Chapter 11: Revelation

"Casanova." Gray said, bringing his gaze towards the man.

"I'm here," he replied.

Realizing of how many times he met Casanova in the last days, Gray couldn't help but feel bad for the man.

"This perhaps is the fourth time I'm interrupting his job. I can't forget to ask for his phone number…" he thought, ashamed.

Casanova, knowing that the young man had something important to tell him, brought a bag and immediately went out of the villa, following Gray in silence.

Unconsciously, the two went on the same neighborhood where Gray had embarrassed himself by mistaking where the sun rose.

He immediately cringed at the sight of it, wishing to forget about the event.

And just as he was thinking of what to say, Casanova broke the silence.

"Did you get an another dream?" he asked, his tone stern yet calm.

His voice took him by surprise, scaring him for a brief second. "No,” he shook his head. “Not this time.”

"I think that—" he stammered. "I think I've met a Nephilim,"

The air grew increasingly tense, the shadows in the warehouse seemed to have grown in size, as if a monster was lurking inside them, ready to strike.

Gray started to feel a weight on his chest, as if someone, or 'something else' was standing on it.

Some crows that were on the abandoned buildings close to them started flying erratically, almost bumping among their own, their cries echoing across the street.

"Are you sure, Gray?"

Casanova's voice was extremely low, as it came from the pits of hell.

The man looked around him, inspecting the place thoroughly.

During this act, Gray noticed that his once deep, green eyes had an orange tint, like the last time.

Casanova stayed silent for some moments before telling him to continue speaking.

Afraid of the consequences of being late, Gray started talking immediately,

”I'm not sure. This morning, when I was walking up the stairs, I felt the same horrifying feeling of being watched like I told you the last times."

"I initially thought there wasn't anyone like always, but when I turned around, I saw a girl behind me. I thought that maybe—she could be the one who was watching me all along.”

”The girl knew my name, and when I came to class she was staring back at me, an indecipherable smile etched upon her face."

"I wasn't able to remember the girl at first because of my memory issues, but I later found out that she's my classmate, her name is Nekare."

Casanova then looked visibly less tense than before.

"I will help you. However, I must warn you—cover your eyes."

"What do you mean?" he asked, but the man didn’t reply.

Casanova slowly brought his hand to his face, situating his thumb near his right eye.

He applied a slight pressure to its corner, increasing it with every passing second.

"H-huh?" Gray was confused.

Casanova took a deep breath, grabbed the protruding eye with his index finger, ripping it out.

It made a 'plop' sound.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!" Gray dry heaved, almost puking at the sight of it.

Taking a few seconds, Casanova took a tissue from his pocket and rubbed his eye socket in a gentle manner.

Then, he took an another tissue and put the eye inside it, staining it pink.

A streak of blood quickly rushed out of his socket, causing him get a tissue again.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?"

Without saying anything, he walked towards Gray, and brought the hand holding his right eye forward, as if he was showing it to him.

Thankfully, it was inside the tissue. If it hadn't been inside, he would’ve fainted.

“This eye has the ability to foresee any danger supposed befall on its user.”

”Tomorrow, point it at the girl. If the eye turns blood-red red, it means she's dangerous and actively planning on harming you.”

”It has an activation period lasting 3 seconds, you'll know that the process has activated once the eye changes color, acquiring an orange tint.”

“If she's not dangerous, the iris will turn a milky white.”

Gray stared at the pink tissue for some moments, an expression of disgust locked in his face.

"I told you it wouldn't be nice to watch," Casanova shook his head, "Take it."

The young man broke free from his daze and brought his shaking arm forward, regretting the choice of not covering his eyes.

Gray felt his body cringe in extreme repulsion as he caught the pinkish tissue.

The man, still bleeding from his eye socket, said with a slight smile, "Its name is Dusk Catcher, treat it well."

So I'm not the only one who names his ability…

Gray put the tissue inside his pocket, not wanting to lose it. His left pocket became slightly wet, making him wish for death.

Doing his best to stop thinking of the horrid sensation, Gray started speaking,

"Can I get your phone number? If I were to be inside a dangerous situation, I wouldn't have the means to contact you."

"I can't bother you while you're working too…" he scratched his nose, embarrassed.

Casanova thought for a moment and nodded, telling him to wait a few seconds.

"You're not going to pluck your other eye out… right?" Gray shivered as he thought of it.

The man shook his head and started to check inside his bag.

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

The young man could see it was filled with wires and strange instruments he couldn't recognize.

Nonetheless, he theorized they were related to his job.

He then took out what looked like a dark brick.

After he handed it over, Gray inspected it, realizing it was an old walkie talkie.

The man explained how it worked, reassuring that it worked no matter the distance.

He nodded, relieved of being able to contact Casanova no matter the time or place where he was situated.

And noticing that it was the right moment, he decided to inquire for more information about his new world,

"C-Casanova, how do the other Nephilim get their abilities? Do they just wake up and they gain them? Or are they born like that?"

‘If a Nephilim can be born, it'd mean they would have a tremendous amount of experience with their abilities, and an advantage against those like me, who have just manifested them…’ he thought inwardly.

The more he knew, the more likely he was to survive—although he was afraid the poles would invert once he knew too much.

Casanova stared at him for some moments with a complicated expression marked in his face.

Gray Montoya could never figure out fully what went on his mind, only some hunches, but in this moment, it was like he had ventured into a completely unknown realm.

His head spun into various directions, trying to figure if he had said something wrong.

The grumpy, old man broke out of his daze, and with his slightly raspy voice said, "If you ever were to speak with an another Nephilim, don't do the mistake of asking them how they acquired their abilities. For some, it may be considered as an extreme offense, even worthy of death."

Utterly confused and demoralized, the young man nodded and started thinking of what was the reason behind this 'offense.'

But no matter of how much he thought about it, he just couldn't find the meaning behind it.

Casanova then broke his stream of thoughts by beginning to speak.

"There are uncountable ways for someone to become a Nephilim. However, most if not all of them have a pattern."

"And the pattern is the contact with the otherworldly."

"Some may discover their abilities once they see an entity who doesn't belong to Earth; others may become a Nephilim after stepping into an unknown realm; while some just from reading an ancient book."

"It's as if the 'arcane' corrupts us after being in contact with it—changing us, molding our cells and souls to become gradually closer to it, resembling a virus whose only purpose is replicating itself eternally."

Gray was quite shaken by his comparison.

"If there are many ways, why is the Nephilim population so scarce?"

Casanova slowly nodded.

"Paranormal events don't occur often—and if they do, most of the times nobody is there."

"Not many people know this, but humanity has a kind of sixth sense that makes them avoid the places where something supernatural has happened, or will happen."

"However, if they ignore their gut feeling and see the unfathomable; it's highly likely they won't survive the encounter—and if they do, the chances of gaining an ability are extremely still extremely slim."

"I understand." Gray said, hoping that his sister wouldn't have an experience with the otherworldly.

The thought of her being in danger shook him to the core.

"So, if one of them shows their abilities to a normal person, does it mean they're going to gain an ability themselves?" he continued.

"It's possible, but the chances are almost nonexistent."

‘I'm glad. I won't harm Kathy just by being close to her.’ he thought, relieved.

Gray then stopped for a moment, doing the best to rephrase his following question in a way that Casanova wouldn't find threatening.

He rehearsed and rehearsed, but couldn't find the right words.

Defeated, he decided to tell things as they were. "Casanova,"

The man brought his gaze back at him, his brow slightly raised.

"What's the most efficient method to slay a Nephilim?"

The man's green eye widened, his mouth slightly agape.

He stayed in silence for a brief moment. And then, he began walking towards him, slowly.

Gray stepped back unconsciously, worried about the man's successive actions. But when he reached him, he simply put his left hand on Gray's shoulder.

Somehow, he felt that the man understood his worries, as if he himself had faced in his long life.

"Such methods do not exist.”

”There’s not a way to kill every Nephilim with the same modus operandi. The ways different from every being, for you have to take account of your abilities and theirs."

"If you had the ability to control fire, you could slay the Nephilim who doesn't have an ability protecting them from the attack.”

”But if you were to find someone who counters fire, you would die.”

"There are simply way too many variables."

Gray smiled wryly.

He was aware that his question was ridiculous; however, he wanted to rely on the small glimmer of hope that they possessed a kind of kryptonite.

He hoped they had one, so he, the weakest of the weaker Nephilim, would be able to face against the strongest, all to protect his dear sister.

Now, he was sure.

He simply was unable to defeat any enemy. And if one were to encounter Kathy—to subject her to any sinister dangers, she would die.

Casanova looked at him, aware of the new responsibilities the boy had to carry.

The man smiled softly at Gray, reminiscing of his own childhood.

"I will watch over you. Once you're done with the girl, come to the same warehouse where we met."

He chuckled, "I unfortunately cannot let you keep Dusk Catcher. It's already hard to watch over you with only one eye," the man joked around, and it was the second time Gray had ever seen it happen.

Casanova removed his hand from his shoulder and told him to go back home to relax.

"Yes." Gray felt subject to the pressure of fear.

He turned around and started making his way towards home when after more than four minutes, he stopped in his tracks.

He forgot to tell him about the monolith!

Gray Montoya turned around abruptly.

Since Casanova's figure had already started to walk away a long time ago, he yelled as hard as he could,

”WAIT, I FORGOT TO TELL YOU SOMETHING IMPORTANT!”

Even though the man was extremely far, his innately good hearing made him feel the boy's voice as if he was right next to him.

Because of this, Casanova turned around and calmly walked towards the young man.

Once he saw that Casanova had actually heard his, he was amazed from the man's capabilities.

He couldn't help but feel a bit jealous; his desire to attain enough strength to protect Kathy was clear.

When the two met, he immediately started talking, afraid to forget again.

"When I was inside my first dream, I saw this bizarre Monolith that loomed in the middle of my living room, do you kn—"

In the middle of his sentence, Gray felt a prickling sensation at his nape.

He brushed it off, thinking that some insect had bitten him.

Just there, he felt observed—seen my an unknown, malicious being.

His breath quickened, and soon after, a cold, freezing hand grabbed the back of his neck, carving unknown symbols and other esoteric sigils with its disgustingly sharp nails.

He slowly turned his head, fearing of what ungodly abomination was going to reciprocate his gaze.

His mind spun, conceiving a thousand of horrid characteristics that shook him to the core.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Once he turned around, however, he only saw the worn buildings of the abandoned neighborhood he was in.

He exhaled deeply, ready to tell Casanova what he had just felt.

Still covered in cold sweat, he turned around to face the man once more, relieved that nothing had happened.

And once he saw 'Him,' he screamed with fear.

In the place of Casanova, stood the ancient Monolith, his stature holy and imposing.

Gray immediately felt as if earth's gravity had increased immensely, making his body bend forcefully, evoking an extreme pain from his scrawny body.

He couldn't move his body freely and was stuck in a kneeling position, barely able to move his head.

He shrieked with pain, his bones cracking and his muscles tearing.

The pressure kept on increasing and increasing, forcing his head on the ground.

To his shock, he saw Casanova's 'body' lay on the floor.

He lacked any organs and it lacked any blood; it lacked anything that would make someone refer to him as 'human', bearing no resemblance to the man he had known. The skin was saggy and tremendously old, as if he had lived for hundreds, if not thousand years.

Fuming with rage, he roared at the top of his lungs, slowly raising his head in defiance.

He stared down at His Majesty when all of a sudden, a long streak of blood started to cover The Monolith's figure, rendering him unable to see the patterns marking Him.

The gravity increased again, cracking and shattering the bones in his body.

But due to his unwavering will, he raised his head even more, staring above The King in protest.

Gray Montoya gazed at the sky, becoming a witness of the sublime, incoherent and chaotic end of the world.

Faced with pure divinity, his mind started to break.

He laughed maniacally, tears of blood flowing through his face.

2,345,819,009,641 galaxies had started to fuse with each-other.

They unraveled their mighty spirals, forming long, dangly arms made of an unfathomable amount of stars to connect with the galaxies closer to them.

Every single galaxy did as He commanded.

The sky darkened.

All of the matter existing within the universe had all joined a growing singularity, creating a pulsing, gargantuan eye staring back at him, uttering sibilant curses at his rebellion towards The Monolith.

Near the nucleus of the eternal eye, swirling flashes of light orbited theirselves perpetually, creating enormous waves that carved and eroded the fabric of reality, tearing it down.

They danced as the universe shook and bled from every corner, eternally grateful for the return of Their Majesty.

A voice that seemed to belong to a countless amount of men and women then started to chant ethereally, permeating the universe with its holiness.

This is not the first time He witnessed this—and it won't be the last. Everything that happened had and will be wiped once more.

This is His will, the will of The Monolith.

Just then, Gray’s neck shattered into a thousand pieces, his torn and twisted bones shooting right through his flesh, waves upon waves of blood pouring out.

…

Gray stared at Casanova's moving figure, his eyes devoid of any minute emotion.

As the man got out of his view, he collapsed.