originally, that was all that existed. Do you understand? The Coven fights to restore that chaos...but restore it in the world that God created, something that will never work. Meanwhile the Church clings to God's rigid sense of justice, cutting off all else. Both of them are exclusive...and as long as there exist people who exclude, this world will never know true balance. That's why it must be destroyed...all of it. Light, darkness, justice, chaos, God, Satan, nature, humans...it's all imperfect. Flawed, irrational...this is a world in which only the weak, stupid, and frail can truly be happy.]

As Vance let Grayson's words fill him, the sky over Yamato began to shake and rumble. Holy psynergy began to pulsate through the air, ripping through clouds. Finally, the sky was wrenched open, obscuring space itself as a flood of golden light spilled down.

“They've come!” Zeigfried grinned madly, staring up to the sky with hope. “Now that all the Apostles have gathered...you heretics are doomed! This is the end!”

[There isn't much time left...] Grayson continued. [But I'm sure you still don't really understand what I'm talking about...so I'll show you. I'll send you my life.]

Abruptly, the words cut off, and Vance could see an image stretching out over his mindscape. It was nothing like watching a movie – it was like the image was passing through his mind, imprinted on his mind's eye.

In the image, he saw a young boy with shining blond hair, piercing green eyes, and flawless, healthy skin. While he looked like a normal young boy, his eyes were impossibly dark. It was a look Vance knew too well, from staring hopelessly into the mirror time and time again during his own adolescence.

There was fire in this boy's eyes, fire mixed with pain, anger, and bleakness. This boy was just not discontent, but indignant. He was on the brink of madness.

Just as Vance started to understand these things, the boy extended his hand.

“Join me.”

Next: The Curse of Curiosity

187

2011-08-01T03:28:00.000-07:00

187 : Dignitaries of Hell

As the the ruins of the northern shrine succumbed to a type of chaos never seen before in the history of the entire dimension of Yamato, the rest of the planet continued down the path to destruction.

The tremors heightened, uprooting trees from their firm holds in the crumbling ground. Plates of the planet were dislodged, summoning up devastating tsunami that pulverized the coasts. Dark energy ripped through the planet, toppling mountains along with the minute villages positioned on them.

One second passed, and hundreds of innocents were flattened by waves, bombarded with death without any chance of surviving. Before they even knew what hit them, men, women, and children alike were deleted from existence, rubbed out involuntarily by the raging forces of nature.

This was no natural event, however. Tight black reins had been chained to the entirety of Yamato's ecosystem, manipulating it for no other purpose than pure destruction. In the clutches of ancient darkness, nature was being forced to disassemble itself, without a speck of regret or sorrow.

Yamatoans who still living primitive, simple lifestyles on the outlying islands of the main continent were mercilessly washed away like dirt. Those who happened to be facing one of the beaches were given only a few seconds to contemplate what was about to happen before water invaded every inch of their being, ripping the life from their throats.

The death that covered the land made no exceptions – any living creature, regardless of its virtue, preparation, or fear and caution towards dying were plucked from the mortal coil one by one. It was a long, unceremonious execution, slowly swirling back around to the place where it all began.

Huddled in the center of the battlefield north of Neo-Edo were the remains of the Sacchuu-Iga Alliance. While many were concerned about what was happening up north, the greater concern was what to do with all the wounded warriors that lay in front of their eyes.

Neither pausing nor losing her senses during the crisis, Onizawa Chiaki, having committed her first murder of another human being, rushed back to the scene. The downed Joentai members were transported back, and no one was really sure how many were still living.

Yakushiji Chigusa had long since finished her repairs on Saffron's arm, and was now busy taking care of the most critical injuries.

“Saitou Hajime disappeared,” she reported to Chiaki as she worked. “But Nagakura Shinpachi and Inoue Genzaburou have been taken out. We've won.”

Also assisting in the repairs were Sabine Cune and Caleb Harper, who had escorted the fatigued bodies of Bruce and Rose back to the base once the fighting had begun to die down. Having spent many days and nights coexisting with the Joentai and the ninjas of Iga, the two Vice-Captains were truly able to think, work, and suffer together, fearing for the future of the world they now loved.

“Kusaka Samon is supposed to have evacuated the city, taking all of the townspeople into the mountains,” A wounded Sacchuu official explained. “I fear for them...just like us, they must have nowhere to run.”

“Something horrible is flowing through this planet...” Madeleine spoke tiredly, eyelids drooping over her saucer eyes. “I don't think there will be anywhere to hide, no matter how far you run.”

“Vance's group came through a portal in the Shinsengumi headquarters, right?” Sabine asked. “If there are more, then we should be able to use them to evacuate.”

“But how do we transport this group and Samon's group at the same time...” Caleb squeezed his fists in frustration. “We don't even know what's really happening here, but it doesn't look like we have any time to check.”

As key members of the force continued to ponder the situation, Chiaki stared off towards the direction of the capital. There was not a trace of youkai left, as far as the eye could see – which meant that the Emperor's son, Hanazono Makoto, must have been ripped from his powerhouse somehow.

“I'm going on ahead to the capital...” Chiaki whispered, tightening her sword on her belt and looking to her companions. “I might be able to stop all this.”

Satoka looked up to her leader in confusion. “How? What are you talking about?”

“My ability,” Chiaki replied. “If I can amplify it through the equipment Prince Makoto was using, then I should be able to cover this entire area...whoever's trying to destroy our world, whoever's trying to kill our planet...I can stop them.”

All those listening were confused, but the determination that still burned in Chiaki's eyes was enough to convince them.

“Fine, but take some people along with you to inspect the transporters. Meanwhile, we'll send someone else to meet up with Samon...and hopefully evacuate everyone out of here in time.”

As Chiaki took off, the sun was burning above her, casting light down on what would possibly be the final day for Yamato. Behind it, in the clear, cloudless sky, another burning light was visible. The Rock of Ages that Archbishop Daldoss had formed was now blitzing through the galaxy, headed straight toward Yamato. This mass of space rock was easily five times the size of the actual planet itself, composed of meteoroid and asteroid, propelled by countless comets.

Now that it was locked in its trajectory, it wouldn't matter how much the planet of Yamato rotated. Collision was inevitable, and those who had looked up into the sky from the ruins of the northern shrine felt a dire sense of hopelessness rise in their hearts. With the planet crumbling beneath their feet, and a massive executioner coming to pulverize it, there seemed to be no way out.

Currently, however, there was something so catastrophic happening that it was able to remove a fear that great from everyone's minds. Just a few steps south of the crater in which Vance, Grayson, and Zeigfried were currently facing each other, a red portal was growing. Swirling and glowing like a radioactive pool of blood, it spread out over the land, muffling the earth.

Wails, a chanting choir, and deep organ music could be heard from beyond. While the human vocals were high and wild, the organ sent out deep bass vibrations, noises that sounded like distant cries of ancient, forgotten creatures. Soon, the sounds grew even louder than the tremors of the earth, blaring through to the world of Yamato and shaking the hearts of its inhabitants.

Then, they appeared. Rising up from the bloody bowels of the portal came ten black-robed figures, standing in a pentagram formation with two at each point. They hovered above the gaping hole, red psynergy crackling between their feet, and then suddenly the portal began to disperse.

It split into smaller holes, which began to circle the crater and the acolyte army at a rapid speed. In response, the soldiers of the Church's 7^th Order tightened their metapsynergy barrier, while Kapelmeister Springtune began orchestrating his choir in an attempt to drown out the demonic wails coming from the beyond.

Keeping their heads low, the ten continued to chant:

“Enslaved is our universe, locked in the bondage of the invader's light.”

Kamo, Mixam, and the rest of the humans who were still standing next to the portal had to anchor their legs powerfully into the ground, lest their knees buckle simply from the density of psynergy in the air. Grayson and Zeigfried battling alone produced enough excess energy to shake the ground, but combined with the dark energy pulsating through the earth, the stifling force of the acolytes, and now the evil aura of these newcomers, and then finally the dark energy pulsating through the planet, there was no telling what would happen to the continent.

“The invader created a world to worship him, to shower him with endless honor and praise...when they chose freedom, he punished them...when they chose nature, he chastised them...when they chose each other, he tore them apart...a tyrant from beyond, he muffled out the core of the universe he built his kingdom upon: a whirling vortex of freedom! A bubbling fountain of chaos! Imprisoning and abusing its elements, he attempted to master the universe from every angle.”

While the chanting continued, the organ tempo increased, transforming into a pulsing, impending force of doom.

“But it was not to be had. Our great master, the true Lord of this World, Father Lucifer, King Satan, the last pure vessel of the chaos that reigned in this world, bared his fangs of truth on the being known as God. He was struck down, but he did not lose.”

Nine of the robed figures raised their heads, and soon crowds of people of all shapes, sizes, and colors began to pour out from the portals, armed with weapons, armor, and alcohol.

“For we continue His work,” the nine figures continued, staring up at the acolytes with malice. “No matter how many years or months it takes, we shall destroy his world. We will spit on his teachings, murder his people, rape his virgins, and obliterate his civilization. To restore order to the universe, to return control to the watchers, the eyes of the reality, we will become blasphemous. We will become the Coven...of Profane Clarity.”

On cue, a massive stage rocketed up from beneath the main portal, complete with a seven-piece band and armored singers. Heavily distorted, drowned-out electric guitar blared through the pillars of speakers they had set up, completely overpowering all other noise. The guitarist, a skinny, sallow-skinned man with black hair shaved into an upside-down cross, sent his pick slowly over the strings of the instrument. The sound that came out of the alien, obelisk-like speakers sounded black and vile – like sludge slowly inching its way into a sewer, it was the perfect antithesis to the acolyte's heavenly voices. With droning drum beats, spindly bass, and growling, hoarse vocals, the coven's band produced a sound that hit deeper in the human consciousness, signaling something more primordial than Springtune's choir could ever muster.

Meanwhile, the band: a drummer, an organ player, three guitarists, a bassist, and a hulking vocalist began to play.

“You think this is a joke, you think we're pretend...well let me tell you something: this is the end!”

Responding to the devilish melody, the rest of the coven surrendered themselves to obscene ecstasy, guzzling down wine as they raced toward the Church's congregation. Stampeding, some brandished weapons, but most of the Satanists simply charged forward with their bare hands, relying solely on their psynergy abilities.

“The end of the world, the end of your lives...the end of the tyrant and all his lies!”

“Get out of the way!” Azuka shouted, scrambling down from the earth ramp that led to the acolytes. “They're berserk, out for blood...they simply want to cause as much violence as possible!”

“You say man was born with Adam's original sin...that only means that God will never win!”

Vance's allies scrambled for cover as the coven descended. Desecrating the bodies that God had given them, they tore off their clothes and dove forward as animals, thirsting for blood. Some leapt onto the holy barrier the acolytes had erected, letting their flesh burn as they bit and scratch, while others stood back and showered the barrier with attacks.

“Death to God! Drink of his blood! Death to God! Eat of his skin!”

Nine of the high priests and priestesses approached, sending deadly glares to the holy servants. The tenth of the cloaked fingers, still standing in place at the edge of the portal, finally raised his head to reveal a grotesque red mask.

“Do not fear the holy ones,” a distorted voice commanded from within. “They are powerful, but we are their antithesis. Summon the demonic energy from within your blood – we are the children of Lucifer, the bearer of true clarity! We are his servants! We are his blade!”

Hearing this order, the high priests and priestesses let their auras rage. Nine sets of eyes were drowned in a crimson glow, and their bodies began to twist and distort, mutating into something that was far beyond human. High Priest Frake Urbain, the man who found Eden in Eretz so many moons ago, was the first to cast off his cloak.

And so he grew, rising up over his followers. The demonic blood coursing through his veins entered into a chemical reaction with his psynergy, rearranging his genes and bursting out new flesh between his new muscles. Soon, Urbain stood as tall as a mountain, with hulking, cadet gray skin, and a long, spindly tail. Two ribbed horns extended from his bald head, and a long white beard drooped down from his chin.

“Holy shit...” Mixam stared up at the demonic spectacle. “I never thought such a thing was possible...who knows how much psynergy he's able to sustain now with that body mass...this is insane!”

Kamo watched as Urbain stomped towards the acolytes, scraping curved, snake-like toenails into the ground. “Well this is good for us...it looks like these zealots will be able to hold off the Church while we get the hell out of here!”

“Stay with me here, man...” Mixam's eyes turned to the other transformations that were still in progress. “This situation is no longer a matter of sink or swim...ol' Ziggy over there just called the rest of his pals, and if they gather here along with these monsters...the amount of psynergy gathered in this tiny space in Yamato is going to be completely off the charts...probably something our universe hasn't seen in hundreds of years...the very dimension itself may not be able to hold!”

“I swear on the ancestral blood of Belphegor...” Urbain growled. “I will murder each and every one of you fiends!”

Curling both clawed fists, Frake released a sphere of metapsynergy, pummeling the acolytes' barrier. With an ear-snapping crackle, it shattered into countless tiny fragments that were immediately dissipated by the fury of the half-demon's aura. The choir fled, while some acolytes held up their sacred spears toward their mortal enemy. Others were simply crushed under the monster's knuckles, splattering between demonic flesh and dirt.

Deep within the crater, Vance was desperately trying to find an opening in Zeigfried and Grayson's scuffle while he tracked the commotion on the surface with his mind. As he felt Frake's shockwave, however, the pure weight of the metapsynergy flowing out over the planet was enough to knock even the young Albavitrean off-kilter.

“What in God's name is going on up there?!” Zeigfried screamed, feeling the holy barrier shatter. Backing off Grayson and transforming his body into steam, he floated his head up to come face to face with the demonic giant.

“Zeigfried Harknett Abaddon...” The Satanic Priest locked his sights on Vance's grandfather. “The son of Heaven who has been marked by demons...how I've waited for this moment!”

“I've killed so many half-breeds like you...” Zeigfried mumbled listlessly. “Ones much stronger than yourself...I don't know who told you I would be coming to this dimension, but even though you've seemingly cornered me here, you still have no chance. You don't know what you're going up against. The Lord is absolute!”

“Your God is an intruder!” Frake Urbain roared. “We have lived in bondage long enough! Today, the world is freed for eternity!”

Free for the time being, Grayson turned to stare at where the Clock had been. By this point, the Emancipators had long since recovered the artifact, and were rocketing through the Yamato sky in the hopes of escaping.

Charging up his right arm, the Snake attempted to fire a concentrated blast of green psynergy at the distant aircraft, but he was never able to release it. Seizing this opportunity, Vance lunged out and grabbed his biological father's arm.

“Pest!” Grayson used his free hand to slap his son across the face, but Vance withstood the attack, keeping his eyes focused furiously on his elder's.

“Tell me something, Grayson...” Vance asked sternly. “If all you care about is yourself, and destroying everything around you...then why did you ever get involved with my mother? Why did you work together...and why did you add your DNA to her child?”

As if to acknowledge Vance's strength, Grayson did not pull away from his son – he merely stared back at the young man with those cold green eyes. As Vance stared back, however, he thought he saw them change. It was as if something behind them was crumbling, or flying away...to reveal a layer of the grey enigma that few had ever seen.

“What a question...” Grayson answered slowly. “Why do you wish to know the answer?”

“Because my mother had a dream...” Vance replied. “A plan to save this universe...and for some reason, I think you were a part of it.”

Grayson continued to stare at his son, and for a moment, Vance almost thought he saw the man's prominent cheeks tremble. Then, he answered.

“I was much weaker when I was younger,” Grayson replied. “When I met your mother...for a moment, I thought she could stop me. Not help me...but destroy me, destroy the inhuman deity I have become. For she was not a child of God or Satan.”

Vance froze, shocked at the truth he heard surging out from Grayson's words.

“But I was wrong. No living creature could stop me. Therefore, you were to become the final failsafe,” Grayson continued. “You were to--”

Suddenly, Grayson's sentence cut off, and his eyes shot back toward the shrine ruins. Instantly, Vance felt it too. As did Cliff, Azuka, Kamo, and Wendy Caskett, who had just arrived to the scene with Inugami Kiriko trailing behind her.

One final being was coming out from the blood portal.

She was slender, of moderate height, with peach skin that might have looked more pristine if it wasn't for the ritual inscriptions that had been written all over it. Her head was shaved bald, and her face smeared with black paint, she like a specter from beyond.

But her psynergy aura was uncanny.

Infinitely bright, the woman's searing citrus aura burned the minds of all those who had once known her. Now, she stood before them again, in a form no one had expected to see. Wrapped in dozens of straps and chains, scribed in black, she looked like a corpse in bondage, a beauty defiled, a perfect portrait of the unholy.

Feeling her timeless aura once more, Vance immediately flashed back to the depths of Pandemonium. He had felt it there too, and she had been in front of his eyes. Inches away...but he had let her go.

Not this time.

Letting go of Grayson, Vance shot up the edge of the crater, dark purple psynergy scorching the ground as he pushed himself upwards, like a drowning diver thirsting for air.

After all this time...after all that's happened...after all these gallons of blood, pain, and regret...

He saw her.

Vance Dancougar stood still on the edge of the crater, staring down to the blood portal where Eden Gardener now floated.

With both arms outstretched, she had her right pointer finger aimed toward the ground, and her left up towards the sky, as if to shape or guide her psynergy. As soon as she felt Vance, however, the girl turned her child-like face to the side, gazing down at her old partner.

Vance's eyes moved past the chains, straps, and paint. He could see her figure standing there, the body of the woman who had unexpectedly captivated him. She looked just as beautiful as he remembered, and his heart rose.

“Eden...” Vance opened his mouth, stepping forward. “I...”

Next: Doomsday Blood

186

2011-06-29T04:06:00.000-07:00

186 : The Punishment Due

As Zeigfried glared at his son, his horde of godly servants continued to blot out the sky behind him like a gargantuan fresco. The grey son, Zeigfried's tainted flesh and blood, simply countered his father's anger with a mad grin.

Surrounding Grayson were a dozen souls whom he had hurt, betrayed, or wronged in some way – in particularly his own biological son, the youth he had just saved from Zeigfried's grasp. Beyond them, the dying planet continued to deteriorate.

It was utter chaos, and Grayson relished every moment. In the middle of this crisis, where every side, every person seemed to be in some state of distress, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“How does it feel?” Grayson egged Zeigfried on even further. “To know that after all this time, even with your infinite power, you still can't blot out your little mistake?”

“Regardless of whether or not I fail in my mission...” Zeigfried replied. “I will know that I did my best for the Lord...and whatever the outcome, He will deal with you in the end!”

As Grayson threw his head back, laughing in the old man's face, confusion permeated the area. Not only were Grayson's motives still unclear, but now he was confronting Zeigfried, his own father.

Grayson only thinks about himself...Frank thought carefully. Although it looks like he saved Vance there, it's not like that was his foremost purpose...this is just another step in his machinations. The question here is...will Zeigfried put a stop to that?

“Why did you save me?!” Vance angrily shouted, interrupting Grayson's laughter. But he received no answer.

Hearing Vance's shout, Zeigfried peered over Grayson's shoulder, returning his gaze to what he saw as a dangerous anomaly.

“You wouldn't be protecting that thing by any chance, would you, Grayson?” Zeigfried asked in a condescending tone. “No...I find it hard to believe you would ever create children, let alone protect another's. It was out of my hope for the future that I forgave and believed in you when you brought us the Bearer...but I should have known. Where did you take her, Grayson?! How did you rob us blind in our own domain?! Where is...where is our Eden?!”

“Come now, I think you already know the answer to that,” Grayson smirked. “Isn't there one other son...you're forgetting?”

Zeigfried's eyes widened. “What are you talking about? Impossible...that's impossible. Not even you could plan this, Grayson...”

“Maybe not plan or control...but it was apparently something I could foresee...”

Zeigfried straightened himself up. “You must be bluffing...how do you even know about him?” Soon, Zeigfried's eyes were drawn over Grayson's shoulder. “Wait...other son...is he what you were talking about?!”

Vance felt Zeigfried's eye focus once more on his body, but no matter how much he physically cautioned himself, he couldn't shake that uneasiness. With Grayson standing right before him, there was no way to predict what would happen next.

Listening to Zeigfried's hypothesis, Grayson snorted out through his nose in amusement. “If you say so. You mean you haven't figured out whose child this is already?”

Zeigfried scowled, staring intently at Vance's face. “Those eyes...that nose...no...”

“I'll give you a hint – her name starts with a V.” Grayson bared his teeth. “Ring any bells?”

Zeigfried's aura exploded outwards, but the holy sage kept himself controlled by digging his own long, manicured nails into his own palms. As blood dripped down, his mouth popped open with a mournful moan.

“V...Victoria...” He whispered, as his foggy aura exploded outwards. Although he was trying to keep his expression stern and disapproving, his voice was wavering, and didn't quite fit with his countenance. “Who...there should have been no more Albavitreans left to procreate...what human had the gall to copulate with an Albavitrean?!”

“An Earthling,” Grayson replied with glee. “Always a crafty one, that Victoria.”

Zeigfied seethed. Beating his breast in rage, he looked up to the heavens, as the choir backed him up with moans of sadness. To everyone besides Grayson, the reason behind his lamentations wasn't exactly clear. Vance's mind was focused on other things, however – the words Grayson had spoken...other son...had yet to leave his mind.

“There will be a slight change of plans,” Zeigfried called out to the survivors. “If you wish to escape this planet, then you must make up your mind quickly and come with us. As soon as we salvage the Clock, we will send you away...but after that, we will exorcise these blasphemous hybrids...by any means that prove necessary.”

That last line made Azuka's heart jump into her throat. “What do you mean? You said you would spare this planet if we gave you the Clock!”

“A future that I would love to help bring into reality,” Zeigfried replied tiredly. “But standing before you now are the two greatest threats to God's world that could possibly ever exist: the last of Nephilim, and...a demonic scion with stolen angelic blood!”

So that's it...Things finally came together in Vance's mind, and he was able to look at the man standing before him in a different light. Grayson isn't some otherworldly creature...he's what was produced when angel and demon blood were mixed...

Frank was also frozen in the shock of revelation. Angels and demons...they're extremes of the same balance, enforcers of good and evil...what exists between them? The grey of merging light and darkness...a force that works only for itself. But couldn't there have been some other way? What caused him to turn out like this...?

“So that's how you view me...” Grayson commented. “Stolen angelic blood? I never wished for it...it was given to me...mixed together, Zeigfried, never solitary...there is one other blood mixed in here, though...and this is a blood that I did lust for...it's made me stronger, better, greater...a force of nature easily capable of destroying your God!”

Eden's blood, Vance knew instantly. Somehow, it reacted with Grayson's angelic blood, and that's why he can regenerate now!

This pushed Zeigfried over the edge. Instead of lunging for Grayson, or increasing his aura even further, however, Zeigfried remained almost completely still, shivering only slightly as a mad smile spread on his face.

“Oh holy father, king of kings, lord of this world...” Zeigfried spoke in a high-pitched voice, letting his eyes drift up to the sky. “Thank you...thank you so much for giving me this chance to do your holy work...to serve your holy judgment unto this satanic thrall..” Zeigfried returned his gaze to Grayson. “While no chastising I could possibly achieve would be enough to make up for your sins...my goal is merely to remove you from the world. God will take care of the rest.”

As Zeigfried spoke, the choir began to join in from behind, padding his words with their joyous voices.

“Archbishop Daldoss,” Zeigfried called up. “Prepare the Rock of Ages.”

“Yes, Father,” Daldoss's voice drifted out from the congregation, and soon, and a bald old man with a scruffy-looking white beard came floating down. “The Rock of Ages has begun its descent.”

“God gave Archbishop Daldoss the ability to control and gather meteorites and other types of space rock in the galaxy,” Zeigfried explained. “Therefore, as of this very moment, a giant, multi-layered comet is heading straight to this earth.”

Bodies flinched.

“How twisted are you?!” Azuka shouted. “You're going to sacrifice an entire civilization just to kill these two?! You could save them if you tried!”

“Oh, we gave Yamato a great many chances to be saved,” Zeigfried countered. “If anyone is to blame for them getting wrapped up in this fiasco, then it is themselves. Besides, greater numbers and greater men have died for much lesser causes. The Yamatoans should be proud that their planet is assisting in what will be a giant leap forward in the peace of God's world.”

“This man is insane,” Azuka desperately turned to Toshizou. “We have to do something.”

“Already on it,” Toshizou replied quietly, his eyes fixed on Zeigfried and Daldoss.

As Azuka turned her eyes back, she saw shadowy psynergy flicker for a moment behind the priest. In the next instant, the black blade of Yamazaki Susumu was thrust through the angelic being's chest.

The hole it was thrust through, however, was nothing but a tiny cloud of fog.

Quickly smoking away his arms, Zeigfried reached around to his back and plucked Yamazaki Susumu out from his shadow, slamming the spy down into the ground. At the same time, however, a blinding streak came zooming in from head-on.

Before Saitou Hajime could connect, however, Zeigfried had reverted his right leg into fog. Shooting his black slipper-clad foot outwards, he targeted Saitou expertly despite the Shinsengumi's speed, lodging his foot cleanly under the man's chin and smashing his throat.

Zeigfried's misty aura exploded outwards as he downed both of the Shinsengumi captains, eye blazing with righteous fury.

“Sin after sin...” Zeigfried growled. “It just goes to show that those who reject the Lord are truly lost...ever trapped in despair!”

Before Zeigfried could get another word in, however, Grayson broke off, running back into the crater towards the Clock.

“Final Zodiacs!” Grayson called out. “We no longer have any use for this planet. Prepare to return to Earth!”

“I'll take care of him...” Zeigfried jettisoned after his son. “Restrain the rest of these infidels!”

Changing most of his body into fog, Zeigfried let the wind carry his hands over to Grayson. Locking his hands around one of the man's legs, the father dragged his son down onto the ground, grappling with him as he let his body regroup on the slope of the crater.

Vance ran after them. Although he wasn't exactly sure why, Vance wasn't about to question himself in the middle of this crisis. This is the man Edgar Caskett told me about...the one who tried to rape my mother. He's Grayson's father...and he even wants Eden...he could be the center of all this!

As Vance dashed down the slope, however, he noticed some movement beyond. Down at the bottom of the crater, the submerged Clock was being hastily hoisted out from the ground by three of the Emancipators – Jerome Burris, Q.B. Crossworth, and Regulus, newly-rejuvenated thanks to Springtune's Divine Liturgy.

“Hurry it up!” Jerome shouted to his partners. “This is our big chance! If either of those guys make it here, we're dead!”

Vance followed Jerome's eyes up to the opposite ledge of the crater – where a shirtless Lex Rosshear and Rhina Hamilton, now wearing the man's upper body armor, were standing.

“I relayed the Emancipator,” Rhina called down. “It should be here any second!”

Meanwhile, the rest of the survivors were left to deal with the personnel of the 7^th Sanctuary. Archbishop Daldoss and Kapellmeister Springtune slowly drew themselves back behind the phalanx, awaiting the planet's doom.

“Look up into the sky,” Daldoss tilted his ancient eyes upward. “You can see it now if you look very hard – the Rock of Ages is drawing near.”

Sure enough, as everyone looked up, they could both see and feel something pulsating faintly from above. Zeigfried had not been bluffing earlier – he clearly planned to obliterate this planet, taking Grayson and Vance along with it.

“It's a psynergy ability...” Cliff tried to rationalize. “If we can knock that Archbishop out of commission, then it should disappear!”

“I'm not sure, Cliff...” Kamo cautioned. “From what Zeigfried says, it sounds like his ability is merely to gather the asteroids and push them into motion...the comet may be completely out of his control by now.”

“Well we can't just sit here and wait!” Cliff growled. “What else is there to do?!”

“Come, join us, and pray that your sins are forgiven,” Springtune extended his arms as he sang his words. “All you need to do is love God.”

“If we go with you...” Frank asked tenatively. “Where will you take us?”

“To a special confession chamber in the Supernal Chapel, where you will be absolved of your pasts.”

“Can't you just drop us off on the way?” Mixam shrugged.

“We would never abandon even the smallest lost lamb,” Daldoss answered. “Now please, accept God into your hearts.”

“It doesn't matter what happens if we go with them,” Azuka said. “Because we can't. There are tens of thousands of innocent lives at stake here. We need to save this planet!”

As Azuka spoke, a loud whirring sound was heard from the sky, and an aircraft came soaring forward from beyond the horizon. It was shaped like a boomerang, with a sloped topside that gradually rose until it came to a sharp curve at the center. Colored in metallic and cobalt blue, with dozens of tiny dot-like windows, it truly looked like technology from an alien civilization.

“Yes!” Lex shouted, dashing over to the Emancipator. “I'll go lower the crane arm!”

Seeing this, one line of the acolytes went to soar over, but they were stopped as massive shelves of earth began to jut out of the ground, rising high beyond the clouds.

“I am prepared to die along with my planet...” Sakura said, standing tall on her bony legs. “But until then, I will fight to my last breath...like my ancestors before me. You are the destroyers...this truth is recorded in the texts passed down through the Fukunaga family, which I trust over all else. 'Let the light never blind your eyes...' Where there is light, there is falsity! You are the true intruders!”

“The Crusade has begun,” A voice called out from the flock of acolytes. “Chastise these humans as necessary, as authorized by Father Zeigfried!”

“Watch out!” Enju pointed upwards to the soldiers on the corners. “They're going to emit something!”

Sure enough, the acolytes without halberds had raised their pointed golden instruments. As a righteous call resounded out, red fire began to pour down on the ground, bathing it with the metapsynergy-fueled flames of God.

“Charge ahead!” Toshizou called out. “Close the distance!”

Almost everyone agreed with the idea and began to lunge toward the mob. Enju, however, jumped back behind the humans, warping his body and creating two massive wings of arms and legs. Stretching them out like a grotesque, flesh-composed eagle, he wafted the wings forward, blowing the flames back towards the acolytes.

Fukunaga Sakura followed suit, raising up a slope of earth from the ground to the crowd of armed acolytes. Toshizou, Sakamoto, and Azuka were at the head of the offensive, exploding through the flames with their auras unleashed.

Armed with his shorter sword, Toshizou caught a thrust-out halberd under his arm and attempted to stab the disciple of God in the throat. As soon as his blade reached the edge of the perimeter the 7^th Sanctuary had created, however, it shattered.

“They're creating some kind of collected psynergy aura!” Sakamoto shouted, punching her hardened aura forwards to no avail. “There's no way we can break this alone!”

Even with Toshizou's sword in her arms, there was little Azuka could do. Her teacher was right – the acolytes had not singular psynergy barriers around them, but one massive dome of metapsynergy that was somehow being channeled from every soldier present.

“That's one hell of a cheap ability!” Mixam spat. “Unless we find the bastard that's doing this, there's no way we're going to break through!”

Cliff dodged another wave of holy fire as he tried to snipe down the corner acolytes, but his bullets could neither break through the shield. “I was wondering why they kept floating up there for so long...”

“I'll try to push them out!” Sakura called, mustering up all her ability and lifting two curved walls from the surrounding area. Grunting, straining every last vein in her body, the woman struggled to push the stadium-sized walls together, forcing the acolytes to break their huddle.

“Genuflect!” By the time everyone heard this high-pitched scream, it was too late – one of Zeigfried's men had jumped straight out from the group, clutching two padded knees together like torpedoes.

He sailed at the old woman at a tremendous speed – and although Enju tried to dash to her aid, it was too late – two hardened knees went slamming into her forehead, exploding the old woman's skull like a massive grape. Her murderer went sailing into the ground knees-first, trailing her viscera behind him as he came to a stop beyond. Then, he turned around.

“May God have mercy on that poor woman's soul,” he whispered, hopping to his feet. “It's a shame that the Nephilim were able to brainwash her so thoroughly.”
Enju stared at the middle-aged man in silent shock. He was dressed in a light white stole – now slightly bloodstained, with golden padding tied around his knees. Noticing Enju's stare, he smiled back, showing a mixture of white and golden teeth between his thick lips.

“Cardinal Mickey, at your service!” The muscular man said in a jovial tone. He had his blonde hair styled in a friar's haircut, but other than that, the man was completely plain in appearance.

“Unusual to see one who allied with peacemongers kill a feeble old woman in such cold blood...” Enju replied listlessly. “Interesting, to say the least.”

Cardinal Mickey raised a knee eagerly. “She died a painless, holy death...kneeling for the Lord has always been my speciality, you see...”

Enju slid his hands into another yoga position. “Now I see why the entire universe fears you people...”

“This isn't looking good...” Kamo slid up to Mixam, watching as the acolytes continued their assault. “Don't you have any experience fighting these guys?”

“What, you think I'm that suicidal?” Mixam snorted. “I told you, there was a reason I quit the Guild...I never wanted to mess with these guys!”

Although he looked to be trying his best, it seemed as if Frank's ability was unable to penetrate the holy metapsynergy barrier.

“Azuka, everyone, get back!” Kamo shouted. “You're just going to get yourselves hurt!”

As the three pulled back to escape back down the slope, however, the phalanx charged forward, using the tips of their halberds to extend the powerful barrier and trample their enemies.

“No!” Cliff shouted. “Kamo, Mixam, we have to do something!”

“That's the thing...” Kamo grit his teeth, watching the acolytes advance. “I'm not sure what we can do! Escaping may be our only option!”

Then, they felt it – a black, oozing psynergy, seeping out from the field in the south. Turning around, Kamo, Mixam, Cliff, and Frank witnessed a swirling red portal opening midst the cracking earth. It was as if the red, dimension-shearing psynergy had risen up from below, but it seemed completely disconnected from the dark matter that was currently tearing through the planet.

“Now what?!” Mixam cried, nearly hysterical.

Down in the crater, Vance confronted Grayson and Zeigfried, who were desperately wrestling with each other in order to get to the Clock. Zeigfried phased his body in and out, using his ability to both dodge and attack Grayson at the same time, while the Snake countered with nothing but brute force.

Who should I attack...? Vance thought quickly. If I hit Zeigfried, then Grayson might get away, but then if I attack Grayson, who knows what Zeigfried will do to both of us...

Rearing back, Zeigfried expelled a dark fog from his mouth, which Grayson unwillingly snorted a bit of before catching himself and coughing it back out. Some of the fog had gone into his lungs, however, for in the next instant, a psynergy explosion ruptured from the man's chest, destroying his ribcage.

Grayson fell back with a splat, and Zeigfried would have immediately pursued, if the grotesque shrieks, howls, and foreboding organ music coming out of the red portal hadn't reached his ears.

Zeigfried whipped his head around, staring at the glowing rift. Slitting his eyes, he swallowed with deep resignation as to what was about to happen. Holding up the golden cross around his neck to his ear, he began to speak.

“Father Zeigfried to the Supernal Chapel: The time has come. The Coven has begun to ambush us in Yamato. All able Apostles, I request your aid. Tunnel into Yamato at once..and prepare for a full-scale war.”

Next: Dignitaries Of Hell

185

2011-06-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

185 : Holy Wars

As the radiant golden portal slowly took over the sky, Vance Dancougar stared upwards, trying to fathom what was happening. With every second, more and more humanoid shadows emerged from the light, slowly floating down to the surface.

“Guys...” Cliff Walden's voice was shaking. “Is that what I think it is?”

But no one answered. Perhaps the name was too dooming to say aloud – or perhaps everyone was simply so absorbed in the spectacle that they couldn't bring themselves to speak.

Whatever the case, the survivors of the northern shrine were completely silent, staring up at the light as dark despair began to brew within. Even Grayson, standing next to the Clock that had saved his life, seemed enthralled with what was happening. Light continued to pour out, and the visitors descended closer and closer to the earth until they came into view.

The front of crowd was flanked by dozens soldiers carrying long, golden halberds. More than spears, the weapons resembled large shining crosses with Bible verses carved in beautifully at every point. The acolytes carrying these sacred weapons were clad in pure white cinctures, signifying their chastity and purity as the lowest of holy servants. Wrapped around their necks were purple psynergy-imbued albs that assisted in the flow of their psynergy.

Each acolyte also wore a golden war helmet that covered the entire back of their head, but only continued up to their foreheads. Below that, the helmets extended out with slender protectors for the nose and horizontal spikes around the cheek areas. Men and women, young and old, were all standing side by side, and every set of eyes reflected wit the same powerful conviction.

On either side of the phalanx were other acolytes carrying not spears, but curved metal sticks lit with red flames on the tip. The acolytes kept these mysterious, alien-looking tools held high as they marched down from the sky with their allies, staring ahead with eyes of equal force.

Inside the circle, protected well by the layers of powerful acolytes, were the Cardinals, Archbishops, and Bishops who delegated the Sanctuary of Chastity, as well as 1/7^th of the City of Eretz. While they required protection, these holy delegates were not weaklings – they each commanded their own stout auras, and had come along to witness an important event.

The armed ministry covered more and more of the sky as they approached the surface of the planet, complete with the trumpeters and choir surrounding the army in the back. In time, the descending, angelic beings became a jumbled mess of gold and white, obscured by the glowing light behind them, and it was hard for Vance to make out anything anymore. It was almost like he had been entranced by some strange, esoteric power, frozen in a vice lock by the heavenly noise.

Soon, the marching came to a stop, and the entire gathering of over 1000 holy servants stood frozen in the sky, suspended by some kind of powerful white psynergy. Then, a voice boomed.

“In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit!”

“Amen!”

The line was echoed by a thousand voices, thundering through the sky. It seemed to even clash with the rumbling of the planet, slightly changing the tempo of the crumbling earth's vibrations.

“May grace of our Lord be with you, and with all the creatures in this heathen land!”

“Amen!”

“This is a proclamation of the martyr of all humans. Of the father's love begotten, ere the world from chaos rose. He is Alpha and Omega, all that is and all that has ever flown; he is the source and the ending, all things that are and have ever been, and all that the future shall ever see. Evermore and evermore!”

“Amen!”

“We come to this land that has lost the Lord's light in order to spread His peace and love to all beings, and restore unity to his world! And now, prepare your heart and ears for the filter of his light, the Apostle of Chastity, Father Zeigfried!”

As the clergy continued to wait in the sky, a single being descended from their midst, clad in a black priest's robe. His scraggly grey hair wafted in the air as he slid down, revealing the whole of his gaunt face and haggard skin.

“Praise be to God!” Zeigfried bellowed.

The choir behind Zeigfried immediately erupted with a Hallelujah.

“Heathens!” Zeigfried began to pace as he spoke. “Do you see what happens to a world that turns its back on God? Fire and brimstone! God does not abandon his children, but if his children refuse to turn for him to help, then he can do nothing – and they eventually sink into the bowels of hellfire, doomed eternally! We humans are not capable of living on our own – we need to open our hearts to God, trust in him, follow his Word in order to survive. Yet this dimension...the kingdom of Yamato...became possessed by the demons known as vanity and greed...digging their own graves!”

He sounds just like the priest at Our Lady of Sorrows... Vance suddenly remembered the Catholic Church that Naomi had convinced his family to go to once after she and Edward had started living together. As a child, he never remembered his mother ever mentioning anything about religion – and while she did try to teach him many morality lessons, she had never brought any sort of deity into it.

When Naomi came along however, she convinced Edward to drag him there every Sunday, only increasing Vance's hatred for Christianity as a whole. He couldn't understand why, but even when he was a small child and his friends would invite him to Sunday School, he felt a deep, psychological disapproval for entire thing...an innate, unshakable suspicion about the entire community. Even the nights when Naomi took him to youth group, and he was able to communicate with other people his age, who were no doubt harboring similar worries...Vance still felt a deep mistrust of Christianity. It wasn't just disbelief – it was something closer to disgust.

Watching and listening to Zeigfried now, Vance felt that same innate dread rise out of his blood, possessing him. Looking around, he could see that everyone was still too shocked by the arrival to respond. Kamo and Mixam were backed up against one another, staring ahead, at a complete loss. Even Phileas's group was frozen.

Grayson was the same. He was watching the clergy and Zeigfried intently, with cautious eyes that Vance had never seen before. It was if the Snake was playing dead, daring not to move.

As Vance returned his gaze, Zeigfried seemed to flinch a bit, staring back at the young man with that small, beady eye.

The Apostle continued. “...You have turned your back on God, yet you covet His things – not only His, but those of Satan, as well. And thus your destruction has been secured. In hours, this dimension will die...” Zeigfried seemed to relish that last line. “But luckily for all of you, our God is a God of forgiveness. Simply hand over the Clock to us, promise that you have accepted the Lord our God into your heart, and we will gladly escort you all to your new lives of repentance.”

“Zeigfried!” Azuka could take it no longer. “How dare you show your face here?!”

“Azuka Ingram...” Zeigfried smiled wanly, spreading his arms wide. “See what happens when you go against the Church? This is God's world – you cannot survive in it without his assistance.”

“I'll give you one thing...” Kamo grit his teeth. “You're a genius at picking the absolute worst times to show up.”

Zeigfried did not even glance at the ex-Knight. “I admit I may have gotten a bit...rough when you all violently attacked me during my visit to the Enametropolis tournament grounds...your collected sins were so great, I felt there was no hope for salvation for any of you. Hiding the Bearer from us...willfully allying with a Nephilim...and disobeying the Church's orders, of all things! Thankfully, however, that conniving Seneschal was taken care of. And so, after much prayer and reflection, I decided to give you all a second chance.”

“A second chance?” Azuka shouted. “You tried to kill us all! And you framed me!”

“It was you who went behind your allies' backs, not me,” Zeigfried insisted. “But that's all behind us now, isn't it? The Guild has been taken back under the wing of the Lord's Church, and you are all on the brink of absolute death. You should be overjoyed by my arrival. I expect you were all in a panic considering this world's condition, but you may rest assured now. The Church is here. There is hope for you...well, almost all of you, that is.”

Zeigfried's eyes suddenly shot to the side. He was staring into the crater – right at the clock, and right at Grayson.

“Who are you?” Zeigfried's question, while simple and to the point, didn't sound quite right.

Smiling, the naked Snake proudly replied: “I'm Grayson Lee.”

“No you aren't.” Zeigfried shook his head. “Because I exterminated Grayson on Earth. I saw his body explode before my very eyes.”

“Then I would say you have very accurate vision,” Grayson smiled. “But that still doesn't mean I'm not Grayson Lee.”

Zeigfried scrunched down his shaggy eyebrows. “...do you take me for a fool? Unless you're some kind of clone or fabrication...there is no way Grayson Lee could appear here right now. I killed the man with my own hands!”

Hearing this, everyone froze – especially Vance. He remembered the escape from Houston so clearly, as well as that shining in the sky...Zeigfried appeared back then too...

“Whatever you are...” Zeigfried turned away, “I'll deal with you later. There is one other anomaly that must come before any of that.”

Vance had been staring at Zeigfried the entire time – now, however, Zeigfried was looking back. With that dark, beady eye focused on Vance, it felt like his soul was being probed.

“You,” Zeigfried held up a bony finger. “You stink of Nephilim blood. I don't know who you're trying to pass yourself off as, or what you're trying to achieve by this ruse...but I will not be deceived.”

“N...Nephilim?” Vance replied, completely unfamiliar with the word. He looked around. “What did this guy just say?”

“I do not know who you are...” Zeigfried slipped on two black gloves from the pocket of his robe. “But the Nephilim in your aura is unmistakable, and I cannot take any chances. Now, as to the rest of you: this is your last chance at salvation. Stand in the way of our recovery of the Clock, and the destruction of the Nephilim artifact here, and you will be cast out like a devil. Accept us and aid us, and you will be spared.”

“Hold on...!” Kamo shouted. “You think we're just going to sit here and hand the Clock over to you?! What do you even plan to do with them?!”

“A mere mortal like you need not know.”

“If you're really so powerful...” Azuka struggled to get out this line – but she knew she had no choice. As much as she hated to ask for help from such a man, she would – no, had to do anything for her dimension. And there was still hope left. “Then why can't you stop this planet from crumbling! Why does it have to die?!”

“Sorry, but I am here on business,” Zeigfried replied coldly. “Not to have a discussion. Kapellmeister Springtune!”

“Yes, Father.” Another human was suddenly released from the floating field – this time, a large, egg of a man dressed in a collared dark green choir robe with an emblazoned cross. He had wild, curly black hair extending from both his head and his lower face, mixed and tangled so heavily that it was hard to tell which was which. Smiling, he turned to face everyone, winding his brawny arms around his figure.

“We of the Church are merciful men and women. Even killing a powerless demon would be cruel. Isn't that right, Kapellmeister?”

“Mmm, yes,” Springtune gave a hearty nod, smiling pleasantly toward everyone.

“Now, bestow God's light upon these tired souls, would you?” Zeigfried directed the choir leader. “Then we can finally get down to doing God's good work.”

“Yes, Father,” Springtune repeated, taking in a deep breath. As he exhaled, he began to speak the next line in a loud, booming singsong voice. “Dear lord our father, we open our hearts to you in this dire hour and embrace your graaaa-ace. Please help us fill these wretched souls with your liiii-ight. It is by your power that I present your Divine Liturgy to aaaaall.”

And with that, he began to sing. Despite his imposing appearance, his voice was like an angel's – pristine and spotless, rising and echoing through the valley. Soon, the choir came in, supporting his tone like the wings of cherubim and enhancing it to a celestial level. Incense psynergy began to waft through the atmosphere as their song continued. Their voices merged, creating a song that required no trumpets – nor any kind of backing music. It was a song that overcame music itself, speaking directly to the soul, completely affecting the condition of all beings present.

Dominic Cassius Springtune closed his eyes and merged with his song, sending his aura far over the land of Yamato, caressing it with his soothing tone. Their song was like a whisper, yet carried the force of a thousand drums. With each pause, rise and fall, the whole world moved with them, possessed by the hymn.

“Wh...what's going on?!” Cliff began to panic, feeling the incense aura rush over the group. “This is psynergy, isn't it?! It's going to smother us!”

“No...” Enju watched the psynergy carefully. “This psynergy isn't the least bit malicious...it's the complete opposite...a healing psynergy...”

Soon, not only the northern shrine, but all of the Neo-Edo area was bathed in that smoky, holy aura. And after that moment – everyone felt amazingly, impossibly rejuvenated.

Vance looked down at his body – it was brimming with psynergy, as if he had just waken up from a long rest or gotten out of a regeneration tank. It was as if all the fatigue, pain and stress he had gained over the past few days had completely disappeared.

Stunned, yet energized, Vance looked around. Despite their near run-in with black hole death, the color on all his allies' faces had returned, and they looked to be in excellent condition. Even Sakamoto Ryouko and Yamazaki Susumu had regained consciousness, and weren't just in some sleepy daze. They were wide awake, healthy, without a single blemish in sight.

“You...healed us...” Sakura Fukunaga sat up slowly, rubbing her head. “Why? Your appearance and psynergy match the scrolls' descriptions of the destroyers...you're here to destroy our civilization!”

Zeigfried snorted. “The Nephilim would like you to think that...they're the ones who set this trap, after all. Disguising it as just another treasure in the Yamato treasury...a sword that would be capable of destroying a planet – and anyone who opened the sword in the vicinity...unless they were capable of warping out like an Albavitrean. The Nephilim and the Yamatoans clearly had a long history of friendship, hence Yamato remaining as a Godless civilization for such a long time. We figured that even if there was a Clock in the treasury, it would have been one that the Nephilim set there purposely, in order to sabotage God's good work...lo and behold, we were right.”

“You're wrong...” Sakura shook her head. “The Nephilim left us that sword as a weapon to use...for when the destroyers came to savage our world...to save it from that disgrace by turning it into a glorious orb...”

“What is a Nephilim, dammit?!” Vance screamed, losing his patience. “He just called me one...what do the Nephilim have to do with the Albavitreans?!”Zeigfried stared in disgust at Vance. “...and I thought you were just playing dumb back there. I don't know what you are, but you can't be a pure-blooded Nephilim...we exterminated them all long ago. I thought we got all of the half-breeds, too...it was finally starting to look like peace would come to this universe after all this time. I suppose you can never get too relaxed...”

Vance flared his aura and stared angrily at Zeigfried. “Look, I don't know who you are, why you healed us...you're obviously from the Church of Holy Truths, I could tell that, and you're here for the Clock...but I don't care about that right now. You said you exterminated the Nephilim...is Nephilim just another word for Albavitrean?”

“Yes,” Zeigfried replied coldly.

“So...” Vance curled his fists together. “What you're saying is that you killed every single one of my relatives,” he spoke slowly, never wavering his gaze from Zeigfried's eyes. “Yes or no?”

Zeigfried smiled wanly. “Killed...that's such a powerful word. No, we merely cleansed this world of filth. Allow me to explain it – and to all of you confused sheep here, so that you really come to know where you truly stand by siding with this cretin.

“The Nephilim, being children of the Grigori, exist only to create chaos...the Grigori, the Irim, the Watchers, call them what you will...they were what existed when God came to shine his light in the dark, desolate world...chaotic imperfections...evil, even...God, however, in his infinite mercy, granted them a seat at his side. They became judges for His Heavenly Court...but the greedy demons were not content with that, no...and so they rebelled, attempting to kill our great father – but of course, their blasphemous power was nothing compared to God's great light. And so, he cast down Lucifer, leader of the Grigori, who fled with his minions to establish their own domain in exile.

“During this exodus, the Grigori wrought havoc over the Earth, the core of God's universe, raping God's women and teaching them profane knowledge. Samyaza, Rameel, Kokabiel, Tamiel, Ramiel, Daniel, Ezekiel, Baraqel, Azazel, Armaros, Batariel, Ananiel, Zaqiel, Shamsiel, Satariel, Turiel, Yomiel, and Sariel – these are the forefathers of the demonic hordes that now reside in Hell, forever cursing the human race. During their initial pillage of the earth, however, they conceived many children – the Nephilim – who they left in this plane of reality to continue their bidding.

“As long as the Nephilim exist, the world will be thrown into chaos...God's kingdom will never be realized!” Zeigfried raged. “For ages, The Church of Holy Truths has acted as God's aides here on Earth, inheriting the blood of Angels in order to combat the Nephilim and restore God's light to the land. We will never stop in our crusades! There is only one true outcome for our holy wars – victory!!”

Taking in all this information, Vance could barely remain on his feet. So that's why Averyl never mentioned my grandparents...or any other family member...they were hunted by the Church...slain like dogs...for what?! For something people did thousands of years ago? Is that really what God wants? If I saw Him...would he kill me too?!

Averyl...Vance closed his eyes. Why didn't you tell me...why aren't you here right now? I need you...I need your help...

A black cloud surfaced in Vance's mind.

No...

No...Averyl isn't here. I don't know where he went, or what happened, but that doesn't matter now...none of that history even matters now...I just have to deal with what's in front of me. I have to go with my gut feeling...

Vance opened his eyes, staring hard at Zeigfried.

And my gut feeling tells me...I need to stop this asshole!

Feeling the new, crisp psynergy surging through his body, Vance curled his fist and created an instant void, punching through to slam Zeigfried in the jaw. As his fist moved forward, however, he watched as Zeigfried's jaw puffed into a cloud of smoke, taking in Vance's fist with ease.

“So violent...” Zeigfried scoffed. “You Nephilim are all the same.”

Hazy psynergy illuminated Zeigfried's arm as he reached out, somehow utilizing Vance's void and lurching forward to clamp his hand around the unholy being's neck.

Suddenly, Vance saw a green flash obscure his eyes. Before Zeigfried's powerful hand could reach him, something deflected it.

Standing in front of Vance with blond hair billowing down around his emerald green aura was Grayson Lee. Rejuvenated by Springtune's liturgy, his aura now seethed and pulsated with sinister palpitations. Whether or not he had purposefully shielded his son from the Apostle's assault – the hatred he bore for Zeigfried was clear by the venom in his eyes.

“I have no idea how you survived, Grayson...” Zeigfried sighed. “But even harder to believe is the fact that you would dare stand in my way. Does nothing remain in that feeble mind of yours?!”

“To never let the light blind my eyes...” Grayson spoke in a mad, entranced tone as his eyes widened. “That's the only thing that ridiculous book ever taught me. Light is blind, deceitful...but in true darkness...true, chaotic, free darkness...you only see what's directly in front of you. The only thing that matters.”

“I should have never forgiven you...” Zeigfried growled, expanding his angelic aura. “I was mistaken to give you my trust, Grey Son...demon! Aberration! Perversion of God's beauty!”

Grey son...Vance let the word run through his mind as he watched his biological father's back. What does it mean to be grey? Neither good nor evil...negating them...or overcoming them? A chaos that allows neither to exist...or one that encompasses both? Neither unholy nor holy...or both at the same time? Or...something that surpasses those mundane categories? Grayson...what are you?

“Yes!” Grayson reveled, rearing back and curling his hands as Zeigfried's cries got hoarser. “Curse me! Feel like you want to crush my soul, completely obliterate me! Just remember...when I'm beheading your God as I rape him, bringing unfathomable torture upon the ruler of this world...remember that it was you who breathed life into this abomination!”

Next: The Punishment Due