The Master
Spider fell for what seemed like years. The pain had disappeared long ago; he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t tell if he was falling down or up; maybe it was sideways? As Spider fell, the universe expanded before him. Galaxies and the cosmos themselves drifted past him. Like a comet, the child fell in between planes of existence, seeing the very fabric of reality itself.
He had flown past Zion at indescribable speed, too hurt to land. So onward he traveled, stuck in limbo as the momentum and speed of his fall propelled him along the astral plane. His mind was shattered, infinity before his eyes. As he stared into the nothingness and everything that is life, the abys stared back. The gut-wrenching, soul-shattering realization of how insignificant he was ravaged Spider’s mind.
At this point, he could not move anything. He couldn’t feel his body; all he saw was white light which had been his physical body as he went onward. As Spider ascended, he saw the trillions of universes below him, many realities, and galaxies beneath, above, and within him. As he traveled, he saw the entire structure of literally everything. Each dimension was like a bookshelf, housing trillions of worlds. As the shelves advanced upward, Spider realized there were not infinite dimensions, but nine, with dividers per shelf. The captain could not mentally grasp what he saw.
To any mortal, his view would be that of actual infinity. The current of time bending and weaving. It was all a lie; human physics was a joke. The actual universe was energy and momentum. Cause and consequence. The levers of creation itself were before him. There was no multiverse, merely one real mind boggling shelf or tree like structure with infinite levels that held an endless number of worlds and civilizations.
As he traveled, Spider saw his body. It departed from sight, his metal limbs and flesh evaporating. Yet he could still think, see, and dream. Onward he flew. Suddenly, pure white light appeared, and he landed.
Captain Spider could see nothing. He opened his eyes and saw a beach with water, so pure one could see creatures swimming around, just like Oasis back home. Yet, he felt as if he lay on soft, fine sand. Air-filled his lunges, confusion writhing in his mind.
Spider screamed, grabbing his face and clawing at his skin. Tears and pain gushed from him as he cried out and flailed. Slowly, his mind calmed, the pain and terror ebbing away from him. He settled himself, staring at the stars. He did not recognize them all.
With a hand, he wiped the tears from his eyes. He inspected the limb and realized it was much bigger than he remembered. Spider raised his other hand, then tried checking his metal limbs. They were gone.
Spider slowly pushed himself off the ground, sitting on the beach. His limbs were far longer than he remembered. And there was body hair now. He crawled over to the water and looked down. A man, fifty-one years old, stared back. Spider screeched, scrambling away from the water.
“What the hell!” he roared.
Spider paused.
“Hello?” he said.
Wonder filled him.
“Stutter? Snakes? Slippers? Wigwam!” Spider cried.
He spoke with a much older voice, but there was no stutter.
Spider laughed manically, standing up. He looked down at his fully grown body, then jumped for joy, doing a little dance. Suddenly, his memory flooded back to him. Anger filled him, remembering the Zeta massacre.
Spider paced up and down the beach, too fearful of leaving. The beach itself was excellent, the pure white sand pressing between his toes, the clear water, the calm breeze, the green grass, and the trees. Spider remembered a place he had been to on a version of Earth called Hawaii, but this area was twenty, no, fifty, no, one hundred times better.
A gong chimed in the distance. Spider stood in place, gazing nervously at the mountain top far beyond the beach, where the sound came from. A sandy pathway wound its way from the beach, leading up far beyond to the very mountain peak. Spider could see some sort of building sitting atop the mountain in the far distance.
He sighed, might as well. He walked forward, nearing the path entrance. At the start of the trail, a shrine made of stone stood. It housed a small deity statue with many incenses burning. A simple grey robe, wooden sandals, bamboo hat, and a bamboo walking stick lay in front of the shrine. It was now that Spider embarrassingly realized he was naked.
Spider hurriedly dawned the modest clothing, putting the hat on, then grabbing the walking stick. He then slowly began the journey. It took many hours, but the trip was pleasant, calm, and serene as he traveled. As he walked, creatures and birds sang their tune from the dense jungle to his right and left.
Time did not seem to pass here, as the sun stayed in place. He was sure it was nighttime, but it still seemed pleasant mid-afternoon. Onward he traveled, eventually reaching the top. It was here that he fully saw the temple.
There were no shrines, no murals, no signs of life, merely an empty husk of a building that stood tall and proud. The temple itself was titanic, easily several stories tall, yet quaint and humble. Its walls and chambers are bright sea blue and fiery red, the tiles on the roof curved and extraordinary. A large arch stood in the center of the outer wall, and Spider walked through.
Inside the temple lay a courtyard with small green trees standing amongst a sea of well-tended sand. Spider had encountered mountaintop monasteries with monks who bore orange clothing on his travels. This place most certainly mimicked, if not was, the very kind of environment those monks strove for.
In the center of the courtyard, led to by a stone pathway, sat a man cross-legged. He was ancient, his Asian features wise and calm, a pure white beard several head to toe lengths long, wound neatly around him on the ground. The man wore only a simple grey wool tunic wrapped around his waist, concealing from his knees to his lower abdomen. The old man wore nothing else.
His hands were pressed together in prayer, eyes closed, incense burning by his feet. A teapot rested on a small fire oven, small wisps of smoke rising from the burning kettle.
Spider took off his hat and bowed. He then slowly walked down the stone pathway. The Sentinel did not open an eye or move a muscle as he approached the old man. Spider slowly sat down, cross-legged, across from the man.
The two sat in complete silence. Time passed, both steadily and quietly breathing. Then, the old man opened his eyes. He had no pupils, his eyes merely milky pools of white. And yet, despite his clearly non-human appearance, Spider felt at ease. There was no threat from this being.
“Welcome,” The sentinel bowed from the waist.
Spider reciprocated the greeting.
“Tea?” the old man asked happily.
Spider nodded silently.
The old man slowly grabbed the kettle, his wrinkled hands calmly pouring tea into the open air. Spider wanted to say something, warn him; perhaps he was blind. But he remained silent. Before the tea hit the sand, two small ceramic cups appeared out of thin air, pooling the steaming tea within.
The old man finished pouring, setting down the kettle. He motioned with a hand, and the cup of tea floated across from him into Spider’s hand. Spider held the cup, the warmth creeping into his hand. Birds chirped happily in the distance.
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“Am I dead?” Spider asked finally.
The old man grinned.
“Are you dead?” he asked.
“My life ended. I was killed in battle,” Spider nodded grimly.
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
“And yet, here we are, sipping tea.”
“So, I am alive?”
“What is alive?”
Spider was silent.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“This place is here.”
“And where is here?”
“Where everything else is.”
“Who are you?”
“I am who your mind perceives I am.”
“But what are you?”
The old man chuckled.
“I am everything. And nothing. You are the first in a very long period to come here. I hope you enjoy the environment; I ensured it would seem familiar to you.”
“So, this is not a temple?” Spider asked.
“No,” The old man said, smiling.
“This is an illusion?”
“Yes. But you are physically here.”
“Why the illusion?” Spider asked.
“You are incapable of grasping neither what I nor this place are,” The old man sighed.
“Not yet.”
The old man chuckled.
“I hope that is the case. Why are you here?”
Spider was silent.
“I don’t know.” He said finally.
“What is it that you desire.”
Spider contemplated.
“I desire the strength to defend those who cannot defend themselves,” Spider said finally.
The Sentinel arched an eyebrow.
“Power?” he asked.
“No.”
“Wealth?”
“No.”
“Weapons?”
“I can make weapons.”
“These things can protect the innocent,” The Sentinel said coyly.
“I possessed those things. I desire true strength.”
“Why?”
“Because I understand what it means to be weak. I cannot escape this feeling, but what I desire is to prevent others from suffering what I felt.”
The old man nodded.
“I see a great deal of suffering in your existence.”
Spider grimaced. The Sentinel spoke again.
“Be warned: if you wish to return as before, go back the way you came. If you wish to continue, you will never again be what you perceive as normal.”
“Normal is a lie. We merely see our reflections each day, perceive this as our reality,” Spider said.
The Sentinel smiled.
“One can recite truth, yet not believe. Do you truly understand yourself?”
“No. And I never will.”
The Sentinel nodded.
“It is rare to meet an individual who understands this truth. I see you paid attention from the last time we spoke.”
“We have met before?” Spider asked.
“Oh yes.”
“When?”
“The few who truly walk the path of enlightenment have spoken but a few words in passing to my presence,” The Sentinel nodded warmly.
Spider was silent.
“Are you God?” he asked suddenly.
The old man smiled.
“I am your interpretation of the concept of God.”
“So, what are you truly?” Spider asked.
“My kind are merely humble teachers. We guide the current of life, just as my enemies mentor your foes.”
“This is why I was guided to this place?” Spider asked.
The Sentinel nodded.
“Your enemies, those who call themselves the Axium,” the old man continued, “stumbled upon power far beyond what they could truly comprehend. It has forced my hand, so to speak. To prevent the flood of mayhem, I must begin direct intervention, as my opposites have.”
“So then, good and evil are not abstract concepts, but true realities enacted by chosen physical agents?” Spider said.
The Sentinel nodded.
Spider was silent. In his chest, purpose arose. This was what his life had led him to. Every insult, every failure, every victory, the Vagabonds, the war for Mars’ independence, the fight against the Dark Axium. It all lead to this moment. He would become an agent of the true light.
“I am ready to become an instrument of your will,” Spider said.
The sentinel shook his old head.
“You are and will remain an agent of your own divine will, linked together with the energies of all life. That is your purpose. Death against life, truth against lies, night and day, war, and peace. This is the path lain before you should you choose to walk it.”
“What must I do to undertake this path?” Spider asked.
“Let go of your past, victories, and failings, and embrace the truth.”
“I thought truth was relative.”
“Truth,” the Sentinel said, “is as solid and sturdy as the mountain is formidable, yet equally difficult to measure. There may be leeway between good and evil, but at some point, a being must understand and truly side with the justice or tyranny in the universe. Some go their entire existence without making this choice, others are forced into the darkness by circumstances, some are born in darkness and claw their way into the light.
It matters not. What defines us all is what we do with the precious gift called life. Shall we promote ourselves at the cost of others? Or shall we improve ours and others’ existences, rising above the petty challenges creation provides us?”
Spider nodded.
“What is it you will teach me?”
“That depends on how much you are willing to learn.”
“I am ready,” Spider said fervently.
The Sentinel smiled.
He clapped his hands.
“It is well, my children; he shall not harm you!” The sentinel called.
Suddenly, several beings emerged from behind the temple's columns, walls, and doors surrounding Spider. In a bright red dress, with pupil-less eyes, a woman came forward. Her raven black hair, neatly tied in a bun, with two ceramic rods keeping the hair in place, bowed, and sat beside the Sentinel.
“This is Joy,” The Sentinel said, gesturing with his aged hand.
The woman bowed again.
“That is Pride,” the Sentinel nodded.
Spider turned and saw an obese man, covered in a long bright golden robe, as he slowly waddled to Spider. His bald head framed his chubby face, his pupil-less eyes bright and wide as he grinned.
“And that is Purpose,” the Sentinel nodded again.
Spider saw a hardy warrior, his stern face and slender body poised, two swords at his side, his bright armor red. His pupiled eyes where brown, and narrow.
“Welcome to our home,” Joy bowed gracefully.
“A mortal! About time!” Pride boomed.
“He failed in his task; why is he here, Master?” Purpose asked heavily.
“We have all failed at some point in our existences, my son. We must all embrace our failures and learn from their happenings.”
“I am honored to be here with you all,” Spider bowed his head.
“He will not pass the trials,” Purpose said staunchly.
“I am ready for whatever tests await me,” Spider said determinedly.
“Patience. A moment here is a millennium where you come from. Let us not ruin your potential with haste, little one,” The Sentinel said kindly.
“What is your name?” Spider asked.
“You dare question the Master?” Purpose growled.
“Be at ease, Purpose. Dear Spider, you may call me Master, father, or The One. The label why which you address my existence is irrelevant. To discover your true potential, as any true warrior has, you must surpass three trials. The Trial of Pleasure, the Draw of Pride, and the Question of your Purpose. Each will come when you are ready, not before. Until then, you are our guest and shall live under the tutelage of us all,” The Master said.
“I am honored,” Spider said sheepishly.
“Our guest is weary. Joy, please show our newest pupil to his accommodations. I look forward to seeing how you grow, Captain Spider,” The Master said kindly.
“I believe it’s just Spider now,” He sighed.
The Master smiled.
“This way, if you please, good sir,” Joy said, rising from her place.
Spider slowly rose, deeply aware of the four gods before him. What else would you call them? These where beings beyond the finite limitations of reality, creatures who profoundly impacted the very fabric of space-time itself.
Spider followed Joy as she walked out of the courtyard. They walked down a long hallway, the walls made of paper-like material, with sliding doors on each side. Eventually, they made it to his room. Joy snapped a finger, and the sliding door opened. Inside lay a humble sleeping mat, a shin-high table, a pedestal with a shrine for prayer, and a window revealing the lush landscape outside the temple.
Spider nodded gratefully, stepping aside so Joy could leave.
“I pray for your success, young pupil,” Joy said gracefully.
“I am thankful for the opportunity,” Spider said.
The woman left the room, closing the door behind her. Spider was left alone, standing on the hardwood floor. Spider went to the window and realized he could retract the outer paper wall. He revealed a balcony that showed the deep jungle beneath him.
Clouds rolled in the sky, a waterfall mightily fell off the mountain, and a pool lied beneath the temple. If there was indeed heaven, surely this space was it. Spider knelt on the balcony watching the monkeys feed off fruit and play with one another.
He wept. Spider honestly cried, every ounce of pain and regret leaving his body. His heart was filled with sorrow. For the professors, for the worlds now doomed, for the slain students. His heart screamed and wrestled in his chest; he missed his family. He missed the Vagabonds.
Spider wiped snot from his nose and calmed himself. It was foolish of him to cry; he was alive. Or at least, he was not dead. It was good to grieve, but he could not allow these feelings to consume him. He had to become better. Spider gritted his teeth.
Suddenly, Spider leapt up and searched the room. He found a piece of parchment, a brush, and ink. He seized these, kneeling again by the balcony. He dipped the brush in ink and wrote his words.
“I, Captain Spider, forge Master of Mars, Vagabond, and captain of Oasis, will have my vengeance. I swear on this day, and every day until the crops wither, the forests burn, mountains crumble, suns die and the worlds disappear, I will kill the Nameless God. I will take his life. I will avenge every innocent life he has stolen.”
Spider folded the paper in half, then searched the room again. In the corner, he saw food utensils. A fork, a knife, and a pair of chopsticks. Spider grabbed the blade, then found a match, a striking pad, and a candle.
Having gathered these tools, he again knelt by the balcony. He took the knife and grasped it with his palm. He gritted his teeth and pulled the knife away, the blade slicing his palm open, the blood dripping onto the still wet ink of his oath. Spider then blew on the blood and ink, wrapping his hand with his robe as the paper dried. Once dried, he burned the parchment. The blood oath was finished; he was now bound.
Spider sighed with relief. He didn’t know what was to come, but he hoped that he would pass these trials and gather the strength required to go home. On his journey, the message or, instead, warning for Zion had disappeared, yet the words and images held within were somehow ingrained in his mind. Spider closed his eyes and meditated, repeating the names of the traitors.
Bellum. Maruintor. The Nameless God. The Great Scryer. The Lord of Zion. These traitors chose personal gain over the well-being of all under their command. These were the architects of Zion’s doom. Spider had seen Zion on his astral flight and witnessed the many doors and highways it commanded. It was now that Spider realized what the Axium was attempting to do.
With Zion out of the way, the Axium would freely invite in the tremendous and dark civilizations of the multiverse. The ones who dominated primitive life. The dark gods who fed from suffering, disease, war, plight, and death. Without the bulwark of Zion, countless worlds would fall to famine, war, and apocalypse. Every world within Zion’s dominion, including Mars, would become a reality far worse than what Mars had suffered during the great war.
Spider knew what he must do. Gather his strength, learn from these light beings, and return with the fury and vengeful justice suited for this great war. He knew he would not be alone. As Spider meditated, a name floated through his mind. A name that the Axium sought, one that the Professors of Zion feared, “Alpha Centurion”.
Who was this being, and why did the Axium revere them so much? Indeed, if the Axium sought this entity, it was not aligned with light. Yes, of course! Alpha Centurion had to be for the darkness, what the Master was for the light! Why would the traitors abandon their oaths and sacrifice their own kind merely for its return?
Spider opened his eyes, staring at the jungle. He imagined the dark entity as some sort of demon, perhaps a hooded man with red eyes? There was no record or image of the entity; how could there be?
He sighed, filled with deep tiredness. To say he was exhausted would be an incredible understatement. He felt the weariness in his very bones. Spider crawled on his hands and knees, laying on the sleeping mat. As he lay, the sunset and darkness shrouded the temple. A billion galaxies and stars in the sky. For the first time in a very long time, Captain Spider got a good night’s sleep.