For Onofre and Phernes, Zabulus was different in a similar way. He was blessed just as they were, they were blessed by the gods. He was blessed by the world.

That was the only difference between him and the Parahumans.

Only he had a connection with the world, a string, if it could even be called that, since it was so distant from here.

'So that's it. Your power is defined through that concept... That's one of your colors, a different truth.' The voice seemed satisfied, pleased, and amused. 'That's just like you though. To be something else that no one truly understands.'

Well, even if it could describe him any other way; he was exactly what he said.

...

Phernes approached Onofre, by putting his hand on her shoulder, "Don't stare for too long, you'll get the same look in your eyes."

She twitched. An unconscious and uncontrollable response that she had because it was such a jarring feeling, sudden touch wasn't her forte, however, her pride and haughtiness always got the better of her, "Like your eyes, are you insane? I'm not insane, you should become my cauldron! Maybe then you'll stop saying stupid things!" She responded, though not nearly as violently as any other person might, mostly because the enemy was dead, and because she knew the stench was something best avoided and a reaction like a violent kick or something of the sort might spur him to do something violent in response, the thought irritated her.

A normal response as he chuckled, and in a grand attempt to irritate her further, said the next phrase, "It's a shame we have that fool around then. He should've really just died back there."

Onofre's expression changed drastically, as if popping a bubble of her pride and inflating another one filled with annoyance; her face contorted, and the vein on her forehead began pulsing aggressively, and almost comically. Yet from his reaction, it wasn't going to end quickly, something about laughing maniacally like a crazy lunatic wasn't helping the mood.

From her perspective, anyone would freak out.

She attempted to keep her cool, "Shut up... why do you think you can say things like that?"

'What had gotten into him? Sure, he's an asshole, but come on, he was never this much of an idiot!' She had to refrain from screaming at him at that moment, because it was still considered a warzone even if the Amalgamates were dead. And in this place, he was considered of nearly equal rank to her.

It wasn't something to take lightly. As he was the very definition of 'power', and he didn't want that only physically, he wanted it mentally as well. All his respect for Onofre was simply a guise at this point, as his eyes held that look in them.

That look of crude and voracious desire, a will of nature itself.

Greed and Greed. The only way to describe him, these two were his most recognizable features, one could even define him through these traits; the lustful eyes, and the tooth-wearing smile.

This madness, it was maddening. A complete and total contradiction that made no sense.

...

Zabulus closed his 'eyes', total darkness where he stood. Even to the point that he lost all senses, temporarily.

Then a light, bright and flashy in every which way. 'It's your moon, isn't it?' was the voice that instinctively intruded on his psyche.

"Would you have this world end for the sake of that voice?" If you could picture that feeling of having a lump appear in your throat, Zabulus had it right now.

He turned and opened his eyes to glare at the speaker. Only to come face-to-face with an unworldly being.

"The idea of heaven, all things combined within a mass beyond your reach would become an abstraction... Everything would just be... An 'idea'. Yes, isn't that an absolute hell for a being such as us? Knowing you will not live and die, but be consumed. BECAUSE you were meant to consume everything else. Does that idea torment you now? Seeing my eyes as yours? Would you simply stay silent and play the fool? No, even with a mien a lie begets itself, there is no truer reality than the things you yourself have chosen." Stranded and lonely, not broken or unhinged, but rather bored. Entirely white like a canvas, empty without a thing to draw or color on it, it continued to speak.

"Isn't that much? To desire something. To possess and crave and urge and hunger and want. Eroding the self. The very humanity of man, over time, would slip away. Isn't that part of your 'desire' as well? To see and experience all things?" Being the epitome of its own will, and the truth.

Everything else could only wither away, and fall into nothing.

"What else but... But living the life of a 'Human' now?" Zabulus asked.

"...That is a peculiar question. Seeing how you are already not anything at all. A rent, an invisible scar on the very fabric of your soul breathes, and struggles and you live through that. Even when you tear asunder such a presence. As if being whole was a dream, a very meaningless existence at best." It looked Zabulus directly in the 'eyes', as it could take its gaze off of him.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"You want to live don't you? Then do whatever the hell you want. For me... such a world isn't interesting."

"W-what do you mean? I can't... I still can't go without guidance in this world. You saw how I lost myself to their flesh! I..." He was reminded of Alice. "I don't want to become like her." In a low and dejected voice, he uttered those words.

"I suppose an entity does need to be shown an obvious and clear thing or else it will get itself killed. Well, before anything else. That world, the memories in that body. Didn't they take precedence instead?" It sat down before him.

No, wait. Maybe it just teleported, whatever the case it was. It was there. "And, your eyes. Am I right in guessing that the Moon is your 'desire' too?"

"Whatever for would I need a 'desire'!? There is no fucking point when everything goes well! I wish for that!" Suddenly it smiled, and then the smile faded.

"The colors of a Red rose are not only what you see. One never gives such a superficial and misleading thought, and one can never understand and simply pass by, what beauty in the self can give. Do you think the rose was perforated, plucked till the last petal was torn; The Rose has some thorns, something far stronger than anyone can imagine, the Rose endures. The color of a rose is its most deadly feature." That was all it said to Zabulus, in his mind.

"Such riddles and ambiguities; all that was asked was to help me, yet you will not deliver on that alone, will you? I don't follow what you truly mean."

"This should be enough. Why would a soul yearn for its eyes, without even fully comprehending what the mind does in true darkness? I must leave you to deal with this predicament, aren't I now? Knowing the difference between good and evil, knowing the things between both... and what else isn't that but the power of emotions. What makes us desire is nothing compared to that which we hate and reject and kill. Hatred is like a 'Red', isn't it? Desire and happiness is pure 'White'. Everything will be as one believes in, however... The Truth is what we aim and strive for."

He found out one thing, that Zabulus' own color was a total black. "You live and survive for that sake alone, because there is no 'true death', it would be foolish of you to believe so. In the world your mother saw, she gave a great sacrifice in order to have your eyes replaced with that moon."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why do you think you were useful in the war? It's called a theorem. Parabellum. A theorem of war and peace and all that is in between, even desire itself. Your 'eye' is a fragment, no, something far more simple, a copy. If I can call such a thing such, maybe I cannot call something I have no connection to any better or any lesser in terms of worth. An ability is not something so weak as a 'tool'. It's more than that. Did you ever think to understand what the eye is?" It turned away and looked at the whiteness behind it.

Zabulus didn't say anything, keeping his lips shut, as his breathing seemed unsteady but normal.

"What is the exact opposite of self-preservation?"

"Self-destruction."

"Wrong. It's nothing. When a parahuman dies and loses its powers... who's to say that is the actual reaction? With that eye it isn't such a preposterous idea. Nothing, that is what they become. 'What' was always the question. 'What are you going to eat' and what would be the aftermath?" It spoke slowly and methodically. "Since 'nothing' is your color, what is the use of human attachments and ties to other things?"

Zabulus refused, he refused to listen or believe.

He found a true lie, but it wasn't his words that spoke falsehoods, it was its eyes.

"Nothing is what you are, to an extent." And suddenly it changed into a female.

"...Is that meant to be a similarity and an answer?" Her eyes never leave where they were, just like Alice.

"...I guess, so." It paused again. "Just... keep living life, Zaig()... Or is it still Zabulus...? Sorry if you don't get that, since I doubt I'll see you again, because I'll never recall your face as you change your eye. It's a little difficult to handle... that form." Then a smile, a brief smile. "The moon was always in the night. But in the midst of red fire, and the shining and radiant stars, no one shall remember that detail." Was the last thing he'd heard from the creature before his vision faded back to normal.

...

"Ixothrozophella! What happened while you were here? Are you okay!?" Someone spoke to the Junior named Ixothrozophella, which was odd and uncalled for.

Her arm was wounded, although it was unknown if she got into her own solo fight. Perhaps done in order to defend a teammate? No, something like this was unnecessary, and yet still expected, almost wished that they could have intervened.

Or perhaps 'remembers' is a better word?

But no, this wasn't the time for nostalgic references, no matter how insignificant they could be.

They'd just look like that, insufferable... and lonely. A complete turn around.

The aftermath was bleaker than usual.

Onofre was on edge, Zabulus was different, although she didn't know what. Or at least never asked him for all the moments they could talk.

Phernes' had no reason to care about Zabulus, and did not want to be involved with him. So he just walked away and back to the city.

Ixothrozophella recovered. Although her wounds were not from fighting the Amalgamates, yet rather more internal in the context of causing stress on her heart due to a different incident.

It'll all take a while, although 'the storm' had taken most of its strength.

When everything becomes dismal and desolate, the color itself becomes gray. All the same in the end. But the sun shined, the land was scarred, and the sky was on fire, filled with light.

Those in the middle of the blaze—were surely alive, Zabulus thought.

Is it going to really be the same outcome... He didn't manipulate anyone, though. He didn't do bad, he simply did what was best not only for him; but for everybody! Where's the wrong in that?

'I didn't do anything wrong, I'm not in the wrong for anything! I don't want to be miserable! I just wanted to...' A scream passed through his throat, but no words came out.

So then another, and another, until—

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

LIES!

TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE LIES!

HOW DARE THEY ATTEMPT TO DEFILE MY ACTIONS!?

YOU PIGS.