Europa

********Warning: The following document is classified by the CIA.********

Any person or persons possessing this document without proper authorization are guilty of treason, to be punished immediately by death. Any parties illegally possessing this document may be shot on sight.

The following excerpt was taken from the research log of one Dr. Kendrick Reynolds, NASA.

Research log regarding sixth moon of the planet Jupiter, Europa.

Day 16 - The automated probe picked up odd readings at one of the poles. It was so faint, it almost went unnoticed. The entire moon still needs to be surveyed, but I'm making a note of this.

Day 17 - A similar reading seems to emanate from other points on the moon. These readings are even more faint; I'm surprised no one picked them up before now. They seem to emit some kind of radiation, but I've never seen anything like it.

Day 18 - We've finally finished surveying the moon. I'm getting a probe down to the surface to check out the source of that radiation. I should have the results tomorrow.

Day 19 - I can scarcely believe it! The radiation came from a synthetic source. The technology is like nothing I've ever seen before, it's obviously highly advanced. It's small, too. It's a plain cube, about the size of a Rubik's cube, and the color of obsidian. From the visual readings of the probe, I can see that the cube occasionally emits arcs of green energy. I'm not sure what it is. The other sources of radiation have been confirmed as duplicates of this cube. I'm going to have one taken back for study. With these new probes, I should have the cube in a couple days.

Day 23 - The cube's just been delivered to my lab! I think these were the longest four days of my life. I'm writing this at around 1 in the morning, so I'm going to study it tomorrow.

Day 24 - Ordinarily, I would put the cube through a series of quarantine procedures and tests to ensure that it is harmless, but I'm getting an odd feeling that it's all right. As I write, I am about to touch it. It is extremely cold, but I'm getting a searing sensation that's traveling up my arm. It's traveling up my neck, and Iojsdfvndfpppppppppppppppp

There is too little time, and too many unknowns. I do not know how long this host body will hold out before the weight of my influence kills it. This set of symbols is incredibly limiting. I have to get the warning out. I'm all that is left, all of my race has died out. It has decimated our forces, our people. Nothing we could do had been able to stop It. It... well, perhaps I should start from the beginning. I do not understand your measurement of time, so I cannot relate to you how long ago my race lived. However, it was before the dawn of your species. We inhabited the planet next to your Terra originally. On our planet, there were certain areas, as there are no doubt on yours, that led to the Holders. I am assuming that your species is not so ignorant as to assume that the only gateways to the Holders are on Terra. I will also assume that your governments have informed the general public about the Objects, so as to educate the people and make them aware. Your race truly would be foolish not to. As we became able to travel through space, we researched the Objects. It turned out that there are in fact gateways on any planet that is inhabited, even moons. We also recovered several artifacts from civilizations older than ours. It seems as if the Objects have been together before. Some of our scientists speculated that the Objects had actually been together many times, part of a cycle ending and beginning with the Reunion. Whatever the case, it is obvious that we will never know. The end began, oddly enough, around the same time that the first humans sprung up. We watched you occasionally, with intrigue, although we never interfered significantly. Your species was primitive, making fire with rocks. That is why we found it odd when something from your planet launched into ours. As soon as It landed, the destruction began. All those near It began to grow old and die before our very eyes, and all we could do was run. Those who would escape It fled in their ships, heading for the outpost on Europa. The windows of our ships gave us perfect views of the horror. We watched as our entire planet died, all of the water drying up, all vegetation rotting, and the very soil turning to pure iron. In my mind, I heard a voice. No, that is not accurate. I heard it. Saw it. Felt it. Tasted it. My senses could not handle this voice. I fell to the floor, screaming, nothing coming out of my mouth. I watched in mute agony and horror as our planet's magnetosphere was stripped from it, and solar wind pulverized it into an unlivable husk. I lost consciousness then. I died then.

I do not know much beyond this point, but I can say that none of us ever made it to Europa. My thoughts were preserved in the cube, which I believe is the only remaining functional one. I am using this Dr. Reynolds as a host; when he dies, I will die with him, as will my entire race. I send this to you now as a warning: The only logical place for It to have gone is back to Terra. I have seen what It has done to my world. Know this: It can annihilate worlds on a whim. It can destroy any and all life it wishes. Your world is not still in existence because you are sustaining it. It is not intact because of how well you defend it. Your world only remains because It has not decided to consume it. But it will.

It will.

 

This event is speculated to be connected to Edo Edi Essum.

Eyes

To be honest, I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe it's human nature to want to be remembered. Maybe after seeing the legions of those things, I want to retain the last shred of individuality I have. I don't know. I don't care anymore.

Okay, I'll start from the beginning.

My name's John, and I'm a Seeker. Well, not exactly a Seeker, I guess; I've never gotten a Object. Sure, I've tried once or twice - I went for Syzygy a year ago, but chickened out at the last minute. I almost went for the Beginning about a month or so ago, but that time, it wasn't because I was scared that I didn't go through with it.

As I was talking to the receptionist, I noticed this... thing. I'm still not really sure what it was. It was sort of out of the corner of my eye, and the way it moved, the way it looked... it seemed like it wasn't properly situated in reality itself. It just had this black cloak sort of thing that would rustle and move even though the AC in the nuthouse was broken. Its hood covered its face, although I'm not really sure it even had a face. No one seemed to notice it but me, so I figured it was just some kind of stress-induced hallucinations, like you read about in Newsweek or what have you. I would be about to ask the receptionist to see the Holder, and then I'd turn around and glance at the cloaked thing again. I kept doing that over and over again, and suddenly I started to feel... old. Like my legs were suddenly not able to support me. I sort of collapsed right at the desk, and the receptionist gave me this look. It wasn't a weirded-out look, it was more like she understood what was happening. Like she'd seen it before and it didn't faze her. It scared the hell out of me.

I managed to get back up and I shambled outside, in a sort of half-run, half-crawl. As I got farther away from the institution, I started to feel better, and I felt normal again by the time I got to my car. I put the key in the ignition, threw it into gear, and sped down the highway like the devil himself was after me. Obviously, he wasn't. Whatever that being was in the institution, it was worse.

I started seeing them about a week later. I think I was on the train, on the way to work. About 20 minutes into the ride, I looked down at my wrist and realized that I'd forgotten my watch. I was almost late for work as it was, so I asked the guy next to me for the time. I remember his head turning around really slowly, like he was a robot or something. He didn't say anything, which I thought was strange, but then I saw his eyes. And by "eyes", I mean "the place where his eyes should have been". All I saw were two empty sockets, staring, if you could say that, right back at me with this horrifying vacant look. Needless to say, I freaked out, jumping out of my seat and falling against the door. The thing must have been related to whatever creature I saw in the institution, I realized in a flash, and I realized that I was gibbering inarticulately, not really even sure what I was trying to say. I figured that the passengers would quickly figure out what I was pointing at, the monster that was sitting next to me with the ghastly empty eye sockets and skin so gray that it reminded me of the dead body I once saw when I was a kid. But no, the passengers didn't recoil in horror. They fixed me with a look of contempt mixed with revulsion and shock. That's when I realized something that scared me even more than the ghoul.

None of them could see it.

Wordlessly, I got off at the next stop, and ran straight home. Being late for work didn't even register in my mind. I locked myself in and didn't come out of my apartment for two days.

After I'd managed to assuage my fears, I went back outside to continue my life. And it did continue. Wake up, commute to work, research the Objects, commute home, sleep. It continued like that. But then, soon, I started to see them again.

I walked into Starbucks and ordered a couple shots of espresso like I usually do. I grabbed my two dollars and placed it on the table, not paying attention to my surroundings. The cashier took the money, and that's when I saw his hand - his gray, dead hand. Gray as a corpse I once saw as a kid. With horrifying anticipation, my eyes followed up the arm, up to the neck, until finally, I looked up at the two empty eye sockets staring emotionlessly at me. I backed away slowly, bumping the table behind me. The man sitting there looked up at me from the newspaper he was reading. Well, I guess you have to have eyes to read. Both of them just stared at me with both their sets of grotesque, empty eye sockets. I ran.

I've been seeing them everywhere now. Walking across the street. Driving cars, the holes in their faces where their eyes should be focused intently on me. They're all watching me. Once, I turned on the news to find the weatherman staring intently with those dead, empty eye sockets, not saying a word. They're everywhere. They're all around.

And now, this. About an hour ago, one knocked at my door. A couple minutes later, another one came up the elevator and stood behind the first one. They were followed by more. And more. And more. My whole floor is filled with dozens of these freaks, and the elevator keeps bringing more up. I looked out my window just a second ago: there's a gigantic crowd, hundreds, maybe thousands of them surrounding the building. More of them keep coming, and the mass of ghouls keeps getting bigger. Now my floor's so full that the sheer volume of them is making the walls strain. I can't keep them out. Even if I could escape from this building, where would I go? Maybe it would be better to go outside. Anything would be better than the hordes of slack faces and empty eye sockets I see staring at me every time I look out the window. I want it to end. I want it to be over.

One of them just knocked again.

I guess I'll answer the door.

Ieiunitas, Infectus, Talius

[The following document is classified above top-secret. Any unauthorized persons found to possess it must be executed immediately.]

-[This is a transcript of a transmission from one Corporal Alexander Fenix, location unknown.]

-[Most of the message is garbled, but it was relayed on the frequency reserved for "mission-critical" communications.]

 

[static] -it! Holy shit! It got Wilson too! Re- [static] -ing immediate assistance! I have never - Oh god, my hand! The skin's falling off my ha- [static] -ck, oh fuck, I can see the bone! It's spr- [prolonged static]

This is Cor- [static] -nix. I'm currently sitting behind the - shit, my arm! My arm just fell off! This infection, whatever that thing gave me, it's making me rot! I don't think I'm gonna live much long- [static] -ing came out of nowhere. It just sort of touched down and - [silence]

[Whispered] Okay, I don't think it heard me. [Exhales] I've been fighting for my life since about three minutes ago, ever since that thing appeared. It sort of touched down, a few feet from Cole. Before we even knew what happened, Cole was coughing up blood, and his skin was falling off. We opened fire on the thing, but the bullets that didn't disintegrate instantly didn't seem to faze it. We- oh, fuck. Shit, I can see my own ribs. Oh, god, are those my lungs? They're turning all black- [coughing] The thing- fuck it. [Coughing and wheezing, followed by vomiting] I'm s- [static] -tching to visual.

[Roughly ten seconds of video follows. The camera moves until a humanoid shape comes into view. Its features are obscured by the sun behind it, but two wing-like protrusions from its back can be seen. The creature looks toward the camera, and two horns can be seen jutting forward from either side of its head. The camera loses focus due to the speed at which the creature moves. When it refocuses, the creature is standing over the camera. The light is such that the eyes cannot be seen. Screams can be heard, presumably from Corporal Fenix. The screams stop abruptly with a wet crunching sound. For reasons unknown, the lens of the camera cracks. Eventually, it shatters completely.]

 

[End Transmission.]

 

• Triumvirate
• Pessum Ire
• Infectus Essum
• Paratus
• Fatalis Incursium
• Talius
• Immortalis
• Venaliter
• Mortuus Monumentum
• Cassus Phasmatis
• Ressurectium
• Velitatio
• Initium
• Luminis
• Calamitas
• Extricum
• Prolusio ut Terminus
• Pondara
• Incompositus
• Consilium

Triumvirate

We are standing in the realm of The Holder of Forever.

"Do We have a deal?" I inquire of Essum.

"Will you join us?" Edo Edi Essum answers to the affirmative.

As Its cold blackness stares into me, and I into It, I become more and more sure. I know, deep inside myself, that this being is the key. With Edo Edi Essum by our side, I know that we would at last be able to rule. We would rule reality Itself. the Objects. The Holders. Balance. Them. "Legion", and perhaps even He Himself would be forced to bend a knee to our power. I would have my revenge, after centuries of waiting.

I shift my gaze briefly to Pessum Ire. In Ire's many eyes, I can see that he knows what I do. Essum would complete our Alliance, and existence would fall by our command. However, this silent exchange is interrupted by this realm dissolving as our presence unmakes it completely. I open the Void and the three of us enter.

As we float through Void, Pessum Ire slowly turns to me. "Infectus Essum, my Master," **It says, "Have you felt what I have felt? Have you seen in Essum the Darkness that will lead us to victory?"

"Yes," I reply, "Essum was born from the Objects. It shall help us control Them, and through Them, the one who must fall. None will be able to stop us with Essum by our side."

"But there is danger there, is there not, my Master? When I attempt to read Essum, all I can feel is darkness. That one is truly empty, and only hunger pervades Its being. I feel as if -"

"Be silent," I command sharply of Pessum Ire. The force of My annoyance causes cracks to bloom across Pessum Ire's carapace. He cries in pain, a sound that has turned many a mortal being to dust. "Do not question my word, apprentice. You still have much to learn. Darkness is thy life -"

"And my life is thy will, my Master," Pessum Ire completes, "Forgive me."

Ignoring him, I turn toward Essum. Essum floats silently by my side, Its tattered black cloak flowing gracefully behind it. It looks onward, either ignoring or not hearing the exchange that just took place. As I regard Essum, I can feel Its hunger, Its power. I can feel Its willingness to destroy. My consciousness gazes at It, and something stirs within me. I can only equate the feeling to what mortals call "triumph". With this one's power under my command, all of existence and nonexistence will bow before my might. I will at last rise again, and take what is mine. We will not float in the Void, no, not any longer.

Our time has come.

Pessum Ire

I do not know how long I have been what I am. I do not know how long it has been since I became Infectus Essum, the Corruptor. I am beginning to forget where I came from, or who I was. But the more I think about my past, the less it matters to me. I begin to realize that there is only now. The present is fueled by the past, as the future is fueled by the present. And I know what my past fuels.

Revenge.

I fly through the Void, following the anomaly I felt on the human world. More and more am I finding the cold, black, empty nothingness comforting. Perhaps the isolation helps me heal in some intangible way, perhaps it makes me whole again. Perhaps it is the darkness that pleases me. These thoughts, however, are ephemeral in my consciousness. I realize that I have arrived at my destination.

I am spit out into the verdant forest, with great trees rising from the ground on all sides of me. I care not for the towering majesty of these huge trees. At my presence, they become sick and rotten, disintegrating as if they are being set upon by an insatiable pestilence. The leaves turn black and fall, and eventually, the trees crash down as well, no longer able to support themselves. That was how I enter the village: with a swath of black, infected trees at my back.

The villagers must have somehow gotten word of my existence because horns start blowing as soon as I emerge from the forest. The village itself seems to be completely ready for battle. Arrows fly toward me as villagers charge with wooden clubs and spears. Of course, none of these weapons have any effect. The wooden weaponry decays quickly in proximity to me. The wielders soon follow suit. Some of them begin to vomit out all the substances in their bodies. Others rot so much that they simply turn to dust within seconds. The effects vary from person to person, but soon enough, all of the village's militia lay in various states of disease and decay. I walk past their corpses and enter the village.

Walking past the cordon of bodies, I am greeted by an odd sight: All that remains of the village's inhabitants is a man, with his young son of perhaps eleven or twelve cowering behind him. As I study the man's weapon, I realize that he must be the anomaly I felt. He carries a sword. An actual sword, made of metal. What kind, I cannot tell. I do know, however, that it takes a very unique kind of person to acquire such a weapon in places as remote as this. Which isn't to say that it gives him any advantage against me. The pathetic weaponry of humans cannot leave so much as a scratch upon me. The man raises his sword -

- and slices a diagonal gash across my midsection. I reel back in shock, amazed that this human was able to wound me. My tainted blood pours from the wound, and I realize my mistake. That was no ordinary sword. It could only have been the Blade of Thunder, Object 270. The Objects despise me, and I know only They would have the power to wound me the way that man did. Angry at my own oversight, I shift my gaze to the man's eyes. Upon seeing into my own, he begins to shake and convulse violently. I calmly walk up to him and wrap one of my hands around his throat. Lifting him up into the air, I squeeze tighter and tighter. The man's throat becomes gangrenous, and the disease spreads through his body quickly. He perishes within moments, and I toss his corpse aside. My wound begins to heal slowly as I face the boy. I am startled to realize that I can still feel the disturbance that I did before. It is obvious to me that the man was not the source of it.

It was the boy all along. As I walk toward him, I register that he is unaffected by my corruption. He stares up at me, shaking in fear. But his fear comes from my appearance. My gaze is not destroying his mind, not driving him mad. At that moment, I know what I must do. I extend a hand to the boy, in my best impression of a fatherly figure. Tears roll down the child's face as I speak.

"Come with me," **I say. The child recoils at the sound of my voice, shivering even more vigorously. But after a few moments, the child takes my hand. Upon touching me, the boy's skin begins to harden, and his hands start to sharpen into claws. The boy looks up at me in horror, but the look of fear is soon replaced by one of acceptance and understanding.

"Your new name shall be Pessum Ire, the Destroyer," I speak commandingly, "and together we shall bend existence to our will."

"Yes, my Master."

Infectus Essum

I cannot see, yet I can watch my form unravel. I cannot feel, yet I can sense the pain in my body disintegrating, atom by agonizing atom, to join with the Void. I float, shapeless and formless, through the endless darkness that is the Void. My prison.

I should be dead. My physical form has been destroyed, any "soul" I could by some mistake have had has been rent apart into nothing. And yet, here I am. I suppose my form of existence cannot exactly be called "living". There is only pain. Only time. Only eternity. Minutes pass like hours, like weeks, like years, like seconds. Time slows down and speeds up until it seems like it should be torn asunder. Perhaps it already has been. I am alone, utterly alone, to contemplate. But I cannot think. I cannot imagine. And yet my consciousness persists somehow. I scream and beg for death with the mouth I no longer have.

Every second, every year, is shrieking agony, and nothing at all. My mind (the one that doesn't exist) breaks slowly over an ephemeral eternity. Fragments of myself float away, chipped apart until only a solid core of hate remains. My nonexistent cries of pain turn to screams of impotent rage as I struggle in the abyss. Can you hear me, you bastard? I cry. It should have been me! I should have been the one! You just used Yochanan's power! My screams echo throughout the Void, which is to say that they never existed. The body I don't have writhes in sheer black hatred at the thought of him. The one who did this to me. That one will suffer. He will suffer like I do. I vow that I shall one day watch him float through the Void just as I am doing now. I vow that I will laugh as he screams in agony. And yet, these futile thoughts of revenge only serve to drag me deeper into despair. After all, I do not even exist. I have no body, no mind, no consciousness.

That is when it dawns on me. My existence is an impossibility. This place is an impossibility. What could one more possibly hurt? I ask myself. What does it matter if I have no body? I'll simply create one! I concentrate on my nonexistent self, and with my nonexistent will, I grip the Void itself. I begin to drag away parts of the nothingness, and contort it into what I desire. I scream in pain and delight as a chitinous finger, ending in a wicked talon-like point, slowly forms. I make another. And another. I become more adept with the Void, bending it, mastering it. Years pass as I form the Void into a new self. One with wings, with claws, with eyes that can tear apart minds. In the crucible of the Void, I set about forging the body that will bring the vile usurper to his knees. The process is agonizing, more painful than the time I've spent with any Holder. More painful than the time I have spent in the Void. I laugh in pain and pleasure as I enter into my new body, and feel a feeling that is like being born into the fires of Hell itself. I move my fingers, and flex my arms. I can feel strength flowing into my body, the strength of the Void filling me to the brim and above. I overflow with power, only to gather it up and savor it like a sweet nectar. I open my eyes for the first time, and see like I have never seen before. I practically weep as I behold for the first time the true beauty of my prison, of the Void. I am in awe of the emptiness, the blackness that gave birth to me. And now, I wait.

I wait within the Void, and throughout the shadows of the world. I am nurtured by the blackness, sustained by the darkness, and I become strong in my isolation. And when the time is right, I shall rise again.

I am Infectus Essum.

And "Legion" will pay.

Paratus

Essum, Pessum Ire, and I drift through the Void as I outline the invasion of "Legion's" realm. The plan is quite simple, really. We must gain access, and defeat whatever Objects "Legion" may have.

"What of Legion?" inquires Pessum Ira.

"'Legion' is mine," I reply. "Leave that one to me. Like it was so many centuries ago, 'Legion' and I shall face each other alone. But this time, it is he who will fall."

"Please excuse my impudence, my Master, but can you really face Legion alone? Aside from being the most powerful entity on the mortal plane, Legion has the power of the Objects on his side, all 2538 of which wish to see you dead. And even if you could best him, you could not kill him. He is immortal."

I hold out my hand. I gesture into the Void, and my Secret floats toward me. It is over a meter long, and wrapped in a white cloth, tied near the top with a thick gold tassel. I grasp my Secret as it drifts into my hand and hold It in front of me, between myself and Pessum Ire.

"'Legion' is indeed more powerful than I am, especially now that he has the power of the Objects on his side, all of which despise me. However, Essum's presence should weaken the Objects. It was born from Them, and should be able to drain Their power at a relatively close proximity. Also," **I hold my Secret up demonstratively, "there are some things that 'Legion' cannot begin to fathom. Things to which the Objects simply cannot compare."

"And what of Legion's immortality?"

A cold, dry excuse for a chuckle escapes me.

"Our good friend Balance has seen to that for us."

Essum pays no attention to us, lost in Its equivalent of thought. I observe It, briefly, before calling out, "Are You prepared?" Essum's hood inclines in what I can only assume to be a nod.

The three of us arrive at an old subway station. Standing in front of the gate are several homeless men, all huddled in front of a warm fire. They regard us three not with terror and despair, but simple animosity. I walk up to the nearest man.

"I have come for 'Legion'."

The men produce weapons, and attempt to attack me. But, before they get the chance, they begin to vomit blood. They soon fall to the ground, dead from suffocation or internal exsanguinations or both. They stand back up again, making ready for another attack.

"Aren't you supposed to bow and open the gate?"

"Not for you, Infectus Essum."

"Unfortunate." I turn around and walk away from the men. I glance at Pessum Ire. "Deal with them."

Pessum Ire steps forward, takes the man's head in his hand, and crushes his skull into a bleeding red pulp. Another man lands a blow on Pessum Ire with his crowbar, only to find that it has not made the slightest dent in Pessum Ire's carapace. Pessum Ire shoves his hand into the man's chest, pulling out a bloody red lump that I would guess was once the man's heart. He crumples to the ground with his companion as Pessum Ire continues to dispatch all of the guardians in a similar fashion.

"There is not much time," I say as I hear the distant sound of running feet.

Pessum Ire nods and turns his attention to the gate. He grasps it with all four of his arms and pulls, slowly prying it loose.

More men arrive. Before I can move, Essum turns toward them. Before I can realize what happened, the men are screaming as they disintegrate into bones and dust. Pessum Ire, loosing an earth-shaking roar of exertion, manages to rip the gate from its hinges and toss it aside. We enter Legion's domain.

Inside is an ornate hall, with only one set of monstrous double doors at the end of it. The hallway itself is clad in unthinkable opulence. There are no guardians in our path, but a mixture of demons and men pour through the now wide-open gate. As Pessum Ire and Edo Edi Essum engage them, I run toward the end of the hall, clasping my Secret tight in my hand. For the first time in centuries, a feeling of anxiety builds deep inside me. I know that no matter what happens, the fate of myself, the usurper, and the Objects will be decided beyond those double doors. I will either exit them vindicated, or not at all. This is the culmination of all my work, all my planning, all of my waiting. I push them open.

I am greeted by a massive chamber, made of a pure crystal. There are no walls, save for the one that the door I just entered through is attached to. Instead, this platform appears to be suspended above a gigantic, black abyss. At the center of the crystal floor, a figure sits with its back turned. It stands up and faces me for a few long seconds. Memories flood me as I see the face again. The white-blond hair. The straight features. The look of utter, dark hatred.

"Legion."

Fatalis Incursium

"Infectus Essum, right? You look different than I remember! Did you lose weight? Do something with your hair?" "Legion" attempts to joke. When I do not respond, his voice soon grows level. "So you want a rematch, is that it? Do you really think you can win this time? I'm immortal!"

"No you're not," I reply, "Balance undid the curse for me, and I didn't even have to ask. No, you're very able to die, 'Legion'. I'll make that fact painfully clear to you soon enough."

"I'm mortal. So what? Let me show you something." "Legion" opens his shirt enough to show the diamond to me. "See this? This is a symbol of my complete command of the Objects. All 2538 of them are under my sway. I was chosen over you to command Them, remember? Of course, you do. And speaking of curses, how about yours? I know all about the one She placed on you. The one that makes you abhorrent to the Objects. They all want to kill you. I want to kill you. The Objects are the most powerful things on this plane of existence, and I am its most powerful being. How do you propose to win? With that thing in the white cloth that you're holding?"

"Yes, actually."

"Wow me, Essum. The anticipation is killing me." Legion waves his hand, and a pure white sword, beautifully crafted, yet somehow stained with an unthinkable evil, flies into his grasp.

"The White King's Sword. How poetically just."

"Why's that?"

"That's your favorite Object, isn't it? I hear you crippled Doom with it."

"So what?"

"You can sense it, can't you? The White King's Sword is special. Unique. No other Object is like it."

"Your point?"

I pause for a few seconds before continuing. I want to savor the moment. "Do you know how the White King's Sword came to be an Object?"

"I couldn't care less."

"Oh, I think you will. You see, the White King's Sword isn't an 'original' Object."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"When the original Object 45 was created, it was... disproportionate to the others. Its power dwarfed that of all the other Objects combined. The sheer dark energy of the Object scared Them, so when this never-to-be Object came in contact with a suitably powerful item, a small portion of the original Object's power was transferred to it. The original was banished and forgotten, its location lost to time. The item that became Object 45 is still among the most powerful Objects of them all. It's the White King's Sword that you hold in your hand. So -"

"Enough of this!" "Legion" shouts. He draws the White King's Sword from its scabbard. "I thought you came here for revenge, not to give me a history lesson!"

"Legion!" I shout back. I pull the gold tassel from my Secret, and the wrapping falls to the ground. I register shock on "Legion's" face. "The White King's Sword longs to avenge the murder of the White King. So if the White King was defeated, whose sword must have been more powerful? That of the White King, or that -" I hold up in front of me a pure black sword, beautifully crafted yet somehow stained with an unthinkable evil, "- of the Black King?"

"Legion's" eyes widen as I slowly draw the Black King's Sword from its scabbard. For the first time in centuries, I smirk - I have been waiting for ages to see the look on "Legion's" face as I show him my ace in the hole. It is worth the wait. "Do you understand now, 'Legion'? You're without Yochanan's curse. I have the most powerful 'Object' ever created. That's how the stakes really are. And besides, you're not so tough anyway. I hear you fought Balance and he left nearly unscathed -"

"Shut up."

"Come to think of it, I noticed that there seemed to be less darkness in you. Did Balance -" I adopt a shocked expression, and pause for a moment, "- defeat you? How could that be? The great Holder of Legion, bested by a teenager -"

"Shut up!" roars "Legion". He charges straight at me, blinded by rage. He runs as fast as he can at me, channeling all of his strength into the blow. He knows I won't be quick enough to dodge.

That's why I don't.

I meet him head-on, our two swords clashing with a massive clang. A powerful wind blows outward as the air is forced out from the spot at which our swords met. "Legion" and I remain there, swords locked against each other. Black and white electricity dances along the blades. "Legion" funnels more and more power into his arms in the hopes of overpowering me. We both know he won't be able to. I can feel the Black King's Sword giving me strength, an unholy dark energy coursing through me. "Legion", sensing this, breaks the lock and attacks again. Clang. I shunt, forcing "Legion's" sword wide, and it throws him off guard. I take advantage of the opportunity and make a thrust at "Legion's" face. He barely dodges, and I score a deep gash in his cheekbone. "Legion" jumps back in surprise, feeling the deep laceration in his cheek.

"Bastard."

"You haven't seen anything yet."

Talius

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Our swords clash over and over again, each strike ringing in the dark abyss, dying out in time for the next clang to take its place. The force of our swords colliding causes small shards of crystal to become dislodged from the ground, and a particularly sharp piece flies up and scrapes across my shoulder. It is the only wound I've sustained in this battle. "Legion" isn't so lucky. Blood runs in a small rivulet from the corner of his mouth where I landed a kick to his face. One of his cheeks has a deep gash in it. I also managed to score a wound to his shoulder. He is breathing hard, attacking quickly and furiously in the hopes of catching me off guard. As I parry his strikes, I feel memories surging inside of me. My mind occupies that time, centuries ago, when I fought "Legion" for the first time -

 

We fight savagely, viciously. I grip the spear in my hand as if it is all I love in the world. The one who will become "Legion" makes a thrust at my ribcage. I move to get out of the way, but I am too slow. The blade makes a neat incision across my upper arm. I try to use the butt of my spear to attack his face, but he deflects it with his forearm. No human should be able to do this, but I know his secret. Yochanan has strengthened him, made him more powerful. His spear comes near to my face. I bat it away with mine. "Legion's" kick lands squarely on my sternum.

 

"Legion" dodges my sword by a hair's breadth, and it crashes into the ground, sending crystal shards flying in all directions "Legion" hopes to surprise me, making a thrust directly at me. Anticipating the attack, I sidestep and swing up, trying to sever his hand. He dodges, but not before I've laid open a fair portion of his forearm. He moves out of range of my blade. After a few moments, "Legion's" execrations fill the air.

"Can't heal yourself, can you? The Black King's Sword is too powerful. You can't reject its energy. I've already won, 'Legion'. It's just a matter of accepting it."

"Fuck you."

 

I can feel the spear slide sickeningly through my left hand. I grit my teeth in pain as it spreads apart my metacarpal bones. I try to kick at "Legion's" head. He catches my leg and throws me into a stone wall. As I slump down, I feel his knee impact my stomach. He grabs my face and smashes my head into the wall. I feel the stone crack under the force of the impact. I cannot force my eyes to focus. I duck "Legion's" punch. A second kick sends me straight through the wall. I stand up again. I aim a punch at his face, I then grimace in pain as "Legion" catches my fist and completely macerates every bone in it. He twists my arm. I hear one, two, three, four, five cracks as his augmented strength snaps my arm in five places. He smashes my head into the ground. He raises his spear -

 

Clang. I deflect "Legion's" sword. As he drops his guard briefly, I thrust my sword into his shoulder. It slides smoothly under his collarbone. I hear and feel a small snap as the Black King's Sword splits his scapula in two, the blade coming out his back. "Legion" howls in pain as a burst of energy builds up around him.

"Bastard... you're going to pay for this..."

"I'm trembling."

A large amount of energy flows into "Legion", and I realize that he is putting all of his strength into his blow. He moves faster than he ever has before. I don't have time to move my sword. I can just see the afterimage as his blade arcs toward me -

 

- I can feel the spear going through me. "Legion" pushes it through me slowly in order to maximize the pain.

 

I catch the White King's Sword with my bare hands.

 

He pulls out the spear, and stabs me again. And again. And again. I hear Her voice in my head, in rhythm with "Legion's" spear - "It has ended. You have been defeated. You have proven yourself unworthy of becoming the Holder of Legion. For your failure, you will be banished to the Void for eternity. In addition, you will be struck with the highest of curses: all 2538 Objects will despise you for the rest of time."

"No -"

 

"Legion's" mouth opens as if to say something. It closes. He is able to barely step back as the Black King's Sword scores a massive slanting gash from the top of his pelvis on his right side up to his left shoulder. If he had not stepped back as he did, he would have been cut in two by my strike. "Legion" gasps, coughs up blood, and falls to his knees.

 

That curse really is the worst a Seeker can be stricken with. The Objects are a Seeker's all, their existence. Life without the Objects never crosses most Seekers' minds. I feel the full weight of the curse and the scream of hatred from the Objects upon me. My body disintegrates into the Void.

 

I stand over him, thoughts rushing in my mind. The time of my retribution is at hand, I think to myself. "Legion" is defeated in front of me; I have proven that I am the rightful Holder of Legion. And yet, is this what I really desire? Do I really want to coldly murder "Legion" the same way he did me so many ages ago?

Yes, I do.

I kick viciously, catching "Legion's" face right above his upper teeth. With a gargling, yelling sort of sound, he flies backward onto his back. The blood streaming from his nose and mouth traces his trajectory through the air, making a sort of shining red arc to where he lies. I feel as if time stands still, and I can see the arc of blood suspended for but a moment before it falls to the ground. It is almost graceful. I walk up to where "Legion" lies. Standing right beside him, I point the Black King's Sword at him so that the tip of the blade touches his throat.

"It's over, 'Legion'."

I plunge the Black King's Sword through his ribs.

Immortalis

The shock of the impact runs up my arm. Legion screams. It is not his roar of anger, but a scream of agony. An unearthly feeling of peace, a feeling unlike any other, settles over me. My eyes close as I let it wash over me, and my body relaxes as my revenge is sated after all these long centuries of waiting.

"Legion!"

I turn my head to see three figures watching. I see there Balance, Yochanan, and an individual I don't recognize. Anger boils inside me at the site of these interlopers intruding upon my vindication. Balance and the one I do not recognize appear next to "Legion's" corpse. I see Yochanan rush Pessum Ire and Essum. It's his funeral. I raise the Black King's Sword and make a decapitating swing at the one closest to me. "Devaide!" Balance shouts. Devaide turns his head to see the Black King's Sword inches from his face. Balance appears in front of him. He holds up some kind of robe in the hopes of blocking my sword. My sword hits the robe -

- and bounces off. "What the -" I rage, before I realize. That robe must have been the Toga of the Gods, one of the Objects that hates me most. Rage builds in me at this man, who intruded upon my retribution. The toga disintegrates and becomes absorbed into Balance's cloak, which glows a brilliant white. Balance shoves me in the chest, and I fly back, into Pessum Ire. As I struggle to stand, what I see causes me to lose myself. Devaide's hand touches "Legion's", and "Legion" stands back up.

"No!" I shout. "Legion" roars, the diamond in his chest flaring with new light. He charges at me, sheathing the White King's Sword. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" "Legion" tackles me to the ground. His fists crash into my face, one after another. I hear him shrieking in rage at me as he pummels my face over and over again. Summoning what is left of my strength, I kick him off of me. "Legion" flies back some distance before coming to rest. He roars again, and stands back up.

Before he can attack me again, Edo Edi Essum turns toward him. "Legion" screams and falls to his knees, his nose and ears bleeding. With "Legion" momentarily incapacitated, I turn my attention to Balance. He catches my eye as I charge straight toward him. The Black King's Sword whistles through the air before impacting some kind of magical shield Balance erected. However, his look of relief is soon shattered when he sees that my sword is cracking and giving away at the barrier. In a few seconds, I will have destroyed the shield. "Is that it?" Balance taunts, "all of this hard work, and Edo Edi Essum is going to get your revenge for you? Pathetic!" I laugh.

I jump away, disengaging myself from Balance.

I nod to Edo Edi Essum.

A monstrous flash of light envelops both of us. I can hear the interlopers cry out in shock as Essum and I escape. It occurs to me briefly that we have abandoned Pessum Ire. I realize I no longer care. Searing pain envelops me as I am transported to the Void.

Battered and beaten, I drift once again through the Void. Essum floats silently beside me as I absently study the Black King's Sword. I had won, I think to myself, I had won. I had bested "Legion". I, Infectus Essum, had bested the most powerful being on the planet. And then, it was all taken from me. Taken by that meddling bastard Balance!

Do you want revenge?

Essum's words surprise me. I convulse in agony as they reach me. I feel them crawling across my skin, taste them like fouled blood on my tongue. "Y-yes..." **I manage to choke out.

Do you want power?

"Yes."

I can give it all to you. I can give you the power to destroy Legion, to annihilate Balance. But, you must swear your fealty to me.

I feel Edo Edi Essum's words constricting me.

Well?

The words are worming around inside of my head. I feel as if my head is being torn apart. Power flows around me. It is heavier, more intense than anything I have ever felt before. I feel my bones cracking under the weight of it. I can feel my body breaking, giving way.

"Yes," I manage to gasp, "I... want power. I want revenge. I want to destroy all those that stand... in my way. Edo Edi Essum, I swear... my loyalty to you. My life... is yours."

Good. Now, there is one last task you must complete. One more, and I shall give you the power to crush Legion, to crush Balance, to crush Yochanan. One more and you shall become my champion, my servant. You must tell me your name.

My name. I must tell Edo Edi Essum my name. What is my name? I cast about in my enfeebled mind. I cannot think of it. All I feel is pain and fatigue. Terror grips me. I must find my name! I must tell Edo Edi Essum my name! I must! Suddenly, a feeling of peace sweeps over me. I remember my name. It has always been my name, although I never knew it. I feel foolish for never realizing it.

"My name... is Edo Infectus."

Yes. Say it again.

"My name is Edo Infectus."

It feels strange, saying that, like it isn't actually my name, it can't be my name. What? Of course, it is!

What is your name?

"My name... My name is Essu Edo Infectus..."

Is it?

"I... I'm not entirely sure... if I have a name... anymore... I am so confused... Essum."

You do not know your name?

My name is Edo Infectus!

Venaliter

"No! Please! I'll do anything! Here, take my Object, I don't want it anymore! Just don't -" The Holder of the Harvest's plea is cut off as the Black King's Sword slides through his throat. He gurgles, staring downward as his blood runs down the blade. I pause for a moment before whipping the blade sharply to the side, decapitating the Holder. As the body slumps to the ground, I reach for the scythe clasped in its hand. The hand is stiff, possessive of the Object even in death. I slice it off with the Black King's Sword in annoyance. Picking up the scythe, I sheath my sword and make my egress of the institution.

"Freeze! Hands up in the air! Don't move or we will be compelled to use deadly force!" The human's voice sounds loudly, obviously amplified. His jacket has the letters FBI emblazoned upon it. I am surrounded by perhaps fifty men in similar jackets, all pointing various automatic and semi-automatic firearms in my direction. One man is standing a few meters in front of the others, and I can see that he is the one telling me to put my hands in the air. I can sense the unease in him and all of the agents. Most of my form is covered by my cloak, and my face is downcast, making it impossible for them to see that I am conspicuously not human. However, like timid animals, they can still sense the danger.

I am standing outside of a tall mental institution in a city called Los Angeles, and the agents of the FBI are shouting threats that they will never be able to make good on as two human aircrafts hover above. I can tell instinctively that the aircrafts also have weapons trained upon me. "I will count to three!" The amplified voice is growing tiresome. I begin to walk toward the man. "Stop right there!" he shouts nervously. I pull up my hood, exposing my face to him. The man's face goes pale before he falls to the ground, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. I grab his throat with my right hand and lift him in the air. The man struggles - my hands no longer have skin, having long since become bone, chitin, and a sort of ceramic; an exoskeleton - there is to hope for him. My hand closes tighter, tighter, tighter, tighter - the man's neck breaks with a resounding snap. The sound seems to wake the rest of the squad from their daze.

"Open fire!" someone yells. Almost instantaneously, the various firearms are discharging at a furious rate, small projectiles streaking toward me. Time around me slows down. I can see and hear the projectiles flying, cutting through the air to reach me. I close my eyes and feel my feet lift off the ground. I draw my arms toward me, and then spread them out. A wave of energy is released from me. The agents nearest to me are vaporized completely, while the bullets flying toward me are caught in the wave and fly back into their owners. The glass in the building behind me, as well as the aircrafts, blows out. The shards almost float to the ground like a lethal snowfall, its pulchritude lost to all who stand below save for myself. In one of the glass shards, I catch a glimpse of my own face.

There is no skin, only a skull that has been covered and fleshed with a sort of white ceramic substance, and black lines and marking run down the front. My teeth have sharpened into fangs. Two horns, like that of a bull, extend forward, starting where my temples would be and pointing ahead of me. The ceramic extends off of and behind my skull, under which my pitch-black hair (which I obviously have not trimmed) falls to my back. I can see my own eyes in the shard, see the horrific emptiness inside of them. I can almost see my master. The thought brings me joy, being so close to Edo Edi Essum. The shard falls to the ground and shatters into even smaller pieces. I look up in time to see a large projectile arcing from one of the helicopters, a trail of smoke behind it.

I flex my wings, tearing away most of the back of my cloak, before snapping them sharply down. The speed at which I am propelled upward elicits a gasp from the other agents as I stretch my hand out, catching the missile in midair. I wind up my arm and extend it again as I release the missile, and I register shock in the pilot's face as the missile flies toward him. A spectacular explosion follows as shrapnel rains down upon the agents below me. I touch down in their midst as the other helicopter opens fire, the projectiles chipping off small flakes of ceramic as they bounce off of me. I grab a nearby agent by the face and bodily throw him upward, into the aircraft. I hear the glass shatter as the body lands on the pilot. The helicopter spirals down, the explosion immolating what few of the agents are left. As the light does down, I pull my hood up enough so that my horns are only barely visible and my face is obscured again. My wings fold back against me as I begin to walk briskly away from the scene of the carnage -

Bang. Bang. I turn to see one lone agent, firing at me with a small handheld weapon. Bang-ping. The shot ricochets off my shoulder, small chips of ceramic bone flying outward. I turn toward him.

Leave this place at once.

The man, previously trembling, goes still. After a moment of contemplation, he inserts his firearm in his mouth. He pulls the trigger.

I step into the Void, and am greeted by Edo Edi Essum. I bow, presenting in front of me the Object I acquired from my excursion. I can feel the familiar, colossal energy bearing down upon me. The horrific sibilance and susurrus of its voice assaults my mind and body; I see and hear and feel the speech and words encroaching upon me, constricting me.

The scythe. Excellent. And what of its Holder?

Dead, my Master, as you commanded.

Good. You have done well, Edo Infectus. And now, I shall reward you.

Thank you, my Master.

I feel familiar agony as Edo Edi Essum imparts a little more of its power to me. I can feel the pain building, building, building to a crescendo inside of me. I feel as if the pain and energy are tearing me apart from the inside. My mouth opens in a silent scream.

Blackness.

Mortuus Monumentum

I touch down amidst the corpses strewn about the ancient ruins. One man crawls toward me, pulling himself along on his remaining arm. He sputters something I cannot make out before I bring the Black King's Sword down, silencing him permanently. I take a step forward; the energy I feel here is unlike any other. I tracked it from the Void, entranced by its power and its... familiarity. Something about it warned me that I should not inform Edo Edi Essum of my excursion. Eventually, the protesting of my better judgment was struck down by my sense of curiosity, as well as something else I still cannot place, and I came to these ruins.

I keep walking, eventually coming to the source of what I felt. It is just a pulse, just a small ripple in the energy of this place, but it is there. And its presence, for reasons I do not know of, fascinates me. I walk toward it, and I feel as if it is reaching out to touch me. I make contact with it, and a scene, a vision, thoughts, flood my mind -

 

The moonlight dances off the Spike of Enervation. I stroke it idly, the tips of my fingers brushing across it just enough to feel the energy, like caged fire and lightning, coursing inside of it. No matter how many Objects I obtain, I am always shocked by the power inside of them. My mind returns to this Object's Holder, to the Holder of Enervation, of the answer when I asked it, "What can weaken Them?" My mind wanders, and I think about all I have done in my twisted, abnormally long life. My eyes return to the spike, and they stay there for a moment, losing themselves in it, losing themselves in this, my thousandth Object.

A soft sound shatters my reverie, and I look up. A cat is standing on the stone wall by my home, watching me. It is graceful as it regards me for a moment before jumping down, landing next to me. I reach out to it, but it shies away. For a reason I do not know, I feel a twinge of sadness, and I realize that I had used the hand that was made of mercury. I reach out with my other hand, and it tentatively takes a few steps toward me. For a moment, I am tempted to speak to it in the language of cats, for I have the Secret, but something tells me to think better of it. I feel as if it would shatter this moment, which for some reason seems so fragile.

Gaining confidence, the cat moves closer to me. Now that I can see it clearly, I can make out the gray stripes that run across it. I can see a few flecks of blood upon its fur. I close my marked eye, not wanting to see anything but the cat itself, not wanting to taint this experience with the Objects. The cat moves past my outstretched arm, brushing against my side. It circles around, and I put up my normal hand to stroke it. It purrs as my fingers run through its soft fur, and I feel a spark of happiness inside of me. Not the depraved joy that comes with acquiring an Object, the feeling that has been the engine of my mad quest, but true, genuine happiness. The cat meows softly, and I feel myself smile. It has been so long that the muscles of my face ache and protest. As the cat winds around me, I start to shed the horrors that had previously pervaded my mind. How twisted I've become, how I can feel the Objects taking over my life, the Seeker I must soon face - the only one to rival me in the amount of Objects he's collected - and many other things. That cat's tail brushes the side of my arm, bringing me back to the present. I -

 

- snap from the scene suddenly, shocked. I take a few steps back, attempting to comprehend what has just happened. It seems as if an experience, a memory, was somehow preserved in these ruins, probably due to the power of the one who brought it about. And yet, I cannot shake the feeling of familiarity with this individual. The experience is so vivid, so intense, so familiar, I cannot help but feel taken aback. And deeper within my initial shock... something I cannot remember having felt before. I can feel a spark of warmth inside me, although I did not realize I was cold. Relief, yet I did not know I was in agony. I feel a light, although I was unaware that I am consumed with darkness. I can feel the corruption of Edo Edi Essum inside of me, and I can feel something else... something fighting back. I can feel a spark of light, of happiness, fighting against the darkness and agony. This memory, this experience that feels so familiar in a way I cannot place, it has awakened me. I feel as if my eyes have been opened -

A surge of darkness courses through me. I extinguish the spark, the joy, the light. It will only weaken me. There is only darkness. There is only Edo Edi Essum. I can feel the darkness deepen, and I grow happy. Light is pitiful. Pathetic. And now, I feel something else - Yochanan, and another I cannot recognize. Instinctively, I can tell what they are coming for.

I extend the fingers of my right hand, and wave it to the side. Cracks blossom across the stone ruins. A remaining wall of the house explodes. Soon, the rest of the structure follows suit, destroying itself until only dust remains. Satisfied that I have completely razed this place, I turn away.

I take my leave.

Cassus Phasmatis

Darkness surges through me, the power flaring inside me, a flame once lambent in its glow now filling my being to the brim. The dust that was once the monument settles slowly at my feet, the disgusting, decadent thoughts crumbling along with it. I feel chastised as the dust mixes in with the sand and dirt of the ground, and my thoughts drift to the approaching presence of Yochanan. I clench the Black King's Sword in my hand in anticipation.

"I see we haven't caught you at a disadvantage. How sad."

I whirl around, but meet only open space. I am not surprised; Yochanan is a master of deception and concealment.

"Oh, how mighty you stand; wings spread wide, horns shining like a black lacquer... and those eyes... I shall have to take those from you when we're done." As the words exit Yochanan's gray, dead lips, the ground below me begins to shake. It splits apart in front of me as if eviscerated by some massive, invisible blade, rupturing and shifting until a large ape-like creature rears its head at the epicenter of the split. It pulls itself from the titanic crack in the earth, its huge fists making small craters in the ground. Once it finally emerges completely, its shadow totally covering me, I make out the object it holds in its hand. I stifle a laugh, the sound not unlike a dry, hacking cough.

The White King's Sword.

That will do you no good against me.

Yochanan is next to the beast, his smile drawn back farther than human muscles should be able to allow, his teeth unnaturally clean and white. "Oh yes, and that most damned Black King's Sword. It shall look wonderful in my trophy room! My guest will marvel at it and ask 'Is it true? Is that the blade that killed Legion?' and I will say, 'No, Mr. Filth, the blade that once so easily dispatched the White King failed to gut the inebriated swine; Legion,' and my guest will say, 'Was the wielder flawed? Or the weapon?' and I will say, 'Perhaps both.'"

The beast charges, the impacts of its huge feet causing the earth below my feet to vibrate ever so slightly. I can see the muscles in its arms rippling as it brings the White King's Sword to bear. I can also see how very little substance there is behind the swing. The beast, while fearsome and powerful, lacks finesse. Parrying the strike is hardly a test of strength or skill for me.

Is that thing your best fighter, Yochanan? I inquire of Yochanan, who does not seem to be surprised by the ease at which I am able to fend off his cohort. Suddenly, Yochanan vanishes from view and I feel an impact to the back of my head. I fly forward, shoving the Black King's Sword into the ground to slow myself. I about-face as I come to rest, just in time to see Yochanan charging and feel the lumbering footsteps of the beast behind me.

"Tell me," Yochanan begins, the words seeming to be said slowly but within an instant, "did those memories make your skin crawl at what you've become? Did they burn you and torture you? No? Then why did you send them away? Did you ever think, even for a moment, that you could have used that spark, that hope, to become more than your master? Because you and I both know you could surpass It, but you need an advantage... a certain Je ne sais pas. Or a knife to the head. That works too." In response, I pivot my torso at the waist, making a horizontal decapitating swing at Yochanan's head. He ducks, and the beast behind me senses the opening and makes a thrust. To its obvious surprise, I continue my pivot, spinning further than a normal human would be able to. Blood and a roar of pain both fly into the air as the Black King's Sword opens a gash in the beast's shoulder. I finish my turn, moving my legs with my body to end in a sort of crouch facing Yochanan. His weapon glances off the Black King's Sword, and I answer,

I will not fall for your tricks, Yochanan. Master, help me.

Edo Edi Essum hears my call, and soon a space in the fabric of reality tears open, my master emerging as though from the surface of water. The beast roars, and I cannot hear the words that Yochanan and my master exchange as I parry the beast's attacks. I am not interested in it, but I continue to fight out of necessity, not really paying attention. Suddenly, I see something that catches my eye: Yochanan shoves a silver box into my master.

Edo Edi Essum stops for a moment, freezing in place. Suddenly, my limbs feel heavy, far too heavy to move. They drop to my sides against my will, and shudders run through my body. My mouth opens, and a thick black substance I can identify as blood floods through onto the ground in front of me. I fall to my knees, feeling as if I am in the body of someone else. My vision grows hazy, and my eyes cannot focus. I feel as if all my power, all my energy, is drained from me, leaving me nothing but a tattered and broken husk. My eyes close.

"Shit..."

Ressurectium

I awaken gradually, my consciousness alive like the faint light of a dying ember. My eyes open slowly. After a few minutes of prolonged effort, my eyes are focused enough to tell me that I am in a hospital, one that seems an anachronism in the 21st century, with old-fashioned beds and tables with restraints. All around me, milling around me, appearing to be doctors, all of them a sort of gray color that matches the rest of the hospital. Their eyes, or lack thereof, are all focused intently upon me above their surgical masks, even as they go about other chores and duties. After a few minutes, one of them walks over to where I lay. I try to speak, but find I cannot, and I also discover that I am restrained, strapped down to the bed. The attendant wordlessly grabs a bloodstained hypodermic needle from a tray on the table next to me. I feel an irrational fear at the implement as the nameless attendant drives the needle through my skin... my skin... skin! A wordless moan escapes me as I see that my armored ceramic carapace has disintegrated, only a pathetic coat of skin left over my bones. I moan again in despair as the doctor draws blood from me, the liquid filling the syringe all the way. I lose consciousness again to the sound of my own inarticulate cries.

I wake up again after an indeterminate amount of time to see a few of the ghoulish, eyeless doctors standing over my bed, staring at me. They are all silent, save for one that is drawing blood from me with an ancient-looking needle. All I can manage is a weak gurgle. The doctor puts aside the syringe and picks up another, drawing more blood from me. She picks up another, and repeats the process. And another. And another. She stops after the sixth needle, simply setting it down with the others and walking away. Without warning, my eyes suddenly focus again, and I can see the figure that now stands at the foot of my bed.

Edo Edi Essum.

"Where..."

This is my sanctuary. It is neither in this world or another, it simply is. Its location is never constant, always shifting, safe from any interlopers. I brought you here, to be rebuilt.

"What... happened...? Rebuilt...?

Yes. Yochanan, one I thought could be used to my advantage, has outlived his usefulness. He sealed most of my energy away, stripping you of your power entirely. You are now as you were: a weak, pathetic human. I shall rebuilt you as a vessel for my power.

"Vessel..."

My vessel. It had been my plan to transfer my power to you someday, but Yochanan's meddling has pushed it forward. With a vessel, a focus to my power, I will at last be able to reign as I rightfully should, and all will be in my grasp. Do you want your power back, pathetic weakling? Do you want all of it and more? More than you can possibly imagine?

My answer scarcely takes a second' thought. "Please, master..."

My master turns around, exiting the room. Before he leaves, he leans over to one of the doctors, one of his thralls, and whispers something. The thrall nods, and walks over to my bed. Others gather around. Fear mounts inside me as they begin tightening the restraints. I struggle and kick, but either I am too weak or the restraints are too strong. I am held fast.

"What..."

The fear surges inside me as one of them selects a scalpel from the tray next to the bed. The scalpel slowly descends to my chest.

"Please..."

The scalpel sinks into my flesh, and I grit my teeth as it slices a slow, agonizing, perfect circle around my sternum. The doctor grabs the circular flap of flesh. He pulls it away with a sickening rip, the sound causing bile to build inside my throat.

"Don't..."

The doctor continues cutting, occasionally pulling away chunks of red that must be muscle. I moan in agony. After a few moments' time, I feel the scalpel cut into my sternum.

"No..." I plead one last time, but I know it is no use. The pain is unbearable, but my consciousness is now razor-sharp, feeling the scalpel split my sternum in two. I struggle vainly as the doctor tries to use the scalpel to cut away one of my ribs, making the cut at the edge of the circle of my exposed bone. I lie there in horror and my attempts to escape intensify as the doctor sets aside the scalpel and I realize his intentions. He puts one hand on my rib at the sternum, and the other on it where it is at the edge of the circle. He begins to bend my rib back, toward himself. I feel pain. Pressure. I scream. Snap goes my rib as it splinters and breaks in two. I scream louder, the sound coupling with the agony and horror, making my mind crawl with revulsion. Tears roll down my face. The doctor does not care. He snaps another one of my ribs. And then another, and another, until they have all been snapped off, exposing my organs. My screams die down to soft whimpers as the doctor tears forth a mass that must be my heart. For some twisted, damnable reason, I retain my consciousness as he pulls forth other organs, eventually completely hollowing out this circular hole in my chest. I give up on making sound, my head lolling to the side as I weep in futility.

After a few moments, the doctor takes from the table a blade with wickedly serrated edges. I made no reaction to the implement; I no longer care. I stiffen as the blade cuts into, and through, my spine, continuing on to saw through the ribs connected to it. I am wracked with agony, but my eyes remain half-open, tears falling from them. The doctor puts down the saw, taking the scalpel in hand once again. I feel him cut through the flesh in my back. Eventually he removes the circular flap of flesh before stepping back to inspect his handiwork: a perfect, circular hole all the way through my body, with the organs and bones around it completely untouched. Finally, I sink into unconsciousness.

I awaken later, hoping against hope that it was all a nightmare. I try to move and struggle, but I quickly realize it is futile. As I move, I see my master walk into the room, accompanied by the doctor who performed this sick surgery on me. Edo Edi Essum regards me for a moment before speaking.

The preparations are complete. It is time.

There is a blinding light. I scream in pain before blacking out.

When I regain consciousness, I feel something surging through me, something I have never felt before. It makes me feel almost... incomplete. Empty. I shift my arm, and the leather restraint snaps instantly. Looking at it, I can see that my arm has changed, becoming once again the white ceramic, almost insect-like in its appearance, my fingers ending in wicked, sharp points. Pleased, I eagerly snap the other restraint, flexing my arms, admiring them. I look down at the foot of my bed, only to see Edo Edi Essum's cloak on the floor, as if it had been vacated suddenly. I look down at the hole in my chest, and at its center I can see a perfect orb of a sort of black flame raging silently. I snap more of the restraints, becoming acquainted with my new, powerful body. An eyeless attendant comes in, evidently to check up on me. I touch him, and he is obliterated instantly, not even having time to register surprise. As he dies, I feel full, complete for a brief moment before the surging, empty feeling comes back, stronger than before. I stand, picking up Edo Edi Essum's cloak, my cloak, and wrapping it around me. Suddenly, it dawns on me: I know what this feeling that pervades me is. I know this sensation that coalesces within my being, permeates all that I am.

Hunger.

Velitatio

Another of Essum's servants - another of my servants - falls to its knees, its mouth opening in a soundless scream. Its skin wrinkles and falls away, until only a skeleton remains. I savor the moment as I siphon its life, the energy filling me, erasing the awful sensation that pervades me. Suddenly, painfully, the hunger strikes me again, the agony and emptiness shooting through me. I double over, falling to my knees myself. My palm strikes the ground to keep myself from falling to the ground, my vision growing hazy for a moment as the hunger, my new twisted addiction, courses through me. I manage to orient myself after a moment, shambling into another room of the asylum, my new home, finding and consuming another attendant. I breathe a contented sigh before the hunger comes back, even stronger yet. I am ready for the onset, however, and I manage to stay standing despite my swimming head. Over time, my stagger becomes a walk, the hunger no less painful, but somehow manageable as I begin to become familiar with it. And yet, this crippling, agonizing hunger is nothing compared to what I feel behind it: pure, dark energy, more intense, more great, and more terrible than anything I have ever felt in my life, as black and fearsome as the very Void itself. I can almost taste it, the weight of it so great that I feel as if I should have been smothered by it. I can feel it inside me, sharpening my perceptions, my senses, my thoughts. It rises up through me, and I laugh, the walls of the hospital cracking, chunks of wall falling away. My slaves come to fix it, but as I reach out to devour another, an idea strikes me. Why content myself with such a meager snack, I muse, when I could treat myself to a banquet?

It's time to pay Balance a visit.

I can find him, even if he cannot find me. I turn the gigantic bolt on the massive door to Balance's meditation chamber. The sound causes him to open his eyes, slowly at first, before he sees me. He gets to his feet quickly, a look of surprise followed by a look of contempt flashing across his eyes. When he takes a second look at me, however, his eyes widen in surprise.

"Who dares?"

How rude. I would have at least hoped for a "hello". Is that really so much to ask?

"Salutations are reserved for those who are welcome, and I welcome those in whom I sense good. I see no good in you, beast, and thus I offer no greeting, humble or otherwise to... whatever you are now."

I'm shocked, Balance. Eve you could not have anticipated this? This was my intention from the start. I have transferred my power into this body. Edo Edi Essum has transferred his power into my body. Essum, Praetorious, there is no longer any delineation between the two. I am one. Complete.

"Indeed, the outcome was not as clear as I had hoped, but I had anticipated Edo Edi Essum would try something like this. Even so, if it is an ending you seek, You will know that my power far surpasses your, for I am the Balance, and I balance anything. That includes you, Essum."

Of course I know that! That is why I do not want to finish you now, Balance. I believe I'll wait.

"... For what?"

For you to reach your full potential, of course! That's when I'll devour you, piece by piece, bit by bit. This hunger, Balance, you could not possibly understand. It is far worse than the pain you must feel for the loss of... I pause for a moment, as if trying to remember, Shelby, is it?

"You bastard!" Balance shouts at me. His foot plants firmly on the ground, clenching his fists that are almost hidden by his almost pure-white cloak. What a wonderful cloak it is, I think to myself, symbolizing the power he needs to equalize things, like a thermometer of a sort. An overlay of a white light surrounds his hands, as he makes ready to attack, the hate blazing in his eyes.

It is moments like these that make me wish that my white, armored skull of a face permitted me to smile. Balance attempts to strike me and I snatch his wrist from the air, his once-human flesh burning within my grasp, although Balance seems largely unfazed.

The light begins to bleed from Balance's cloak, becoming a dark black. It wraps around Balance, constricting him, forcing the air from his lungs. He falls to the ground as a sort of human cocoon, the sight almost comical.

"What... have you done?" Balance wheezes.

Nothing extraordinary, **I say nonchalantly, your cloak is part of your power. I simply twisted it to my advantage, used it. My influence will wear off in time. As I said, I wish to only talk.

Again Balance takes in a sharp breath. "Acceptable... so long as... She is left out... of our exchange."

If you'll respect my candor, Balance, you're not in much of a position to make demands at the moment. You seem to be rather wrapped up in your own affairs, so to speak. Just take a moment to think about it, Balance - if I wanted to have the love of your life as a tasty snack, could you stop me? What will you be able to do if I decide to devour her little by little, and make you watch?

"She... is not... a toy... for your amusement... you demented freak!" The last few words drain Balance of breath, and he pauses before continuing. "If you... harm one hair... one cell... on her body... If she even so much... as gets frightened... by a nightmare... that you caused... I'll kill you... I swear by all that is balanced... I'll kill you."

Think hard, Balance. What would happen if you were to kill me? Light, happiness, and peace would reign supreme. And that means there wouldn't be balance. And that means that you would be left to do my work. You would be forced to become the villain, the darkness, the corrupter. And we both know that you are not capable of killing and destroying for all eternity. You need me, Balance. Don't you see? I can do all the things that you cannot. Without me, Balance, you could not keep the balance. The irony is so sweet, is it not? I am far more capable than you of keeping order, I'm far more the "Balance" than you are.

"All... you are capable of... is death... and destruction. I will... defeat you... you will not... prevail... You will not... cause chaos."

Perhaps not, "Balance". But I would thank you not to insult my intelligence by assuming I haven't any sort of contingency.

"What... contingency... do you speak of?"

Why, you, of course! If you kill me, that leaves only you. You, Balance, are too weak*. You are too* weak to maim, murder, exterminate, and torture. Even if it means preserving that one thing that you hold so dear. Balance. Without me, you cannot do it. And so there will be chaos. And in the chaos, They will come together again. And I will be reborn. And so it will begin again. And again. And again. Do you understand? One could liken your endeavor to trying to keep an ice sculpture from melting. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, eternity lies ahead of you. An eternity, its jaws open wide, waiting for one mistake to make them snap shut. One mistake to make the sculpture melt. One mistake to make order melt into chaos.

"Why is it... that you care... Why can't the world... be balanced... why must... there be chaos?"

Because, I plant a foot upon Balance's chest, eliciting a weak groan from him as I lean forward so that our faces are only inches apart. I'm hungry.

I can see that the lack of air is causing Balance to lose consciousness, and I stand back up. I turn my back to him, and the Void opens before me. I hear a weak gasp from Balance.

"I will fulfill... my purpose. I will balance... everything. You of anyone... knows that a man... with a purpose... is a force unstoppable. You know... that your merging act... is all in futility... and I will balance you. I will end you... The Objects created you, the multiverse houses you... you are part of the realms... and therefore you too must have balance."

Goodbye for now, Balance. Know that I am watching everything you hold dear. And know, in your human heart, that all things slip back into chaos.

"I won't... let that happen..."

Good luck.

I wave before stepping through into the Void.

Initium

Coughing blood and aching from dozens, perhaps hundreds, of bruises and cuts across my body, I stumble into the main room of the pantheon. My hands claw at my back, trying to reach the wicked, serrated blade embedded in my spine. Not fully in control of my legs, I complete a drunken half-circle before collapsing near the center of the vast antechamber, the force of my impact against the ground driving the blade even deeper. I gasp and cry out, the blade grating against my ribs. The wound is not fatal - although it seems like it should be - but the pain is agonizing.

After several minutes, I feel the blade cut into one of my fingers. I grasp it, the sharp metal scoring through my flesh and hitting bone. I grit my teeth and pull. Pain flares up in my back and I cry out again, but I continue. Eventually, I feel another stab of pain that makes my eyes lose focus for a moment and hear a wet sucking sound. It takes me a moment to realize that I have finally wrenched it free. Exhaling in relief, I slowly manage to roll to the other side to look at the bloodstained blade. It has no hilt or handle, but it is as long as my forearm and wickedly barbed. Air comes to me in ragged breaths as I examine it. A strange rush overtakes me for a moment as I eye the weapon. A sort of high that I have never felt before, an exhilaration unlike any other. It feels so perfect. So wonderful. So real. The Blade of Supremacy. Object 1921. My vision grows hazy. My eyelids suddenly feel far too heavy, and they close before I know what happened.

Darkness.

Praetorious.

Who... what is this? Are you... the Object?

Ha! You truly know nothing, do you? A fool who has read of the Objects and fancied himself a Seeker. You are pitiful. Nothing.

Who are you?

My name would mean nothing to you.

Why are you here?

It would not help you to know.

Then what do you want from me?

Everything.

I awake with a start, laughter ringing in my ears. There is a warm sensation on my back, and I realize after touching it that it comes from the blood flowing from the blade's entry. Nausea and lightheadedness overcome me as I try to stand, and I collapse again, my head swimming and aching. Gasping for air, I try again, my endeavor far more successful as I shamble outside, the full moon's light seeming to grate against my eyes, and the unforgiving stone steps cold against my feet. Clutching the blade, I take my first tentative steps into the night, managing to walk with some semblance of a normal gait. I begin the mile-long walk back to my own home under stars that seem practically nonexistent in their dimness.

My town is scattered and disorganized - distance from the Emperor's seat of power and civilization has that effect - and I pass no other houses before reaching my own. Pushing the wooden door open, I need to take only a couple steps into my home before I can see her lying against the wall, her knees pulled close to her and her head slumped forward.

Asleep.

I close the door softly and kneel down in front of her, so that I can see her eyes behind the hair that has fallen in her face. See the faint lines that the tears have left down her face. It occurs to me that I have no idea how long the Holder's trial took. It could easily have been days, perhaps longer. Guilt strikes me for how I must have made her feel, and I brush a newly fallen tear away with my finger.

"Angela?" I whisper softly. Her eyes flutter for a moment before they open, a few more tears falling. She takes my hand in her own.

"Praetorious..." she says, her speech slurred by fatigue and sleep, "What happened? It's been three days... I was so worried..." She stops for a moment before continuing, fighting off the desire to sleep. "Where... were you?" She begins to notice my cuts and bruises. "What... happened to you?"

I pause for a moment, and I cannot think of what to say. Should I tell her the truth? About the rumor I followed out of curiosity and what it led me to? The horrors I experienced throughout the Holder's trial? The awful truth I learned at the end of it all, that I somehow managed to retain without taking my own life? "I did something insane. Something I shouldn't have done. I -"

She kisses me for a long moment, interrupting me. "Forget it... I don't care... what it was..." she says to me. "Just promise... that you'll never do it again... that you won't get hurt like this again..."

I pause for a moment. At once, the feeling comes back to me. The euphoria of acquiring an Object. The sense of fulfillment, something so great and powerful that I felt as if I was soaring through the heavens. I can feel the high that I felt, even while pulling the razor-sharp blade out of my body.

And then I see Angela's face, the tear streaks across it. "I won't do it again," I promise her, but I can see that she already fell back asleep. I can feel myself smile as I pull myself up next to her by the wall. In her sleep, she nestles against me, her head on my shoulder. Slowly, my eyes close, too.

What do you want from me?

Everything.

What do you want from me?

Everything.

What do you want from me?

Everything.

What do you want from me?

Everything.

What do you want from me?

Everything.

Luminis

Time passes. Days grow into weeks and months. Gradually I forget about that night, when I found an Object, and my world was torn apart by the words the Holder of Supremacy spoke to me. I can sort of compartmentalize it now; I've gotten better at keeping it deep in my mind, where I do not think about it often. It still creeps back on me sometimes, like disgusting tentacles digging into my subconscious, boring inside and infecting it. It used to be worse.

For months after it happened, I had nightmares. I still do, although not as frequently. I dreamt, over and over again, about the Holder. I dream about what it told me. I can see myself facing the thing as it spoke of Their superiority. It told me of the futility of my life personally, and began to expand to the futility of the entire world, and how easily it would be razed and annihilated by Them. I can see the swirling shards and fragments of weapons I cannot imagine slicing into my flesh as it speaks, and I can feel the pain even though I do not seem to be in my own body. The end of its disquisition is punctuated by something unseen shoving a blade into my back, the pain burning and searing inside me. The dream ends as soon as the blade, which I know now to be the Object, slides into my back. I wake up, sweating and breathing heavily. And sometimes... strange things would happen. I woke once to find that I could not move, as if I were physically bound cell by cell in position. I found once that I had carved runes into my fingers, one on every fingertip, that bled profusely for hours. Looking at them made my eyes lose focus and sting.

Throughout those torturous and interminable months, Angela never wavered by my side. She always helped me bandage my fingers, or staunch the flow of blood from whatever excoriations I had inflicted upon myself in the night. She never asked me what happened, what brought on my nightmares. Perhaps she thought that I could eventually internalize it, and forget about my ordeal. But I think the real reason is that, deep inside her, she could sense that I had tampered with things humans were not meant to meddle in. On some level, I think her instincts compelled her to avoid it. Whatever her reasons, I can never thank her enough. She helped me escape from my own memories. Even when she was deathly afraid - of me, of what I'd done - she did everything she could for me. She has helped me forget.

And forget I did. At least, mostly.

I keep the blade in a locked box, away from any outside intrusions. Away from myself. I threw away the key, making sure I would never touch it again. Sometimes I still miss the feeling of it, even as it slices through my flesh - I miss the feeling of satisfaction, of fulfillment, that it brought. Sometimes, at random moments, while I think or ponder on something, a sort of drive will seize me. A burning desire. A desire to have another. It takes all of my resolve to fight it down again.

Time passes.

I journey now to the Emperor's city - a trek not terribly long, but at least a day's walk - in order to pick up more supplies. It is truly a humbling sight - obelisks from forgotten civilizations stand in the squares, vast pantheons and chapels tower over one, seeming to show all who regard them their true significance. Eventually, I make it to a marketplace. After buying food, I stay to admire the artwork for sale. Paintings lie out to dry in the sun, while vases and other pottery are arranged, inscriptions emblazoned upon them, polished and bright enough that I can see my own reflection. And the reflection of all that is behind me.

Including a tall figure in a black cloak.

My heartbeat speeds up. I turn in slow motion. Everything around it seems hazy and indistinct, as if the figure were not entirely corporeal. Irrational terror fills me, along with a feeling like despair. The light and color in everything surrounding the figure seems to bleed away, beginning to look dead and gray. My heart continues to speed up, throwing itself against my ribs like a deranged man trying to escape from his prison. And then... it slows. It continues to slow until I can barely hear it, when I suddenly realize - I'm dying. I fall to my knees, trying to stand but finding it harder to do so than ever in my life as the thing walks slowly toward me, its cloak flowing to its left, although I can feel no wind. I can see the gray deadness advancing, people screaming as their very life seems to be leeched from them. I summon all of my strength, and in a feat of will I can myself scarcely believe, I stand.

I run.

I tear through the woods with reckless abandon, the trees and branches tearing at my flesh as if some malevolent force possessed them. I pay no heed. I keep running until I am no longer conscious that I am, as if I am a dead man, an automaton. And still I continue. The screaming of my lungs for air becomes white noise as I run still faster, the miles passing without me fully being aware of them, looking back as much as I can to see if the thing is behind me.

I break out into a clearing, seeing my home in the distance. The thing does not seem to be following. Without warning, my legs give out, and I collapse on the ground, shaking. I manage to pick myself up into a crawl, eventually able to stand up as I enter my house. I quickly find Angela, holding her in an embrace for a long moment, trying to make sense of and rationalize what just happened. Tears flow down my cheeks as I feel her warmth. Eventually I pull away -

And stumble back. I back into the wall, sinking to the floor, horror consuming me in a way it never has before.

Her skin is gray, dead.

Her eyes are missing.

Calamitas

I stare in horror at Angela's gray, eyeless face. It is expressionless as she slowly advances upon me. I duck her arms and scramble to my feet, backing away from her. But, I realize too late, she is now between me and the door.

"Angela!" I shout to her in vain, her expression never changing as she turns toward me.

Wake up, I tell myself, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!

This cannot be happening. My mind goes into overdrive, trying to reject what I see before me as Angela - or the thing that was Angela - grabs me by the shoulder. My mouth opens in shock; the crushing grip is more powerful than any vice. I hear a crack and yell in pain as I feel the bones in my shoulder giving way.

Angela's expression remains unchanged.

Before I can fully process it, I'm body slammed into the wall into the wall, my head striking it sickeningly. I manage to tear her hand from my shoulder and stumble back.

She's already there. Her palm slams into my chest, forcing me into another wall. I can hear cracks - not from my body, but from the stone wall - and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

Wake up!

I slump to the ground, trying to crawl to the door. For once I am thankful for the size of my house - I crawl only a few feet before I am at the door. My hands fumble at it, trying to reach the knob.

Almost.

Almost.

I reach the handle. I pull -

Crack.

Pain shoots through my leg. I cry out in my agony, and manage to twist around to look behind me. Angela has her foot planted upon my leg, her face disgustingly vacant.

Crack.

I grit my teeth as Angela exerts even more of her inhuman strength, crushing my leg.

Crack.

Wake up.

Crack.

Wake up!

Snap.

I scream. My lower leg bends to the side in a sickening fashion as the bone breaks completely in half. Tears course from my eyes, horror and agony mixing inside me. Angela's expression remains the same. She reaches forward, and I feel her fingers lace around my throat. I can feel myself being pulled upward, upward still, until my feet only brush on the ground and I dangle from her vice-like grip. I can feel it tightening. I gasp and wheeze for air that will not come as she crushes my windpipe, my vision blurring. This is it, I think to myself, this is how it ends - dying by the hand of the only person I've ever truly loved. I suppose... I suppose there are worse ways to die. I gradually lose consciousness. I begin to feel numb, first in my limbs, the feeling working through me until it permeates my body. I gradually stop trying to breathe. My eyes close. I feel a sort of calm, and then...

Pain. Intense pain. Something is slicing into the palm of my hand. I can barely move it but I can feel it cutting into my flesh, hitting bone. It hits me in a flash.

The blade!

I manage to open my eyes. Through foggy and hazy vision, I can see Angela's gray, dead, eyeless face staring back at me. The expression doesn't change.

Even as I slash the blade across her throat, it doesn't change.

There is no blood. Ash flows from the gash in her neck, her face not showing any sign of registering the injury. Her grip loosens, slowly at first, but her hand goes slack. My broken leg hits the floor, and I yell in agony as I collapse on the ground.

Angela just stands there. After a moment, her body seems to lose all composure, and she falls limp to the ground, like a ragdoll. Her facial expression still remains unchanged as she slumps down, her dead, eyeless face inches from my own.

A few minutes pass before the enormity of what I've just done hits me, its strength and force no less massive than that of the monster Angela had become.

I killed her.

She's dead now.

I killed her.

I attempt to rationalize it, saying to myself that she was already dead, that she'd already become... whatever hideous monster she'd become. Ultimately, thought, I feel no better. I killed the only person I'd ever loved.

I weep. For hours, days, perhaps - I lose track of time. And somewhere in my despair, I notice something. The blade is still in my hand. A sizeable puddle of blood has formed on the floor around it. I examine the blade, examine the blood flowing from the gashes in my hand. Suddenly, the pain seems to no longer bother me. In that instant, the world somehow changes. The forest that I can see seems somehow less vibrant, the grass more sickly and gray. Everything around me seems more lifeless. The blade, though - the gleaming metal seems more beautiful than anything I've ever seen. I see the blood congealed around it, flowing from my wounds like the last of my humanity. My resolve builds.

I know, deep down, that the thing I saw in the market was responsible for what happened to Angela. I know that it caused her to die, even before I killed her. And I know that I will make it pay.

I don't care if it's real, or something beyond my comprehension. I don't care at all, because I know what I have to do. I will gather all of Them, all of the 2538. I will bring Them together, and use them to destroy the thing that took Angela from me... that made me kill her. It does not matter what I will have to do. I will torture, burn, maim, and kill. I will annihilate all who stand in my way. Nothing will stop me from having my revenge, and bringing Angela back.

This I swear.

Extricum

The ground splits and cracks in front of me, a schism starting inches from my feet and moving outward. It widens, becoming a small chasm in the earth. The cloud of dust settles after a few moments.

Silence.

Suddenly, the dirt and sand start to move again. The particles begin to coordinate, moving in sinuous patterns toward the chasm. It trickles inside, becoming a torrent as more and more particulates make their way inside. Defying gravity, the dirt and sand rise up, gradually knitting themselves together into a skeletal hand. It rises slowly, gripping the edge of the fissure and pushing. More soil forms around it, adding to the arm and fleshing it out. It extends further, until an entire upper torso protrudes from the crevice in the ground, the top of its head at equal height with my chest. Sand creeps up it, forming into a jawbone as it fits into the skull of the figure. The sand begins to harden, turning into a solid stone.

The monster rears its head, the exposed "bone" of its face the same gray as the rest of its form. Its outer layer has been flayed away in many places, revealing cords of stone that act as sarcomeres, sinew, and tendons within it. Its powerful arms are planted firmly into the earth, fingers and hands supporting its stark body. It looks up at me, stone eyelids opening to reveal two empty sockets. It's mouth, the lower mandible little more than a skeletal jaw made of stone, moves as a grating, rasping voice escapes it.

"Master."

What do you have to tell me?

"Yochanan has remained dormant, master. He will not interfere with your plans."

And Balance?

"Master, there is nothing of him. I have searched acr-"

My fist crashes into its face. It gives a grating, screeching cry as part of its face shatters, exposing more of the mineral "bone". The creature coughs and sputters, clutching its face in agony. Silence! I command my servant. You will locate him immediately.

"Yes, my master."

You will make him aware that I seek him. Make him aware that I want him to be aware that I seek him. Tell him that it it time. Tell him that my hunger waxes. Tell him that... I wish to see who the true Balance is.

"It will be done, my master."

Then leave me. And do not come back until you have completed my order. If you fail again, I will not be so lenient with you.

The monster recoils in horror. "Yes, master," it intones as it cracks, crumbling into rubble and refiling the fissure in the earth from whence it rose. In minutes, the ground shows no evidence of any activity having transpire there. I take my leave.

After a few minutes of walking, I find a house, appearing quite abandoned, judging by its dilapidated state. Slightly disappointed that I will not be having a snack before I depart, I put my hand on the knob. Black tendrils creep through the wood of the door, radiating from my hand, looking like twisted arteries. They spread, until the door seems to pulse with life. Indeed, it shrieks in pain as I twist the knob, walking not into the house, but into my asylum.

My eyeless slaves mill about the long entrance chamber, fetching supplies and treating patients, whose screams can be heard in other rooms. One catches sight of me. It walks briskly toward me, standing to my right, facing me. Another follows suit, standing to my left, across from the first drone. Soon others gather, until they have formed a long corridor that extends halfway through the vast entrance room, standing at attention. As one, they kneel, left knees touching the ground in unison, right palms planted in front of you. I walk through the center of this aisle. I feel the familiar sensation of desolation and emptiness in my sanctuary, and -

I stumble, my hand flattening over my abdomen in pain. The hunger flares up, my vision going hazy for a moment. I manage to right my gait, my hand falling to my side again. The faces, all covered by surgical masks, look up to me in tacit concern. I gesture to one that looks as if it used to be a middle-aged man. Another that looks like it was barely twenty. I point to what was a woman in her twenties. Wordlessly, expressionlessly, the three stand, forming a single-file line behind me as I walk. The growing aisle of my slaves curves, creating a path to a set of massive double doors. They open as I approach them, and close after my chosen thralls and I have entered. The room is completely dark, save for one circle of a sickly white light at its center. I walk to it, sitting at the center of the circle and beckoning my thralls. They kneel in a horizontal phalanx before me. They do not move, their expressions do not change as they die, their vestigial life force exiting their bodies and filling me, for a time. Their forms quickly disintegrate, being held together only by an energy that now resides within me. Hunger sated temporarily, I focus my mind. Runes covering the room begin to fill with light that radiates from me, until the whole room is lit with a dim white light. I close my eyes.

My mind expands beyond myself, filling the sanctuary. I can feel all my servants, all compelled by my thoughts, moving, working, serving me as one. They think and feel like a single living organism, a smoothly and perfectly functioning hive of concerted activity. I marvel briefly at its beauty.

My mind expands still further, filling the very Void, filling the universe itself. My hunger leaves me for the moment as I cast about existence itself.

Balance... where are you? Eight years it's been since our exchange... do you truly fear me so? Why? Do you fear my power? Then contest it. Do you fear the futility of your situation? Then succumb to your fate and my hunger. Do you fear what I will do? Then let us end this. It is [Praetorious?] time -

I snap out of my concentration. That voice... it was not my own. What happened? Is some soul I've absorbed rebelling against me? Is it something about [Praetorious?] this body> [Who -] What is this voice? [You- ] I must find Balance. I must crush him, consume him, quell [It was -] this voice inside me. I will end it, no matter what the cost.

Balance.

I am hunting you now.

Prolusio ut Terminus

My stone servant's head breaks apart as my foot collides with it, shards disintegrating into sand as they fly in all directions. The body crumbles apart into dust, no evidence of my thrall's existence left. He had failed me for the last time.

I step over the rubble, pulling my hood over my face as I step out of the alley. I restrain myself as best I can as I walk amidst the throngs of humans, trying to ignore my hunger. Unconsciously, the masses split into an aisle as I pass through, their animal instincts telling them to avoid me even as their conscious minds are none the wiser. I close my eyes, suppressing the hunger and the new voice inside me. It speaks only fragments, never forming anything recognizable, but somehow I know that it [Engineered -]

My concentration breaks, and a human beside me is instantly obliterated, screaming as I consume them. Suddenly, pandemonium breaks loose. All the humans begin running and screaming, their irrational fear getting the better of them as they trample each other. I watch the spectacle for a few moments before slipping into the the Void.

I recline in the cold nothingness, contemplating. Balance has proved far more elusive [You did -] Far more elusive than I expected. I can sense instinctively that this voice, if I do not end the battle before it takes hold, will be my undoing. I must find him. And find him now. His presence, normally so laughably easy to detect, has gone silent. Dark. [Praetorious -] Shut up! I yell, as much as anyone can yell inside the Void. What is happening to me? Why [Revenge -] damn it!

Suddenly, I feel a presence. A familiar one. And though it should have every reason to, it does not hide, or attempt to cover itself. It is completely open. Exposed. Beckoning me. I open a window into the human world instantly [Defeat -] and, ignoring the voice, I step through.

I find myself atop a massive skyscraper, towering above all the others in a sprawling city. Scarcely impressed as I am, I can imagine how dizzying the heights would be to a normal human. Looking under my feet, I can see a large yellow marking that I recognize as a landing zone for aircraft. Then, the presence comes back, right in front of me. Anger and annoyance build up in me at the sight.

"Long time no see," says Yochanan.

Your actions, Yochanan, seem to have gone beyond the realm of reckless annd into that of the idiotic. I have every reason to destroy you.

"Actually, I disagree," he says, perching himself upon an air conditioning structure, "you have every reason to keep me alive."

Enlighten me.

His face contorts into a gleeful smile. "I know where Balance is. I can tell you, too, but you'll have to do something for me."

Do not toy with me, Yochanan. You will tell me where Balance is, now.

"Ooh! Scary. Someone's in a bad mood. I'll tell you what: I'll tell you where he is if you make me your next vessel."

You are not in a position to make demands, Yochanan.

"Yes, actually, I think I am. Or would you rather cast about meaningless for him until you tear yourself apart?"

What -

"I know a lot of things, you see. I get around. So, what'll it be? Do we have a deal?"

I pause for a moment. Loathe as I am to become indebted to Yochanan, all of my methods have failed me in locating him and [Praetorious -]

Fine. We have a deal. Where can I find Balance? Where does our struggle end?

Yochanan cackles, taking his time before responding. He grins wickedly. "The same place where you began."

And with that, he drops dead. For now, at least.

I jump down the building, cursing my stupidity [Engineered -] and ignorance. It is so obvious. How could I have missed it? All this time, the answer was right before my eyes. How could I have expected Balance to go anywhere else?

The city I am in is called New York. Yochanan's choice of a meeting place was unintentionally convenient for me. Making my way through the throngs of humans, I begin my journey. Of course, I could have simply flown right to my destination, but I feel as if I could use a walk.

A few hours pass before I reach my destination - a giant pile of rubble that was once two large buildings. The construction workers, all my servants, pay no attention to me as I walk among the ruins, surveying them. At last, I come to a small opening, and slip inside.

Few humans realize how massive the catacombs and networks underneath New York really are. The cavern stretches in all directions, a perfect nesting place for vermin that plague the city above. A perfect place for disease to form. A perfect place to set in motion the end of the human world. Calling to the energy in this place, I place my palm on the ground. A soft humming sound permeates the cavern. It builds, becoming in minutes, a deafening crescendo, until a huge boulder rises up. It shatters, revealing a gigantic black stone encased within, perfectly round and smooth. The Conduit. I had spent many years tracking down an object powerful enough to serve my purpose, and left it here for when the time comes. And come it has.

All around me, cracks begin to form in midair, the wall between my sanctuary and this world fracturing. Suddenly, from one of the cracks, a hand shoots forth, gray and dead. It claws at the barrier as more emerge, tearing it away. Eventually, a great rift is left, and one by one my eyeless servants emerge, forming themselves into phalanges at my back. Soon, there are hundreds of my slaves filling the catacombs. Then thousands. And still they emerge. They silently form up, walking as one with me, emerging into the light. So begins the march of death. The end of mankind. So begins my journey to where everything began, and were it all will end.

The tower.

Pondera

Phalanx upon phalanx of my slaves pours from the ruins, splitting from one another and spreading out. They radiate outward, their numbers ever expanding, all marching in perfect rhythm. The ground begins to shake under their footsteps, their collective volume becoming so great that vibrations can be felt through the ground. The sky begins to darken as my legion is unleashed, their dark energy tainting the air itself, the sun turning blood red.

My slaves spread through the streets, marching between buildings and through alleys like blood running through veins. Human run and scream, the slow one caught and dismembered by my soldiers, who never break step even as they tear the people limb from limb. It warms whatever I have that would qualify as a heart as the lives of the humans being slaughtered fills me. More of my eyeless slaves emerge from the hole in the rubble, this time marching not between the buildings, but through them. Soon the sound of supports cracking and breaking becomes audible, and soon the buildings themselves begin to fall, their foundations destroyed. The hulking wrecks crush all underneath, destroying thousands of my slaves at a time but not even making a dent in their numbers.

Phalanges of them march at my back, wordlessly and instantly obeying my silent commands. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a lone human charges at me. I can see that she has a dagger in her hand, raised in a combative position. It takes me a moment, but I suddenly realize: she is holding the Dagger of Galaxies. Before she reaches me, I extend a hand. She stops abruptly, slowly rising in the air. Her face contorts with agony, her mouth opening in a scream of agony as her skin turns gray, her eyes turning to ash and pouring from her sockets, her energy flowing into me. I set her down gently, and she joins the ranks of my legion, falling in step instantly with the rhythm of their march, still clutching the Object. My legion advances ever onward, radiating from the rubble as more emerge, their numbers ever swelling. Buildings everywhere go down in flames as they advance, spreading through the city and beyond.

[Engineered me -] I shake my head, trying to clear the voice from my mind. Suddenly, more cracks appear in the air, and hordes of foul monsters pour through. They clash with my legion, which remains marching even as they battle the invading army. Legion's. My detachment leaves me, moving to the outward edges of the advance to help. Powerful and disturbing as Their armies are, they are no match for any legion. Slowly but surely, the monsters are torn apart, demonic blood and viscera coating the hands of my thralls. More pour in, but my legion does too, and Their armies do not so much as slow their advance.

After a few moments, I feel as if I have watched enough of the spectacle. I feel ready to destroy Balance. Ready to end it all. I snap my fingers, and more cracks appear in front of me. It's time to bring out the Experiments.

A massive gauntleted hand crashes through, the palm area alone the size of a human head. Another one emerges, and they tear at the opening, widening it, until the first of my Experiments steps through. Its skin is gray and dead, its eyes missing as with all of my slaves, but I have spent many decades modifying this one and its kind. It is nearly seven feet tall, almost reaching my height, its forearms and hands unnaturally huge, built like clubs. Various tattoos cover its body, denoting areas for injections and other such procedures. Another pair of arms unsheathe themselves from its torso, tapering at the wrists into long, chitinous, scythe-like blades. The Experiment surveys the battlefield silently and emotionlessly as more step through into the human world, until a total of fifty stand with me. One takes the front of the formation, this one with a large squirming cloth sack tied to a rope slung over its back.

A winged monster manages to get past the outer perimeter, swooping down at me. Before it can land or attack, one of the Experiments' blade-arms lash out, decapitating the beast in one clean sweep. Head and body hit the ground with a wet smacking noise.

I gesture to them, and they know without me telling them that it is time for us to depart. As one, they slump over, as if they had lost control of their torsos. The skin and bone of their backs twists and contorts, extending outward, cracking and snapping sounds crescendoing. Eventually, bony wings form from their backs, and they stand at attention synchronously, staring blankly at me. My own wings unfurl, tearing away the back of the top portion of my cloak. I lower my hood, and after a moment's thought, rip it off, tossing it aside. I nod to the Experiments, and they and I take off as one, climbing at extremely high speeds. I open the Void before us, and we fly through, coming out again at a vast wasteland, a gigantic desert. After covering a few miles, we can see it at last - the tower. From outside, it seems to be just that: an unassuming stone tower. It appears far too small to house the 2538 floors it actually has, but, of course, appearances are deceiving. [Angela -] My Experiments advance.

Suddenly, the ground begins to shake. My Experiments hold their ground, shifting into defensive stances. Before our eyes, the sand begins to rise from the ground, knitting itself into humanoid shapes. It coalesces, forming swords and spears in the hands of the figures before hardening into stone. The figures turn to stone as well, moving slowly at first, but gaining speed as they charge. My Experiments meet them head-on, fists crushing and blades slashing away. In a matter of moments, the creatures have all been annihilated. We take a few more steps, but the ground begins to shake again. And the creatures reform. More keep forming as my Experiments, the stone warriors swelling in numbers by the second. The Experiments keep fighting, not sustaining so much as an injury as they destroy every creature in arm's reach, but I can see that the fight is hopeless. Whenever one falls, it simply reforms from the sand. I raise a hand, and my Experiments form a ring around me, facing the horde. An idea comes to me. If they form from sand, then all one would need to do to defeat them would be to...

Turn the sand to glass.

My Experiments pause their fighting for a moment. In each of their eyes, a small point of white light appears, growing in heat and intensity by the second. And then, as one, they combust. Twin jets of black flame erupt from their sockets, the scorching heat enveloping the stone warriors. They begin to turn a white-orange color as they melt, sinking back into the sand. My Experiments turn their heads downward, causing the flames to lick at the sand below our feet, turning it to glass in seconds. I suppose they're a success, I think to myself, the double doors of the tower swinging open as I approach.

I find myself in a massive antechamber, the room easily miles in diameter. Bookshelves line the walls, detailing every aspect of existence, every existence of every aspect. I can feel Balance above, standing at what I would [Killed her -] guess to be the six-hundredth floor. [Destroy you -] I shake my head again, trying to rid myself of the voice. It's time to end the conflict once and for all.

Flexing my wings, I snap them down, sending me crashing through the ceiling. I build my speed and momentum, smashing through floors and furniture as I accelerate. I see Balance only as a blur as I fly through the floor, and I grab him by the throat as I continue upward. I will remember the surprise and shock on his face for centuries to come. Gradually, I slow down, reaching, by my rough estimate, the 1500th floor. I bodily throw Balance against the wall, cracks blossoming across it at his impact. He stands up, cracking his neck into place.

"Essum."

Hello, Balance.

"I see that you discovered my location. Yochanan no doubt had a hand in this."

About that you would be correct, Balance, but that is neither here nor there.

"And where, pray tell, is 'there', beast?"

The top floor, if you'd care to join me. The view is wonderful. And it will be most excellent for settling our differences.

"Very well," says Balance, and in an instant we are on the 2538th floor. It has no roof - a red sky with black clouds and a sickly white sun are displayed in open view. Crescent-shaped columns stand at regular intervals around the circular platform, intricate carvings inlaid upon them. My Experiments fly up as one, landing at the edges of the platform and standing between the columns, making a ring.

"Do you not have enough freaks already, Essum?"

Were I you, Balance, I would not be so rude. The love of your life is in their custody.

With that, my Experiment roughly throws the sack to the ground, withdrawing two lengths of chain from it, holding both in its huge hand. It gives them a rough pull, dragging out two unconscious figures. Shock and anger cross his face as he recognizes the faces of his love, Shelby, and her nephew, hands bound behind their backs, chain around their throats.

"How dare you -"

I'm "evil", remember? These things happen. And besides, how else can I motivate you enough?

"If you've hurt so much as a cell on their bodies, the perdition of the Objects will be nothing compared to what you will suffer!" Balance shouts, shaking with rage.

See, that is what I wanted to hear! The answer is no, I haven't, other than incidental trauma. If you want them back, you will have to go through me.

Hate burns [Your fault -] in Balance's glare as white light surrounds his hands. "So be it."

He launches himself at me with a roar of anger. I hold my hand out, and black begins to creep into Balance's cloak, my corruption spreading. The black moves quickly -

- and then dissipates. His fist crashes into my face, chips of ceramic bone flying outward, the force knocking me backward. I fly a few feet before my hand touches the floor, my fingers digging in to slow myself. Eventually I skid to a stop. I feel my face, the chipped crevices evident to my fingers. Black flame forms around them, filling in the cracks, fixing my face. I stand, laughing, the sound making Balance cringe ever so slightly.

At last, I can see the true Dallas coming through.

Incompositus

"Come, Essum. It's time to end this."

Music to my ears.

Bolts of white light arc from Balance's outstretched fingers, scoring grooves in the stone floor. One tendril whips out at me, and I catch it with my left hand, applying pressure until the ethereal but somehow substantial light [Kill -] shatters. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I push off with my right foot, propelling myself through the shards at Balance. He grabs my arm, aiming a kick at my head. Ducking, I avoid the kick before breaking his hold and making another attack. Our fists hit each other dead-on, the reaction force causing us both to skid backward.

Pity. I expected so much more.

"I'm not finished!"

Balance charges at me -

- and stops. He looks away from me, eyes fixed to something to my right. Following his gaze, I see what it is. His former paramour is attempting to stand, surprise and fear on his face.

"...Dallas?"

"Shelby!" Balance shouts, rushing toward her. Using the Void to bend the distance, I appear almost instantly in front of him. I grab him by the face, using his own momentum against him to launch him backward. He skids across the ground before standing up again.

You really can be a pest sometimes, Balance. Rescuing the damsel in distress means going through me. I told you this already.

"Stand aside, Essum!"

Kill me first.

Balance launches himself at me again. I shunt his attack, forcing him away.

You still aren't taking this seriously.

"Give way, Essum."

It's hurtful, you know, that you're ignoring me like this. I spent decades, centuries, even, amassing my army, finding the Conduit. My legion is marching across the world as we speak, razing and destroying it. And still, you care more about the girl. It is rather irritating. I suppose I'll have to force your interest.

I hold out my hand, and his love's nephew's eyes snap open. He stands, staring blankly ahead of him. His head turns slowly, stare connecting with Balance's. His mouth curls into a Cheshire smile.

"What are you doing?"

I'm making you interested.

Without warning, Shelby's nephew begins to laugh. He begins slowly, softly, crescendoing into a loud, grating, screeching sound. Balance cringes, disturbed by the sight. The nephew rises into the air, the laugh growing louder all the while as he gravitates slowly toward the edge.

I flick my wrist.

The nephew flies from the edge. The laugh slowly grows more distant as he falls, eventually petering into nothing.

Balance stares at me in shock and horror. Slowly, his features harden into anger and hatred.

"Alright, Essum. You have my interest. I will focus all of my energy upon destroying you. When I finish, not a single atom of you will be bonded to another."

Suddenly, light surrounds Balance, a deafening roaring sound following it. He is saying something, but I cannot make it out. Another robe materializes around him, one I recognize to be the Toga of the Gods. The Brace of Submission forms around his right wrist, clamping on. At the end of the chain, a shaft of the white light begins to grow, lengthening into a sort of halberd with an elongated blade. The light dissipates, revealing a purely white blade, that of the White King's Sword, the chain of the brace fused to the weapon about half a foot from the white blade. Balance levels it at me, the hate in his eyes shining with a mad energy.

Interesting. You've fused the Objects together with your own power.

"Stand aside now."

Make me.

I hold out my hand, and the Black King's Sword materializes, the blade longer than before, and ground infinitely sharper by my power. The hilt is no longer elegant and ornate, the once cross-shaped guard now a wicked, claw-like curve toward the blade. It ignites, the blade becoming wreathed in black flames, leaving a trail through the air as it moves.

Balance charges, and I meet him, the force of our blades' contact sending a powerful gust of air in all directions. Balance's former lover is thrown back into my Experiments, who dig into the ground to keep from falling from the edge. Balance swings again, sparks flying from our clashing blades, the impacts so fast that they seem to almost blur into one sound. [Praetorious -] Our weapons become locked against each other for a moment, our faces less than a foot apart. The Objects Balance has begin to glow as he draws more energy from them, trying to overpower me. I myself begin to struggle, drawing out more of my strength, the force of our blades roughly equal. I break the lock, causing Balance to stumble back. I whirl the Black King's Sword, making my moves [Destroy -] unpredictable, moving it faster and faster until it is scarcely a blur, dancing around me. Balance's eyes follow it intently, trying to read me. A few moments pass as I speed up, occasionally scoring small gashes in the floor. Suddenly, Balance looks directly at me. He's predicted where I'll swing from.

Which causes my kick to his face to come as a surprise to him.

The angle of the attack causes him to fly upward, slamming into a stone column. Shards of it rain down from where he impacted it, the force making a sizeable impression in the stone. Balance dislodges himself, landing on his feet, spitting out blood and cracking his nose back into place.

In an instant he is in front of me, making a slash at my neck. I duck, but not in time, as his weapon slices one of my horns off. I cannot feel pain in the traditional sense, but I can feel the injury, and it annoys me. I retaliate, swatting Balance's right arm aside with my left and lunging. He jumps backward, but not before I've scored a shallow wound across his chest. He touches it with his left hand, and the wound knits itself back together.

We charge at each other again, swords clashing, tongues of white light and black fire scorching and slicing at both of us. We both skid backward, breaking the trance. Looking down at myself, [You -] I can see that part of my cloak is gone, revealing the black flame in my chest. Balance and I both are covered in superficial wounds, but he has a rather deep cut midway between his shoulder and clavicle. He glares at me, panting, the hate in his eyes palpable. Suddenly, his eyes narrow, and I realize that he has spotted the hole in my chest that contains the black flame. The source of my power. White light surrounds him, and the chain of the brace somehow extends. Grabbing it, he tosses his weapon in the air, whirling it in a perfect circle at blinding speed.

"It's time to end this, Essum." I realize his intention too late.

The halberd goes speeding toward me. I have no time to react as the blade slides into the hole, penetrating the flame perfectly as it passes through. I stumble back, grasping the shaft to prevent the blade from passing farther into me. I take a deep, rasping breath.

"Do you see now, beast? You cannot hope to compare to me. I am the Balance, and you are an agent of chaos, a slave to disorder. To balance you, my power will swell to become greater than yours, a thousand times yours." He grips the shaft of his weapon. "Die now, and sink back into the void of nonexistence you arose from."

My head inclines, and I allow my grip on his weapon to slacken. I stumble backward slightly, falling to my knees. My eyes close.

And open again.

You poor deluded fool.

Spidery veins creep through the blade of Balance's weapon. I rise and take a step toward him, the motion driving his weapon deeper into my chest. Shock and disbelief cross his face.

"How -"

Did you really think killing me would be so easy, Balance? Really think that after all these years, with all my planning, and all my power, that I would have some sort of "weak spot" that was unaccounted for? You fool.

The veins creep further, moving up the shaft of his weapon, and moving into his hand. He gasps in pain as they move further under his skin, traveling up his arm.

You may be able to resist my corruption, but I've yet to see anyone who can resist it when they touch its source.

He gasps, trying to breathe as the veins crawl up his neck and to his face. He stumbles back, pulling his blade from me, but it is too late. The corruption continues to move through him.

The hilt of the Black King's Sword collides with his forehead, knocking him to the ground.

You are right about one thing, however. I grab the front of his tunic, lifting him up in the air and throwing him down again. It is time to end this.

Balance tries to stand, and I kick him hard in the face, sending him flying into a stone column. Cracks bloom across it, and it crumbles, coming crashing to the ground. I jump onto the wreck, dragging Balance from the rubble. I grab him by the throat, lifting him off his feet. He gasps and claws at my hand, but to no avail.

You know, Balance, there is something I want to tell you before I kill you.

"What... do you want..." he rasps, voice hoarse and strained.

I was created when the Reunion failed. I'm sure you know this. But do you know why? I'll tell you. The man who tried to bring Them together was stopped by the Balance. The Balance that came before you.

Balance makes a weak choking sound in response.

Do you know why you're needed, Balance?

"Why..."

I release my grip on his throat, and he falls to the ground, coughing, the spidery veins covering his face.

I killed him.

"You -"

Balance stands, something [Essum -] I did not expect him to be able to do in his state. He makes an attack with his weapon, at a surprising speed. Nonetheless, I avoid it easily enough. I make a riposte, and he blocks the blow with the staff part of his weapon, straining in his weakness. Suddenly, and without waring, the Black King's Sword shears entirely through Balance's weapon, slicing a deep path in his torso. I reverse the Black King's Sword in my hand, using the [Destroy -] leverage and momentum to make a powerful thrust. A wet, almost grating sound ensues as the Black King's Sword slides into Balance's stomach. A cracking sound follows as it parts his ribs, exiting through his back. He gasps in pain, bloody vomitus exiting his mouth. He falls to [Engineered -] his knees, and then to all fours, coughing and hacking. I bring the blade of the Black King's Sword to Balance's neck, drawing blood. I draw it back.

Goodbye, Balance. Die with the knowledge, deep in your soul, that your role was always futile. And know, completely and utterly, that you have failed to play it even more bitterly than your predecessor.

I swing down.

Consilium

The Black King's Sword arcs downward [Essum -] at a furious rate of speed, but I still feel as if I am caught in slow motion. Dark flames [No -] trail the blade as it travels, seeming to split the air itself as it glides to Balance's jugular. Anticipation and triumph build up in me as it reaches his neck -

- and stops. What - Balance's hand loses around the blade. But that is not what stopped it. My eyes travel farther, and I see what did. My other hand is clamped in a vice grip around my wrist. What is [Engineered -] happening? The [Revenge -] voice builds, growing to a shrill and painful [Defeat -] cacophony in my mind. Balance attempts to stand, wrenching the Black King's Sword from my grasp as I stumble backward, clutching my head. [What -] The voice begins to [End -] drown out my own [Praetorious -] thoughts, and I feel it [Destroy] overtaking me furiously, drowning [You did this -] me. My vision [Angela -] grows hazy - [Get out of my head, Essum!]

My vision focuses sharply again. I see Balance holding the Black King's Sword, looking somewhat dumbfounded. I can feel Essum inside me, squirming in rage and confusion [How -]. I look at my hands, the ceramic fingers ending in wicked points. So this is what I've become. They fill me with revulsion. Looking down, I can see that my body is covered in the horrific material. I am suddenly aware of it, the cold evil boring into me, consuming me. Without being fully conscious of what I am doing, I dig into my ceramic face with my fingers. I can feel the injury without feeling pain as I attempt to rip it away. Shards of ceramic fall to the ground as my hands search or other cracks and recesses, digging into and tearing away the ceramic where I find it. I realize, suddenly, that my throat is on fire from the scream I didn't know was exiting my mouth. I tear still at my face, and then begin ramming my clawed fingers into my shoulders and neck, trying to scrape loose the material. I look down, and what I see makes me cringe with disgust.

A hole in my chest, with a small orb of black flame burning grotesquely at its center. I touch it gingerly, and pain, real pain, shoots through my hand, searing into my brain so deeply that I cry out. In that instant, however, I realize what I must do. I plunge my left hand into my chest, grasping it in sudden agony. My hand closes around the flame, and it sears into it, the pain more than anything I have ever imagined. I watch as the ceramic of my hand is atomized, followed by my skin. My flesh is flayed away slowly as I try to pull away the accursed flame. My eyes lose focus, and I feel as if I am weakening. Dying. I feel like I am ripping out my own heart. I am aware of my vocal chords, or whatever serves their purpose, burning and stinging, my cry of agony growing louder. Suddenly, something seems to give way, and the flame tears free from my chest. A roaring, screeching ensues as it expands, coalescing in the air. My limbs suddenly seem to go limp, as if my bones had disappeared with the flame. Looking at my left hand, however, I can see that the opposite is true. Only bones remain of it and half of my left forearm. I slump over, rolling painfully onto my back.

Through half-opened eyes, I can see Balance walking toward me, his weapon pointed at my throat. "Who are you?" he demands of me, the blade pressing into my neck.

"I... am not... your primary concern..." I manage to rasp out. Balance turns around, seeing what I see. The black flame has formed into a shape, purely black and radiating hatred. I watch Essum reform, this time having no cloak to cover his appearance. Essum has no legs, a torso seemingly made of a deep black smoke hovering in the air. Skeletal arms form, longer than they should be, from the shoulder sockets, hands flexing grotesquely. I see his face. Or rather, their faces. It changes constantly, twisting and contorting disgustingly into various features, some human and some not. I can tell instinctively that they are the faces of all the beings he's consumed. All of the beings I've consumed. I see Angela's face, black and smoky, atop Essum's neck. I see my own. My eyes close.

I awake vividly aware of being slammed into a wall. I open my eyes as Balance slams me again into the stone column. "Who are you?" he demands of me. I cough and sputter at first, disoriented.

"My name... is Praetorious..." I manage to say, the words beginning to come more easily. "A very long time ago, Essum robbed me of the person I love the most. I became a monster to get revenge, the Objects consuming me until I forgot why I was a Seeker in the first place..." I blink, memories coming back to me. "I killed and destroyed indiscriminately to get the Objects, to try to have my revenge, but I didn't know who I was avenging or who I was revenging against. And then Essum found me again. Used me as his vessel. I was engineered."

Balance raises his weapon, pointing it at my chest. "That won't do you much good," I tell him, pointing to the hole that remains there. "You could try decapitating me, if you really wanted to." He considers it briefly before lowering his weapon. "What happened to Essum?" I ask of him.

"Essum is gone," Balance says as his glance wanders briefly to two halves of the Black King's Sword, "I banished him back in time, to grapple with my predecessor for eternity. He will never emerge again."

"That's good to hear," I say as I manage to stand upright, swaying slightly. I look at the Black King's Sword, and reflected in the blade, I can see my own face. The irises are a bright gold, the sclera deep black. Looking down at my left hand, I see that the flesh is gone, only the bone remaining, somehow still held together. Balance looks at me, asking me what both of us are thinking.

"What are you?"

I try to think for a moment, but eventually give up. "I have no idea."

"Are we allies?"

I pause to consider that question, trying to focus my swimming thoughts. "No, I don't think we are. There was some merit in what Essum thought. Your role is to temporarily impose order upon chaos. It is futile. But Essum's was wrong, too. He wanted to bring about the chaos, try to force it. I don't think it works that way."

"Then what is the answer?" Balance asks me.

"Do what you're doing," I tell Balance, "and I won't stand in your way. I have my own answers to find. My own crimes to deal with. As for you, Essum's legion have surely killed millions. I'm sure you'll have plenty to balance in the years to come. But know this: some day, the world will crumble. The universe will burn, and existence will unravel. And even you won't be able to stop it."

I walk to the edge of the tower, gazing down at the massive drop. Essum's freakish creatures are gone, piles of ash left where they once were. I have no doubt that his legions met a similar fate. I turn toward Balance.

"Cherish her," I tell him, gesturing to his unconscious former paramour, "I don't know when the end will come, but it will be soon."

I hold my arms out slightly, my heels at the edge. "Wait!" Balance yells to me, "will we ever meet again?"

"I doubt it."

I close my eyes, and feel the tug of gravity, slowly at first, then increasingly strong as I lean back. Eventually, I feel my feet leave the platform, and I fall backward. I feel the wind rushing past my face as I plummet, and I relax. I can almost hear Angela's voice in my mind, whispering things I cannot make out. I can almost see her face. For the first time in decades, I feel content, happy. I smile.

I fall forever.

The Balance Saga

My great-uncle used to tell me stories of a man before bedtime. They seemed so far-fetched, for children. He told me that this great man saved the world more times than anyone could count. He made evil be good and he made dark be light. He brought Yin to yang and good to Evil. He made everything fair.

After I found out about the Objects and the Holders, I came to the conclusion that there must have been some truth to what my great-uncle D told me.

However he came about knowing these stories, I'll never know, I haven't seen him in years.

It's a story about a man with a purpose.

They called him The Balance, and he must be maintained.

 

• The Balance
• Balancing Emptiness
• Legion of Balance
• The Balance in Doom
• Equal Ends
• Coming Undone
• Heaven in Balance
• Balancing the Score
• Balancing Thought
• Featherweight Equal
• Balance in Mind
• Weakness
• Essum in Balance
• Equal and Opposite
• Everything Balanced

The Balance

I stared at the man on the other side of the table.

He was old and bent. His long, silvery beard protruded from the blackness under his hood. His cloak seemed to flow without wind, and his cane somehow radiated feeling. What feeling? I'm not quite sure, but I know I felt something. Something strong, too; in fact, it's the only thing I remember feeling.

I'd met him online. He called himself "Factions" and had apparently been looking for me for quite some time.

As in 10,000 years.

Now that I think of it, it sure fits the age he looked, even though I never quite saw his face.

I offered him wine and he took it rather enthusiastically. He showed no hostility toward me, so I had no reason to feel afraid. Then again, that makes sense, considering that... something... that permeated the air. I could still function. I could still think straight. In fact, if anything, it seemed to keep me alert and aware.

Eventually, he finished his wine and leaned forward. The light from the candles glowing on the table revealed small, subtle glimpses of what the man's face looked like under his hood. Pale. Wrinkled. Typical, considering he was a ten-thousand-year-old man.

We continued to chat idly. We talked about all sorts of things. About loves. About losses. About ambitions and dreams. He obviously had more to say than I did. After all, he had ten millennia on me. But he held his tongue and allowed me to speak as much as he. Perfect balance, you might say.

After much dancing around it, we finally arrived at the Objects. I told him about the two I'd already gotten: Object 375, the Toga of the Gods, and Object 137, the Ankle Brace of Submission. I told him about how I got them both. It was quite a lengthy story, but he seemed intrigued and kept urging me to continue. I told him about how I attempted to retrieve The End, but left empty-handed and emotionally scarred. The memory was almost enough to make him feel sad, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he dismissed it. Sorrow was impossible; the feeling continued to settle and calm him, forcing itself upon him.

After I finished my story, the man stood up and removed his hood. He wore a large pair of cracked circular glasses which seemed to reflect light in all directions, ever shielding his eyes from my view. He gazed upon me and smiled at me with a mouthful of false teeth.

"I'd bet you're wondering why I have been searching for you," he said in a raspy, wise voice.

"I have indeed, Mr. Factions."

"I came to give you a message. What you're feeling right now... well, I call it awareness, but it's much more powerful than that, isn't it?"

I nodded; "awareness" as a good description, in the same sense that "cold" is a good description of the North Pole.

"You have faced The End and lived. You possess the powers of Unyielding Will and all the immaculate powers of the Gods. Though the Objects will inevitably come together, though without the Objects you are a mere mortal, you are different from most Seekers... from all Seekers, now that I think on it. Legion should fear you. The End allowed you to leave because he knew any attempt to kill you would be futile."

I sat back, soaking it all in. I'd never heard of such a thing, but I understood it all the same. More importantly, I knew that not a single word was false. This man would never lie to me. I couldn't explain how I knew, but I did. I had questions, though, and all the time in the world to ask. My first question was the most obvious:

"Why?"

The man shoot his head. "It's unexplainable, yet all will become clear eventually. Just know that death isn't in the cards for you at the moment, if ever."

"When you're a Seeker, dying is the least of your worries. The Holders can do things to you that make death seem like bliss," I retorted.

The hooded man gave a short, loud laugh and slowly poured himself another glass of wine, filling his glass halfway. He stirred it by moving his hand in a circular motion, and then took a small sip. I could tell he enjoyed the taste, and the sensation of the liquid passing over his tongue. He swallowed, thinking that the wine could have been aged a bit longer.

I had no idea how I knew what he was thinking, but I did know that I liked it. My newfound omniscience would have been even more enjoyable, if only I could have felt joy at the moment. I remained calm and focused on our conversation.

"Alright," I said. "If I'm as powerful as you say, I can't be human. What am I?"

The man laughed. It was genuine enough, frail and raspy, but full of soul. "You are still Dallas. You are, and will forever be, you. You just haven't discovered your purpose yet. It's a divine purpose."

"Divine? As in holy?"

"There's another question on your mind; ask it first."

I did. "What purpose?"

The man smiled again. "Since the beginning of time, the Universe, along with everything within it, has always been about balance. Good was always equal to evil. Devastation was in perfect harmony with creation. Death and birth. Yin and Yang, black and white.

"However, as more and more Seekers continue to abuse the Objects, using their power for greed and selfish desire, and in doing so becoming more like the Foulest of Beings, along with the Holders themselves becoming more and more agitated, their rage against the Seekers every swelling, that balance is now off. In which direction, I cannot say, but suffice it to say that a skew in one direction is just as dangerous as one in the other."

I knew exactly who he meant when he spoke of "The Foulest of Beings" with a hint of disgust in his voice. Jack Empty. If the rumors were true, he would bring about the universe's ultimate destruction. Some say that chaos follows in his wake. He was immortal, yet he was not human, nor demon, nor angel, nor Holder. I also realized that the "pocket universes" the Objects were said to create were more complicated than I knew. I cursed my ignorance, which by this point I realized all of humanity was blissfully basking in.

I thought for a moment about my next few questions, but after a few minutes, I realized that I really only had one.

"What is it you need of me?"

The old man's cloak waved from head to toe, as if a strong gust of wind blew it from behind. The torn ends kissed the table between us. He shifted, licked his cracked, dry lips, and brushed the rim of his glasses with his knuckle.

"Dallas, I am not a Holder, but rather a Keeper. The Keeper of Equality, to be precise. My sole purpose is to restore balance by any means necessary. However, I cannot magically restore the balance in the universe. It must be forced back into equality. This is where you come in. There are many Forces in this war. There are the Seekers, the Holders, and the Objects themselves. That last one may sound strange, but you see, they are mere components to a much larger entity. Because of this, they have a common mind - a collective soul, if you will. There are the Heavens. There are the Hells. There are others too: the ones who created the Objects, Legion, Edo Edi Essum, the Keepers of Religion, and countless others. They all fight each other, desperately trying to tip the balance in their favor, and humanity is blissfully unaware of the tempest ever churning around them. In many ways, mankind is the only faction keeping the balance, so that even in pandemonium there is harmony."

The man paused to inhale; it was sharp and sounded painful.

"Factions, Equality, Balance. They are all off. Evil and Darkness are beginning to rule over all the realms. I cannot balance this with my power alone. But I can imbue my power unto others."

As I listened, I began to understand where he was going, what he was trying to say. It began to dawn on me the sacrifice he was thinking of making. Yet his explanation hadn't answered my question. I asked again.

"What is it you need of me?"

The man chuckled. It was a different laugh than the one he had before, riddled with nervousness and fake glee. Feeling only tense apprehension, I noticed this and leaned over to put my hand on his shoulder. The cloak felt warm, and slide under my hand, almost as if the garment itself was embracing me.

"Look at things through my eyes," he said. "That's all I ask of you. But before you do, you have one more question for me. Ask it, for it will be the last question I shall answer."

I nodded and forced an unemotional smile. "What will I become?"

"You will become The Balance, the equal and opposite to all that is unbalanced. For the Evil and Hate spilling into the worlds, you will become the Divinity and the Love. For Death, you will become Resurrection. And when the end of all things is nigh, and the Objects come together - make no mistake, Dallas, they will come together - you will balance the horrible and indescribable torment that will come to pass."

I nodded, and the overwhelming feeling of awareness faded, suddenly and completely, subsiding to my normal human emotions. I knew how Mr. Factions was going to change me, and to do so, he needed to use both my Objects. The toga and the ankle brace were both on my person, and I set them on the table.

Since the day I became a Seeker, I have always known three things: first and foremost, they must never come together. Second, in these games, it was all or nothing. Finally, the Objects could never be destroyed or created.

On that last thing, I was about to be proven wrong.

Faction took the Objects in his hands and, with more power than I thought the frail man could possibly possess, he smashed them together. The toga was engulfed in a white flame and the ankle brace shattered into pieces. At that moment, those two Objects seemed to lose the power they once possessed, the power that was supposed to be invincible. The old, frail man said a few short words in a language I did not understand, then vanished, as did the ashes of the toga and the pieces of the ankle brace. The man's hood sank to the chair. I got up and ran to his seat. On top of his robe lay a note, I picked it up and removed the wax seal. The design on the seal had a large B on it. I opened the note and read the three words in the middle of the page.

Put them on.

I looked at the cloak; its brown color had turned to a dim white. Sitting on the floor almost directly beneath the chair were the glasses, which had, by some strange power, been fixed. I took the hood in my hands and spun it around my shoulders, sliding the glasses overtop my face. At that moment, I ceased being Dallas the Seeker, I became something more.

I am The Balance.

And I must be maintained.

Balancing Emptiness

"I have been searching for you, Yochanan."

"Please, call me Jack. Why are you looking for little old me?"

"You corrupted Legion, who now wishes to bring them together."

"It's been done before, they say. It will be nice to see what happens after all this. Besides, that was years ago, much before you were born."

"I cannot let that happen; they must never come together."

"Have we met before? Yes... that cloak rings a bell. I wonder where... wait. You're his boy! The one he was looking for! You're not worth me wasting my voice; talk to Legion if you need to talk."

"In due time, Yochanan."

 

Although Balance's powers were supposedly limitless, he couldn't stop remembering their encounter. He was the Yin to the entire Yang, and he was Good to all Evil, He is the Balance. Which is why he should be able to equalize this realm. He is able to invoke good deeds and to prevent further chaos. Yet he couldn't bring an end to Yochanan. He tried. He couldn't, there was nothing to balance. The man was hollow through and through, and Dallas couldn't balance emptiness. He has no soul to tear out, no body to maim. All Balance succeeded in doing was sending him back to Hell, which wasn't all that bad, considering the other things Yochanan had been through. And for how long? A few years? Days? How long before one of the Gods of the Underworld release him? Yochanan doesn't even take orders from Satan, nor from Hades, Diablo, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, or Set. In fact, it seems quite the opposite. They keep a suite open for him, just in case he decides to stop by. Almost as if the Gods are... threatened, by him.

Some Gods they are.

 

"You're the Balance, aren't you?" "That is true, Yochanan, I am the Balance."

"Then I assume you think that I am setting that off? Isn't that why you are here?"

"Correct."

"Interesting. You know... once upon a time I had morals and a goal like you. But that all changed...

A man came to me. He said I wasn't who he was waiting for. Yet the world was too bright then; the good outweighed the wrong... In a way, we're a lot alike, wouldn't you say?"

 

Dallas even, for a short time, had to come face-to-face with his corruption - the offspring of his offspring, if you could have called him that. More like Bastard child of a tortured and raped woman. Jon. Balance had to stop him, he had to undo what had been done to him. Try as he did, though, in the end Balance was only able to prevent him from doing what he had planned, he was able to stop him from killing those innocent people, one time. There were so many who would have been affected. Balance stopped him; he kept the evil at bay. But that was merely Yochanan's handiwork. The payoff of years of Yochanan's experimenting and toying with mortal lives. He'd spoke to many, many Holders, and the ones who an talk all say the same thing; the world was a better place before Yochanan was in it.

Which was enough motivation to rid the world of him.

 

"Who're you going for after me? Legion? Will you go after the Objects?"

"No, the Objects, Holders, and Seekers all equalize each other, like three equal legs to a stool. You, however, have stolen something that was once dear to a good friend of mine..."

"Ahh... Him."

 

Yochanan has corrupted Holders, and in doing so making their Objects just as corrupt. Balance feared he will soon be forced to destroy some of them, the Objects. In doing so, however, he would cause the Seekers to hate him, the Holders to fear and resent him, and the Objects themselves to reject him. He would have to maintain the balance alone, which he simply cannot do. So, instead, he tried to vanquish Yochanan, striking him with some of his power, like showing a card trick to a magician; sending him back to the pits of Hell. You want to know what he said while Tartarus swallowed him up?

He told Dallas he liked his style.

Narcissistic bastard.

 

"You know, you aren't all goodness. There will be good times in your life to offset with bad, right to cancel with wrong. Just ignore me, let me be the darkness. It will make my job easier."

"You know nothing of my purpose, Yochanan. Ready for Death."

"Again?"

"Toomin, Alltronah, Chumunt-ra, Spectrum!"

"Nice nursery rhyme, what does it mean?"

"'Open the gates, you have a visitor, now!'"

"What gates?"

"The ones beneath your feet, about to engulf you, Yochanan."

"...haha! I like your style, Balance."

Legion of Balance

"Finding me must have taken quite some time."

"It wasn't as hard as one would think."

"I'm sure."

 

Dallas couldn't have found him on his own, so he got some help from one of his old friends. Michael, his name was. A Seeker, or at least he had been, until Legion took all his objects. Now he was just a man. A man with a grudge.

Which was precisely why he decided to help Balance.

At first, he thought Balance was a Seeker, but then he told him. He told him about his task, his purpose. Dallas told him about the yin and yang, the evil and good. He said he was the Balance, Michael didn't believe him at first, but Dallas convinced him eventually.

He convinced him with a bribe.

Michael wanted the apple.

And if he led Balance to Legion, He would get it for him.

 

"What do you want?"

"I want you to reconsider your objectives, Legion."

"What goal? ...Oh, bringing them together? No, thanks."

"You're aware your quest will bring an end to everything."

"That's the plan."

 

Michael had grown a beard by the age of 15, and it seemed as though he had never shaved it. Dallas knew that he grew it to cover the scars on his face. Michael was a violent child. For most of his young adult life, he had fought someone daily, and although murder was not yet in his list of sins, he had come close all too often. His actions helped tip the scale for the worse. Hopefully, once Dallas got him the apple, he'd use it for good. Balance doubted it, but his hope equalized the doubt.

Michael led Dallas to the subway station, where three homeless men sat around a small fire made in a burning barrel. Michael walked up to one and asked very politely if he could talk to Legion. The homeless men stood up, produced weapons, and began beating him. Michael took a few blows he put all three down with some unknown style of martial arts. They were all dead within moments, necks snapped in half. Michael could finally add murder to his list.

 

"I cannot allow you to bring them together, Legion."

"You think you have the power to stop me?"

"I have more power than you presume of me."

"We shall see."

 

Amazingly (or, rather, very cliché), the men stood up again, bowed to Michael, and allowed him to pass through a gate that had opened up on the wall behind him. He called back to Dallas that he was to do the same. So he did. Calmly did he take down each hobo in turn, only to have them stand back up, bow, and open the gate for him as well. Balance walked through; Michael was waiting on the other side.

Before them was a massive cavern. Unholy decals weaved their way into the blue rock, which seemed to glow slightly with an unearthly hue. The bridge seemed to stretch an impossible eight or nine kilometers toward the huge front doors of a fortress. Its walls were carved with giant gothic faces, all of which had giant crystals emitting a yellow light from their eyes. The huge stronghold itself was made from the same eerie blue stone in the cavern... in fact, now that he thought about it, it seemed the fortress itself was built into the massive cave wall. It was truly extraordinary. Michael pointed to the door, and asked me, "Can you get us there any faster than walking?" Dallas nodded, grabbed Michael's hand -

- and they were there.

Michael flung the doors open, creating a thunderous echo when they collided with the walls on either side. Michael was definitely stronger than he looked. He hid behind a pillar and whispered to Dallas, "Well, go on. Call for him."

"Legion!"

Balance heard swift footsteps from somewhere inside the mansion; they kept getting louder and louder.

 

"So, what? You're just going to kill me, Balance?"

"You're equally as arrogant as Jack."

"Don't you dare compare me to him!"

"Offend you, did I?"

"That man ruined my life!"

"He has a tendency to do that. Yet your own words are naught by hypocrisy."

"Enough! You think you're so powerful? Fight me!"

"With pleasure."

 

Legion came toward Dallas. He wore a sort of leather armor and a golden cape. His facial features were straight-cut. He was easily seven feet tall, and his body looked rock-solid (though it might have been the armor). He had white-blond hair, his fists were the size of watermelons, and somehow in his godlike features, he had a satanic darkness about him. The whites of his eyes, although still white, seemed to radiate pure darkness. His mouth looked like it was the maw of hate itself.

The two trash-talked each other for a moment before the impurity inside Legion took control and he began to grow extremely violent. He began yelling, began taunting Dallas; it was only a matter of time before Legion struck him. His blow alone sent Dallas reeling backward; Legion was easily the strongest man Balance had ever encountered. Dallas didn't know if it was from ages spent focusing his physical strength, or if his Object's power had strengthened over the eons. Either way, this man needed to be balanced.

 

"You're not so tough, Balance."

"I have no need to flaunt my power in such an infantile test of will."

"Then show me!"

"Tach-Falsh Tonah!"

"What the Hell is that in your hands?"

"It's called a Tach-Falsh Tonah, a spirit bomb."

"What does it do?"

"Well, Mighty Legion, that depends."

"On what?"

"Whether or not you have any soul left."

 

Balance gathered a Tach-Falsh Tonah in his hands. It was a glowing blue orb, about the size of a cantaloupe. It's a gift from the Gods, either destroying evil or converting it to good. Either way, when Balance threw it at Legion, the ball struck him in the chest. When it did, Dallas swore he saw some of the darkness leave his foe, but it could have just been the shadows. Legion buckled over, clutching his chest, and began cursing. When he looked up, the stern and unbreakable expression that had dominated his face moments ago had softened up a bit.

Yet Balance could still feel potent evil inside of him; he could still feel his impurity and his lust for the Objects' power. But there was less. Significantly so. Maybe all Balance did was remove the evil at this moment, temporarily suppressing the darkness within him. Still, he had done what he set out to accomplish. The Balance had found the Legion, and now he could keep tabs on him, and balance any unbalance he caused. Michael hurried Dallas out the door, ecstatic about what he had just done. They left, but not before Balance swiped an apple out of Legion's sash, who made a grab for it (it was nothing short of amazing that he still had the energy), but missed and fell flat on his face.

As Dallas passed through the gate where the homeless men were, he heard a sound that made Michael shake with fear, one that would have made Balance's old self cower in a ball.

He heard Legion's hate-filled roar.

 

"Come on! Let's go!"

"Michael, I must implore you to calm down. He isn't following us anywhere."

"You don't know him like that! Look! He's getting up! Let's go!"

"But your Object - there we go."

"To Hell with it! I don't want it anymore! Let's go!"

"That was close, Balance."

"I disagree; now then, here's your apple."

"Thanks. You do realize you just pissed off the most powerful human being on the planet, right?"

"That's quite a contradiction."

"Whatever you say, man. Listen, do me a favor, and never ever look for me again, alright?"

"Agreed... Oh, and Michael, one more thing."

"Hmm?"

"Doom will want it back."

The Balance in Doom

"He's in there, I haven't seen him since... well... since he left."

"He didn't leave, Michael, he was taken."

"Alright, then I haven't seen him since he was taken."

"You'd better let me do it, he isn't the man you once knew."

"No kidding."

 

It had been exactly four days, three hours, and forty-two minutes before Michael had tried to use the apple. He didn't exactly use it, but he did bring it back to its rightful owner. They had history, and it meant a lot that this Holder got his Object back. Michael had known him before he was who he is now, before he was a Holder.

The Holder of Doom.

Despite his current name, Doom used to be a pretty good guy. He had a normal life, cracked jokes, and two of the best friends anyone could ask for. But that was a long time ago. A very long time ago.

 

"Legion stole this from you, didn't he, Doom?"

"Y-y-yeesss..."

"Do you want it back?"

"Y-yeeesss... aannd m-mmy a-aah-armm..."

"I don't have your arm, however I have something better. I have a choice; a chance for revenge. Do you want revenge?"

"Yeesss! K-kiill Legion!"

"That's what I thought."

 

Dallas knew all about Michael, Doom, and Legion. Everything that those three had done had somehow offset the human realm's equilibrium. He knew how the one Michael called Jack Empty had tortured them, and caused Legion to become mad, and Doom to become the rotting Holder he is now. It happened a long, long time ago. They didn't call him Legion back then, but they didn't call Michael or Doom by their present names either.

No, back then they were referred to by different names; their archaic, forgotten names. They lived happily in that time. Legion and Doom traveled the world, while Michael was oblivious to what would befall him.

 

"I'm going to give you a choice, Doom."

"W-whhaatt?"

"You can either stay here, and continue being the Holder of Doom, being forever tormented in the cell of your own body. I can leave you."

"P-p-pllleeaassseee! Nnnnoooo..."

"The other choice is a simple one. I can release you from this prison. Clear you of all past wrongs, let your tortured soul finally rest in peace. Put simply, I can kill you."

 

The three boys were sixteen, eighteen, and nineteen. Although Legion and Doom traveled the lobe while they searched for their precious Objects, they and Michael still had a place to call home. The village has no name, none that can be remembered, and indeed not been recorded in history. All that's known is that Yochanan, back then usually called the Hollow Man, came back one day for a visit on the heels of Legion and Doom. Yochanan had twisted Legion into a sick and broken husk of his former self, but Legion's corruption was only beginning to show itself superficially.

Legion's corruption soon spread, the Hollow Man's twisted words blackening his soul and defacing his mind. Eventually a foe came before Legion; one he was not certain he could best. So he came to his master, Yochanan, and asked for one thing: life. Life eternal, that is.

But Yochanan, the strange and empty thing he is, took Legion's request and twisted it into a mad curse: Legbreaker bound Legion's life to that of Doom and Michael, a maddening and cruel process.

Their thoughts began to break and buckle against the pain of the experience and against the dark thoughts that invaded Legion's psyche. For a moment, perhaps two, they went mad.

And in that moment they did something unspeakable.

This dark deed must be Balanced.

 

"So, Doom, what will it be?"

"M-maake s-s-shhurree Le-Legion p-p-pays... T-ell M-M-Michael I w-wiill m-m-misss hhiimm."

"I'm going to assume that that qualifies as option number two, then."

 

Dallas knew that when the boys reawoke from their delusions they saw only horror. They saw their village destroyed and it's citizens murdered, the blood on their hands.

They found Yochanan basking in the shade of an untouched apple tree. Dallas knew that Yochanan described to them, much to Legion's twisted glee, what events had occurred; the things that Legion had forced them to do.

No doubt Legion and he shared a fine laugh at their suffering.

Soon after, Legion had disappeared, and all records of him ceased to exist. Some say he met up with Edo Edi Essum, others say he simply lost his humanity on his own. What Balance did know, however, is that he cast off the last vestiges of the young man he once was. Now he had become the Holder of Legion, the most powerful being on the planet. Until Dallas found him, that is. Doom continued his quest for the Objects. Whether he continued in an attempt to forget the destruction of his home, or to collect them, or simply as an innate lust, Dallas didn't know his exact motives. Eventually, he made a mistake and became the Holder of Doom, decayed and rotting; a putrid and vile shadow of his former self. Yochanan claims that he in fact set in motion the chain of events that led to Doom's perversion into a Holder. Dallas believed him; Yochanan's personality, the egotistical bastard, would be eager to admit to something like that.

Eventually, the Balance met up with Michael. Yochanan's mark upon him was as obvious as the nose on one's face. It was obvious that Yochanan twisted young Michael as well, leaving him a bitter, self-pitying and self-loathing young man. He had become immortal by Yochanan's actions, and clearly he despised it. Michael said that he became a Seeker as well, although he had never told Dallas of his reasons for doing so. Given his mental state, it could easily be assumed that Michael himself didn't even know, and did it simply because it has become instinct. Later he said that Legion took his Objects from him, leaving him bitter and desolate.

The bond between Legion, Michael, and Doom was an oddity to Dallas. It seemed as if either the trauma they experienced in life or their entrances into un-life has created a peculiar link between the three. One a Holder, putrid and rotting, one a man, living forever in his own pity, and one the most powerful being in any realm, they are linked by a bond deeper than Balance could fathom.

He changed that. Dallas killed the Holder of Doom, and he hopefully broke the spell that kept the trio immortal.

Doom deserved some paradise after all the hell he'd been through.

 

"Alright, are you ready?"

"A-as I'll e-eh-everr bee..."

"Rennak Cho-Allam Beanye!"

"It is done, Michael."

"What, what did you do!?"

"You are free from your immortal curse."

"You - You killed him?"

"Yes, he is at peace."

"And the apple?"

"Will find a new Holder, like it always has."

"I feel so..."

"Mortal?"

"No, it's better than that. Since I've been cursed, since my village had been destroyed, I've had this cloud of horror and hatred and sorrow looming over top of my soul. For the first time in a long time... I feel..."

"Happy?"

"Yeah, happy. Thanks, Balance."

"It's my duty, Michael."

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks for balancing it all out."

Equal Ends

"I sense... Death."

"Big fucking surprise, what is it with you, Balance? Do you have any sort of evil homing beacon attached to your back?"

"Not that I know of, Michael."

"That was sarcasm."

"I don't tend to use sarcasm anymore, Michael."

"Will you cut it out with the name!"

 

The mentally insane have a tendency to attract the Objects. Most Holders can be found in a mental institution or asylum. Dallas found that ironic, that the most powerful beings in the world were once condemned to small cells in which they can cause no harm to anyone. However that strategy failed whilst time went by, more and more Seekers cam seeking the Objects, and the Holder's domain got more and more unique and disturbing every time. Eventually, the rooms the Holders and Objects were in ceased being part of the physical mental institute, and more merely just used the halfway houses for entry into their own realms.

In Dallas's opinion, there are few Holders more infamous than The End. He was wise, not only was the first, but the last as well. Possibly even, if Dallas were daring enough to say, the most powerful of Holders. At any rate, the Balance sought a word with him. Michael merely wanted to come along. Balance did not have to take the usual, tedious and long steps to visit the Holder. He simply willed himself into his chamber.

Dallas had been in that chamber once before, when he tried to get The End's Object as a Seeker. He survived with his sanity intact but the images he had seen, the trail of talking to The End had all but destroyed him. Drove him mad with lust for the Objects. Pushed people away.

And now he was going back.

 

"Remember, Michael, this is a Holder, this is The End. He will not appreciate our company for very long. Do not speak; do not touch anything in his chamber. Do you understand?"

"Balance, I'm bloody tired of you treating me like I'm a newcomer at this."

"My apologies, Michael. Take my hand, and from now on, no words. Oh, and do not, under any circumstances, look at his Object."

 

The End was more civilized than he appeared, his frail, skinny, unearthly body hunched over his Object was only a product of decades of famine and torture. All his energy was spent quivering and chanting. Most couldn't understand his words, Dallas can, he spoke old Magi. Long forgotten, the chant itself had no English translation; closest one can come to it was "never together". Dallas was sure he could guess what he was talking about.

Dallas and Michael entered his chamber, and almost immediately, the chanting stopped. Dallas could have stopped The End from harming him, easily, and Michael too. But out of respect the Balance followed the protocol; Dallas said to him, rather loudly: "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk."

The chanting didn't resume, nor did I expect it to.

 

Let us converse, [The End] I mean no harm. I spoke to him, not in words, but in thoughts, the way the eldest of us used to speak. The figure looked up for a moment, made eye contact with me. His soul had long since been drained away, I could tell, as it showed in his eyes. Black, through and through. The chanting resumed.

"Let us converse, The End, I mean no harm."

"You speak Garganhal? Only Holders speak Garganhal"

"Garganhal? The language of the mind; it's how the magic users used to speak. However nobody refers to it as Garganhal anymore. However I suppose nobody speaks it anymore either. Allow me to introduce myself. I am formally known as Dallas Scottsboro. However to most, I am now known as the Balance."

"Balance? You're Faction's boy! The one he'd been looking for!"

"Indeed."

"What is it you need, Balance?"

 

The End and the Balance talked. Dallas asked him about his encounter with Yochanan, he cursed at the mere mention of his name. He found it amusing that a Holder such as The End could still hold grudges like that. He told Dallas that before The End met Yochanan, one didn't hear chanting in the hallway. One heard laughter. And not the good kind.

The most important question came last.

Dallas had been feeling disturbances lately. It seemed the equilibrium had had a sudden jar. Not for the good side either. The scale had been tipping and tipping. More and more each day. So it brought him to his final question.

 

"There is an anomaly, something I haven't sensed before. It has to do with one of the Holders, which one is uncertain. You must feel it too. It is omnipresent. Now that I think about it, there's something else I've never felt before. An Evil, maybe."

"The Mirror of the Forever had disappeared. I fear that the Object has been destroyed."

"Impossible, very few can destroy Objects and I would... have... felt... it..."

"The new presence."

"No. An old one."

 

The Mirror of Forever was a "good" Object. It wasn't as bloodthirsty and cold-hearted as most of the others. There were prices to pay for failure, like your sanity but none so as extreme. A majority even left alive, and intact. So any reason someone with power would want to raze it is ludicrous. Yochanan was, as far as Dallas knew, still enjoying hell where he banished him, nobody else who hated the Objects was powerful enough to destroy one, or its Holder. It was at that point where Dallas's mind snapped.

The something that was giving him that feeling, the feeling of unease and pity, it had been coming from Forever's realm. Or what was left of it, but now... now it was coming from the Void. It was moving; therefore it was capable of doing so, meaning it was a being. The being's mere presence offset the balance so significantly that Dallas felt his power wave a level higher. Confirming that he was to need more if he was to balance out the bad with the good.

Dallas felt another presence too, one seldom seen by the mortal realm.

Balance thought The End would know, so he asked him his question. The End's very specific question. And for the second time in Dallas's life, he heard the story in great, horrifying detail.

 

"The End... What happens when they all come together?"

"I told you once, already, remember? You passed the test before. No mortal has survived to hear and see it twice."

"Do I look like any regular mortal to you?"

"...Alright."

 

Images shown to Dallas were more disturbing than the first time he had seen them; although fear was a feeling he had no use for anymore that's genuinely what Dallas felt. Fear and sorrow, human emotions he hadn't felt since what seemed like an eternity ago. In reality, Dallas had only been fulfilling his purpose for about two months. The horrific stories and images flashed through his mind for both centuries and for mere moments.

The End finished, and fell silent, his chanting had stopped while he told Balance the story. Dallas stared blankly at The End, processing what he had witnessed for the second time. The chanting started again, very, very quietly. Dallas took a moment to think, while all the images were different, each told an independent fable, they all seemed to stem from one idea. A constant, if you will.

They all have something to do with a cloaked man, maybe not a man. More like a man-shaped being.

Edo Edi Essum.

 

"That is all, The End. I thank you for your time. Is there anything else you wish to say?"

"Yes. About Yochanan."

"I have dealt with him, have no -"

"You haven't dealt with him, and by the time Essum comes, Yochanan and you will know much more about each other than you'd like. Perhaps he isn't as terrible as you would like to make him out to be. Perhaps indeed he can help."

"The End, what do you -"

"Let's just say... Before I met the Hollow Man, my chants never echoed down the hallways. I never used to chant; I used to laugh."

 

After The End and Balance talked, Michael took his wrist and the two departed. He bombarded Dallas with questions. None of which Dallas could answer, the Balance just stared at the ground, deep in thought. Edo Edi Essum had emerged from the great primordial Lock that kept at bay the Created Uncreation, perfect nothing given thought. He was not a man at all, but a shard of absolute, perfect oblivion. Nothingness incarnate. At least, that's what the legends said.

As far as Dallas knew, all the Objects that weren't already in possession by the Seekers were perfectly safe. Hell, there had been rumors about a new Object coming into existence. However, Dallas hadn't thought much of it. Now, however, he sensed the beginning of a turning point. Edo Edi Essum was an entity so outside the very concept of balance, so alien to the ideas of "good" or "evil", that he threatened to bring the entirety of all cosmic order crashing down around him. Balance knew this had to be stopped.

There was a fight ahead of him.

Ahead of everyone.

 

"Something the matter? Balance?"

"Yes, Michael."

"What?"

"It just occurred to me that I shouldn't have made Legion mortal."

Coming Undone

"You have some nerve, coming here, Balance."

"None more than you, Yochanan."

"Valid, I suppose."

"I brought a friend. They call him Michael now, I think you two have met."

"Michael? Yes, Legion's toy. How is he?"

"I'm fine, asshole."

"Hah. And mortal, I feel."

 

They were there already. Dallas could feel them, in the country. He felt them and he knew more about them than he wanted to. There were three, one was, indeed, Edo Edi Essum, the other two Balance was not so sure. They were not spawned from the hells, nor were they members of Them. All Dallas knew was that they had horrible intentions. He felt their desires, maniac, unruly, serpentine Longings. Moreover, Balance knew one was after Legion, he could feel the unfiltered loathing radiating from the being for the man. Even with Legion's unmatching power... well, maybe "unmatchable" might not be the right word to use anymore.

Not now that he's mortal.

Which is why Dallas was where he was. In Hell, the underworld, Tartarus, whatever one calls it. It was every bit as unimaginable as one would imagine, and worse. Michael was forced to cling to Dallas, he could feel his fear; he reeked of it. Dallas was amazed he hadn't broken down and sobbed yet, mortals weren't intended to witness such things until after their demise. Dallas supposed his decades of life were enough to keep him sane. It was best that Michael kept close to Dallas anyhow; for the Balance could see the look in the beasts' eyes as they passed. Hunger.

 

"Yochanan, I fear the worst has come to pass. Edo Edi Essum has once again entered our realm."

"Our realm? You banished me to hell, remember? It's your ream now."

"Maybe I was... a bit too quick to judge you, Yochanan."

"No, you were right. I'm everything you say and think I am."

"Damn right you are. Bastard."

"Hah hah. Why are you here, Balance?"

 

He was the Balance, for all the hate he made love, for all the dark he made light, for all the fear he was hope, and for all the death he was life. Which was why Dallas was there, to undo what he had done. He thought giving Doom peace would bode well for everyone. Not only does he personally get rest, but also the curse would be lifted and Legion mortal. It would've helped things balance well. It did, until Legion needed to be immortal again. For that, Dallas would need the curse put back on him; and for that, Dallas would need Yochanan.

And the worst part was, Dallas knew he was giving in to him. He knew Yochanan saw it coming.

 

"I'm here to bring you back, Yochanan."

"Please, Balance, call me Jack."

"Alright, Jack; I assume you have felt the presence, it's not just Edo Edi Essum in the mortal realm, there's someone else. Something else. Two entities, and they're after Legion. I fear if they kill him, or worse, convert him, I may not be able to maintain the Balance."

"Ah, so you're asking me to help you make Legion immortal again. I hear you tried to make him good; tried taking out some of the evil in him. Shame, he might not fight back as well now."

"Will you assist us, Yocha- Jack?"

"What do I get out of it?"

"What do you want?"

 

As much as Dallas hated to admit it, He needed Yochanan. Only he could reinstate the curse. Furthermore, Dallas might need him to help eliminate the new threat. Dallas also knew he would never do it out of the goodness of his heart, assuming you could still say he had goodness in him, or a heart for that matter.

No, Yochanan and the Balance had to strike a deal, and because it was who Yochanan was, it was one Dallas reviled to accept, and in the same way, incredibly simple. Yochanan wasn't a complicated man to understand. He was hollow inside, Neutral Evil. He could, if he wanted, destroy towns single-handedly. He could, given the right mood, murder entire families. However, that's not how he is; he'd rather drive the father mad, make him murder his wife and children, then laugh his unspeakable laugh as he drove himself mad with grief and the horrible truth of what he had done.

His request was simple. Dallas had to leave him alone, never attempt to destroy or damn or banish him personally.

The second was...

 

"I want you to avoid causing harm, perceivable or imperceivable, to myself or my doings and close allies. In other words, let's try to stay out of each other's hair."

"I find that acceptable, although a fabrication. You will never be 'out of my hair'".

"And secondly, I want you to admit how much you hate asking for my help."

"I -"

"Mean it, Balance. I can tell when you are lying. I want you to say it, I want to hear it; you despise coming down here, asking me to make Legion immortal, undoing your work. I want to see the sorrow on your face."

"... Yes. I detest it."

"I knew it."

 

Yochanan, Jack Empty, the Hollow Man, or just plain Bastard or Asshole. Whatever you called him, you noticed things about him. The way he moved; perfectly still, no sway, no fidgeting, no rising or falling one would see if someone were breathing. No movement, then, like light (or shadow), he'd move, faster than any man with a normal pace should. He almost glided from place to place, leaving behind a sort of afterimage that one cold glimpse if one looked hard enough.

Secondly, there was his laugh. Some say it was stolen from the laugh of Satan himself, but that would be a lie; even Satan found Jack's laugh challenging to listen to. It wasn't scary, or terrifying, more heartless. He mocked you when he laughed, made you feel like you were nothing. An empty cackle, devoid of anything that even came close to resembling a soul.

Lastly, and maybe most horribly, were his eyes. They were black, but not just black, pitch black. You could stare and stare, and never find anything there. They shined when light was shined on them, reflecting it all, as if the eyes prevented any light from getting inside. Then, he could blink, and they could be normal, deceivingly so. Soothing and comforting, which was merely a ruse to lure you into false security. Many young men and women lost their sanity due to those eyes. They looked through you, knew you inside and out. They judged you and dismissed you, utterly and completely. Even Dallas hated those eyes.

If anyone could match the new evil in our world, it was Jack Empty.

Fighting evil with emptiness.

 

"So, Balance, how is this going to work?"

"We need to resurrect Doom, Michael. And for that, we need to visit the Heavens."

"The heavens? Do we have to, Balance? Last time, I went to heaven I got kicked out. Besides, it's warmer here."

Heaven in Balance

"You're really disliked up here, Jack."

"Indeed I am, Michael. I'm seeing many familiar faces, too."

"You mean people you've killed!"

"I don't believe I said that. Did you hear me say that, Balance?"

"No, Yochanan, I did not. However, Michael isn't wrong."

"No, that he's not."

 

Popular belief states there is one heaven. That one religion is right and the rest are tall tales, or just legends from crazy priests in civilizations that were burned and forgotten long ago. However, that in and of itself is not only narrow-minded, but that is contrary to the actual situation. Most religions have at least some truth to them. For example, parallel to Allah and Jehovah there is Osiris. On the other hand, on the thrones there are Zeus, Jesus, Odin, and Ra... Many religions and gods rule over the heavens. It creates a sort of divine harmony, a collaboration of all beliefs.

What one could expect in death is any man's guess. Depending on their beliefs, they could visit any one of the gods. Some just get sent back, reincarnated; some are denied and sent to the Hells. Whatever the situation, every soul will eventually see heaven, until he or she wishes to return to the mortal plane, and do it all over again. Well, that's what some believe, anyway.

Personally, Dallas couldn't care less what happens when people die.

 

"Radament, is it? The doorman?"

"Correct, mortal, and may I inquire as how one such as yourself has come to arrive to such a place as this?"

"I am no mortal, I am the Balance, and I am looking for someone."

"Whom, may I ask?"

"His name used to be Victor, but you may know him as the Holder of Doom."

 

You know who really ran the show? It wasn't the Gods, Dallas could tell you that. It's the Keepers of Religion, a band of monks, who were entrusted with keeping all religion in balance. In many ways, they were like me, but so very different. The Keepers of Religion never spoke, and not by choice either, they had their tongues and vocal cords cut out before they earn the "right to knowledge". Which is their schooling about the religions, their speech incapacitated so they cannot tell anyone of what they know. They don't keep it "balanced" per se, they keep it more in order. They make sure there were no civil wars in heaven.

The Gods could overpower them easily, but out of respect, and by a pact they swore to forever ago, they obey the Keepers of Religion, or at the very least respect, their opinions.

The man that lurked behind Radament in a light-brown robe was one of them.

He had dimly glowing, hollow eyes, and pointed teeth.

And he was glaring at Balance.

 

"My liege, the Balance and his followers have requested a word with you."

"Have they now? Let them in, Radament. I don't wish to keep them waiting."

"At once, lord Christ."

"Lord Christ?"

"That's right, Michael. Doom was Christian, therefore it is up to lord Christ if we see him or not."

 

Lord Jesus Christ: an understanding god to say the least. He knew Dallas's intentions with what he requested were good, even if some members in his party were of a... malicious nature. It was because of His understanding that He allowed them a word with Him. Not that He had much of a choice; Balance had the power of the Toga of the Gods. If he wanted, he could have forced his way in, and taken Doom back by force. However, Dallas thought that an unnecessary and violent use of his powers. Not to mention hateful, which, at the moment, would go against his purpose.

He and Balance talked, he told Him of the situation they were in. Dallas told him about himself, Legion, and how Dallas needed to speak with Doom. The God nodded and took it all in, most of which wasn't news to him. He was a God, after all. It didn't bode well for the Gods or for the mortal plane for Him to refuse their request, and eventually, after a moment of scratching his beard, he took Dallas and the others to the man they were looking for.

He also told Dallas he didn't go by "Doom" anymore.

 

"Victor? Is that you?"

"M-Michael?"

"Yes! Victor! It's me!"

"Michael! I don't understand, are you dead? Did Balance kill you?"

"No, Vic, actually, we're here to take you back."

"Ha ha! I'm in Heaven, Michael. What in the name of the Objects do you think I'd go back down there for? What can be better than eternal paradise?"

"How about Revenge?"

 

They had the God's permission; and had the means to do so. However, bringing back the dead wasn't as easy as one would think. Not complete resurrection. One can bring back a body, but the body is mindless, and more importantly, soulless. People who are revived like that are usually referred to as "Zombies" or "Ghouls". But in order to fully resurrect someone, you need to locate their soul, and place it in a body. They had the soul, but Doom's - Victor's - body was destroyed. Almost immediately after the Balance vanquished him, Victor's body rotted away; years of slow decomposition finally caught up to it.

Which is why Dallas brought along Michael.

 

"Well, Balance, go ahead. Resurrect him."

"It's not that simple, Michael."

"Never is."

"His soul is intact, but his body is... well, not."

"So what the hell are we going to do?"

"Ha! That's why he brought you along, Michael. Isn't it, Balance?"

"Who- the... Hollow one?

"It is I, Victor. Pleased to see you again."

"There will be time for salutations and words exchanged after we complete our task here, Yochanan. Meanwhile, I'm sure I owe Michael and Victor an explanation."

"Indeed you do."

 

Dallas explained the situation to the both of them. Eyes both gazed upon him with interest as he explained to them how reincarnation worked. Dallas explained how this situation was unique and the reasons behind it. He could tell they were beginning to understand, but before he could continue, Dallas felt a surge of thought rush over him.

Somewhere in the mortal realm, two immensely powerful forces were clashing. At first it felt like two Holders fighting, but then Dallas realized it was much worse than that. Legion was fighting one of the unknown Evils. He brandished the White King's Sword, and the other wielded a vastly superior, yet similar Object. Whatever it was, the two Objects seemed to hate each other almost as their wielders. It then occurred to Balance that Legion and the other man - whose name was almost upon him - were doing battle for the second time.

But this time, Legion was losing.

They had to hurry.

 

"Michael, Victor, there is not a lot of time, there is one thing I must tell you before we go through with this."

"Hurry up, Balance!"

"Yes, Yochanan, just give me a second. Okay, listen the both of you. For this to work I'm going to need a body, and since I cannot use another's body I need your body, Michael. Two souls, one mind. And yes, it is permanent."

"Balance, I can't ask Michael to do that."

"... You don't have to, Vic. Hit us, Balance."

"As you wish. Join hands and repeat after me: Rathma."

"Rathma."

"Isaacs."

"Isaacs."

"Toomin-Shire."

"Toomin-Shire."

"Amina."

"Amina."

 

The joining was spectacular to watch. Light rose up from Victor's soul and streamed into Michael's nose and mouth, Michael breathed it in. His chest expanding, and then depleting. Dallas could see Michael's form begin to change, into that of a combination of he and Victor's physical features. Michael's face, but rounded more, like Victor's. Victor's muscular body was imposed into Michael's already semi-built body. His skin went from white to darker, like Victor's.

When the transformation was finished, both Victor and Michael were recognizable within the man that stood before him. However, there was one thing still left to do.

"You are no longer Michael nor Victor. What do you want me to call you?" Balance asked him.

"You can call me... Devaide, maybe James Devaide."

"May I ask why?"

"Yes," he shot Yochanan a glance, a glance of hate. Dallas thought it might have even made Yochanan uncomfortable, unlikely, but a possibility.

"It was the name of our Village."

Balancing the Score

The first thing Dallas noticed when they exited the Heavens and found himself at Legion's gate was the carnage and the crowd. The homeless men were being gathered in body bags. The homeless men that guarded Legion's Gate. The police had quarantined the area as a crime scene. A crowd of at least a hundred people were congregated in a small area of the subway station. The trio shoved their way through to the yellow tape; the last of the hobos were being zipped up in a black bag.

"Balance, we can't get into Legion's realm without those men."

"I got this one," said Yochanan, stepping under the tape. Almost immediately, the police walled in front of him, demanding he not pass the yellow tape. Yochanan smiled at them, the men stepped back, looks of horror across their faces. Yochanan approached the cops carrying the body in the bag. He whispered something in one's ear. The man dropped to a fetal position, cowering. By now the other officers noticed Yochanan's actions, and they attempted to arrest him.

"Hello," he said before they could get to him. "My name is Jack Empty. You may go now."

The officers, bystanders, and even the man on the ground dropped anything they were carrying and ran as fast as possible, avoiding us by a meter at least, screaming with shear terror. The body bag dropped to the subway floor with a thunk. Devaide and Balance stepped under the tape and walked over to Yochanan, whose lips were curled at the ends to form a mocking smile.

"That was unnecessary," Dallas told him.

"But it was fun."

 

What be the means that you achieve your tasks, Dallas. Are you really prepared to allow the Hollow Man to walk among the mortals? He will destroy and continue to spread his emptiness through humanity. You know this, is stopping me really worth it? Tell me, is the reality I want accomplished as bad as the one he will unleash upon the world?

"Who said that?"

"Who said what, Balance?"

"... Nothing, Devaide. Never mind."

 

Yochanan stood over the body bag, then knelt down and unzipped it. The hobo they had left was not the one they saw before them. His skull was destroyed, mashed to pulp; his blood was coagulated to the point where it looked like black sludge. More to the point, he showed no signs of coming back to life like he had before. Dallas reached down and touched his blood, it seemed to have a life of its own, it moved about his fingers like it was trying to get away. He wiped it off on the bag.

"Well, go on Balance, we need him alive for the moment."

"Indeed we do, Yochanan."

Dallas reached down and touched what was left of his face.

"Himrogoth."

Heal.

The man's skull reformed before him, bones and flesh reconstructed in a gruesome display of reverse-smashing. When it was done a few seconds later, Dallas touched his forehead again.

"Ooh-la."

Breathe.

The man's eyes opened suddenly.

 

"Ooh-la."

"You did it! He's alive."

"Where am I?"

Do you really believe you can save humanity? The Objects are closer together than you know, Dallas. They have always been, my companions and I will reunite them, and I promise, nothing will stop us. Not you, not Legion, not Yochanan, nobody. Let's see you try and Balance the end of all things; for when it comes, there will only be you. You and Me.

"Please, Sir. I need to speak to Legion."

"Yeah, I don't even want to fight you, Balance, just get through the damned gate."

 

The gate appeared, although destroyed, it had been torn from its hinges. What looked like massive handprints bent the metal. Dallas looked at it, and heard the subtle clash of metal in the background. He looked at the massive door at the end of the bridge, it was opened a crack.

"Take my hand, you two."

Devaide offered it freely, Yochatan's Dallas had to forcefully grab. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they were at the door. Dallas looked around. The stones that used to be a bluish color shone out with a black light now. The holy artwork seemed to leak the black sludge that resembled the hobo's coagulated blood. Devaide threw open the doors, just in time to see a man in a cloak stand over a bludgeoned Legion.

"It's over, Legion," he said the name in a mocking tone, like it was a joke. He then plunged his sword into Legion's ribs.

Legion screamed, but not the hateful roar Dallas had heard before; no, this was a very human, very mortal scream of agony.

"Legion!" shouted Devaide, stretching out his hand.

That's when Dallas noticed two more figures, to the left of Legion and the man who had gutted him, and both had their heads turned in his direction.

 

"Legion!"

"Devaide! You Fool! Keep your mouth closed!"

"Too late, Yochanan, they see us. Reinstate the curse, quickly, there isn't much time."

"The curse was in effect all along, Balance. Legion and Devaide just need to make contact with each other."

"That could be a problem. How long can you hold those two off?"

"Hah! Edo Edi Essum and his cloaked freak friend? About thirty seconds."

"That'll have to do."

 

Yochanan rushed the two figures, his intense speed left an afterimage in his wake. Dallas did not waste time watching him, he grabbed Devaide's hand and will them over to a dying Legion. The man who slew him removed the blade to meet the new threat. He readied his sword, facing the closer of the two, Devaide. He raised the black sword to his shoulder, preparing to make a horizontal cut and decapitate his new target. Devaide was maybe a mere three meters away from Legion.

"Devaide!" Dallas shouted. He wasn't going to make it.

The man swung the sword.

Dallas stepped in front of it.

 

You fool; you and you alone might have bested me. But instead, you sacrifice yourself for a mortal? By stepping in front of his swipe you merely managed to delay the inevitable. Your race will fall, the universe, all of it, will bow to me. These men think I'm working for them, helping them, but they're mistaken. I'm using them to get my job done. And now you die with a final thought. You have accomplished nothing, and all the realms, and all the races, will be obliterated.

"N-n-never."

 

Before the sword could reach Dallas's cloak, Dallas felt something warm and soft in his hands. A garment of clothing, he'd felt it before, it was warm, seemed to radiate divinity. The shining black sword clashed against Balance's cloak - and bounced off.

"What the?!" raged the man, but Dallas knew, he knew what it was before he even looked down at it.

"The Toga of the Gods."

Dallas took it and held it as tight to his chest as he could. His faded cloak turned brilliantly white. Dallas absorbed the toga into the cloak with a mumbling of a few magic words. Before the hooded man could raise his sword again, Balance pushed him with all the might he had. He sailed backward, into one of his companions. Yochanan jumped backward; the unexpected assistance was all he needed to recover from the fight he was in a moment earlier. Dallas turned back to Devaide.

He was at Legion's side.

 

"Legion."

"Mi-Michael? V-V-Viiicc?"

"It is we, brother."

"I-I-I-I'mm s-s-s-ssorry."

"Be still, Legion, take my hand."

"Ohh-k-kay."

 

Devaide and Legion's hands touched, and Legion's body convulsed, rapidly healing any wounds that he had suffered. He flexed his hands into fists, and rolled onto his side. It was then when Dallas felt Yochanan at his side. Balance looked over and saw that the cloaked companion of Legion's adversary was on the ground, while Edo Edi Essum was completely unharmed.

Legion rolled onto his stomach, and forced himself up, grabbing his sword in the process. Dallas could hear his spine crack and pop as he stood. He threw his head to either side as he cracked his neck, then turned around, the diamond on his chest glowing with a new intensity. He looked past Dallas, past everyone, and caught eyes with the one who had beat him.

Then came his roar. The man who had defeated Legion saw him. His horrific eyes widened, and he seemed to become unhinged.

Legion thundered past them, sheathing his sword whilst he ran. He tackled the adversary and began beating him with his massive ungloved fists as his adversary was still screaming in rage.

The other figure knocked Legion off; it was amazing the amount of strength the creature must have possessed to accomplish such a task. It was then, while Legion took his moment to recover, that everything began to go wrong. As Legion rose, Edo Edi Essum turned toward him. Legion screamed, falling to his knees. As Edo Edi Essum began to drain away Legion's life, he spoke to Dallas.

 

It matters not what you do. Your power matters not. You cannot defeat me. I do not care what allies you bring with you; it is irrelevant. We are as different as night and day, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.

 

Dallas was shaken from his reverie as the man who had defeated Legion charged at him. Dallas quickly conjured up a shield of energy in front of him. The man's sword impacted it. Dallas thought it would hold him, but he saw the sword grating through the shield, and suddenly Balance realized there wasn't much time. He tried to stall him by taunting him. "Is that it? All of this hard work, and Edo Edi Essum is going to get your revenge for you? Pathetic!"

The man laughed.

He jumped back.

He nodded to Edo Edi Essum.

What happened next, Balance will never be able to describe. A blinding flash of light and darkness enveloped the entire chamber, and sounds not meant for this earth pervaded his hearing. When it was over, Dallas looked around. Devaide's ears were bleeding. Even Yochanan appeared to be shaken by the sound. When he was able to focus again, Edo Edi Essum and the other man were gone.

 

Do you see now, Balance? How long will it take before you realize the futility of trying to stop me? I will destroy everything and burn all to ash, for I am the Destroyer of Spirit, Infector of Souls, the Objects' own version of Damnation. I am Edo Edi Essum. I am all that is dark, and no matter whom you have with you, or how powerful you are, you cannot "balance" me.

 

Legion recovered, and joined them in checking the remaining creature. Yochanan pulled back its hood.

It was quite possibly the most tortured and disgusting looking creature Dallas had ever seen. It had once been human, obviously, but that was long ago. Too long ago. Its skin looked like a bug's, or a turtle's, like a carapace. In some places the bony skin faltered to expose bare muscle, its teeth were deformed and pointed, its nose crooked, its eyes red and burned with hate. The creature was unconscious, and didn't react when Devaide kicked it. In fact, it just lay there, pathetic and helpless. Dallas completely dismissed it, if its companions had forsaken it, and if they showed no interest in protecting it, why should Balance bother with it at all?

Yochanan didn't feel that way. He knelt down to it, touching its face gently, chuckling quietly to himself. The creature's eyes fluttered open, and it began to panic, being surrounded like it was must have been horrifying. They all stared down at it, unknowing what to do. All but Yochanan, who looked at him gently, like an apprehensive, caring brother.

"What is your name, creature?"

"P-Pessum. Pessum Ire."

"Hello, Pessum Ire," said Yochanan, touching his cheek. "Do you wish to die?"

"N-no, s-s-sir."

"A wise choice," Yochanan said sadly. "It is the most horrible thing in life, dying."

"How does one know?" it asked sadly, reminiscing in its old memories.

"I died once."

The creature looked into Yochanan's eyes.

Yochanan tore its head from its shoulders.

Balancing Thought

The world will be mine. I will consume it in slow steady gulps. Everything; Legion, Devaide, your friends and family, I'll even scrape out the last little bits of Yochanan. Then I will devour you. Slowly.

It is my duty to make sure that does not happen.

Duty?

 

Dallas hadn't told anyone about the thoughts, the intrusions into his mind. He had become weary and needed rest, although sleep was a human trait, one that he had no benefit from, Dallas did value his time alone. Although today he wasn't alone, Devaide was with him, and Dallas allowed the feeling of awareness to pass over them. His friend appreciated the feeling, but Dallas needed to use it. Find out where he was to next do his duty. However, every time he let himself slip into it, Dallas felt pulled back by Essum and his consistent taunting.

Dallas questioned telling Devaide; if there was anyone he could trust it was him.

 

Yes, it is. I will not allow the realms to become so unbalanced.

Unbalanced? No. Life is unbalance. If everyone dies there will be no more evil, no more good. Zero on either side. Then there will be balance, and I will get to eat.

Nothing you can say will turn me, Essum.

Who said anything about turning you?

 

Dallas sat on a piece of stone from Legion's fortress, it protruded about seven feet from the face of the cavern, made of blue rock, it was just big enough that Dallas could sit and not have to try and steady himself. He let his legs dangle off the edge; thousands of feet separated him from a rocky, and jagged, cavern floor. Devaide sat beside him, knowing Legion would not let him die.

That was Doom's revenge; Legion needed him now, and Balance knew somewhere in Devaide's mind, Doom was taking it all in and laughing at the irony.

It was a shame Dallas had to do what he did. Devaide's mind will eventually turn on itself; he will clutch his head and begin shrieking as he goes mad with multiple influences and different opinions in his own mentality. He will bang his head into walls, claw at his eyes, and tear at his ears... anything to make the confusion and the pandemic in his mind stop. It never will, and maybe Doom will once again wind up in an institution, in a straightjacket, in a room with padded walls.

That won't be for a while, however, a long while, and while his sanity was still intact, Dallas wanted him to be as blissful and content as possible.

 

Then why are you doing this?

Because I know you'll try and stop my feeding. Try and stop the brief chaos that will erupt as everything is extinguished.

The end will not come, Edo Edi Essum. The Heavens and the Hells will remain at war, but they will not shape humanity. The Holders and Seekers will continue their struggle, but one man will never possess them all. I promise, I will not allow the realms to slip into pandemonium.

The end will not come? Then what am I?

 

Everyone who could stop them was there, in Legion's realm. One way in, nobody could do anything without Dallas's knowing. Not only that, but he had a clear space, he could pinpoint events and people who were significantly affecting the balance and deal with them accordingly, without all the superficial noise of the minor malicious acts committed by humans in their everyday lives.

Everyone was there, Legion, the lord of the missing and forgotten objects, once serpentine and twisted was now more of his old self, gentle and whole-hearted. However, the less time Yochanan spent around him the better. Already Dallas could feel Legion's soul becoming slightly fouler every time the Hollow One neared too close, his emptiness seemed to rub off on people. Yochanan still made Dallas uneasy, but he informed him, he "had no evil intent", and wanted to help. Of course, his words were mere lies and blasphemy, Yochanan always had a secret agenda; however, he had aided them in the past as as much as Dallas loathed admitting it, he trusted him.

The left Devaide, and after Yochanan had his revolting feed on Pessum Ire's corpse (an undertaking which seemed unnecessary, as he could survive on no sustenance and preferred human food), Balance and Devaide talked up on the ledge for what seemed like hours.

All of them were here for one reason: Stopping the end from coming.

 

I will stop you.

You might, Balance, you might. But what would happen if you did? Surely, then, there would be unbalance. Darkness would be vanquished, but then light would rule. And you know what you must do then, don't you, Balance? You will have to take my place. Can you do it? All the lives you've saved, can you extinguish them? All the darkness and hatred and evil you've banished, can you bring it back? Can you watch innocents writhe in agony as the world around you burns by your own hands? I will be watching, Balance. I will be laughing.

Featherweight Equal

"Tell me, Balance, do you still go by the notion that you can prevent the inevitable truth? Do you still think you can save humanity by continuing this insignificant spree for the light? How many corrupted Holders are there? How many Seekers driven insane? How many angels slaughtered in the name of their lord whilst throwing themselves against the unrelenting hordes of Hell? Do you think you can balance that out?"

"As such is my duty, Yochanan."

"I suppose. But what happens when you finally win, Balance? What happens when you balance out all the bad in the world with good? When Seekers, Holders, Heaven, Hell, the right and the wrong are in equilibrium, what will you do? How will you keep on going? You'd have no purpose."

"If such a day were to come, Yochanan, I will have fulfilled my destiny. And I shall resume my mortal life."

"Mortal life. I think I remember having one of those."

"You know nothing of mortality, Yochanan."

 

Dallas still hadn't found them, after a week of looking in every pocket universe, in every realm, in every halfway house, insane asylum, city, country, and void. Dallas couldn't find them anywhere. Edo Edi Essum and his Pet had simply seemed to vanish. However, the Balance knew better. He could still feel them, waiting... Lurking...

Dallas felt the darkness spread over the realms with every passing moment they existed. Edo Edi Essum had returned to consume what he had left. As it was, not knowing their location, Balance was powerless to stop them and bring even ends to this endeavor (if one could all the potential end of the universe an endeavor). It made him begin to miss his old life. Not as the Balance, but as Dallas. Not as the Seeker, either, but just as Dallas Scottsburrow, with the ones he had loved.

His own greed took that away from him. His greed for the Objects.

"I think I get why you despise them so, Yochanan."

 

"I know nothing of mortality? I was human once! Don't think I was born this way."

"Born of what, Yochanan? You are nothing, through and through. Yet you exist. You are the embodiment of all that isn't. You represent all that is hollow, empty, and soulless. Yet in this forsaken, unjust, unbalanced multiverse, even you find room for hate. You shouldn't exist; therefore, by all that is unbalanced, you should be destroyed."

"Good thing I conned you into making that bet, then, isn't it, ma'boy?"

"Do not call me 'boy', Yochanan. You have enough of those."

 

When it happened, Dallas was meditating. He was in Legion's realm like they had been. Without a way to stop them or find Edo Edi Essum and his peers, it was all Dallas had. A place so twisted and dark, untouched by any sway other than Legion himself... Balance hated every moment of it. However, like it or not, he was the Holder of Legion, and therefore the Objects obeyed him and did as he commanded. All his power and might he draws from Them. Edo was a being from another world altogether, not of any of the planes, nor the realms, he had no origin. Shame really. That meant Balance would need to find a new way to defeat him. Who can begin to equalize something, if you don't know what that something is?

Maybe his purpose wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

 

"You said 'boy' with a bit of reluctance. Come to think of it, I don't eve know your story. Care to enlighten me, Balance?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I like to hear about people's problems."

"Correction, Yochanan: you like to laugh at people's problems. I will not give you the twisted satisfaction you would get by telling you about my past, nor will I allow myself to be manipulated into divulging such information. You may leave, Yochanan, I will not falter in my position.

"No need to get defensive, Dallas. I was just asking."

 

Her name was Shelby. That's all Dallas has ever told anyone, even Factions. He lost her because of his greed. He was a Seeker, and that life consumed him. It's all he ever talked about, all he ever thought about. Even when he and her stopped making love, Dallas didn't notice. Like all Seekers, his lust for the Objects was far too potent for him to pay attention to anything else. In his quest, Dallas had become consumed. No matter how he tried to justify it, he was just another Seeker.

She began to hate him. She couldn't stand the sight of him, and when Dallas finally decided that he'd had enough of her taunting, he left her. He remembered her crying. He remembered her taking a feather from her pocket and handing it to him as she said goodbye. He had given it to her on the first day he'd met her. A stranger had given it to him, told Dallas that it would help him in the years to come. Dallas ignored him, and gave it to Shelby as a gift. Dallas wanted to show her that no matter what happened, the feather would always make the things he did worthwhile, if only she were to be with him. It was a cheesy pickup line, admittedly, but it worked all the same. She was with Dallas for three years. About a month after she gave it back to him, Dallas met Factions...

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen that feather since Shelby gave it to him. He was sure it wasn't important.

 

"Yochanan, if you really want me to enlighten you about my past; I want something from yours as well."

"I'm not ashamed of anything I've done. I'll tell you anything."

"I assumed that would be your response, but I also must have your word that what you say will be truth."

"Do I ever lie, Balance?"

"Very well. When I was human, when I was Dallas, I made a promise to a woman that I would love her forever. The Objects took that away from me. Perhaps my zeal for my current purpose is a result of me trying to balance what I had done to her, among other things."

"That's pretty benign, Balance, albeit a bit selfish."

"It is your turn, Yochanan."

"What would you like to know?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

 

Factions told Dallas that he had been looking for him for quite some time. Why Factions chose him, Dallas would never understand. There was nothing special about him when they met. Dallas was a simple, ordinary Seeker (as simple and ordinary as Seekers come, anyway). There was not anything unique or extraordinary about him, although Factions did say in their conversations that he was, in fact, special. Every time he said that, Dallas's intuition would tell him that he was referring to her. Come to think of it, Dallas thought he might've been referring to many things. The old man also mentioned the fact that Dallas was already in "Perfect Balance" as a result of being exposed to it for so long. At the time, he hadn't the slightest idea what Factions meant.

Balance remembered the long conversation with him. Everything about it was crystal clear, almost as if he was supposed to remember something, but he didn't know what. Dallas pondered for what seemed like hours about the man - Factions - himself. He had slowly walked in, crippled and aged, his brown robe flowing freely even in the lack of wind. His thick-rimmed glasses prevented Dallas from looking into his eyes. His beard flowed from his face, silvery-white, looking soft to the touch. Just by the way it flowed with the windless breeze...

... Like a feather.

Balance in Mind

It was hard for Devaide to continue his mental state without outbursts. After five years of having two entities in his mind he was already beginning to feel the affects. Occasionally Devaide would get violent toward Legion, or toward anyone he could get his hands on. Other times he'd simply weep uncontrollably. Legion often used the Objects' power to keep Devaide sane, but he knew in time that would also drive him mad. The man was at a horrible state of mind. The thought of having two separate entities with two personalities mashed hastily into one mind and soul already made Dallas sad. The fact that it had to happen to two innocent boys was something entirely... Unbalanced.

Nevertheless, Devaide was who he is now because the Holder of Legion cannot be left mortal. Legion may be both a Holder and an Object, but he was also human, a Seeker who had to witness his friend slowly slip into dementia.

 

"I told you so, Balance. We both knew this was going to happen before it did, you condemned him to this fate, Balance, not I. Don't come pouting to me with your anger, when you're the one to blame."

"All I ask of you, Yochanan, is for you to make it right. Devaide doesn't deserve the fate you inflicted upon him. Michael and Victor are good friends, they will need help becoming the same person if Devaide is to keep existing."

"I fail to understand where this is my problem."

"Do you want me to make it your problem, Yochanan?"

"And how would you go about doing that; even if you could kill me, what would it do? Nothing. And as of now you've signed away your power over me. Don't think deals with me are easy things to back out of."

"Then what do you want this time?"

"The aforementioned deal, in writing. I find things hold stronger in writing, makes my acquisitions easier."

 

The process was irreversible, Devaide couldn't be separated into Michael and Victor and placed back in a more fashionable sense and the devastation to the body's physical brain would be catastrophic. When they got back in the body it would be unlikely they would be capable of even basic motor functions. However, there was another option, far better than slipping into a chaotic mind. There was a downside; it required Yochanan to directly access Devaide's. The Devil's Grin was brutal and cruel to the mind on the physical plane but on a mental level... But as Dallas watched him from afar as he walked calmly into a fast food place and brutally assaulted the cook, then fled by foot back to Legion's hideout, he knew what had to be done.

Dallas sighed and closed the liquid-like apparition he used as his looking glass. Devaide needed structure, regardless of its source.

 

"Yohanan is coming in, Legion. I ask that you show restraint. He is here to assist Devaide."

"Legion, I remember when I was the one who's ever word you'd kneel to, when I was the force you daren't reckon with."

"Silence, you insolate worm! If Balance wasn't here, I'd rend your puny arms from that empty husk you call a body!"

"You've had your pet, what, five years now? I'd think you'd have it better trained."

 

As Yohanan laid his hands on either side of Devaide's head, his face lit up with dark glee. Dallas looked at him in disgust, but there were necessary evils, things which had to be done to maintain the Balance.

"Yochanan has his... powers and many are of the mind. He is capable of working dark acts across the psychoscape; maintaining control over other minds as well as his own. We're going to use this ability to keep one of your minds dormant inside Devaide while the other one takes over. This will hopefully prevent you going mad, Devaide. Every fifty years, Yochanan will assert himself over you again to alternate your personalities. It's important you two share Devaide, understand?"

Devaide nodded, twice. Good.

Yochanan's eyes snapped shut suddenly and he began to mutter strange things under his breath: dark, confused, and muddled phrases. It took Dallas a second to realize that he was sorting out Victor from Michael, disentangling their thoughts.

Suddenly Devaide seized up and a shrill laugh escaped Yochanan's lips. Devaide flung himself away from Yochanan to huddle in a corner, breathing heavily. His back moved up and down, in time with his inhaling and exhaling. He turned to face them. Dallas could see in his eyes that it had worked. Those eyes were bloodshot, and the iris was a deep gray. Almost rotten and glassed over.

He knew whose eyes those belonged to, they were Doom's eyes.

Weakness

There he was, where it all began; where the Objects themselves were created and separated, where the war raged between forces indefinable. Good and evil played no part in this battle. No, this battle was between chaos and order, between the Objects and the things that wanted them. This wasn't heaven and hell, there was no struggle for a certain prize. This time the Objects were on trial, the Objects were the ones defending themselves. By all accounts, at that spot nearly infinity ago, is when and where the realms became unbalanced. Fitting that he would find sanctuary here, as Essum would never go there willingly, never would he come to his true place of creation, for this is where the 2538 were born, and he himself born of them. Perhaps he doesn't know how easily he can be undone in a place of birth. Balance knew his weaknesses.

 

"I can't help you, Balance."

"Why not, Legion, together we will be unbeatable."

"Okay, but I can't put Devaide in that kind of danger."

"I understand but -"

"But nothing! Don't question me, mortal Balance."

"Legion, I do not wish to fight you. In case you forgot, without my help you would not be immortal. Furthermore, The Legion, if Essum succeeds in his quest, he will consume everything. Starting with the Objects; all the Objects. Including the white diamond on your chest."

 

There were so many catacombs at the tower, one could get lost if one were to not pay attention. Although the tower seemed small from the outside, one learned long ago when dealing with the Objects, nothing was what it seemed. The tower inside stretched on for kilometers in all directions, outside it simply looked like a big stone tower. Balance also noticed the huge amounts of books and novels within the library located on the 521st floor (guess how many there were in total). During his spare time, Dallas read about Edo Edi Essum; his origin, his goals, the stories, documents, and fables about him... It occurred to Balance that he couldn't simply destroy Essum, that would offset the balance far too dramatically. No, he'd have to contain him. For eternity. Once and for all, he'd make sure the Objects would never come together.

 

"Again thy brings yourself into my room and again thy be ignorant of all my rules. If you were mortal, I would end you."

"Hello again, The End, I have something to ask of you."

"Every time you bring yourself into my realm you ask of me something, Dallas. Do not take me for ignorant."

"Because you are the eldest and wisest of all Holders, The End. You are the first Holder; you and only you have the answer I seek. I implore you to answer to the best of your ability."

"Indeed I will, as I always have, Dallas."

"Is the coming together nigh?"

"No."

"This was not the answer I was hoping for; as it is much more confusing."

 

"Grinmirin, Tramal," Dallas said, clasping his hands together. He drew them apart slowly and in between his hands the crispy, dry air shimmered like heat off a concrete highway. Dallas made a swirling motion with his hands and the shimmering air took the shape of a circle; almost like a mirror. "Otanalahm," Dallas finished the incantation by flexing his palms. The shimmering air turned into a silver liquid, like mercury being held up by a powerful fan on the ground. Then it hardened into a shiny, smooth surface, the portal showed his reflection like a mirror but was so much more. This was the Grinmirin Tramal, the Looking Glass. It is used when things need to be seen. Or want to be seen.

"Kimmo Shelby."

Find Shelby.

 

"You're the last person I expected to show up, Dallas."

"Yochanan, I expect you thought you rid yourself of me."

"Never. So long as there is a single out of place grain of sand, you'll be somewhere trying to fix that. What do you want, Dallas?"

"My name is Balance, Yochanan. My name is what it is, yours is nothing but a label. A label to nothing. Which is what you are, Yochanan; nothing. You will help me with what I need done. Or so help me -"

"And I quote: 'The party known as Dallas shall cease and desist all attempts of Harm (as defined in article 12 of This Contract) against the personage of the party known as Yochanan. Attempted harm against Yochanan shall result in reprimands against the parsonage of Dallas in excess of the intended harm against Yochanan -' Need I go on, Dallas?"

"Yochanan, Essum will destroy all you -"

"My Brother will do what he will, I've no right to stop the order of things. You are a creature of order, why do you heartily fight the end?"

"If you cannot help me, then I cannot help you."

"Gravely, you misunderstand me, Balance. You seem to think I'll rue the day I am devoured."

 

Dallas saw her gardening, her long brown hair flowed freely in the breeze from her head past her shoulders. Her nephew, Sheldon, was bouncing a ball in the parking lot nearby, shooting hoops. She lived with her sister now, and Dallas had a clear view from the back of her body from the top down. He hadn't seen her since he had become that what he was; and he almost forgot how beautiful she was. Dallas wished, for a moment, that the view got to see her big green eyes. Her perfectly pale skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. In that moment, Dallas realized that he would do anything to protect her. Why he still loved her was a complete mystery to him, but he did. He guessed that's what kept him going, the thought of her eventually coming back to him. Balance felt like a stalker hiding in the trees; from his omnipotent view he could see everything around her, including a dark shadow when it swept across the view. Balance stood up quickly, his fists clenched.

Sheldon was gone.

The sky went dark, and Balance saw Shelby look to the right and give a horrible, bloodcurdling scream.

Another shadow and she, too, was gone. A figure crept into view, in a dark black cloak, almost like someone took the darkness and made it darker, like another shadow from the freak solar shadow that shrouded my view.

It looked directly at where Dallas's view was from.

It was Essum, and he was laughing.

 

"I guess he knows my weakness, too..."

Essum in Balance

Balance grabbed the blade; it was a last attempt to stop his impending death. He had been bested, and through all his power, the Balance couldn't stop Essum from outdoing him. Physically Essum was stronger, mentally he was more stable, and magic-wise he was Dallas's superior also. He probably had this planned for years. Balance thought himself arrogant, to think that he could walk in and destroy him. Whatever Edo Edi Essum did to Edo Infectus, it made him more powerful in an inclusive sense than Balance ever was. He was sure if he had more time to practice, train his new powers, he'd have been able to defeat Essum easily. But he'd only been who he was for a decade, Edo Edi Essum and Infectus are at least ten thousand years Balance's elder, experience served them all the well. And so, in a feeble attempt to stop his demise, Balance grabbed Essum's blade.

It stopped.

But not because of his hand.

Essum had used his other hand to lock onto his wrist. Immediately Balance sensed turmoil within his mind. He lifted the sword away from his face, standing as he did. Essum stumbled back, still gripping his wrist. Dallas saw confusion and anger in his eyes, not like there was much of anything to see. Balance forced his way deeper into Essum's mind.

Look at what has become of me. I am not this demon. I am not Essum. I will not allow you to control me any longer! Get out of my head! Get OUT NOW!

 

"Essum -"

Worry not for him, Balance, the Holder I sent visited you. Essum is not only made of Edo Edi and Infectus, there is another soul, much deeper within Infectus. One still human, and therefore, capable of compassion. That is what stopped him from slaying you, him and his compassion.

 

Essum began to tear himself apart, screaming as he did so. He began to rend his pale, bonelike almost plastic skin from his face. Balance wondered briefly if he even felt pain; apparently not, as he continued to rip himself to literal shreds. Each piece of skin-carapace-whatever slapped to the ground and quickly seemed to squirm like a worm into the cracks in the floor. And as Essum continued to rip his body into pieces, Balance felt something grow inside of him. Something he never thought he could feel in a being such as Essum. Love.

Something inside Essum, inside Infectus, was human enough to remember what love felt like, and Balance knew that that is what drove him. He then stopped briefly and looked at the flaming orb in his ribcage. He dove his hand into his chest and touched it, this time his scream was loud and not to be outdone. That was real pain. He saw Essum look at him for a moment, and tear into his chest again, this time firmly grabbing the orb and squeezing it.

 

Send him back to me, Dallas! Once the division is complete, you will have your chance at the true face of wrong. Essum is not going to be your problem for long, Balance, all you need to do is sit back and wait.

"Who are you?"

I am we, for we are one and the same. Tied through purpose, separated by time. Send Edo Edi Essum back to me, Balance. Send him back and I shall equal him.

 

Essum began to combust, his flesh and skin looked like they simply smoldered away from his body as the ashes found their hiding places in the floor. He screamed in agony and rage a last time as he wrenched the orb from his chest. The orb's flame grew more exuberant, and hovered in place while Essum's tortured body collapsed to the ground. Balance walked over to him, raising his weapon and holding it adjacent to the fallen "man's" neck.

"Who are you?" Balance asked of him, more like an order than an actual question.

"I... am not your primary concern right now..."

He looked at something behind Balance, and from the ash and flesh and the fire from the orb a figure began to build. As the pieces rushed together, Balance whirled to face it.

Edo Edi Essum.

"The Consumer, so we meet at last."

 

"You are but my meal, my sustenance that is still breathing."

 

"Devour me then, Edo Edi Essum."

He tried, his smoky body and too-long skeletal arms slashed for Dallas. He was as fast as a shadow when the light shined upon an object. It was as though he moved none, and then struck with unseeable speed. Very much like somebody else Balance knew. His legless body ended in a black smoke, making it impossible for Dallas to attack his legs at all. Balance swung with the Black King's Sword he still had in his hands. Surprisingly, the blade went right through Edo Edi Essum's body, it was like trying to cut smoke from a fire. Or a shadow.

 

"You cannot kill what is but Hate. I am Intangible in this realm, nothing but the Evil from countless souls."

 

It then occurred to Dallas that he was in for the fight of his life.

Equal and Opposite

Balance couldn't see Shelby anymore; everything was more or less a blur as he ducked Essum's bony arms. Essum had landed a blow only once, it froze Dallas's skin where it touched, but worse than that; he felt what it did to his soul. His mere touch burned Dallas to the core, not just in a frostbite that chilled the bone, but he felt Essum take part of his very being with him. Almost as if he devoured it with his hands. Essum was fast, just as fast as Balance was, the only reason Balance continued to fight was due to the brace. Balance's cloak seemed to flow around Essum's hands, avoiding them completely even when he struck; in many cases Balance even felt the cloak pull him to the side or force him to duck, good old cloak.

 

"You could no more evade my wrath," said Edo Edi Essum, with his voice like a million monotone and pain-filled screams, "than you could your own shadow."

 

"You are not as daunting as you believe, Edo Edi Essum," Balance lied.

 

"Tell me then, Balance, why do you run from my hunger? Embrace me, become one with all the rest. With our combined power, we could consume everything, it all, forever. It can be glorious! This planet like the one before it, and then the rest for eternity we shall consume and rule and all shall fear the name Equal Essum."

 

"Is that what you would call yourself when you ate me? 'Equal Essum'? How long have you fantasized about that, Edo Edi Essum?"

 

"Why do you think I convinced Infectus to bring us here?"

Don't listen to his words, Dallas! They are nothing but ploy and blasphemies. He had said the same in the battle we raged.

You two have fought? And you survived? Who is this and how are you talking in my mind?

All questions will be answered in time, you need to focus on beating him before he lands anymore hits on you, for they indeed drain you of your soul, and each time he makes contact he draws from your soul and your power. Defeat him quickly. Send him back to me.

You have faced him before and you survived, you can tell me how to best him, can't you?

Balance, I didn't survive.

 

Balance ducked again, and tried swiping at his chest with both his original weapon made from the Objects and the Black King's Sword; he had picked up and dropped both weapons several times trying to dodge Essum's blows. The swing struck Essum, it made contact with something, but Edo Edi Essum did not falter. It was as if it wasn't him Balance had struck.

 

"You cannot kill what has no life, Balance."

 

"I wil k-AAAGGGHHHH."

Balance wasn't fast enough, Essum's hand clutched the Balance's shoulder, searing frost up his arm and making him feel like he was drained of will, mind, and soul. Essum's touch was like death itself, but worse; any death would be infinitely more desirable to being a part of that creature. Edo Edi Essum threw Balance across the tower roof. He rolled to try and absorb the contact with the ground. It didn't help, he just bounced along the stone until he slid to a stop. Edo Edi Essum drifted toward him, and behind him Dallas could see Shelby. She was unconscious, she must have passed out. Good, he wouldn't want her to witness what was about to happen to him.

In that moment he felt death creep upon him; however, Balance stood anyhow, the Brace of Submission was to thank for that, keeping him fighting. He remembered how he came to be here, staggering upright in front of the most horrible beast imaginable. The tests Dallas faced for the Objects, the meeting with Factions, asking The End about what happens when they come together, twice. Everything, including how much he loved Shelby, and how much he was letting the world down was sent into the unorganized pandemonium that was Balance's mind at the moment.

He was standing again, holding the Black King's Sword with two arms. The chain connecting the brace and the White King's Sword had long since shattered. The White King's Sword lay on the ground a mere few feet away, but Balance didn't dare take his eyes off Edo Edi Essum long enough to retrieve it.

 

Perhaps this is an opportunity to undo more than one wrong; the Black King's Sword is what the Holders call a Hedroth-Tulan, an Object like the others, that only exists as a byproduct of another Object; they banish them to the Void, however once in a while they do surface, and must be destroyed.

I'm more concerned about the bastard creature in front of me at the moment, but thank you, voice.

It's Taz.

What?

My name; it's Tazmaran.

 

Balance found enough energy to whirl around and swing the Black King's Sword around toward Edo Edi Essum's "face". Again, the blow did nothing but wisp the smoke around his body. Edo moved again, with Yochanan's speed, and grabbed Balance's shoulder. Balance fell to his knees, screaming. He felt his cloak squirm also, as if it too was in pain. Edo Edi Essum's bony arm was digging its fingers into Dallas's flesh. He looked at it, he felt it, and he hated it.

 

Felt it.

 

Balance raised his blade and brought it down at an awkward angle toward Essum's forearm, much longer than anything it should have been, it was an easy target. The blade bounced off the appendage, cracking the bones it collided with. Finally, a target Balance could physically attack had presented itself. Edo Edi Essum grunted and staggered back.

Balance picked up both blades in his hands, and, using all but the last of his strength, struck Edo Edi Essum's arm with both edges. The Black King's Sword rattled off the bone, it was never made to war with another entity of darkness, and like giving a lightbulb too much electricity, the Black King's Sword finally gave way to the amount of damage it took and it snapped in two. Edo Edi Essum's arm shattered also, bone splinters going all over the rock. This time the beast shrieked, it could feel pain, it had a weakness, it could be beaten. Balance found a new source of energy, in the slightest possibility of hope the human instinct in him kicked in.

That is, until the shriek turned into a cold, mocking laughter.

 

I tried that, too.

God damnit, Taz, you had to have come at least close to defeating him. How do I do it?

That is up to you, he must be balanced, not just beaten. Send him back to me.

Wait, your -

Yes, Dallas, I am you... I am your predecessor... I am the first Balance.

 

Edo Edi Essum's arm seemed to grow back in place, as if the bone on the ground wasn't his at all. He mocked Balance with his heartless laughter as, before his eyes, Edo's arm grew back. It seemed as if he took lessons from Yochanan on how to laugh; because it was just as cold and horrifying as the Hollow Man's and then some. At least Edo Edi Essum didn't have the eyes Jack Empty had.

 

"Alas, Balance, I grow bored of your endeavor, if you will not do your best, I will end this quickly."

 

"You keep saying that, Edo Edi Essum."

Edo moved toward Balance again, this time catching him completely off guard and wrapping his too-long fingers around his neck. Balance gasped as he felt the life leave him. Not just from lack of breath, but from the deprivation of spirit and soul. Dallas got weaker and weaker as the Consumer squeezed tighter and tighter. This was it, he was going to die here, Edo Edi Essum was going to take Balance's power and he was going to end all things. It was Dallas's fault that Edo would consume everything.

 

"I am but darkness, the unknowable which proceeds creation. How do you kill that which was not created, which has no life? How do you kill something that you cannot touch?"

 

"Tach... Fa... Falsh... Ton... Tonah."

Balance opened his palm and slammed the Tach Falsh Tonah into Essum's body. This time he roared, feeling real pain.

Dallas collapsed to the ground, wheezing and shaking; he couldn't breathe yet along think about standing and continuing to fight. He spat up blood, it warmed his throat a bit and made it easier to breathe. Balance looked up at his opponent, Edo Edi Essum smoking more than usual, his soul draining from him. Balance should have thought of the Tach Falsh Tonah the moment Essum mentioned the word "spirit" but he was glad he did now.

"I might not be able to harm you... But you have taken from this world of life and death. Of beginnings and ends. And that is what I shall end!"

The brace allowed Dallas to stand yet again. The Toga of the Gods shown luminously in the sinking light that was the dusk of this place. It was as though orange hue fell upon everything. However, the toga (absorbed by Balance's cloak) shined with a white light, countering that of Edo Edi Essum's dark aura. Balance looked upon him, he was standing once more. This time slowly; not like Yochanan at all, but more like a mortal. A wounded mortal.

"How is it possible?" he asked.

"It is possible, Edo Edi Essum, because I fight with something you don't understand. Something you will never even begin to comprehend. No matter how many souls you eat, no matter how many bodies you disembowel, you will never grasp the concept of the things I fight for. You are nothing but filth, Edo Edi Essum, purely unbalanced mess of hatred. You fight for hunger and for hatred; your hatred is equal to that of which I fight for, something that you will never experience.

 

That I know nothing of, Dallas? You barely know this thing you fight and you claim to hold something beyond my understanding? What thing do you speak of?"

 

"Love, Edo Edi Essum, I fight for love."

 

Good show, Dallas, now, rend his souls away and send him back to me. I will keep him at bay for eternity if I must, so he shall never harm another soul again.

You would do that?

It is our duty to uphold the balance, Dallas, you know that. I'd do anything to keep the realms equalized. Furthermore, I was in love once, too, and she is now nothing of what I came to adore... I know what it's like to lose the thing you love the most, and Edo Edi Essum will pay for his blasphemy to not only you, but to everything and everyone he's ever hurt.

 

"Tach Falsh Tonah," Balance muttered to himself, as the glowing orbs appeared in his hands yet again. Balance hurtled one at Edo's shoulder. It sent him spinning to the ground, the black smoke rising from his "body" as more and more souls escaped from his entity. Balance could feel Edo's power shrinking. He took the last spirit bomb he had in his hands and he tore it; making two smaller ones around his fists. Balance approached Edo Edi Essum and knelt over him, he struggled on the ground.

 

"I will return, Balance, I will return when they all come together. And I will pillage and eat and destroy all lands in all realms."

 

"When you do, Edo Edi Essum, I will be there to balance you."

He shoved his hands into Edo's chest, the Tach Falsh Tonah allowing Balance to grab not flesh but soul, and rend a majority of Edo Edi Essum's souls from his body.

Edo shook violently on the ground, unable to move.

"Sannanah, grator, ammunthah lithutal-chewnit."

Balance drew an imaginary circle around Edo Edi Essum's frail figure and muttered the incantation. He sat for a moment, and Balance caught a glimpse of his twisted face before he fell through the portal and it closed up around him.

Edo Edi Essum, the Consumer of all, was gone. Banished to the past to do battle with the first Balance forever. Shelby was unconscious and so was the remnant of what was Infectus. Sitting down cross-legged, he took a moment to let out a heave and relax. For the first time since he had acquired his title as The Balance, Dallas felt like he had peace.

Everything Balanced

"I have a whole new respect for you, Balance. If I knew what you were doing I would have been there to help you in less than a second," said Devaide, no more than a moment after entering Legion's fortress. Balance smiled at him, both of them knowing Legion would never allow it. Devaide would have been killed by Edo Edi Essum, and Legion would become mortal. In short, Legion was a lot like Devaide's older brother. In fact, it seemed like the three best friends who had once come together out of love for one another were bonded yet again. Devaide was temporarily, for the most part, controlled by Doom; yet Balance didn't feel the hostile creature bred by decades of rot and solitude. Instead, he found Victor, an eighteen-year-old boy with more spirit than he had in eons.

Dallas continued to walk until he found the diamond on the floor of the entrance of the castle. It was painted white on the stone floor like it always had; the contrasting dark blue rock and the strangely painted white stone gave the palace a very dramatic feel. He wondered briefly if Legion had ever wanted to redecorate. He also noticed that the rock here and the rock in the tower had the same texture; however, his train of thought was interrupted by thudding from one of the three gigantic spiral staircases in the wall. Legion came into view, his massive feet making a thump as they met the stone.

 

I have to talk to you, Balance.

I'm aware.

You know where to find me.

I do.

I'll see you in a few moments then, correct?

No, I have something I wish to do first. If that is alright with you.

Yes, I understand.

 

"So, we meet yet again," said Legion. He hadn't noticed before, but Legion had a title. And he adhered to it. He always wore clothes or robes that made him appear to have authority. He decorated himself with rings of gold and bracelets of silver. Balance had even expected he wore entire suits of armor on a regular basis. This time, however, Legion had his wide, muscular shoulders fit nicely into a black suit. His hair covered by a nice hat; his shoes were tied and he had but one ring on his right hand. The middle finger bore it well, how Legion found rings that fit his fingers was an intriguing thought.

"We do, indeed, Legion," said Balance, extending his hand. Legion took it and shook it. The gesture was all formal, very... human.

"What is the occasion?" Balance asked.

"A wedding."

Balance laughed a bit. "Who do you know that's getting married?"

It was Legion's turn to smile. "I don't spend three hundred and sixty-five days a year cooped up in here and finding Objects. Not since you lifted the Hollow Man's filth from my mind. I don't believe I've ever thanked you for that."

"Do not thank me, it was but my duty."

"No, Balance, you could have just fought me. Instead, you tried to make me better than what I was. You are a good man; don't forget that, wherever you go."

"Where is he going?" that was Devaide, from beside Dallas. He was always beside Dallas.

 

"Balance has to leave. Isn't that why you came, Balance? To say goodbye?"

"Yes, it is."

"But... I'll see you again, won't I?"

"Devaide, you will feel my presence with you always. Yes, this may be the last time we meet, but it also may not. The future is something nobody can predict. Well, almost nobody. Either way, I sense the realms are in near equilibrium, and I never expected them to be completely equal. Perfectly imperfect they must remain. I believe the world has seen enough of The Balance. That is, until the time comes when I am needed again."

"But what about Essum's minions? There must be millions of them everywhere!"

 

"There must be millions of them everywhere!" pleaded Devaide, trying to find some way to make Balance change his mind. He sounded like a six-year-old child trying to convince his mother not to leave him with grandma for the weekend. He was tugging slightly on Balance's cloak which further added to his begging stature. Dallas looked at him, slightly downward because Devaide was relatively short.

"Devaide, Victor, Michael, you will be missed. I owe you more than you know. Without you, I couldn't have done half the things I did."

Devaide nodded, and then Balance turned back to Legion.

"You watch him, you watch him well."

"Even if our fates weren't tied, I still would," was his reply.

Balance nodded at him, and turned to leave; however his robe refused and held him back. Before he could do anything about it, Legion told him to wait a moment.

He touched the diamond on his chest, and looked upward.

Down from the ceiling almost forty feet above them, floated a white feather. It drifted in the breeze, even though there was none at that point. It glided into his palm; he then outstretched it to Balance.

"Take it, I find it fitting that you have it."

Balance took it gently, admiring it as he did so. "Thank you, might Legion."

He nodded once more to Devaide, and started down the long walkway to the subway entrance. Every time he had walked this kilometer-long path, he had used magic to speed the process up. But this time he wanted to take in the beauty that the Objects could create when used properly. Legion's realm was indeed one of the most awing.

Cherish her came a whisper as he walked.

"I will," he answered back.

Balance - no, Dallas - walked toward the portal to the human realm, where Shelby waited for him outside the gates.

Prose

Sweep Complete

Iteration- [189]

Sample range- [Entirety] of [Western Hemisphere]

Results- [8]

Search Terms: [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED]

 

- - - RESULTS - - -

• CDCLetter.docx
• MariaInterview.txt
• StGeorgeAnomaly.avi
• John[REDACTED]Interview.mp4
• MashaBlood.mp3
• AǴ͝ing.docX̛̕͢
• NeẂ̶̕͢ ̛̕͟͏͠Y̡͝͝O͜͜͏̸R̀͜k.tX̛Ţ̵
• [File Corrupted]

CDCLetter.docx

Result- 1/8

Identification- 01:03

Location- Spokane, Washington

Matches- DEVOURER, EDI, EDO, ESSUM, UNCREATION, 5+3+8

Details- Letter sent from Dr. [REDACTED], Joshua P. to CDC

Relevant section follows.

 

... All I could ascertain was that [REDACTED] had been watching TV at 5:38 PM. He was very specific about it being that time. Apparently, at that time, all of the power in [REDACTED]'s house went out for a few seconds. When it came back on, all his TV showed was a barren landscape, in which the sky was red and the sun was white. Scared, [REDACTED] says that he unplugged the TV, but the picture remained. After telling me this, [REDACTED] burst into tears, and it took me a few minutes to calm him down. Although I managed to placate him somewhat, [REDACTED] was still fairly incoherent. He said something about a figure on the screen, cloaked in black, skipping around. Those were his words. One second it would be a speck in the background, the next it would be right up against the screen, like it was trying to get out (once again, these were his words). This continued for a few minutes, [REDACTED] was shivering and whimpering from fear, obviously deeply traumatized by the event. He said that he heard the words "EDO", "EDI", and "ESSUM" over and over again, getting louder every time. [REDACTED]'s shivering became even more violent. When I asked him what the words meant to him, he screamed, horribly, before falling into what appears to be a semi-catatonic state, mumbling something. I can't quite make it out but they almost sound like lines in a poem.

On a side note, I looked up EDO EDI ESSUM - apparently it's Latin. It loosely translates to DEVOURER. I still don't have any idea what this means.

Here's what I can make out from what [REDACTED] was muttering:

"In barren, blasted void we pray,

The UNCREATION's doom to stay."

 

Relevant section terminates.

MariaInterview.txt

Result- 2/8

Identification- 20:01

Location- Saskatoon, Canada

Matches - DEVOURER, EDI, EDO, ESSU, ETERNAL+VOID, UNCREATION

DETAILS- Transcript from police interview on 11/31/[REDACTED] between MARIA [REDACTED] and LIEUTENANT [REDACTED]

Relevant section follows.

 

MARIA: [Inaudible]

LIEUTENANT: Please speak into the microphone, Maria.

MARIA: I can hear him.

LIEUTENANT: Hear who?

MARIA: [grows increasingly louder] Him! The DEVOURER! The ETERNAL VOID! The consumer of all, you insolent worm! He's disgusted by you! All of you!

 

[MARIA lunges across the table at LIEUTENANT [REDACTED], biting his upper arm and removing some skin. Several workers come in, and after holding her down, inject her with a mild sedative. After LIEUTENANT [REDACTED]'s arm is bandaged, the interview continues.]

 

LIEUTENANT: Why don't you start from the beginning, Maria?

MARIA: [Speech slurring] I was at my house... I went outside... into the snow... but it wasn't snow...

LIEUTENANT: It wasn't snow?

MARIA: [Slurred] Nuh-uh. It was all... frozen over, all solid. And I didn't want to... slip, so I went back inside.

LIEUTENANT: Is that all that happened?

MARIA: Then I saw him.

LIEUTENANT: Him?

MARIA: He was by the fireplace... I felt him... All the fire turned black... and then my whole house started turning black-and-white... like old movies... And then I heard him. He said... all kinds of things... about UNCREATIONS... [She smiles at this point] EDO EDI ESSUM... [Inaudible]

LIEUTENANT: What?

 

[The lights go out.]

[When the lights came back on, LIEUTENANT [REDACTED] and MARIA [REDACTED] were both dead where they sat. Only a skeleton remained of MARIA. On the other hand, LIEUTENANT [REDACTED]'s corpse showed signs that he had been dead since around 5:30 PM, which is almost the exact time at which LIEUTENANT [REDACTED] picked MARIA up from her home.

 

"In the darkness incarnate, ether of death,

Souls stop turning, drawing final breath."

 

[The author of this transcript does not recall writing the preceding two lines.]

 

Relevant section terminates.

StGeorgeAnomaly.avi

Result- 3/8

Identification- 18:18

Location- St. George, Utah

Matches- KEY, LOCK, PRIMAL+NOTHING, THIRTY+TWO

Details- Account of Officer [REDACTED] upon arriving at the [REDACTED] neighborhood of St. George.

Relevant section follows.

 

Jesus. Jesus Christ. I still can't believe what I saw out there. All of those people... Jesus. I was just taking over the beat, patrolling the neighborhood like I always do, when I noticed everything seemed quieter than usual. Everything was dead silent. There weren't any kids playing outside, nobody watching TV or out on a bike ride or anything. It's like everything became a ghost town. It wasn't until I turned into the town square that I saw them. All of them. Men, women, children - everyone in the neighborhood was just standing there, staring at me. None of them spoke, none of them moved, nothing. I don't think they even breathed. They all just walked toward me, with these blank expressions on their faces. All I could hear was their footsteps. And a voice. There was a voice in my head. It said something about a LOCK and KEY, and something called PRIMAL NOTHING. The voice was at once getting louder and less comprehensible, and all the people were getting closer. I swear, I've never felt more scared in my life. My heart was up in my throat, just seeing their faces. I swear, it's indescribably. Those blank expressions, it was like... hell, I don't know what it was like. I don't know if something to compare it to even exists. They just got closer and closer, huddled around my car. And then they all started pounding on my car, all at once, in unison. I don't know how I know this, but I'm absolutely certain they hit my car THIRTY-TWO times. I don't know why that's important, but I somehow feel like it is. But then, after they finished beating their hands on my car, they all fell over, limp. There must have been fifty people in the neighborhood, and all of them just fell in unison, just like that. I didn't need the paramedics to tell me that they were dead. After that I radioed in and came back ad he came back with me. What? No. Yes. He did. It's true. But- No! He's here now. And now there's a rhyme like a nursery rhyme I loved nursery rhymes and mommy said mommy told me to be a good boy mommy said

 

"Antithesis of matter, opposite of life,

Lamentations through glass, screaming and strife."

 

Relevant section terminates.

John[REDACTED]Interview.mp4

WARNING: System Corruption Detected.]

Result- 4/8

Identification- 05:14

Location- Liberal, Kansas

Matches- DEVOURER, EDI, EDO, ESSUM, ETERNAL+VOID, OMEGA, THIRTY+TWO

Details- Interview with John [REDACTED]

Relevant section follows.

 

[REDACTED]: Now, John, tell us what happened.

JOHN: Jesus Christ, where to begin... I was out of town on a business trip. Going to New Jersey. I came back and... Oh god.

[REDACTED]: Please continue, John.

JOHN: It was... a bloodbath. My friends and neighbors... they were slaughtering each other, butchering each other. But that's not quite accurate. Only half were doing the killing. The other half just stood there and died. They didn't resist. They didn't do anything. Even as they got torn apart, they did nothing. And then... [Vomiting]

[REDACTED]: And then what, John?

JOHN: I noticed it. I saw that the ones getting killed didn't have eyes. In fact they... they looked dead already. Their skin was all gray and dead. But then as they got killed, the ones who slaughtered them started to change too. Their eyes fell out, and they turned gray and dead, just like the ones they killed, but they didn't kill each other.

[REDACTED]: How many were left?

JOHN: Well, there were sixty-four in my neighborhood, including me... half of them got killed. There were THIRTY-TWO.

[REDACTED]: How do you know?

JOHN: I don't know how, okay? I just do.

[REDACTED]: Never mind. So then what happened?

JOHN: Well, I was still parked a safe distance away... and they couldn't see me... so I just kept watching. Once they'd killed everyone, they... [Vomiting]

[REDACTED]: What did they do, John?

JOHN: They dipped their hands in the dead people's blood. Just lined up in an orderly fashion... And then they started drawing things on the ground. I couldn't see, but I thought it looked like the OMEGA symbol. Just OMEGA, over and over and over again. There must have been hundreds of the symbols by the time they finished. They covered the whole square.

[REDACTED]: And then?

JOHN: He's here.

[REDACTED]: I'm sorry?

JOHN: EDO EDI ESSUM! [A table is overturned] EDO EDI ESSUM! DEVOURER! ETERNAL VOID! [Screams and ripping flesh can be heard]

JOHN: [Laughing] I'm the THIRTY-SECOND... I'm the THIRTY-SECOND...

 

[Voice changes suddenly, now barely recognizable as JOHN's]

 

"Resurrection imminent, behold the final day,

Echoed the TWO and THIRTY, THIRTY-TWO to stay."

 

Relevant section terminates.

MashaBlood.mp3

[ALERT: Containing System Corruption.]

Result- 5/8

Identification- 21:09

Location- Fargo, North Dakota

Matches- CREATED+UNCREATION, DEVOURER, EDI, EDO, ESSUM, OMEGA, PRIMAL+NOTHING, THRALL, THIRTY-TWO

Details- Recording of Masha [REDACTED], Fargo Mental Institution. Tape was found under the mattress of Masha's bed.

Relevant section follows.

 

They're everywhere. His THRALLS. I didn't want to stab him in the knee, I really didn't! You have to believe me! I was going for his stomach, but he moved. Why can't you see? He's got no eyes! Why can't you see that? The DEVOURER's gotten to him! He's not human anymore! You might think he's just an orderly, you might think you're doing the right thing by putting me in this rubber room, but you're not! Why are you so stupid? Why can't you see? I was like you, once. It happened when I was reading. I was reading my book, and all the ink started to change. It swirled and swirled, until it spelled something else. It said "EDO EDI ESSUM" over and over and over and over and over and over again. Don't you see? He's coming! Coming for me! Mark my words, I'll be dead tomorrow for telling you this. I just... He's nothing. PRIMAL NOTHING. CREATED UNCREATION. He just consumes everything. Nothing'll be left. Not you, not your family, not your friends, not your little dog, either! Nothing! Nothing will escape. Even light can't. Color. Sound. I can see it happening now - everything's getting duller. I can't hear very well. Everything's going black-and-white. I feel old. So old. But how? Why? I'm just twenty-thr... oh, shit. He's here. He's really here. He's coming now, because I've said too much. Quick, I have to... [Rustling can be heard, presumably the sound of the tape being shoved under the mattress. The following is muffled greatly.] No! Please no! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! Please don't! Just - [The sound of fingernails scratching the ground is barely audible.] The truth is written in blood!

 

[A deep, inhuman voice replaces Masha's.]

 

"At moment of creation, you'll find dear THIRTY-TWO.

DEVOURER waits trapped where lies become true."

 

[Masha was never found. A blacklight search of her room revealed glyphs of unknown origin drawn in blood all across the walls of her room, as well as the twenty-foot-high ceiling. The only even vaguely recognizable marking was an OMEGA sign. The blood's DNA did not match Masha's.]

 

Relevant section terminates.

AǴ͝ing.docX̛̕͢

[WARNING: ContĄ̶̕͡͝Į̷Ń͢ment Failed]

R̛E̸͏̡͞S̴̛ult- 6/8

IdentificA͢T͘̕͜͢͠I̧̡̕͘Ơ̛̕͟N̷͞ 19:06

Location- San Jose, CaliF̴͝͠͏͞O͜͠Ŕ̷̸͝Ǹ̨ia

MaT̸̡͟C҉͜H̷̶̴͡҉es-DEVOURER, ETERNAL+VOID, HOLDER, THRALL, TOWER

Details- Page frO͏̢̀Ḿ̛̛̛ the medical journal of Dr. J̷́͟A͟Ḿ̕̕es [RED̵̶̛̕À̡̕͢C͜͠T̨̀͢͟ED]

Relevant S͏̶́̕E̛̛͏C̷̸̵͜͝T̴͘͟͡I̴̵҉Ó̵͟͏̧N̶҉ ͘͜F̨̢́́O͏̛L̕͟͡͠lows.

 

I can't say I remember when he stumbled in, but it was just around the time my shift ended. Call it 5:30. My lA̷̧͝S̴T́͢͞͝͠ client had left. I was on my way out, just leaving, when suddenly someone ran into me. He was Ǫ̴B̧̕͡V̴͢͠Ì̶̕͜Ò́̀͜͢usly running, because he knocked me over, and sprawled out on top of me. I looked up at him, into the face of someone who must have been 85 years old. He started screaming at me, telling me that I had to help him, that it was critically important. He pulled me up - the guy sȨ̛́͘E̵̵̵͘͢Ḿ̶̡̕͜È͜͡D̴́͜ ̶̨͢҉A̴̧͘͘ ͘L̨̛ot stronger than an 85-year-old. Which is because, as it happens, he wasn't. When I managed to calm him down and we got to my office, he told me he was twenty-four years old. I was absolutely T̴́A̢̕K͜͡͏̢҉Ę̸͝N̷̨̡̛͝ ̨͢͟͡A͏́B̵̡͘͟ack when he told me this. He was skinny and frail, with sunken eyes, liver spots, and wrinkles. I didn't believe him at first, and asked him for his social security number, which he gave me. It turns out that he was telling the truth. Gregory [Ŕ̷̡̕È͢D͘͜͢A҉̕҉̵́C͏͡͏͘T̶̀͜E҉̶͟͠D̴́]̕͟͟͡͞,̨͜͝ ̀͏̡̀́A̶̡̛͟͠G̶̕e twenty-four. It was unbelievable. He showed me his driver's license, which corroborated the information, and I had no choice but to believe him. As he spoke, Gregory became more and more nervous, more agitated. He seemed to close up completely when I asked him how he'd come to look so old. I don't remember most of his story, a lot of it didn't make sense to me. As I recall, he said that he was out looking for a "HOLDER" (I don't know what this is) and he came upon a man cloaked in black. Only he said it wasn't really a man, it was more of an entity. At any rate, he said, the figure didn't seem entiR̨̧E̵̛͜͟L͜Y̕͜҉͘͢ ͢͟͝R̷̢͠E҉̵̧͜A̴͘L̛, as if it were flitting in and out of corporeality. After that, he was just silent. Obviously, Gregory was delusional, fabricating some reality that doesn't exist. On the other hand, I didn't have any way to explain how he aged like that.

I was able to put it out of my mind until a couple hours ago, when I sat down at my computer to check on some old records. My screen saver had changed. I couldn't make it out, but it looked like there was some kind of wasteland. With a red sky, and a bleached white sun. And in the background was this massive TOWER. I felt this horrifying, irrational fear, and then my computer started to emit this ear-piercing sound. It was the single most terrifying experience I've ever had. I could just barely make out words... things like DEVOURER and ETERNAL VOID. I was shivering all over, like someone had dipped my bones in liquid nitrogen. I imagine the noise is still going on, but I can't hear it anymore. Compared to the noise, puncturing my eardrums with my pen actually wasn't so bad. I'm a little nauseous looking at the blood, but I can deal with the pain. Of course now... Oh dear. He's here. And you know what? I'll go. I'm done being here, with the rest of you. I want to be a THRALL. Master, can't I? Please? What? Okay, I'll let them know.

He says I need to put this down first.

 

"You run, you hide, you beg for release,

The description and consumption transpire with ease."

 

Relevant section terminates.

NeẂ̶̕͢ ̛̕͟͏͠Y̡͝͝O͜͜͏̸R̀͜k.tX̛Ţ̵

[ W͏͏A̢̛R̸̨N͡͡ ing: CoR̕͝R̛̛͝U̴͜P̢̢͞͏T̕͡I̵̡̨͟Ó̶͟͠͠N̨̨͝͞ C̸͟͠Ą́ tastroP̶̡̧͠H̶̢͢҉̴Í̵̷̢Ḉ̸͜ ]

R̛E̸͏̡͞S̴̛ult- 7/8

I̷͡D̵҉̸͜͠E̶͜N̷̢T̷̸ificA͢T͘̕͜͢͠I̧̡̕͘Ơ̛̕͟N̷͞ 00:05

Lo Ç̵̢̡A̷͘͝Ţ͜I̴̧̛̛on- SpringfI̢̢̕͡E̡L̷̢̡̛D̵̴,̷ ̵̢͟͝͞M҉̨̕I̵̢͟͡S҉̢̨̧souri.

MaT̸̡͟C҉͜H̷̶̴͡҉es- EDI, EDO, ESSUM, HOLDER, KEY, LOCK, OBJECT, THRALL, UNCREATION

D̶҉͡È҉T̵̷̢͟͝A͢͜I̴͘͠L̕҉S̸͟- AcC̶̀Ơ͠U̸̢N̛̛̕Ţ̧͡͝ ̵̡̀͠O͝͠F͟͝ ̸̧̀͘À̴̶̀͘ ̨͘S̢̧̀͞U̧͢R̀͏̴V̵̧̧͝ivor of the New Y̴̵̵̶̕O̷̴͘͢R̛͡K̨̀͏̡ ͢͡I͡͠N̶̨͘Ć̢́͘͜Í̶̶̧͝D͟͝҉.

R̶̀͡È͟҉̷L͏̷̷E̸҉V̷͠A̸N̨͟͡T̀́͟͞͠ ̶͜͡͝S̴̢̨E̸̛̕͝Ç͠Ţ͡͝҉̡I̶̢̛͡O̶͘Ń̸̴̕͟ ̢̧̀͟͏F̨͞Ǫ̸L̡L̶̢̛͟O̸̷̡W̛͏̶́̕S̴̢͝.

 

Honestly, I don't know where to start. Where to begin. I shouldn't have lived through it, but I did. I'll be frank - if you guys hadn't put me in that padded room, I would have killed myŞ̛͞È̢͝͝L̸̷͟҉̸F̷͜͠ ̴̸͘͞À̸ ͠҉L̨͟͟͞O̕͢N̷̛͢͟G̸̢ ̡͟T̷I̧͠͏̴̨ime ago. People aren't supposed to see stuff like that. Aren't supposed to see those Ĺ͟É͟͞G̡͞͠Į̨̡͏͘O̢̕͠͡Ń̸͟͏̴S̀̀͘͢ ̴̷̡̢̀O͜͝҉͠͞f… things. People, but with no eyes. T̸̨̕͘H̴̷̡͘O̸͜Ừ̕Ś̸̨̕͡Á̴͠N̷͢͞͠D̀͢͜S̸͜ ̴͡Ơ̛̛͞F̶̷̛ ̵̨́͢T̶́̀͘͡H͏̶͡҉É͝͝͏̀M̛.̡͝͠ ̷̡̕̕ ҉̡̡M͜Ì͘͞͏L̴̴̛͟͝L̸̨̡͘I͘͡ǪŅ̛͘Ş̶,̨̢̕ ̢͘͢M̶̷̛̕À҉̕͢Y̷̶͟͢͠. Look, I'd been to plenty of HOLDERs. I had quite a few OBJECTs. But nothing, nothing even remotely compared. The sky started to turn red, the kind of red you think it'd turn when the wO͜R͞L҉͏͜D̢́͟͞͞ ̶̨E̷̸̡͢͢N̴̵͏̵͡D̢̀͢͏E̵̸̡̛͢D̢͘͢͟͜.͢ ̴̶̨̛͝ ͟͞A̕͢͟Ǹ͘͝D̵͞ ̶̴͟͝T̀҉͘͞҉H͡E̶͘͝͝ ̧̢͠S̸̷͝U͟Ņ̵̵ ̶҉W̧͏̷̀͝Á̵S̶̡͡ ̸̡͜A̴̧͜͜Ļ͜͝L̵͞ ̵̡͟W͜҉H̶͏I̵͟͞te, like marble. And these... THRALLs just kept coming. And then... Jesus. And then I saw their leader. He... no, that's not the right word. I don't even feel right calling that monster an "it". I W͘͠͝͏Ą̵̴S͢҉̨̧ ́̕͝W͢͠҉̨A̢̨̨͡T̷̛͘C̵̵̵̢͟H̵̨̡̛̕I̡͟N̡͠G̶̴ from the trapdoor to my basement, barely cracking it open, but I think the thing still saw me. As soon as I looked at the crea T̡̡͘͘͟U̵R͟͏̵͘͠E̕͢͠,̡͞͡ ҉̧̛̀͟I̵̷ ͟F̶͜͡͞͝E̸̴̵̕L̛͘͠T̢̡̢͠ ̶̶͏̷L̵͜͜I̸͠K̴͘E̷ ̵̛͝A͏̵̢͝҉ ͟҉̡͢Ṕ̵̴͝͝A͏͝͏̸͞R͝͏̀T̕͝ ҉͏̀͠͠Ó̴҉҉F̴̶̡̀ ̵҉̡M̴̵̀̀E͢͜ ̵̢̕͢͡D̵́͜I̢͘Ę̶́͞D̸̛͟ ̵̴͟͠T̴̡̕͡Ḩ̸̛́E҉̵̕͜N̶͝ ̸̸̛͝A̴̡͜͞N̷̡͘͞͏D̸̕ ̨̡͏͏T̵̡͞H̨̕͠͝È̴͞͡R̛͞È̶͟͜.̕͡ ͏ ̛͏̶̸Ĺ͡Į̸Ḱ̶̀È̢̛͟͜ ҉̷͡I͢҉͜T͟͏̸ ̀͟ R͏̶̧I͘͘͢͡͝P͏̡͘P̵̡̧É̕D̴͡͝ ҉̶̴̡A̢͝W̴̛A͘͝Y̴̨ ̷̨̀͝A͞ ͜͜͝Ļ̀҉I͏̶̛T҉̵̕͟͞Ţ̶̸̵̛L̴̕͞E͏͏͠ ̨̡B̷͘I̸̵͝T̛͞ ̴̸̨͢Ò̶̧͞F̧́͟ ̛͟͜͢͟M͘͘Ỳ̧̧ ̛́͢͝ŞO̧̧͟͜Ų͢Ļ̴̛͡͝.̶͏̴̡͟ ͘͜ ̷̵̨͟I̧͝ ̨̛W̧̨̛͞O҉͜N̵̨̕͝'̸̢͘͡T͏̧ ̡̡̕L͡͞҉̢I̸̧̨͝E̕͘̕͡,̸̵́͘͡ ̴͘Í̸̷ ̷͞C̡҉́R̸̢̢̛̕I̴̴͘É̡͢D̢͜ ̵ L̷̶͘͟I̧͝K͜͞E̸͡ ̕͟Ą͝ ̵̧҉̧B̢̢A̵̧̢B̸̵̕͘͟Y͜͟.̀̕ ͝҉̨́ ̡̕͞Į̴ ̷͜͏Ṕ̨́̀͟Ŗ͠A͟͡ĆT̸̵̛̛I͡C̢̧̡̕A͟͟͞L҉͟Ļ̴̛͠Y̵̨̢ fell trying to get the rest of the way down the stairs, trying to get as far away from that... thing as possible. I don't know how long I sat there - hours, days, weeks - listening to the footsteps of those creatures above me. I started to hear something, too. A voice. But it just repeated itself. EDO EDI ESSUM. EDO EDI ESSUM. EDO EDI ESSUM. I couldn't hear myself scream. A̕͡N̷̷̨͞D̢͟͏̷ ̴͟͝T̴́H͢͞È̡͟͡N̷͢͝͡ ͜҉̡̛I̸͡ ̸͜W͘̕͟A̸̴̢S̢͘͢͝ ̵̢̧́́H͘̕̕͜E̶͠R̷̀͝E͜͡. But even though we're all the way here in Missouri, I can still hear the voices. They talk about the LOCK and KEY, about the UNCREATION. But most of all, they just repeat a phrase. It sounds like lines from a poem.

 

"Our time is nigh, our hour impends.

Our time to begin, and our time to end."

 

Relevant section terminates.

[File Corrupted]

[WARNING: COR̶̛̛R҉͠U̷͘P͏̨͘͞͝TION FÁ̢͝T̢́Ą̸͢͞L]

[SYSTE̶̷͡M̷̵̛͘ ̶̴̢͡F͝҉̴̕À̶̕͟͝I̵̡͠͞ILURE]

Ŕ̨͝҉Ȩ̢͟͏Ş͜͏Ų̛͘͟L҉̷̨̀T̴҉̕̕"- 8̨̨́̀͡/͏̧8̵̨͘͡͠

Į̶́͘͝Ḑ́E̵̛͘͞͡N҉҉̷͘T͘͟I̵̢͘͞͞F̀̕͜͝͝I̢C̸̀͘̕A͠͏T̴̛I̷̧O̴̶͢Ń́:̷̷͞ -̶̛͝͡͞-̴̨̛̛͞:̷̨24

Lo Ç̵̢̡A̷͘͝Ţ͜I̴̧̛̛on- [̡͢͢͡͏C̸̸̕͡Ớ͟͞R̡̢͞R̶̡̀U̸̡̡̢͡Ṕ̷̛͞͝T̛͜͝E̶̷̡̕͘D̶̕͠͠]̴̴͏̶͠

MaT̸̡͟C҉͜H̷̶̴͡҉es- [̡͢͢͡͏C̸̸̕͡Ớ͟͞R̡̢͞R̶̡̀U̸̡̡̢͡Ṕ̷̛͞͝T̛͜͝E̶̷̡̕͘D̶̕͠͠]̴̴͏̶͠

D̶҉͡È҉T̵̷̢͟͝A͢͜I̴͘͠L̕҉S̸͟- [̡͢͢͡͏C̸̸̕͡Ớ͟͞R̡̢͞R̶̡̀U̸̡̡̢͡Ṕ̷̛͞͝T̛͜͝E̶̷̡̕͘D̶̕͠͠]̴̴͏̶͠

R̶̀͡È͟҉̷L͏̷̷E̸҉V̷͠A̸N̨͟͡T̀́͟͞͠ ̶͜͡͝S̴̢̨E̸̛̕͝Ç͠Ţ͡͝҉̡I̶̢̛͡O̶͘Ń̸̴̕͟ ̢̧̀͟͏F̨͞Ǫ̸L̡L̶̢̛͟O̸̷̡W̛͏̶́̕S̴̢͝.

 

[static] If you're hearing this... [static] if anyone's still out there... this is a call to you. I've [static] for the past three years, researching [static]. I don't know if anyone in the world above is still alive. [Static] I don't have much time. To anyone, anyone at all who hears this, know that there's still hope. EDO EDI ESSUM's resurrection isn't imminent, isn't inevitable. We still have time. The LORD OF THE UNKNOWN is dead now, and only the EXECUTIONER's left. We have a chance. It's not too late. Show this to everyone you can, send this to everyone you know. With enough on our side, we can stop this. In any city, [static] country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Somewhere, anywhere, draw an OMEGA sign, and inscribe an ALPHA within it. Then, tell the receptionist that LOGOS IS A LIE. They'll [static] door, and [static]... What happens next is up to you. Find your friends. Your neighbors. Family. Everyone you know. If we band together, we can stop the resurrection. Our future isn't set. There's still hope for u-

 

[WARNING: SYST̶̷̢͝E̷̕͜M͜͝ ̨͢͡F̧̛̀͘Á́I̢̨͜͢L̵̵̸̵͝U̴̢̢͠R̴̛E̢]

[INITIATING SHUTDOWN]

A͟S̸̵͡͝͡K̷̢̛D̨̛G̀͜͝F̡̢͟͡H҉̀͠A̷̧̕B̷́̀͘͠;̶͘͘͢K̴͞͞S̵͟͏̧̀L̨̨̨̨D̡́͢F̧̕͏҉

̢́̕͠À̵́͜͜Į̕͟S̴̶E̴͡҉̸̸H̶̷R̡҉̧̛͢V͏Ó̷̕͏[̴̴̡Ę̨Ú̶̡͘͡Ŗ͟͝H̡͟G̵͢͜͡͞Ẃ̡͘͘Ę̷͘͜͠ĄV̵͟

͝͡Á̴͏;̨K̡̀͝D̛̕F̴̧̧͡͝J̶͜͞B҉͠N̷̨V̸̢͘̕͠'҉̧́͠A͏͏̶̷E̢͞͝A̴̸̢҉Ŗ̴̵̀Ȩ̵Ǵ̸̷́͡L̵̷҉̶J̶K̴̵͢͟͠Á̢B̛͝

́̕1̛̕7̛͡͠1̧͢҉6͘͘͟͠͝3̕͏̸͢7͠3̷͘4̛͢͞9̶̶̧͘͡8̢͠

̸͜͞͝͠9̴̵͡8́͜6̢͘͟͏͝5̛̛9̷̡̡̢̕7̶̕4͟͜6̵̀͘͠3̨̧

[SEQUENCE C̢͞Ơ̧̕͟R͢R̨̀́Ų̵͞PTED]

[SOURCE CODE OVERWRITING]

[SYSTEM FA̷͡I̴̡͘L͜Ę̶̕͡͝D̵̴]

7̶́͘͞9̧̧́̕͡3̴̷͢͢͟4̸́͘͜7̡͜͠8̡̛̀̕2̴̸̴͠3͡͞4̡͘͝͠8̧̨̛͠9̶̢1̷̡͝2̧͜5̶̨͘͠͝3҉̡̕͟͠7̕͜0̷̴͘͞͏6̷̸͢4҉͢͝1̀́͠͠3̸̨͢͡8̸̛͏̴͝9̶̕͜7̴̸̢̛0̷̀͢͡R̸̡͘͟2̸̴͡3͢͡͡҉

̶́E̸̛͠͡A̡͟͜͢͞Ḑ̧̧̛͝F̴̀͟͞H̴A̡E̶̕͡͏͠W̸͟͢H̡̀́͟͜T̴͡Ṕ͢͞Q̴̛̛͢3͡U̵͘͠͡Y̢͜4̨̕͢5̵́̕͝Ţ͏̵̧̛I̴̢͟E҉̡͢҉F̨̀͘͟͝U͘̕͜

͜Z̵̢6҉́͘2́͞3̷͠W͢͏Ę̴̛̕͝H͞͏̸̡Q҉҉́V̶̶E̴̵̡̛͝Ẃ̶̵Ǫ̶̷̧P̷͘͠Ù̧͘͠E͏͞Ẁ͘͝҉F̢̧I҉̷̵́͝U̶͜͟͟É̷F̡̀͏͜

 

Lost but found, shattered yet whole,

Alpha and Omega, split at the soul.

The Executioner waits with the others to join,

End and Beginning are just two sides of a coin.

 

Lost but found, shattered yet whole,

Alpha and Omega, split at the soul.

The Executioner waits with the others to join,

End and Beginning are just two sides of a coin.

 

Lost but found, shattered yet whole,

Alpha and Omega, split at the soul.

The Executioner waits with the others to join,

End and Beginning are just two sides of a coin.