The Downward Spiral 01

“Through fire and blood, the world shall be cleansed, and the impure shall be dethroned…”

The excruciating pain of scorching flesh and boiling blood cannot be compared to the cold pain of betrayal. The emptiness of death, seemed rather inviting, and lonely. A speck of conscience remained and wandered alone, through the rift between life and death. He who was betrayed by his sworn brother, was cast into darkness and despair, who was denied his vengeance, now withered in the nothingness, as a shadow of his former self.

“Vile… Perverted… Disgusting… Wicked…” — sights of his last moments filled his conscience.

“Zane… Damned Zane…. I'll have my vengeance, whatever the cost.” — the desire of retribution, to make the ones who stabbed him in the back pay, burned fiercely inside his very soul. However, these were only the grudges of a dead man, without flesh and bone, the only things that lingered were resentment and grievances.

The conscience knew not how long it had been drifted in the rifts of existence, days, weeks, months, or years. Time enough to drive even the most enlighten of men into madness. The one who once was called Jonathan, now, slowly descended into insanity, ravaging his memory, reliving his pain and his disgust, day after day, until only a beast remained.

However, fate is a mysterious and mischievous entity, meddling in the flows of history. A wet and cold feeling invaded Jonathan's consciousness, a strange feeling, one that he had never felt since his flesh perished and his soul cast into the abyss. It was a strange sensation, one he had many times before, sleeping on a cave floor during his adventurers.

A thought crossed his mind, in the mists of despair, he tried to open what once would have been his eyes. However, he knew this was only the yearning of a dead man, or at least that is what he thought, for when he tried to open his eyes, they listened and showed him light once more.

[https://i.imgur.com/ypykdMP.png]

Jonathan's eyes slowly slit open, and the piercing sensation of light once more greeted the man. His vision, was still blurry and a few moments passed before his sight had properly returned, and when it did, he saw himself in a place he had never been before. He was laid atop a stone table, in the middle of a hexagonal shaped room. He felt weak, but tried to force himself to get up. The place seemed deserted, with only the four columns that held the ceiling standing out of the walls.

A deep breath of cold air filled Jonathan's lungs, and small beads of water formed on the corner of his eye. He survived that ordeal, even if he didn't know how, he had done it. It was strange, his body bore no marks of the Captain's sword cut, or his skin of the burning fire. He clenched his fists as he remembered Zane's final expression, the man who he considered his brother had betrayed him, and for what? Pride and prejudice. However, he would regret his mistakes, even if it was the last thing Jonathan would do.

Nonetheless, he still needed to find out where he was, and who had brought him here. The place was cold, devoid of windows, and the only light source were a few torches that dotted the walls. He forced himself to stand, his legs were shaky as he was still very weakened, but he pushed himself to stand.

The room itself was made of cut stone, seemly crafted masterfully. While the place was very dark, the little light available was enough to reveal an opening to the northern side of the place. He mustered his strength, and limply walked toward it. The opening led to a corridor, deep and dark, with even fewer torches lighting the way.

He looked back at the stone table he had found himself one last time before pushing onward, there was nothing he could learn here. Jonathan walked this corridor for a long time. The lack of windows made it hard to have a sense of time, but he could feel the slight slopes upward and downward. Even in his severely enfeebled state, he pushed forward, bracing himself on the walls of this large construction.

The maddening silence of the place was only ever broken by Jonathan's steps. Even the torches seemed unnaturally silent. There were many moments in which he thought to give up, but he couldn't. Every time he stopped to catch his breath, his mind showed him memories of his comrades, and the sour taste of betrayal would fill his mouth. He pushed himself, until he could feel the skin beneath his feet crack and bleed. He pushed until his legs gave out, and even then he dragged himself, crawling on ground.

Days must have gone past, for the even Jonathan's spirit seemed to crumble. There, in the middle of an unknown and unpleasant passage, he cried and tears rolled down his cheeks. He had survived the most cruel of ordeals, yet he seemed to be unable to leave this damned place. At that moment, when his heart was full of despair and resentment. He heard it for the first time.

“Yes, give into despair and anger. Only, through pain and agony, shall you attain your vengeance...”

The malevolent voice echoed within Jonathan's mind, and he felt the hairs on his back stood up, as a chill ran down his spine. He did not know where this came from, but one thing he was certain. Whoever spoke to him, was dangerous, and something told him, that it awaited him at the end of this nightmare, and now, he questioned if he should keep moving. But alas, what choice did he have? He pushed on.

The more he moved, the more anxiety and dread he felt. The cold and wet floor through which he crawled made it even more distressing. But all that was not even a sliver of the horror that would come to pass. A light, he could finally see the end of this tunnel, and for the moment, he forgot all he had been through, digging deep into his own will to drag himself out of that place.

When he finally crossed the threshold, he felt once more the piercing pain of light. This place was different, extremely well lit, and even windows could be seen at the top of the room. The ceiling seemed to be supported by monoliths with carved details and words, of a language he did not know, and on the far side of the room, he saw it.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

There laid, on top of a dais, a pitch-black throne made of ragged stone in the shape of blades, and seated upon it, terror made incarnate. A creature that smelt of blood and death, and with its emerald green eyes it watched Jonathan intensively. An ungodly smirk curled on the lips of the beast, and it's cracked teeth made the scene even more harrowing.

“You have kept me waiting…”

[https://i.imgur.com/ypykdMP.png]

The beast watched Jonathan intensively, and the man's heart beat uncontrollably. The creature before him was horrifying, a pale green leathery skin, thick and rough. Its legs covered in metal plates that seemed to emerge from his very bones. Its body adorned with runic symbols, Its arms the size of Jonathan's torso, and two coiled horns protruded backwards from the creature's head, one of them broken. On its hands, claws that could rip and torn flesh, and on them, he held a black spiked chalice.

The feeling of dread had already invaded Jonathan's mind, and unconsciously retreated from the fiend. However, the expected opening of the tunnel behind him, was no longer there, and only cold wet stone greeted his back. There was no escape, no running, he was in the face of the very same creature that once he swore to kill. A demon.

He tried to force himself to speak, but his dry and parched throat made it difficult. “You… you expected me? Who… what are you?” — his gaze still intensively watching the creature.

The monsters gaze kept anchored on the man, and with a wicked smirk, he took the vile chalice to its mouth, drinking deep, and a dark purple liquid ran down the corner of its mouth.

“Yes… I was expecting you. You, who has faced the deep agony of betrayal. You, whose soul I've plucked from the depths of the Abyss.” — the creature's lips twisted in a wide villainous grin showing its jagged, cracked teeth.

The creature's voice was deep and powerful, resounding and echoing through the room. This creature, had dragged Jonathan's soul from the abyss. It brought him back to life, and its reason was still a mystery. “Why?”

“Why, do you ask?” — a thunderous wicked laughter filled the place as the creature seemed to be amused with the inquired — “Because it amused me. Your pain, your suffering, it's the finest wine, the sweetest fruit, and the most beautiful of tales.”

“It… amused you?” — anger once more started to swell within Jonathan's heart — “I was betrayed, beaten, abandoned and murdered by my brother. Yet, you find it amusing? You wicked fiend… You and Zane… You heartless beasts…”

Jonathan forced himself to stand up. The anger within him fuelling his strength. He walked forward, his gaze still fixed on the creature. He knew he would not survive a battle with the fiend, but if his life was to end, he would not let the story repeat itself. Should it be needed, he would fight through flesh and blood.

“Amusing… You're still unaware… You, who stand before me, are but a mere sliver of what you once were. Your body, beaten and broken, your soul, shattered with hate.”

As the beast spoke, Jonathan returned to reality. He looked down, and saw his weakened body. This devil was right, he had no more strength in his arms, his legs were unsteady, and his soul splintered. He felt defeat once again, and his mouth filled with bitterness.

However, he would not be ridiculed by this beast any longer — “You… brought me to this forsaken place… Kill me now and be done… You've had your fun, foul beast.“

The creature watched the man as he spoke, delighted by the petulance. The chalice in its hands slowly moved and stirred the liquid within, and the creature took it toward his lips once more, drinking it whole.

“No… You're far too interesting to kill.” — the wicked smile once more appeared on its lips. “You who has lost everything. You who will bring the darkness unto the land. How could I let such an entertaining toy leave?”

Jonathan's expression sunk, as the beast uttered its poisonous words. It had no intention of releasing him of suffering. On the contrary, it wanted to watch him spiral down, to the depths of despair.

“You, who has been cast aside. Anger's root deep within your heart, and to you, I make an offer.” — the crooked grin seemed to widen as his lips cracked open — “The power to tear asunder your enemies, to rip flesh from bone, and reign sovereign above the hordes. The power to fulfill your revenge. What says you, Jonathan Arc?”

[https://i.imgur.com/ypykdMP.png]

The beating drums of his heart echoed within his very soul. The beast, who stood before him, now offered him power, to achieve his vengeance. As an adventurer, he knew better than to deal with devils. However, now, an offer had been made, and he in the depths of his mind, he knew what would be his answer

“What… are you offering? Who are you?' — he fixed his gaze on the demon before him, watching his every move.

The fiend itself, still bearing that impure smirk, stood from his throne. The creature was enormous and spoke with a thunderous voice — “I am Behemoth. Lord of Pain and Agony, The King of Earth, Bearer of the Black Blood, and Ruler of the Western Hell.” — Jonathan felt his very soul shake with Behemoths voice.

“I offer thee, Jonathan Arc, my blood.” — The creature used its gnarled claw to slit open its wrist, and a black putrid repugnant blood oozed out of it, and it collected within the chalice.

The chalice left the creature's hand, and hovered through the room until it stopped just before Jonathan. He could smell the stench that came from that chalice, and his stomach churned. “Drink from the chalice, oh children of the dark”

Jonathan slowly took the chalice in his hands. The miasma almost making him throw up. He looked again toward the devil, one of the rulers' hell. He had only ever read stories about the monarchs that dominated the infernal hordes, and now, he was before one.

Likewise, he thought about what would happen should he drink from that cup, and he felt his hands' waiver. However, the memories of his betrayal, once more, filled his mind. The anger and the desire for vengeance were too deep-rooted.

He breathed deeply on the cold air, and took the profane chalice to his mouth, and from it, he drank.