JUNE 17th, 2014.
Black.
Surrounded by a void yet again, Seth was only accompanied by his thoughts.
I… died again. Again. I died again. I died again. I died again. I died…
He holds his head between his hands, falling to his knees as they splosh against a flooded surface, as if the entire world was a mixture of pure black ink and water. The puddles rippled around him, sending themselves throughout this flat, silent world.
I can... feel my own body this time… but it’s not the same.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Seth hadn’t noticed the clock postponed in the middle of the void above and in front of him. It sat there, or maybe stood there, suspended in space. Despite the nature of this world, it kept ticking away.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The clock had no numbers, just black marks for each one that would normally appear. However, it had all three clock hands one would expect out of a, well, clock.
“So. You were killed again.”
A voice, seemingly coming from everywhere initially, sends an intense chill down Seth’s body, burrowing itself into his pores. This voice, though, was familiar to him. The crackly aspect of it, the roughness, deepness… it sounded more monstrous than human. Despite not knowing the direction, he had a sickening feeling. One he didn’t wish to confirm, but felt like he had no choice but to.
IT was behind him.
Before he could even turn, his body sensed it, and he felt the ripples of what made up the ground against his feet.
Something had moved, just behind him.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Letting his instincts take over, Seth turned his torso to look at what he felt so threatened by. The sight he was met with was burned into his mind for the rest of his life.
Calling IT “humanoid” would be mostly accurate, but would also be an insult to how grotesque IT was. Its elongated body, still somehow not triggering a sense of the uncanny valley, yet feeling unnatural and wrong simultaneously. Its arms were longer than an average human’s, and spikes made of sharp ivory-esque bone broke through the elbows’ skin as if they were natural weapons. Its legs followed suit, and the knees presented similar bones emerging from them as well. It was only a head or so taller than Seth, but its nature made it seem much, much larger.
The real disgust was its skin, if one could call it that.
It appeared as if someone had taken the fabric of space, stained it white, and wrapped a corpse with it four times over. Covering every aspect of it, sealing it as if it was meant to be mummified. It had no face, though the “skin” was so tight that Seth could visibly see the indentation of two eye sockets. Its mouth, though covered, was much larger than a normal human’s.
It was thin, but not abnormally so.
It was lanky, yet, if you gave a human the same lankiness, no one would care.
No, it was all of these traits combined together that made Seth feel like he swallowed his own soul out of a fear so burning cold that he thought he would break into a sweat.
And it was making its way closer to him, with each step more subdued than the last. Its head was tilted, cocked as if it hadn’t seen a human face-to-face in a century, even a millennium.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
After comprehending what he had seen to the best of his ability, Seth repeated the one thing in his mind that almost everyone and everything who’d ever seen IT like this had said.
This thing… should not exist.
Seth backs up slowly, his feet scraping the liquid making up the floor backwards. Unable to hide his weary, terrified body language, he cautiously speaks up.
“What… are you…?”
It stands still, cocking its head. Still staring at him. After its “eyebrows” squint, shrinking its eye sockets downwards, it responds.
“Guess.”
The confidence randomly emanating from this thing in front of Seth was incredibly off-putting, adding even more to the unnatural feeling he got from seeing it.
“...I formed a contract with you the other day.”
“You did.” It responds, with an unimpressed tone of voice.
It doesn’t seem hostile, though that unmistakable sense of danger still lies under his skin.
“Then, what are you?”
It quickly rushes toward him, stopping just before his face before he can react. Its missing eyes stare into Seth’s examining him. After a moment, it slinks backward, raising its back from where it had leaned over.
“You’re not as sharp as I thought. First of all…” It trails off, raising its long hand to elbow height with its clawed index finger raised. “...I am a spirit. To most, I’m known as a god of time. My name…”
It continues to intensely stare at Seth.
“...is Yggdrasil.”
Yggdrasil…? Seth thinks to himself. The World Tree from Norse mythology?
“Similar,” Yggdrasil responds, able to hear Seth’s internal thoughts. “But humanity is far from understanding the workings of the spiritual world.”
Yggdrasil sounds slightly annoyed by the comparison, as if it was insulting.
“Second of all,” Yggdrasil continues, not allowing Seth to speak, “I called you here to review the terms of our contract.”
Seth, still very uncomfortable with all of this, slightly raises his eyebrow in confusion.
“We’ve been allotted a special type of contract due to my… circumstances. In return for our lives, there’s a signer we have to kill.”
“And what is a… ‘signer’?” Seth asks, slowly becoming more comfortable, despite barely knowing anything. If he has one irrefutable talent, it’s the ability to adapt.
“...Humans who reach the lowest point of their lives are given the ability, consciously or not, to form a contract with a spirit. Those humans are known as ‘signers’.”
The lowest point of their lives…?
“For example, when you committed that sin—”
“I get it now.” Seth cuts Yggdrasil off, staring into his non-eyes. His voice drops, taking on a much more focused and tense tone.
“Right… That’s a sensitive memory for you.”
“...Who is this ‘signer’, and why do we have to kill him?” Seth asks, ignoring Yggdrasil’s observation and getting straight to the point.
“Their identity is unknown. As for why we have to kill them… only the Council knows.”
“The ‘Council’...?”
“I can’t tell you who or what they are. You’ll likely figure it out yourself.”
This doesn’t help at all.
“Then let me give you a warning.” Yggdrasil takes on a lower tone, cocking its head in the opposite direction, still staring lifelessly at Seth and slightly annoyed by his retort.
“Die too many times, Seth… and you’ll lose what makes you human.”
“...What? What do you—”
Before Seth could finish, the void around him turned a pure white and Yggdrasil’s form had disappeared before him.
. . . . .
“...Ey? …You… man?”
Seth’s hearing and vision are blurry as bright lights attack him from every direction while he tries to maintain his balance, stumbling with his hands to his head.
“Are you okay, man?” an unknown voice curiously and worryingly asks him.
Seth’s vision and hearing slowly come back to him, until he realizes he’s in the middle of a staring crowd on a sidewalk. The street looks vaguely familiar at first glance.
More importantly, however, a young man with a punk-ish outfit and combed-back blonde hair had his hand on his left shoulder, looking over at him with a confused expression.
“Hey, are you alright?” the man says, squinting at Seth.
Seth regains his balance, removing his hand from his head and twisting his torso to look at the man.
“Yeah… sorry. I guess I… didn’t get enough sleep,” he responds, awkwardly putting his other hand behind his head in a show of casual admittance of guilt.
“Been there… take care of yourself. See ya.” the young man says, walking away as the crowd around him goes back to their daily activities, as if nothing had ever happened.
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
I’m back again… what did that thing mean by that…? He thinks to himself, searching around him. Just then, he notices the street he’s on.
Wait, this is… 32nd Mota…? My apartment should be…!
Beginning to sprint against the crowd, he runs down a block of sidewalk, desperate to find the answer to his question. Almost tripping over multiple times, he keeps apologizing to passersby for bumping into them before turning a corner to his right.
Recognizing it, he quickly looks ninety degrees to his left. In the distance, a building that clearly stood five stories tall confirms his suspicions as it enters the reflection of his eyes.
They widened, half in surprise, but to an extent he had suspected this would be the case.
I don’t just escape from death. This… isn’t my world.
It was his apartment, but…
…there was no damage to the exterior where his apartment was, which would have been visible from street level. If time had passed, it would’ve still been severely damaged by the force of the bomb that was in the box. At the very least, that entire section of the building would’ve had to been sectioned off, but it’s plausible that the reaction would’ve caused structural instability and brought the entire building crashing down.
Neither of those two outcomes were a reality, in front of Seth’s eyes.
There was only one answer to their absences in this world:
The bomb had never gone off.
. . . . .
Kat straightens her orange tie in front of a dimly lit public bathroom mirror, with the room illuminated by a weak greenish-white fluorescent light. Her hair is noticeably untied at the back.
Knock.
Knock.
Two quick knocks on the bathroom door cause her to glance over, glaring at who she can assume is behind it.
“Hurry up,” Yasu says strictly, seemingly annoyed. “Just got new info from Liam.”
Kat pulls out a hairband from her pant pocket and begins to tie her hair back as she usually has it. She sighs, internally rolling her eyes.
“Convenient timing, huh. Who’re we after?” she says, distracted by finishing up her hair.
“Can’t say anything here. Let’s go.”
Kat exits the bathroom with her hair tied up again, walking alongside Yasu. They were in the lobby of an airport, as various civilians made their way to and from the lobby, carrying suitcases and talking amongst themselves.
“So, I’m guessing Keith isn’t showing up?” Kat asks Yasu, cocking her head in his direction while walking with her arms at her sides.
“Flight got delayed. News was saying it was a fueling issue…” Yasu replies, trailing off to imply there’s more to the situation than it seems. They walk out of the airport, leaving through automated doors near the front as crowds of people walk around them.
“And he reported a spirit? Maybe a signer?” Kat says, looking forward while trying to find where they parked.
Yasu glances around while maintaining his composure, checking for eavesdroppers. If there were any around, he would’ve noticed them.
“Worse. The body of a politician’s security chief was found in their private cabin.”
Kat curiously tilts her head, as she puts her hand to her chin and looks upward in thought.
“Hm… politically influenced, or…?”
They approach the blackish-grey sedan, opening the doors and entering it. Yasu is driving, and Kat is sitting in the passenger seat as per usual. They both close their doors before continuing the conversation.
“Seems so,” Yasu pulls out a flip phone, opens it with a flick, and presses a few buttons until he shows Kat a photo taken from the crime scene.
It shows a white card stained in blood— around the size of a letter envelope— with a gold insignia in the middle. The insignia itself was intricately detailed, with heavy lines of gold representing three pairs of angel wings, six in total, symmetrically expanding toward the top of the crest-inspired shield below it. Around them and spread throughout the insignia were seven eyes, all of them staring forward. Just below the wings, a circle went around the entire insignia, with a string of text in Latin repeating twice around it.
Deus Nolens Exitus. Omnis Exitus Initium Est.
Kat’s eyes widen upon looking at the insignia, as a chill causes her shoulders to shift.
“Seraphim…?” she says, hoping for a ‘no’ in response, but knowing it won’t come. “I thought they only hunted signers…”
“Until now. Liam finally translated that quote, too,” Yasu begins to say, grabbing his phone back and looking at the insignia again. “Roughly… ‘God’s Unwilling Exit. Every Exit— or End— Is A Beginning.’”
Kat scoffs, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing.
“Terrorists trying to overthrow God…? Well, it’s flashy, I guess.”
“That’s not the screwiest part.” Yasu taps the arrow to the right of the middle selection button, scrolling to another picture. “Look.”
“What…?” Kat says, not sure how to react to what she’s seeing.
It was an image of the card from before, but flipped over.
On its reverse side, the black background was exchanged for a white one.
In black letters, from what seemed to be a marker, very haphazardly and quickly written onto the page at an angle— making it appear as if the author was psychotic— were three words, arranged as follows:
WELCOME HOME
PROGENITOR
“‘Pro…genitor’? What is that?” Kat asks Yasu, at a loss.
“A progenitor is one of three things. An ancestor, a precursor, or an originator.” Yasu replies, using his fingers to count out the three as he speaks them aloud. “Liam picked up movement on an Archangel. I’m guessing their leader’s back, if he was even missing, and now they’re feeling a little confident.”
Kat looks forward at the dashboard of the car, before glancing back to Yasu as she realizes the implication.
“...Which means they’re going to be more aggressive now. But…” She pinches her chin again, thinking deeply. “That doesn’t make any sense. If their leader returned, why’d they welcome him with a murder’s calling card…? It feels more like it was meant for someone they don’t have contact with.”
Yasu stares forward, before his eyes open wide, showing an unnatural shock with his experience. He immediately starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.
“What? Where are you going?!” Kat asks, confused and seemingly worried, given the topic that was at hand before. Yasu slams his foot on the accelerator, dodging between cars as Kat is pressed against the back of her seat, stabilizing herself. He grips the steering wheel tightly, squeezing it with his left fist.
“...Get ready to die, Reaper. If you aren’t, you’re going to end up leading a lot of people over the river.” Yasu says, taking on an extremely serious tone, almost devoid of emotion.
“What are you…?” Kat tries to say, before being cut off.
“It’s shit luck. That Archangel is heading toward the Numet-class signer,” he says, handling the shifter and pressing down the clutch as he goes down a gear to turn a corner.
Kat’s eyes open in shock as her jaw freezes, unable to do anything but keep her mouth slightly parted.
“No… No, that’s going to—”
“I don’t care how many corpses you have to step over,” Yasu begins to say, giving her an ultimatum. “Either you kill one of them, or you die trying. Understand?”
“...That’s the job,” she says, similarly devoid of emotion. Casting it away, as it’d only hinder the both of them.
It’s what we signed up for.
. . . . .
Upon exiting the elevator to the fourth floor, Seth notices that the hallway containing his apartment looks like it was turned into a warzone. The walls were damaged as if someone had taken a sledgehammer against them, and doors were ripped off of their hinges as they lay in the middle, strewn about and illuminated by the pale orange light that was cast above the entire hallway. Seth expected to smell the stench of blood from this scene alone, but didn’t.
What happened here…?
Seth walks forward, stepping through chunks of concrete and broken glass belonging to destroyed vending machines and windows overlooking the city as the wind and rain rush through them, leaving puddles on the windowsills and the floors below.
He walks over all of the debris toward his apartment, before hearing a woman in an apartment further down the hallway, yelling. The line of broken-off doors extends another three apartments down, ending at where the voice is coming from. There are a few more apartments with their doors and walls intact further ahead of it.
“P-Please…! Don’t hurt him! Please!” she desperately begs, sounding as if she’s trying to save someone.
It’s… none of my business. I’m out of here in a day anyway.
“PLEASE! STOP!” her yells only become louder as she begs the assailant to stop whatever they’re doing.
Shit…
Seth steps inside his apartment, more trashed than it already was, as he quickly reaches behind a hole in one of the walls behind a large shelf, picking up a gun. It’s a .45 long-slide pistol, modified with a textured grip. The gunmetal grey contrasts against the silver of the barrel, as it refracts the light in Seth’s hand.
It’s better if I end up dying, than someone else…
Despite Yggdrasil’s earlier warning echoing in his head, he knows that if that woman or whoever she was trying to protect dies, they won’t get a second chance at life like he does. He brings the pistol upward, close to his chest with both hands gripped onto it. Slowly approaching the apartment where the yelling is coming from, he puts extra caution and thought behind his path, making sure not to step on anything that would produce too much noise. His heart rate rising, he steps in front of the door, searching the room instantly for the source of the damage.
A very muscular man— around Seth’s age— with fierce ruby eyes, spiky, faded crimson hair, and multiple piercings in his right ear was standing over a woman and her child, both with brown hair and brown eyes, terrorizing the both of them with a sadistic grin. He wore a torn, black, white, and red jacket with black and white undershirts. He had his left fist raised back above his head, acting as if he was going to hit her as she clenched her eyes shut in fear, protecting her young boy.
Seth held the gun positioned directly at the man’s head, as he glanced over at Seth with the same sadistic expression, not turning his neck.
“Put your hands up. Now.” Seth says, attempting to subdue the man with a serious, deadly expression across his face. Seth was not the type of person to be unable to shoot someone, and that fact was reflected within the intensity of his eyes.
“Oh…?” the man said, incredibly intrigued by Seth’s audacity.
The man began to slowly raise his hands and arms upward above his head, stepping away from the woman and her child. His grin had somehow grown even wider, and his teeth looked sharper… more like a dog’s than a human’s.
Getting a better look at his figure, Seth realized he had two wide, repurposed oxygen tanks on his back— around the same height as his spine— with what seemed to be two red IV tubes each going from them to his forearms. They were wrapped in bandages, and secured close to his jacket using straps on the sleeves, likely to mitigate any risk of being ripped out. As Seth opens his mouth to continue instructing the man, the man does the same, never letting up his sadistic smile.
“Take. 400 milliliters.”
In less than the blink of an eye, despite Seth having his pistol trained on him for the entire time he’d been in his line of sight, he felt his stomach being pushed inward as the man instantly closed the distance between them with a full-force punch. Groaning loudly as his eyes almost bulge out of his skull, Seth gets flung backward and slams against the wall outside of the woman and child’s apartment, feeling as if he just had half of the bones in his body broken at once. Seth’s vision blurs as he falls onto his knees, losing the strength in his body.
“Now, there he is… There’s the guest of the hour!” the man says, grinning and staring at Seth with wide, excited eyes. As if he gained some kind of sadistic pleasure from doing this.
Seth coughs up a small amount of blood onto the ground, staring with deadly defiance toward the man who had just brutally hit him. This sends the man into a frenzy, as he smiles even wider and clenches his fist, pointing at Seth and then himself as he speaks.
“Right, that’s how this should be. Yeah… you, trying to break me… and me, trying to break you.”
He claps his hands together with while laughing to himself, complete with a heavy dose of insanity. It’s as if he’s applauding Seth, while also hyping himself up.
“The name’s Vain… the seventh Archangel. It’s one hell of a pleasure to meet you…”
He stares forward, letting his body slouch downward as he sadistically disassembles Seth’s body just with a gaze. Imagining killing him in countless different ways, countless different times. Out of both respect and jealousy. Seth shifts upward as he speaks, slowly regaining his strength as he forces himself to fight.
“...’Progenitor’.”