Ashbringer stirred in her dreams, rolling over on the bed and dropping wet blankets on the floor. Her breathing was hard, each inhalation was a slow, painful struggle. She was half-dreaming; sweat was seeping from every pore on her body, but her fur and skin were as dry as the Ravaged Lands' morning ground.
He stood above her, coming half-way from the wall, spreading his hands and pale face over her body. His mere presence had already caused some uproar in the city. An elderly woman, who had lost her daughter during the siege, took her infant granddaughter and smothered her with a pillow until she died before hanging herself. Following an unexpected urge, a soldier of the Reclamation Army tried to take one of the locals by force, only to be shot by his CO. A survivor of the recent battle clawed her eyes out. As if they were raiders, a group of mercenaries attacked a trader caravan near the city, murdering everyone over a cheap haul. When the bloodthirst fell from their eyes, the men and women were horrified by their action, unsure of what to do.
And more of these similar things happened all around the city. Insects, who were the most susceptible to feeling his presence, were dying in droves. His mere presence ranked among a few hundred dead bodies. He reveled in their demise, of course, cheering as each disgusting life was sniffed out of this imperfect world.
Oh, how he longed to reveal himself in full and to claim what was rightfully his! To build a new race, one worthy of his excellence! Alas, now was not the time. He needed proper tools to ensure the safety of the most precious thing in existence. His life.
He whispered promises and words to this mutant, trying to tilt the stupid bitch off her conscience and lead her toward madness. The result is clear, so why are you resisting? He wondered. He was giving gifts left and right, always in exchange for making a deal with him to keep the back door open for him to slip in. His hooks were in many of the cockroaches infecting this ball of stone, but he was only interested in the ones that got strong. Let the meek die, only the strong matter for his goal. And this one in particular had become a person of interest. He will never let her go.
Are you hoping for this bomb near your heart? Is this your salvation? It won’t kill you. No, you will become my next champion, someone to replace Horseface. He teased her, spearing her sleep with dreams of thousands of skinned bodies, letting her taste their pain, sense the smell of blood and rot coming from them. Ah... He was having so much fun during the Extinction!
The woman gritted her fangs, enduring the most magnificent torture, living through the life of each and every person butchered and taken apart by him in the Divine Pit. He promised her sweet release if she would just let him in, if she would just let him make her happy and take away all her worries...
He frowned in disgust, feeling the presence of the others in Iterna. This fool. He would have killed his worthless sister by now if it hadn't been for...
A genuine fear washed over him. His brother began to move.
No! I will not let you have her! She is my tool, forever and ever! He recoiled in fear and anger. The mere existence of someone who could harm him enraged him to no end. The universe has no need for several gods!
Ashbringer whined, feeling his mind try to pry open her thoughts and change her. Still, she held on. This was fine. He has coveted her every single night since she lost her arm, unlocking the gift that he left in her years ago and attracting his attention in the process. He will keep doing so until she breaks down and gives in to his influence. The fact that deep inside her psyche she has a burning desire to be punished only helped him. At first, she unconsciously used this desire as another wall to bar his entrance in her dreams, but he had long since turned this around, flooding her sleep with soul-crushing guilt. It was only a matter of time.
After all, no cockroach can resist him for long. And once I have enough champions… You, brother vilest, and this revolting humanity will perish. This world is mine, and mine alone.
****
King put on the helmet and inhaled the recycled air, looking through the lens on the walls of his hidden resort. How long has it been since he last set foot here? Years, certainly, maybe even decades. It was here that he first found some semblance of peace from the outside world… And they formulated the plan together.
And then you betrayed me. The voice whined in the back of his consciousness. King ignored him, like he always did. Truth be told, he felt nothing but disgust toward this soft fool. He was born out of his need to be saved, to have someone to talk to. King gave him that and even more! So why isn’t he happy?
King walked around the room, scratching with his metal gauntlet across the surfaces of so many things. So many memories. Years of struggle, years of planning, comrades lost and gathered—the memories of it all were here.
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King was almost sad that it would all go up in flames. But such is life, none must know that they are alive. He walked toward the portraits of his comrades in arms. King never felt much for them, but his other self wept in him, looking at the faces of men and women he once called friends. The other painted them based on his memory, and King actually applauded the poor fool. If nothing else, he was a good painter.
Chort. It was so easy to guide him toward self-destruction. King merely played on his vanity and fear of being forgotten, stroking his ego when needed, and Chort pretty much did everything himself. Blaguna. Oh, this was a masterpiece. His other self stopped her from hanging herself after she nearly skinned her classmate, by talking her down. And then King took over, guiding the dialogue in the correct direction. He convinced her that there was nothing wrong with following her natural urges.
Yasen was next, looking magnificent even now. He had all the trappings of a true hero, so King had to work hard on him, erasing every pillar onto which the man could latch, aside from himself. Every hero, every worthy man and woman who helped Yasen move on... King let Blaguna have their way with them, and Yasen watched, paralyzed by fear. It didn't take long for the small man to abandon his notions of being a hero and trust King enough to believe that he was serious about getting rid of Blaguna and putting Yasen in charge. The next painting was Huntsman. This one was easy. One who scorned humans for judging him yet longed for human company so. Deep down, he was just a kid who never grew up and never understood why he was punished. Huntsman used to save various settlements around the Ravaged Lands from threats, never earning respect… Until King’s other self offered one.
Next were Jekaterina and Tlaltzin. Here King felt a little bit guilty. These were people he cared about and considered friends.
Why are you killing them then!? The other self screamed in the depths of King’s mind. We could have saved them! We could have made people’s lives better! We…
Calm yourself. I never killed any of them. The Reclaimers are the ones who ended them, not me.
You harmed and twisted them, or you allowed them to harm and twist themselves! You set them up! You did this to get their…
The other self tried to get control over their body, and King smiled, pushing the weakling down. Too little, too late. It was encouraging to see that the other had discovered bravery, but that was to be expected—he had created King! Ah, the little, weak, worthless fool is sad about losing his friends? King will give him even more—millions, if not billions! If only the cowardly fool could understand that King is working for their sake! He is building a true heaven for them, he can’t fret over a few cracked eggs!
But now, he needed a few more masterstrokes to disappear and start building anew. King walked toward the largest display and pressed a button, accepting the call. Despite the horror that washed over his body, he smiled under his helmet. The fool was caught in his net.
The screen flickered and showed an image of the man laying on the automatic bed. Green pupils looked at King, and Academician put his hands on his chest, looking a bit pale.
"I have heard that you bit the ground, King."
"The rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated, Academician," King confidently declared, "I am like a vengeful spirit that will forever rise from the grave to bite the reclaimers until the day when they fall for good. Never will I give up or bow."
"Inspiring," Academician responded in a dry tone. "Are you so eager to be turned into a ghost then? Our business was concluded, yet you dare bother me again."
"No jokes? No quips? What happened? You are looking a little worse for wear, my dear friend. Having problems with your heart, perhaps?"
"Now why would you say that?" Academician smiled and tilted his head to the left. One of his hands slid beneath his white lab coat and took out two vials. He showed King a vial filled with white liquid. "Have you ever heard of nightmare jellyfish by chance? It was a creature from the Old World. Upon touching its prey with tentacles, this beast injects a neurotoxin into the victim’s body, causing muscles to contract but not release. Such deaths would be a bit dull if not for the Irukandji syndrome that comes along with the neurotoxin. Do you know what it is, King? This syndrome causes a victim to feel a sense of impending doom so potent that the victim kills itself just to get rid of this nauseating feeling. This vial contains a far more potent version of this neurotoxin." Like a magician on a show, Academician showed the next vial to King, one filled with green dust. "This right here is a simple poison that robs your body of its ability to form blood knots, causing fatal hemorrhages all over the body. You die by bleeding from every possible orifice, including your eyes, mouth, and anus. Now, since you bothered me yourself, the choice is yours. How would you like to die?"
"I know where one of the glow crystals is." King lied, putting both hands behind his back.
Academician straightened, putting the vials back. With a minor difficulty, the man stood up from the bed, quickly joined by Green, coming closer to the screen and causing a tingle of fear in King. Not now. Now was not the time to fight against them. He needed them for one final part of his plan.
"Where is it?" Academician demanded to know.
"Beneath Fort Uglo," King kept on lying with a smile, "I know that you need the crystal. And I need to get rid of the reclaimers. If Fort Uglo falls into flames, Wyrm Lord will have to turn back, leaving me and my allies to maneuver freely. I can disable the fort’s securities, and then the Organization must unleash hell upon the fort. Do so, and the crystal is yours."
King stood there, smiling, waiting for the man's response. He already knew what it would be. The crystal was too tempting a prize for Academician to refuse it. Lying about this means Academician will pursue him to the end of the world, fully intending to kill him...
Fortunately, King only needs this lie to work just once. And once all is said and done, everyone will be at each other's throats, and King will be free to sneak into the shadows, biding his time and preparing his imminent return.
He has all the time in the world now.