"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."
~ H.P. Lovecraft
Chapter VI
Present Time
Year 2054
It is time for you to see the past, Mr. Nightwalker—for it all began before this world came to be—on a planet known as Xezeda. This is the story of the very first Painkiller.
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The arsonists burned down the shrine of Amáre, the holy monks perishing in the flames. The peasants watched in horror, their faces blanching at the sight. It was a perplexing scene indeed.
As he watched, Winston Erik Dark burned with anger, but not for the reason you might think. Why hadn’t they included him? Why hadn’t they invited him? He was astounded he had not been invited to the massacre, for he was the greatest of all. Unequaled. Unsurpassed. He was the greatest killer there ever was.
“They must be newbies, ones who aren’t in my contacts,” he thought. Even so, how dare they not invite the heretic, the Painkiller? Enraged, he swore on his beloved sword that he would hunt down each and every one of them with relentless madness. “May they perish in unending pain!” he screamed.
Yes, the first Painkiller was insane, psychologically unstable in nearly every way. He went mad from grief, misery, and anger. He was a monster created from the world’s evil, corruption, betrayal, heartbreak, death, and torture. From guilt and regret. From unending, ceaseless, eternal pain. . . does it sound familiar, Mr. Nightwalker?
“The havoc I’ll bring upon them... they’ll wish they were never born!” he said aloud, hysterically. “They’ll prefer the depths of hell to enduring my wrath. Yes. Yes! YES!”
He grabbed his dear sword and strolled out of the safe house, grimly satisfied with the future. He was going to have a good deal of fun with this. A very good deal of fun.
The devil laughed as he watched Winston Erik Dark—the first Painkiller—saw a man in half as the man hung from the ceiling, upside down. Winston cut to about the stomach before he stopped, then slashed the rope on which the man hung. The man fell headfirst onto the pavement with a sickening squelch, relieving Winston to an immense sense of euphoria.
“Only one left,” Winston thought sadly. Shivering and cowering on the floor was the last arsonist who had partaken in the massacre of Amáre. The man was sweating profusely as he sat in his own cold piss.
“Please, please make it fast,” the man whimpered. He had already accepted his fate after watching two dozen of his partners in crime plead for their lives, only to be toyed with like dolls.
Winston laughed. “You have not seen your punishment, for it shall take you and your sins to hell. I thought this one up a few months ago.” Winston hauled the man he previously sawed to the heap of crooks, already dead. Then, Winston pulled out a cage—large enough to stand in but no bigger. “Get in,” Winston commanded, a gruesome smirk plastered on his face.
The man was shaking uncontrollably, but after some difficulty, he gained enough composure to get into the cage. The Painkiller locked it and hung it from the ceiling with ease, his strength vast and ever expanding like the sins of men.
“P-Pl-Please, I b-beg you,” the man sobbed. “Be merciful. Make it fast, is all I ask.”
The Painkiller did not respond as he placed a bamboo plant under the man, inspecting it to ensure it would grow through the cage. He pulled a vial from his pocket, containing an ominous liquid with a graveyard crescent blue tint as the moonlight shone upon it through a high window. The man swore he glimpsed Winston’s mouth move, yet the uneasy, ever-abundant silence was all that was audible. Winston poured the vial of liquid onto the bamboo carefully before getting comfortable on his couch. Satisfied, Winston smiled and sat down. “Good night.”
The man’s screams that night were some of the most beautiful sounds the devil had ever heard. That’s when Lucifer knew he would be friends with Winston when he arrived in hell. A fine friendship indeed.
— The Morrow —
The market was bustling with people at dawn. The Painkiller was to meet with the head of the Southwest Mafia, a lizardman. “More like lizard freak,” Winston giggled thoughtfully.
The lizardmen were a hybrid species, half-lizard and half-human. Winston thought they were more lizard than human, even though they were still classified as mammals. They were typically six and a half to seven feet tall, their average height a little more than a foot taller than humans; although, there were abnormalities where some reached well beyond nine feet. Lizardmen often had a lizard head, a lizard tail, and long strong nails. They did not give birth to their offspring, as most mammals do, rather they laid eggs like most reptiles. The lizards would hatch; seventy percent of which would be lizardmen, while only thirty percent would be lizardwomen—though the race was called lizardmen, encompassing both sexes. They were one of Winston’s least liked species on Xezeda, mainly due to their egotistical personalities and lack of intelligence. You could say he had a long history with them. Winston simply hoped he didn’t lose his temper—else he kill everyone in proximity.
As he rounded the upper east corner of the marketplace entering neutral ground, he saw two women dressed in all black suits, along with the mafia’s staple bright yellow sunglasses. In the middle of the two stood the one and only mafia leader—Skartz. Even before Winston turned the corner, they had already known he was there. Three of Skartz’s assassins had been following him from his lighthouse to where he was now, obviously gathering intel on his every movement. The women and Skartz were already looking at the corner as he turned. “Time to change base 77.5.2 then, only lasted me a damn week,” Winston thought, annoyed yet content with how everything was going. All as planned.
Skartz gave him a flick of the head, signaling to walk around to the back. As he walked around, Winston had a creeping suspicion that something was up. It was normal for Skartz's group to track their business partners, yet his gut told him something was coming. His intuition was never wrong.
Arriving behind the building, he noted everything in sight. He analyzed each spot where someone could hide, took in every escape route—which tallied up to seven, most likely five of which were already prepared with ambushes and traps. He calculated the probabilities of the most effective and fastest ways to kill in this exact setting. He calculated each and every angle, wall length, and subtle change in the breeze—he was already near to flipping his switch. This was nothing new, though. The Painkiller did this in all of three seconds.
“Tch, you’re late, Winston.” That voice, hard against the ears like a hissing snake, belonged to only one person.
“My apologies, Skartz. What can I do for you today?”
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Glancing around, he saw no one. The two women and Skartz were nowhere in sight, yet the sound resided in his brain. Skartz must be an Interloper. That’s good to know, Winston thought, filing the information away. This was a surprise to Winston; he thought Skartz to be an Earthworker, but his intel must have been wrong. He had known Skartz for a long time, but information about him was hidden, keeping enemies at bay from the lack of it. It’d be careless to give away how powerful you are and what you are capable of—exactly proving Winston’s intuition right. Never would they give away intel such as this so carelessly.
Focus on your surroundings, Winston. You can’t get distracted! his sword screamed, inaudible to anyone but Winston.
Winston redirected his thoughts to the battle, silently thanking his sword. The main problem with telepathy was that it was a rare skill, meaning Winston couldn’t pinpoint what rank Skartz was as an Interloper—probably a Warden, maybe even higher—but it wasn’t much to go off of.
“You’ve caused me much grief lately. Those arsonists you killed were my men. You know what happens when you mess with the Mafia, don’t you, Winston? You die.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flash. On instinct, he ducked and rolled, bringing out his sword from its sheath.
“You’re messing with the wrong person,” Winston calmly said, licking his lips.
Five more flashes appeared, and Winston dodged all of them. They were stone bullets, the size of a finger. Just one hit and Winston would be done for. Even with his body protected with qi, he wouldn’t be able to sustain a hit from one of the bullets. Sending some of his aura into his eyes, he could see these were no ordinary stone bullets firing past him. They were the work of a Warden-ranked Earthworker. He’d be lucky to be able to walk if he were hit by one. Realizing this, an idea formed in his mind.
“Whizz! Thud! Crack!”
The bullets were coming in large numbers now, around twelve to fifteen per second. Each one of the women he saw before must be the ones firing. Judging from where the bullets were coming from—from all directions—meant that people were firing them. He still couldn’t see either of them, but he knew they were rotating around him, firing the stone bullets that could barely be seen by the eye. Each time a bullet hit the ground or went astray, the ground cratered, spraying dirt, stone, and grass into the air. He was starting to get fatigued now, every now and then forced to use his sword to deflect a bullet. If he didn’t figure out where they were hiding, he’d be stuck here forever.
Sending every bit of aura into his eyes, leaving his body defenseless, he saw the two women sprinting around him in the air, firing the bullets. Farther back, he saw a lizardman, chanting words with his hands raised, sweat beading his lizard-ugly face. A giant smile started to spread on Winston’s face as he locked eyes with Skartz, surprise evident on Skartz’s face now that he had been spotted.
“Kill him already, dammit!” Skartz screamed for the first time aloud, his voice laced with fear. “Kill that son of a bitch!”
Digging his feet into the ground and shifting half of his qi from his eyes to his legs, Winston leapt at the speed of lightning, leaving behind a giant crater where he once stood. He arrived right beside Skartz before he even had time to react. Winston whispered, “See you in hell.”
“Splorch! Crunch!”
“Master!”
Putting his now bloodied sword in its sheath, he held out his arm to the now frozen women, obviously in shock from what just happened in a flash of a second. “It’s a shame that I have to do this to such talented Tearings, but you should know never to pick a fight with the Painkiller.” Smirking, Winston clasped his hand on his outstretched arm, and the Tearings’ eyes started to bulge, and then...
“AHHHHHHH!” The two women screamed in unison just before both of their heads exploded, resulting in a giant flurry of gore. Bits and pieces of brain and bone flew in all directions.
“Lovely, how was that?”
It was amazing, as always, master, his sword said, the voice the same as Skartz’s a moment ago.
“So you inherited his ability of telepathy. Impressive work if I do say so myself. Such a shame you got such an ugly sounding voice, but it should work well for scaring people you communicate with, isn’t that right, Shadows?”
Precisely, master.
Winston turned his attention to the remaining three assassins, who were now converging on his position. One was an Earthworker, another an Interloper, and the last a Shifter. The Earthworker, a burly man with arms like tree trunks, raised his hands, causing the ground beneath Winston to tremble and crack. Pillars of earth shot up, attempting to ensnare him.
Winston leapt into the air, avoiding the pillars with ease. The Shifter, a slender woman with cold eyes, began to weave illusions around him, distorting his perception of reality. Shadows danced and twisted, obscuring his vision.
“You think parlor tricks will work on me?” Winston growled. He closed his eyes, focusing on his other senses. He could still hear their footsteps, feel the vibrations in the air. With a burst of speed, he charged toward the Shifter, his sword slicing through her illusions.
“Thwack! Swoosh!”
His blade found its mark, cutting through the Shifter’s defenses and leaving a deep gash across her torso. She fell to the ground, clutching the wound, her illusions dissipating like smoke.
The Interloper, a wiry man with piercing eyes, tried to invade Winston’s mind, seeking to paralyze him with telepathic assaults. Winston felt the pressure in his skull, the probing tendrils of thought attempting to root themselves in his consciousness. But Winston’s mind was a fortress, fortified by years of pain and suffering.
“Get out of my head!” he roared, channeling his qi into a mental barrier that repelled the Interloper’s attack. The force of his will sent the Interloper staggering back, clutching his head in agony.
With a swift motion, Winston closed the distance and plunged his sword into the Interloper’s chest, twisting the blade to ensure a fatal wound. The Interloper gasped, blood bubbling from his lips, and collapsed in a heap.
The Earthworker and another lizardman—who came from a nearby roof—remained. The Earthworker bellowed in rage, summoning a wall of earth to protect himself. The lizardman, seeing his opportunity, unleashed a torrent of flame from his hands, aiming to incinerate Winston where he stood.
Winston smirked, raising his hand and focusing his qi. The flames parted around him, redirected by his will. He charged through the inferno, emerging unscathed on the other side. The Earthworker’s wall of earth crumbled before his assault, his blade cutting through the man’s defenses like butter.
“Thwack! Thud! Crunch!”
The Earthworker’s head rolled across the ground, severed cleanly from his body. Winston turned to face the lizardman, who was now trembling with fear. “Please,” the lizardman begged, “have mercy.”
“Mercy?” Winston laughed darkly. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”
With a final, brutal swing of his sword, he ended the lizardman’s life, the creature’s body collapsing in a lifeless heap.
Satisfied, Winston cleaned his blade on the fallen Earthworker’s clothes and sheathed it. A bit disappointed that the fight was already over, he headed over to Skartz's corpse, scavenging a part of the brain. He then did the same for the women, walking back and finding pieces of both their brains. “You know what to do, Shadows. Go ahead.”
His sword started to radiate a black aura in its sheath, and soon Winston could feel the knowledge and powers of both Skartz and the two women. Rather, their names were Katherine and Emily. “Ah, so that’s how you got so strong,” Winston murmured.
Their training was done by a professional Tearing; Skartz must’ve paid a large sum of money to have him teach them. In fact, he was Winston’s former master, before he found out that his master was manipulating him, causing him to be the way he is today. He did teach Winston most of what he knew, as he was one of the most powerful Tearings in the world. He taught the two women for only half a year, yet they were already Warden ranked Earthworkers. That’s practically impossible. Usually, it takes ten to twenty years to achieve a Warden rank as an Earthworker. They were the easiest type of Tearing to rank up, but still. As an Interloper himself, he was at the Archon rank, the second highest rank you could possibly be. For an Interloper to reach the Archon rank, it usually takes a lifetime of training. Few ever reached such a feat, for you have to train your entire life for it. It only took Winston thirteen years to reach his rank. He was no doubt a prodigy Tearing. Interlopers had a much harder time getting their ranks up compared to Earthworkers. It sure pays off in the long run, Winston thought.
Out of nowhere, things turned black. When he regained his vision, the sky was no longer blue but replaced with a white void with no sun or clouds. Was he hallucinating?
A dark figure with black wings and claws appeared in front of him, radiating darkness. The pressure it emitted was unlike anything Winston had ever experienced before.
Winston knew he had no chance against this being, even as an Archon ranked Interloper. His body was telling him to run away, but he was frozen in fear. It slowly turned around and spoke, with a giant grin plastered on its demonic face.
“Winston Erik Dark, how it’s been such a joy to watch you, but I finally wanted to introduce myself. Don’t be afraid, you and I are much alike. This form is one anyone with my powers can possess, and I can give you that if it’s your desire. I hope we can make an exchange of sorts: you work for me, and I will train you so that you can reach the Sovereign rank and become a Shifter. What do you say, Painkiller?”
“Who are you? Give me your name, and I will accept your offer.”
“Very well. I am what mothers whisper to their babies at nighttime to frighten them. I am what children fear when they do a bad deed. I am misery and pain itself. I am what people call a monster. I am the strongest creature next to all the other Gods—I am. . . the Noctisanguis.”