This one spoke to him the most.

It was the one mirror that had no reflection, but only seemed to shimmer and ripple as his vision was drawn to its surface.

His form came back. He regained some semblance of control. It was all so sudden—Maybe because the encounter with that woman threw him off so much that he lost focus and fell deep within himself—but that didn't matter now, now was the time to go forth and lay down his own rules. He thought he'd have more time to think about it, but all thoughts escaped his mind the second they appeared. The only things that he was capable of doing were going with his instinct.

And it drew him towards a single, lonely mirror that was reflecting no light, just a gray, dying hue.

...

Once in it, he's surrounded by an entire world made of these things; broken fragments of glass hanging suspended, the ground had nothing beneath it, support by nothing in this gravity-less zone.

"That's the wrong path." The voice told him.

"Stop being a pest, this is the way I chose, the one that I'll walk, the one that'll let me stand before God." His tone of voice wasn't scathing but it lacked sympathy, lack of life, it was simply emotionless. He still walked though, not knowing or caring for the voice within him.

A person sat in the distance, building a glass cage full of nothing but fragmented pieces, a shape slowly forming from inside it. It looked familiar, the form that the glass shards were molded into. They were jagged edges, sharp points.

This person must be pretty strong if they were able to sunder reality with such force—a metaphysical space ripped from its root and distorted to suit his will—to trap inside those many fragments he's crafted.

This should make anyone jealous of their power, but Zabulus understood this far beyond simple 'jealousy.' The familiarity was too strong. He knew them, even though their identities had been altered to such an extent that they had no resemblance of who they were in their original forms.

'Do I avoid them? Do I walk on?' Those were his thoughts.

"No, not now. You're meant to be a god, weren't you? What have you to fear?"

This familiarity was unfamiliar, the feeling felt foreign—because he remembered this happening, and knew it would happen. Perhaps it was an intended trap; but in the end, he gave in.

"Aaaaaand... that's another piece done. Phew~! So... how's it going for ya over here?" It's an unidentifiable voice. Neither male nor female.

In truth, Zabulus was unable to tell if this person was a male or a female due to their mixed appearance. One thing for sure was their face was weirdly attractive...

'No! Perish these thoughts!'

This was not a man or a woman—it was impossible to define, and most certainly not worthy of being one's standard.

"And who do we have here~?" The person leaned forward with a smile; their chest—shoulders bare—boiled with excitement and enthusiasm, excitement that he failed to catch.

It would seem they were getting quite happy at the sight of Zabulus, and their presence seemed... dangerous? No. He's already resolved his doubts about danger. It was dangerous in the sense that it would throw him off his rhythm, once again.

"...Ah! My apologies, I don't think you know me, but I do know you!" Their words came like those of an omen. It's almost as if this figure before him could predict his future—the worst part was that their tone was so friendly that he felt relaxed.

"Sorry, but who are you? I've never met anyone like you before." The figure seemed happy about his answer.

"Ahhh! Yes, yes. I have forgotten my manners, it seems." They bowed down in a humorous gesture. "But do not worry about knowing me. I am merely a part of your play. My name is Vadim, and you... Zabulus, are destined for greater things than simply being my player."

Zabulus kept quiet. He thought for a while. '...Well. Okay? What a fucking weirdo.' But his curiosity got the better of him, so he asked, "...How am I playing your game, here?"

Vadim's expression lit up as a cane suddenly manifested in their hand—No, was it always there? He couldn't tell, but he went with the logical explanation that he just didn't notice it. "You see... gods aren't exactly the end-all be-all. No no no, they are born, not by sheer coincidence, but because we were given them by something... otherworldly things! Or one otherworldly thing. And I want to know what that thing is. Hell, I want to find it and kill it." All of a sudden, right in-front of Zabulus' face, Vadim's expression grows serious as their eyes widen, "And you are the only puppy in this dog cage that can grow to destroy any of the three organs. This world is akin to a living organism; every part of it lives, every part of it is cyclic. So what happens? If you throw off the balance of a single organ, or destroy it, the entire body fails too."

"...You can't be talking about me destroying God...?" A bit uncertain of the implications here, Zabulus grew excited.

"God? I am talking about something beyond God. I am talking about something in an entirely different plane of reality. There's no word to describe this beyond saying that the world itself is inhabiting the vessel of every god. Do you understand me, Zabulus? You can destroy and kill. You can ruin the world and shatter, endlessly, every aspect and crevice of it. I only wish for this as well... Do you hear me, Zabulus? It will make the world burn up with great pride and enthusiasm! Only that, you will die with it too. That is, if you're okay with dying in such an undesirable way? Oh dear... How unfortunate. That would make this meaningless if that were so. I couldn't live with myself if I failed to make you mine! Oh... oh no... I didn't just talk too much did I? Have you been listening all this time?!"

He's heard their words and took them into his brain with great intensity, then he finally spoke... "What're you talking about? That's only something you can do if you're the one fighting on the stage. It'll be me, not you, killing God, not the other way around either. I already know what I'm capable of."

"Hmmm? Now where's this arrogance coming from?" Smirking as if the issue wasn't truly concerning themselves—which was probably true—their eyes gleamed as they placed their fingertip on Zabulus' chin and tilted his head upwards slightly to meet the glare of their shining irises.

This motion provoked a heated response that had him take their finger roughly in his teeth and chomp on it like a bear trap—this made Vadim pause and simply phase their finger through, back to the chin. "Little puppy, listen. I am a very nice person, but I don't take to threats lightly... No matter how many times I try to spare them, I can only stand to see such impudent behavior. Oh dear, no..." The cane now resembled a long-barrel musket of old, with a mop-handle made of smooth metal. "If I am seen doing the deed, then who can cleanse me of such filth?"

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All of Zabulus' words got caught up in his own throat as Vadim brought the barrel down against the side of his neck, placing a thumb gently on the hammer.

'This should do nicely...'

"Wait! Wait! I'll... I'll comply. What is it you want me to do!?" Zabulus pleaded as if forgetting something important.

"Oh?"

Really important.

"Then," What was it...? "Wipe your mouth."

"Um...?"

"Tsk." This wasn't it. He had to go deeper into his thoughts. "I'll have to think about this later..." Vadim shook their head.

Then their lips met as a soft glow spread from the corner of both their lips. He didn't feel so angry anymore, which is a good thing considering, but it felt wrong to Zabulus.

...!

As if shellshock ran through him—he shivered, nearly losing his footing, as his breath quickened and his skin felt cold—his brain was frozen in fear at the touch of that foreign matter.

'This can't happen...'

It wasn't just a physical kiss; it was more of a metaphysical sensation. They're having an out-of-body experience.

Vadim perhaps only wanted that kiss to see further into Zabulus' mind, but they unexpectedly enjoyed the taste of his lips, even without it, they'd already realized.

This man is perfect, both mind and soul—except the latter is a mess but who cares—it's him that I want!—Vadim thought.

As if being kept under a spell, Zabulus simply couldn't fight back.

Though Vadim nearly got greedy with it; they stopped and pulled back as a silvery fluid came flowing down Zabulus' chin like the waters of a creek, slowly growing heavier, dripping over his chest. "It's okay, my little puppy... It doesn't make you gay~!" Vadim cooed with a happy smile, "I'm not man nor woman after all! You can just think of me as an anomalous form, and feel a bit more at ease. Nothing like this has happened before and nothing will happen after—why not make it last for however short a time? No, let me stop before I get ahead of myself........Ah? Sorry, it's habit for me to want to share everything." Their voice was low but clear. Their hands on his shoulders. It felt odd—odd but warm. It wasn't something that should have been happening.

He wasn't meant for anything intimate or anything remotely romantic, he knew. He was meant to be a vessel for destruction!

So what's with this sensuousness?! Why was I shown such a world, a realm filled with lust and carnal desires—?! He wondered as he glared into the eyes of this enigmatic being with both hate and contempt—only seeing in Vadim's gaze, their heart, the happiness and love that came forth with him.

"Well then... Back on track, little puppy, back on track. Can't get distracted in a world where life isn't your only ally! Oh, and not to forget, time will be spent watching as each fragment is sculpted into the form of the ideal world. I'll see you again when the time's come..." Then, from Vadim's arms, rose a swirl of glass shards that surrounded him in a blur—in no less than a flash—a hole in reality was opened before Zabulus. "Go and enjoy your game of God."

...

Time continued to flow, and the anarchist was simply thrown right back where they left off.

He was falling...

A blurry vision, a confused brain, a pumping heart. He was happy in the end, but was it satisfactory to be 'happy' with none of your goals fulfilled? What was there left to hope for now? How do I save myself from this path of normalcy that has now become mine and the world's fate? It doesn't sit right with me; he thought.

"....'s.....'s....'s...."

...?

".....ir.....Sir!" A voice called out in a high-pitched squeak.

The anarchist stood up in his haze, eyes looking over the bright walls as the light poured down on his body.

"Sir, are you awake now? It seems that you have fallen ill on the grounds."

Zabulus closed his 'eyes' and opened them once more, renewing his vision and seeing the rot that is called this room he is in.

The stench... god this place stinks! The bed he's laying on is hard as stone and stained yellow. Not much space to move around, as if his body had no choice but to be stuck on a bed. There are only two small windows on the left and right, the sunlight filtering through them has cast a long shadow of the door, illuminating it with the same dull yellow and pale pink. His 'eye' flickered across the wall. 'Why the fuck was it pink?'

The young nurse appeared to have a smile on their face. She was likely trying to put on some front, he could tell when someone was putting on some lie, after all.

"Who are you? Where am I now?"

"Sorry sir... It seems you are confused, you were found sprawled in the middle of the floor a while ago, you appeared to be delirious, and began to speak of odd things, until you collapsed onto the ground. We brought you here to Onkhivol Hospital for immediate recovery, but it seems your body was fine! Except a mild cold perhaps? However... I think it would be best if you stay here a little longer."

He watched the young nurse—perhaps in some sort of morbid curiosity—but it wasn't like she really had much worth seeing, she was a sort of... irregular human. Her neck seemed to have a tattoo on it that resembled some extremely complex sword... no, an engraving? On the neck? That seriously must've hurt.

"I'm... yeah, yeah. I think I'm fine, can I leave now?"

She spun her head quickly back to him as she was inspecting something on the wall, her pink-ish ponytail bouncing behind her, as her now narrow eyes stared him down, her expression turned harsh. "Absolutely not."

She was looking at a cabinet of vials now; the mirror behind it had several black and gray blotches on it. "Can I just walk out? I assure you I am fine."

'Why don't I just kill this woman? Nothing should be keeping me...' Then he recalled the kiss... Causing him to calm his thoughts a little.

"Yeah, you can't." The young nurse shut the cabinet and turned back around to face the bed.

"Then why?"

Her lips pressed together into a tight-lipped frown, eyebrows furrowing as her voice trembled at the sounds of the words spoken, she let her hand rest on her hip and shifted the weight to one foot, leaning sideways to accentuate her firm tone, "You... You're not here to act crazy, and just... we don't let patients out just when they ask, especially not your species."

He had to stare for a minute. The word 'species' had completely thrown him off guard. Zabulus almost asked a question that would've made him seem legitimately crazy, so he held it off.

"Then what am I to do, just lay in this bed until you say otherwise?! Who are you to make those decisions anyway?! What's your name?!"

Her stern expression faded as she responded, "My name... isn't important...!" ...Silence ensued for a good few seconds before she continued, "It's Onofre, I don't have a last name and—" As if about to say something she shouldn't have, she stops. "Well... you're gonna have to spend a week here, then you'll be sent off somewhere. You might want to take it slow for a bit, ya know. Now, extend your arm, I'm gonna have to take a blood test."

In a split second decision; Zabulus stood up and attempted to run and open the door, but he was caught by her arm. It was fast too... far faster than his.

Her grip... was tight. So tight he thought his arm might pop out. He almost instinctively attempted to kick her or something... but decided not to. If she was this strong then he stood no chance.

Which was actually to his advantage. After all, he figured, that he could not die. He is God after all!

"Sir! I'm going to need you to calm down!" As quick as she spoke, Onofre inserted some sort of tranquilizer into his bicep that numbed the nerves.

"How the f—" As he slumped backward and fell on the bed, his vision was dizzy, and his whole world became a mixture of blurriness. He heard her walk away, felt her lean forward, and saw the reflection of her face in his right 'eye' as he struggled to breathe and move.

"My... god... damn it...!"

'Loss, after loss, after loss! Even in my most lasting endeavor, the will to oppose is constantly eroding... none of this is right... the world... is working against me...' And so he began to envision a path of revenge and annihilation as he began to fall to sleep once more.