Day 52 (from Damien's rebirth)

Anders was tired. His red neighbor was smaller, weaker, and younger. It should have been easy. It should have been simple. Yet time after time he sent his troops into the black abyss, and time after time they failed. Barely any survived to return to him, but those that did were horrifically scarred and their minds were shattered. He had learned tragically little from probing their broken minds, but what he did learn filled him with dread.

Day 34

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He found visions of a dark hellscape where little light reached. Black clouds descended upon them accompanied by pain and agonized screams. The end result was always blindness as their eyes were devoured by the malevolent black cloud. Then there were the creatures that burrowed into their skulls. Tiny insignificant specs crawled across their bodies and if they reached the ears,  they devoured his pets from the inside, resulting in a torturous and slow death. Each and every last beast that returned alive had the same visions, the same traumas, and the same wounds. Almost none of them survived long after.

Their hair was torn off and great chunks of skin were missing, but there weren't any bite or claw marks. It was as if they had just slowly disintegrated. Their eye sockets were empty, with only bleeding black voids where their eyes should have been and blood poured from their ears. Just like their eyes and all of their other wounds, it seemed as if the insides of the ear had just come apart. There were no cuts or gouges, each piece of their ear canal had seeming come apart on its own. And every last wound was infected. Those who didn't bleed to death succumbed to rot and disease. Only one still lived.

One of the first two rabbits he had sent through the threshold had returned alive. He had returned to the lair blind, deaf, and riddled with horrific wounds. Anders expended a tremendous amount of mana to keep it alive, especially after the infections set in. He hadn't been willing to expend so much of his energy to keep the mice and rats alive, but the rabbits were special. He loved watching them frolic and play, and they were the mightiest creatures he bred in his lair, but even all of that mana couldn't set him right.

He stumbled around his lair with violent, jerky movements and while the rabbit's eyes and ears were still slowly healing, there shouldn't have been anything wrong with his body. His wounds were all superficial, and once the infection cleared it had been relatively simple to heal the flesh and skin, but still he bumbled around like a zombie. His mind was simply broken, and that was one thing Anders could not heal. The parts of the rabbit's brain that had been destroyed by whatever foul sorceries his enemy employed could be healed, but the emotional trauma was too great. Rabbits were naturally peaceful creatures, and they had never known pain or strife while they lived in Anders' lair. 

If predators came in they hid until they left, and even in the worst scenarios that couldn't be avoided the rats and mice were thrown away before harm could come to his rabbits. They had followed his orders as he was their master, the lord of their bodies, minds, and souls. They had marched to their doom without hesitation, but their minds could not survive that hell. They were not soldiers. They were not monsters. They weren't made for war. After that first battle, Anders knew he was doomed. 

He couldn't fight a monstrous force that could devour his beasts from the inside or descend upon them in a dark cloud, tearing them apart without any way for them to resist. He knew he had nearly won the first time. He had felt the pain and agony of his foe, the wild explosion of mana, but he had been paralyzed with fear at the sight of his beloved pets returning with such horrid wounds, and then he felt the rage.

His ruby foe had been terrified when it had stumbled upon Anders' domain. He had felt panic flowing wildly in the foreign mana. He had felt the enemies' despair as his rodents marched through the threshold. He had felt a glimmer of hope return to the ruby lair as the fighting progressed, then despair again, and then terrible pain. 

He had thought that had meant his victory. He had felt the mana of the enemy lair destabilize as if it was about to explode, but then the tumultuous flow slowed. The pain and agony was replaced with sadness, and a stronger, purer pain. Was it grief? The light of his foe darkened, its brilliant red receding to a hopeless, dour purple. Anders believed his victory was at hand, but then he felt a terrible rage clawing across the threshold between them. A rage so fierce that it overpowered its pain, its grief, and its hopelessness. A rage so fierce, that a fiery flicker of red returned to its mana. It was at this moment that Anders knew he would die.

He had fled. He had sealed and filled in the tunnel he had dug to bring forth his armies. He had retreated and waited for the end to come, but it never did. He began to hope. He pushed his mana into the bodies of his pets, their already infamous breeding rate multiplied exponentially. Normally each of his rodents and rabbits would have a gestation period of a few weeks, a bit faster than was natural but not by much. By using his mana like this, it took only days. He had kept his best breeders and favorite pets behind when his beasts marched to war.

Even if he was going to die, how could he accept that? How could he abandon the power he had gained in this new life. How could he give up after he had gathered these loyal minions after he had raised them all from infancy watching them live, grow, laugh, love, cry and mourn. They were a part of him, and he would not surrender all that he loved to this enemy without a fight.

After a week, he had more than replaced those he lost in the last battle, but the question was what to do now. He knew he had wounded his enemy, and he had almost won. His fear and panic at his first battle had gotten the best of him, but there were no animals that he knew of on this earth that could out breed rodents. The foul sorcery of his enemy wasn't likely to be any better, and it was best to strike while his foe was still weak, and there was a chance that this could make him stronger instead.

This unnatural power his foe had, if Anders could defeat him while he was weak, there was a chance that Anders could take that power and make it his own. If this younger, weaker dungeon could win a battle against himself with that power, just imagine what he could do with it. He could protect his pets against any intruding force. Either way, if the enemy grew any stronger there would be nothing Anders could do. So he attacked once more.

He dug another tunnel, and marched his beasts to war. He had gathered all that he could spare without harming his ability to breed more soldiers. As he arrived at the barrier, he was shocked. His enemy had grown, and most of the traces of its violet change had been replaced by its original red hue. Rage bubbled and frothed in incalculable quantities, and the arrival of his rodents and rabbits sent new ripples of fear through its dungeon, but here was something else in there as well. There were traces of happiness. His enemy was happy. Anders had spent the last week trembling in fear, but this bastard had been enjoying himself.

He imagined for a moment that they might find peace, but in the short second the barrier had been open, rage drove out every other emotion. Whatever he had done, whatever had happened beyond the veil in the first battle, Anders would never be forgiven. So he sent his minions through the dark portal, and prayed for their victory. He stared into the black abyss, where his mana could not reach. At the onset of the battle, his foe suddenly lashed out.

It drove its mana into the barrier, forcefully driving Anders back. Anders was forced to concede about half of the tunnel between them before he threw all of his strength into holding the line. They were now equally far away from the point of contact, and the struggle was fairer, but with Anders' immensely greater mana supply, it was no contest and his foe had nothing to gain.

He felt the ebb and flow of the battle through his foe's emotions just as before, and at the end he felt terrible grief. For a moment he once again believed he had won, that he had not only survived, but defeated this fearsome foe. But as he sensed the enemy's mana, he realized he had failed. He had sent them to their deaths, and gained nothing from it.

His foe wasn't even truly angered. He still held the same anger from before, what he held from the first battle. But now he sensed annoyance, frustration, and something else strange... determination? This scarred Anders even more than the rage. It was as if his enemy knew that Anders would lose in time, and it was worse that Anders himself knew the same thing. Time was not on his side.

As Anders examined each and every bit of energy emanating from his foe, he at least knew that the battle was not entirely pointless. The enemy's mana had swelled from the instant reward of the battle, but the mana of his creatures had diminished greatly. His forces were depleted, just as Anders' were. He had bought more time. 

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Day 45

Anders had amassed his forces once again, and he had raised even more troops. He had failed twice in straightforward assaults, but this time might be different. The few of his mice that returned brought visions of traps and death along with the other horrors. If his enemy was prepared for him at his usual point of attack, he would dig past it, but only after sending in a vanguard to distract him. Anders knew there would never be peace. He had felt the depth of his enemy's rage. He would either win or he would die, and time would ever be his enemy as the young lair grew faster than Anders could have imagined. 

He sent the small vanguard in through the usual passage, and just as he felt his foe's glee at his minor victory, Anders tore open the ground beneath his foe, and his beasts poured out into the breach. The battle played out much like the first, he could feel his enemy's joy turning to panic. He felt the fear growing and growing, and then resignation. His enemy had realized his impending doom, but then something changed. Fear, anger, sadness, rage. In a moment all of these emotions sprung forth. 

And soon, all that was left was rage and determination. He had come close. Anders had tried, he had marched over a thousand of his treasured pets to their deaths these past two weeks, but it was all for naught. There was nothing he could do to avert destruction. 

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Day 52

Today would be the end. This would be the last great battle, the last struggle he could muster. It wasn't that he had run out of minions, far from it. In fact he had more rodents breeding than ever, their ability to produce offspring was truly incomparable. It wasn't that he believed his enemy would destroy him today, Anders figured it would go like before. Him sacrificing all the minions he could spare would bleed the enemy dry and buy him another week to breed more and more. And it wasn't that he thought he would win either. Anders had simply lost the will to go on.

There was no chance for true victory here. He knew it, and his foe knew it. The enemy would wait, and bide its time until its victory was assured. He had felt that determination from him in the last two battles. The rage was tempered by experience. Anders would never know what the other lair had gone through to be so well versed in war so young, but its ability in battle was undeniable. It was resourceful and efficient. But even those were not the reasons for Anders resignation. 

His "soldiers" were his pets. Every loss hurt him badly. At first he had been consumed by greed, and then fear, then grim resolution to not go down without a fight. He had always feared that he would lose this war, but now as he truly accepted the inevitability of his demise, he could no longer accept throwing away hundreds and hundreds of lives every week just to slow down the enemy. He could no longer bear their suffering, and their pain. He had watched each and every one from birth, to weaning, to adulthood, and to parenthood. They were his children.

The end would come. He had lived in fear for most of the last month, and he could not continue to do so when he knew there was not truly any hope left for his survival. He felt he owed himself and his creatures one last battle, one last chance to earn their place in this world. A chance for their children to grow and flourish under his protection. And should he succeed he would never allow himself to be so helpless or weak again. However deep in his soul, he knew this would be their last battle.

He ordered his troops into the breach once more, there was the greater part of a thousand rodents all marching to glory. For this final chance to live in an eternal utopia. He prayed for their success even as he mourned their inevitable failure. At least they would save a few. If they did fail, their sacrifice would slow the enemy and give his remaining minions a chance to run far, far away from this accused place.

He had kept his favorites of each of the creatures in reserve: the cutest rabbits, the bravest mice, the happiest rats, and his most treasured pet of them all. They were the ones he loved above all others, and he would do everything to secure their escape. He had left them with their children, and when he lost this final battle, he would send them out into the world to live out the rest of their lives as best as they could. With this final battle, he would surrender everything, preserve as many of his children as he could, and wait for the end to come.

He closed his eyes, not in the literal sense, but he stopped looking around and tried to relax. Tried to enjoy the sound of the baby rabbits playing, and nibbling on his grass. The sound of the mice and their happy squeaks as they frolicked around, completely ignorant of the terrible battlefield less than a hundred feet away. He found peace in the sounds he had grown to love so much. This was for the best, he would know they would live on, happy and free.

But then the roof broke open, and a black hell spewed forth.