The grand beast of history, its name eternal

Fragile yet permanent,

Forgotten yet unforgettable

Even if you do not search for it,

Try your best to ignore it

It will find you,

It will haunt you and

Shape the world

However, an eternity of truths will be lost to time

Only its echoes remaining

The elders will seep into the soil,

Alongside the untold tales

That is the duality

I trust history not with my mind, but with my heart

Not with the pages, but with my eyes

For I have faith in men, but not in time.

* Jove Caine, For The Children, 2152

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Soon, security arrived and secured the premises with yellow tape. The cross itself seemed unable to move, stuck in the same location from when it fell. The crimson aura almost seemed liquid to anyone who could perceive it, the black and red patterns spilling across the floor. It was obvious to all that this relic was evil in nature, yet the guards were unable to remove it safely as if the cross itself was resisting.

The blade was still there when Sivrit, Attila and Ayn all returned from shopping for clothes. They had all received new garments, Even with modern clothes for men, Ayn’s femininity still shined through, even being pressured to buy a variety of women’s clothes by a salesperson. Since she had good intentions, he eventually folded under the pressure.

“We could also get some unisex clothes if you’d like,” said Sivrit as the group walked by the stores.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Thanks but no thanks… I’ll do well with the gifts I received already.”

“It’s really fine, you know? Money isn’t a problem.”

“Siv…” said Attila.

“What?”

“Never mind…”

From the cross’s perspective, it could sense both the visual reception of photons as well as the flow of mana particles. Additionally, it had the rare ability to extract information from the icho of its surroundings, such as stats; strength, speed, defence, magic and hax. It helped the weapon identify its next host — a being within the golden range, not too weak, not too powerful. After careful consideration regarding hundreds of candidates, the cross finally made its choice. Though it would need someone to move it to its next target.

One of the guards standing his ground was minding his business, thinking about what he’d eat for dinner. However, he suddenly felt coldness emanating from the impact zone, the chilling stare from the abyss. All six eyes gathered at his visage, and the surrounding area turned to shadows only for him.

One step.

He made forward, allured by the siren song of silence.

Two step.

It was not carnal desire nor instinctual, but a strange force compelled him down the large crater.

Three step.

The darkness enveloped him like a fog, the mall’s lights turning to dark only to be eviscerated by the void.

Four step.

The man made contact with the cross. It was cold, as cold as a block of ice — but not unpleasant. It was cool like death, the pleasure of giving up, the peace in the snow. The final slumber in the mountain.

However, he suddenly felt that something was watching him — other than the six eyes of the cross. The guard turned around and readied his blade, only to find it nowhere. He was not in his uniform, but in a loosely fitting white garment, the most comfortable clothes he had ever seen, felt or imagined.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. First, it's snout to its tail — if you could call it one.

It was like a massive, cursed flower of flesh, its six eyes oriented in the same way as the cross. However, the center pointed to by the large eyes was not positioned a mouth, but a glass sphere filled to the brim with brainlike substances.

The man stumbled back in fear only to fall. Now he had a better look of the beast. Apart from the head of the flower, made mostly of exposed flesh and teeth, its body was more in line with an octopus — if octopuses lived on land. The sixteen tentacles were constructed from bones, perhaps the spinal cord. They almost seemed freshly harvested, the bones unsightly red stinking of iron. It trod the ground with a great crack of a whip every time it landed, or at least it seemed it would’ve in the real world.

Within this void, the man could not scream.

Darkness.