“Who am I?

His gaze wandered downwards. Waves continued ebbing calmly against his ankles while a slight breeze brushed against his bare skin. His entire body was aching.

Countless hours had passed since he had begun trudging through the mud, guided by a lonesome star which pierced through the greenish-black mist concealing everything.

But there was nothing. Neither day nor night, only himself and this forsaken world.

Even himself, he barely recognized. The reflection which rested beneath him was strangely foreign. His tall body was gaunt and sanguine hair cascaded down his back, so thin it occasionally swayed in the gentle breeze. Only his eyes exuded a faintly familiar sensation. They were testament that what remained hadn’t been an illusion.

Throughout his stay in this world, he had aggregated all fragments to the best of his abilities. However, piecing it back together was like trying to repair a broken mirror — once shattered, it proved futile.

And while he beheld this haphazard aggregation, he couldn’t help but feel that it was distorted. Or perhaps, he had been distorted. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

What he was sure of was that he’d been an actor. After graduating with a bachelor of theater, it didn’t take long for him to strike gold — the role for an indie horror movie gone viral.

Not long thereafter, a top-agent sought him out, and under the pseudonym of his first role — Deus Malus — , he signed a contract spanning several movies based on a series of popular novels. It was the recipe for success, and he was quick to gain a cult following.

Five years into his career, he experienced all ups and downs of the movie industry. There was an intoxicating charm to it, like a tasty fruit waiting to be plucked. However, the movie industry was rotten to the core. It was only a matter of time until the taste would turn putrid. 

And when he finally sobered up, all he cared about was bringing justice. In retrospect, he had been too reckless — his downfall was swift and merciless. 

And slowly, amidst his ambivalent recollections, the most damning thought of all crept its way into his mind. When he first awoke in this world, he didn’t dare direct his gaze upon it, but now, he couldn’t avert it anymore.

All these hazy memories, what did they amount to? He couldn’t remember his real name. He never ate. He tried to drink — not to quench his thirst, but a pointless attempt to maintain some sense of humanity. But there was no epiphany. Nothing.

His breath quickened, and he halted.

Why?

Deus cast his gaze onto his surroundings. The greenish-black mist continued to drift by, the calm waves continued to break softly, his only friend continued to shine below, pretending all was fine, that there was hope.

All this time, he held onto all these concepts conjured by the minds of society, deriving value from it. What did it amount to? Where did it lead him?

His expression grew more stern as he repeated, Why?

Beyond concepts such as expectations, morals, humanity, there is a single truth. 

His eyes locked onto the palm of his hand, clenching it into a fist.

It’s myself!

At this point, he made a silent vow to himself. If he was ever going to escape this place, he wasn’t going to be restrained anymore. He’d follow rules and play roles, but only for the sake of himself. And if death obstructed him, so be it.

All of the sudden, the wind seemed to pick up. A polyphony of countless whispers echoed from below where the star hung, varying in pitch but all piously devoted to a single cause. 

The Unyielding Light of the New Age,

Immediately, his eyes darted to its origin, only a couple of steps northwards, and from where subtle ripples disturbed the endless waves. 

The Apostate of Seven Kings,

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Transmuter of countless souls,

Heed our call as we offer this soul,

And as above, so below,

May their sacrifice amend your cord.

Lahom.

The entire plane of existence trembled slightly in response as if briefly awoken from a deep slumber. The ripples had now expanded far enough to reach his knees. In its center, a wooden door slowly arose, the trembling intensifying with each inch that it did, sending shivers down his spine.

Notwithstanding, his inaction turned into resolve and his forehead furrowed, determined to seize this opportunity. Whatever awaits me beyond this door, I’ll welcome it with open arms!

The door’s trembling subsided as its surge concluded. As he didn’t know how long until it’d descend into the earth again, he didn’t linger any longer and confidently strode towards it. It was an ordinary wooden door with a brass knob, and after closer inspection, it stood fixed by a door frame. He turned it, pushing it open and stepping inside.

At once, he lost his footing and plunged downwards, into a world enveloped in darkness, devoid of mist, waves and stars. His entire body faced the unrelenting harshness of wind resistance. A couple of breaths in, and his stomach twisted, questioning whether the fall would be equally endless. 

Suddenly, something — strangely cold, yet unmistakably human — grabbed at his leg and slowed his fall. However, the acceleration accumulated was too great, and his body swung to the side. Another three hands grabbed ahold of his body, stabilizing it, like a centipede reaching into the sky.

What’s happening? His mind raced as he tried making sense of the situation, but to no avail. It was simply too odd.

The next couple of minutes he could only describe as a violation, as countless hands grabbed at every inch of his body, passing him downwards. 

When he finally regained footing, a sharp pain pierced his navel. He groaned, his eyes shooting open. He was in a state of disorientation, kaleidoscopic images floating and whispers of dark figures reverberating all around him while a humid coldness clung to his skin. 

It took him a few seconds to recover, and when he did, his glance fell upon the reflection of a man slouched over his knees, his hands sprawled to the polished marble floor ornate in a whorl of red and black triangles.

Suddenly, a throbbing sensation emerged from his navel. He bit his lips and inspected that area. Blood dripped down his gouged navel, tainting the spotless floor. He frowned deeply. Any ordinary person would've passed out by now, either because of the intense stress or because of blood loss. 

However, Deus was experienced in retaining mental focus in situations of extreme stress, utilizing his control over his breath and body to slow his heart rate.

He suppressed the pain and analyzed, The chant combined with this strange situation — It’s not far fetched to say I’ve assumed the body of a cult’s sacrifice.

The man’s age was around forty, his wavy hair grayish-brown with a stubble below. His state was in evident dishevelment, appearing sweaty and unkempt. Contrary to his physical state, his attire was much more put-together, as he donned a light-brown coat complemented by a dark waistcoat and cravat which contrasted the white shirt beneath.

He squinched and thought, Since there’s already been an outcome, it’s fair to say this ritual is over. Given this body’s weakened immune system, there’s not much time until I’ll succumb to these wounds. At most, I’ll last another hour.

It’s final. When they’ll disassemble, I’ll flee and tend to my wounds. 

As he made up his mind, his gaze surveyed his surroundings. At his periphery, several figures murmured in an unknown language, their words echoing silently throughout the chamber. Pitch-black robes draped their bodies fully except the frontmost, whose robe parted, revealing vestments of red and gold. In his right hand, he carried a small silver dagger, its tip painted red.

That’s the leader. He immediately guessed, as the impulse to take a peek at his face grew. At this angle, he was sure to succeed, but what if they’d catch him? He shuddered at this scenario, and his rationale finally won him over. I’ve got to be cautious — my survival depends on this.

Suddenly, he noticed another particularity and pondered, Why don’t I understand them now, when they were easily intelligible earlier?

With limited clues, he didn’t come to a conclusion and waited. A few minutes which felt like an eternity passed until they seemed to have come to a decision and the first turned to walk up the stairs, his lengthy robe trailing behind.

At the sight of his leave, Deus’s heartbeat quickened slightly. Fabric covered his lower body, but he was sure what hid behind weren’t human legs, and he regained control over his breathing as his mind raced to find the right words.

Yes, they are gliding!

A few breaths after the first began moving, the others followed in a wet cacophony of disturbing squishing. 

Despite the circumstances, he knew this chance was the best he had at identifying these creatures. Coupled with his curiosity, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He summoned up all his courage, and mentally prepared for what was to come.

When his head rose slightly, the slouching immediately ceased. His heart dropped and he froze in place, instinctively holding his breath. Had they caught him? How?

He considered what to do next, If they find out I’m still alive, there’s no way out… My only option is to…

Thud!

Deus collapsed, his feeble body dropping onto the unforgiving floor. Beneath, a red puddle formed from which blood ran in between the marble tiles.