Chapter 117: Sides
Battles within battles. One fight was taking place outside of the monster’s mouth, another within it, and another within Zan’s mind.
Luckily his body was acting on its own accord, and was still valiantly resisting the mountainous weight that was falling atop his empty head.
Yet while his body endured, the white tower that he stood on was soon to fall. The enormous pressure had already sent the roughly made construct into structural collapse.
Fog clouds made of crushed bone-dust floated around a glowing purple figure, as waves of acid roared at him from up above.
The waves were enormous like tsunami tides, and they loomed over the comparatively tiny figure with impending disaster, and doom.
They wanted to rip him apart and siphon every nutrient in his body, and not even a moment later, they came down on him in a thunderous crash.
The waves flooded him relentlessly, crashing and rippling over and over like a predator ravaging its prey.
…And yet not a single drop of acid touched his skin.
At the very last moment when the ripping tides came crashing down, a strange phenomena of light appeared.
Spreading three meters outwards from Zan’s body, a resonant halo of purple light drove the mad waves back. Wherever the corrosive acid met with the sphere of light, the tides were either repelled, or directly vaporized into gas.
Inside the sphere, water fell from all around Zan, and even mixed with the light that came from the purple halo.
The sunken, underwater scene resembled multiple waterfalls of purple light, dreamily streaming down a glass bubble of air.
Surprisingly, the sight was magical and even somewhat beautiful, but of course no one would be able to bear witness to its ephemeral beauty.
The halo of purple light was serving as a protection mechanism from the ravaging tides, and not for Zan’s safety either, but to protect something else.
Within Zan’s own monstrous mouth was a dense gaseous nebula, and within the center, was a rapidly forming purple star.
This was the same power that the young man had been charging up, but the intended annihilation beam had instead been warped by Zan’s mysterious eldritch powers. The technologically inspired laser beam, had then twisted into a cosmically inspired star.
It was an unforeseen change, that would then have its own consequences should Zan actually use the deceptively beautiful but insidious power. The reason for this, was because actions in and of themselves were like statements being carved onto the slate of creation.
Action correlated directly to identity, agency, and fate.
Behind this one, seemingly simple action of whether Zan would actually use the horrid thing within his mouth, hung his own identity, the property of his agency, and thus, his fate in the balance.
…And it was not just his fate hanging in the balance, but all the destinies of those who he would influence.
The acidic tides circled Zan unnaturally, they twisted and undulated not at all like liquids should move.
At the center of their hungry gaze, the harsh light that came from his eyes like suns had turned totally purple, and it was then within the chaos of everything happening all at once, that his previous visions returned.
Perhaps the root cause of it all, they demanded his attention. Triggered by the emergence of his eldritch powers, the inner turmoil within reached an unprecedented tension, and emerged more powerful than ever.
Now the beaming shine of his eyes shifted between passionate, vibrant red, and cosmic, profane purple. Just the same as various nations of the world fought for supremacy, multiple aspects of one existence fought each other in an abstract mess of ideas, concepts, and emotions.
Zan’s mind acted both like a blank canvas that was suddenly splattered with a range of bleeding colors, and at the same time like a shattered mirror, with his consciousness finding itself gazing at the reflections of a thousand twinkling shards.
Within the absurd and abstract world of his mind, he now found himself to be an outsider looking in, more accurately, like a god looking at his creation. With an omniscient view, he stood thousands of miles above an endless expanse of land, except that land, was actually a shattered mirror.
Each piece of “land” was as huge as a continent, and on each reflection of the thousand twinkling shards, was a scene playing out like a video.
Memories. Each continental piece of land, each glass shard, was a significant memory.
Not long after his realization, the sound of violent crashing water assaulted his ears. From in between the shattered lands, a glowing rainbow of splattering colors were constantly erupting from out of the gaps of the broken world.
Zan saw a range of colors shooting into the sky, like an absurd combination of a volcanic eruption, and colorful, pretty fireworks.
Of the splattering colors, red and purple seemed to come alive. Rapidly, they separated from the previous mixture of colors, and formed into two separate oceans.
Then, like armies claiming land for their nations, they began to spread and seep into the memories.
Wherever the two met they collided and crashed into each other. Each one seemingly wanted to drown out the other. It was…strangely epic. Zan felt as if he was watching two differently colored oceans battling over a shattered world.
Zan watched the strange occurrence with both confusion and a hint of helplessness, before he started to notice something strange.
The rich and bold ocean of red, was seeping into the same memories that he was having visions of.
The memory when he took a bite out of another human being’s flesh— the people that fell from the sky and splattered to death— the burning bodies of his village— his parent’s graves, and likewise the thousands of graves that he dug just today.
It would be odd if it was all just a coincidence, but Zan slowly started to connect the dots.
Connecting his visions towards how the ocean of red seeped into those very same memories…Zan came up with the strange idea that maybe…maybe something within him— his subconscious or whatever, was trying to tell him something.
The way in which his visions came forth, it felt as if something deep within him was questioning his path— questioning who he was and who he wished to be.
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After all, the immature, fifteen year old boy’s life goal— his very purpose as he saw it, was to become the strongest person above all in the world.
It was definitely a very lofty, and at the same time foolish goal to have, but left with nothing but the vague mystery of whether his sisters were still alive, and his initial aspirations before his home was burned down, it was evident why the young man focused so heavily on his dreams. The flames of war had left nothing else.
From the burning fires, what Zan had left were goals, aspirations and dreams. His dreams of exploring the entire world, and likewise, his aspirations of becoming the strongest to have ever lived.
…Yet, going down the path of becoming the so-called strongest in the entire world, meant endless conflict and violence. On the road to supremacy, he knew without doubt that they were unavoidable. Zan had seen, experienced, and even partook in the brutality and strife…but did he really wish to live a whole life like that? Was he the beast that tore a pound of flesh from his enemies? Could he become one if it was necessary to achieve his goal?
Seeing what he had seen from war and conflict— the bodies that fell from the sky, and the ones that burned to ash— the very graves he had to dig for both his parents, and for the thousands of people he had never even known— all of it culminated into Zan growing increasingly unsure of his so-called purpose. In the process, the unruly and strong willed young man was becoming increasingly unsure of himself. His whole identity after all, centered on fighting, and his matchless affinity towards the subject.
Honestly speaking, Zan did not know who he was at his core, nor what kind of person he wanted to become.
…Yet something wanted to answer that question for him.
An ocean of purple slammed into the ocean of red in the very same area where Zan was looking. The two oceans fought for sovereignty over the continents of reflective land. In other words, they started to fight over the very memories Zan was having visions of.
The young man was lost in thought, and in that state he was taken by surprise. The purple waters below noticed him, and they started to coalesce into a wave so massive that the tide reached past the atmosphere.
Zan looked below him to see an apocalyptic ocean wave reaching into space. His eyes went wide before the ethereal purple tide grabbed his translucent body, and pulled his consciousness into one of the twinkling fragments.
A memory replayed within his head, except they no longer felt like visions, but instead like he was reliving past experiences.
Zan found himself standing opposite of a massive figure. Draconic scales lined themselves on his gigantic frame as his veins glowed golden.
In direct opposition, Zan felt a thousand whirlwinds coursing through his body. He neither glowed golden, nor did he wear natural scales as armor, but he was like a typhoon in human form.
Zan remembered this memory— of course he did. This was where his pride was cracked and his very sense of self was shaken.
BOOOM!!
Two fists flew through the air, and their inevitable collision generated a forceful blast that extinguished all the torches within the underground arena.
And just as the lights went out, so too did the young man lose himself.
Zan somewhat remembered this moment too— he lost consciousness when their fists met, and only regained his clarity later when Quin woke him up.
Honestly, the young man half expected the vision to end there, but to his surprise the episode kept going. The reason being, was that although his conscious mind was turned off, his subconscious never forgot— most of all, his body remembered.
…Now for better or worse, he would get to relive the experience with his mind intact.
Using their respective powers, the two explosively collided then separated over and over.
The situation seemed to be as “normal” as two superhumans fighting could ever be— but then Zan did something he did not expect. Or rather, his body and unconscious mind suddenly acted in an unexpectedly skilled, yet heartless way.
In midair he shifted his trajectory, and a miniature tornado enveloped his right leg.
Zan’s leg slithered then struck like a pouncing viper, and somehow he had accurately pinpointed an area of Balon’s body that had the least amount of reinforced scales.
The massive frame of the black dragon son was sent flying from the blow, and he landed right on top of a crowd of people.
Zan then saw with his adapted eyes, as his attack and Balon’s crash landing killed a dozen individuals, while leaving many more beneath him utterly crippled.
Seeing what he had just done, Zan was reeling from the current events.
…He even momentarily forgot that he was in the passenger seat. Although the consciousness within was stunned and frozen, his body continued to move.
Zan’s body descended from the skies, with his hands clasped together in a hammer strike.
Likewise, as he fell, he was now properly able to take in all the broken yet breathing bodies that laid beneath Balon…
SPLAT!
His strike landed on his opponent hard, but Balon had his scales to protect himself. Unlike him though, the momentous force crushed all the broken individuals beneath Balon into an indistinguishable gore pile.
If Zan had control of his body, he would have stumbled backwards in abject horror.
He may have killed before, but never indiscriminately. He had killed soldiers of war, whose reckless violence ravaged his village— but now, he had just killed people who were quite literally the victims of such conflicts.
…To say the least, he felt awful. A part of him asked himself if he was no better than those same people who callously destroyed his home. In fact, wasn't he doing exactly what they did to him? Fighting, and battling without an ounce of regard for how his violence could affect the people around him.
…And yet, his body continued to move.
The fighting continued, and he witnessed as he threw his opponent through piles of meat and bone, treating human beings as nothing more than sheep or cattle. Desperately he wished to stop, but all he could do was watch himself as he committed the slaughter. Or rather…he was now remembering how he had committed them in the first place.
The sheer, ruthless brutality of it all affected him on a visceral level— like he was losing himself in the echoes of those thousand innocent screams.
And in such a state of disturbing shock and confusion, something deep within started to guide him towards certain…”understandings.”
Unknown to himself, his thoughts and sense of self began to twist and warp. He previously saw his actions as nothing more than horrific, and cruel, but that belief slowly started to change.
Slowly, the same people he felt pity, and compassion for, started to turn instead into stupid, headless chickens, running around in the darkness, helpless to escape the slaughter.
BOOM!
Zan was thrown by his opponent towards a crowd of people. In their foolish panic, the detestable ants actually swarmed him in the same effort to escape him.
A tinge of cold irritation filled his mind, before his body responded by throwing the ants off of him using a vicious cyclone.
People flew away like a tornado threw them across the arena. The circular area around him was swept clean of bodies…but his onslaught did not stop there.
Energy concentrated in his hands, to which a wind of cutting energy spread from their flourishing.
His motions imitated a blooming flower, except what was born from its bloom was not pollen but drifting death. The cutting winds bisected a thousand individuals, cleanly slicing them in half or more pieces.
A feeling of casual satisfaction welled up in him— as if he had just scratched an itch instead of ending hundreds of lives.
The vision ended there… just for another to start.
His gray hand wrapped around the throat of an individual who was lifted off his feet.
Zan vaguely recalled this memory— it was just after his battle with the massive metal wolf.
Faintly, he could hear the voice of a person begging, and pleading for him to let her companion go…but contrary to the memory, he did not respond. Zan was much too immersed in the feeling of newfound power coursing through his veins.
Time within the memory then stopped, only for it to fast forward to showcase Zan grasping two different individuals by the neck.
…Oddly, the feeling of supremacy and dominance he felt from the scene was nothing short of tantalizing. To have someone's very life at his hands— their survival riding on his decision alone— the feeling made him drunk with dark pleasure.
Unknown to the young man, his consciousness was further sinking into the throes of vanity, selfishness, and domination.
Before long the vision changed once again, cutting to another memory. He found his stomach, empty, and his body, unsatiated. In front of him was another creature— but more than that, the man was a walking pile of meat. This tool could be used to serve his desires to be appeased and gratified.
This was Zan’s most vivid memory, of taking another life so that it could serve his own. What better way to display that, than the act of cannibalism?
Without consent nor warning, his mouth stretched beyond its human limits, and took a voluptuous, massive bite out of that creature’s neck.
The man’s head fell to the side, hanging on by a few sinews as he watched his body eaten alive. As Zan gorged himself on another human being, the consciousness within felt his actions becoming less and less vile, and unnatural.
‘This was simply how it was supposed to be.’ With overwhelming power, everyone and everything served to fulfill his desires, and if they resisted— he could just take what he wanted, and force his will upon them.
This was the peak of domination, and one of the major expressions of those who held power over others.
In that same manner, this was what the eldritch part of Zan wanted him to learn. Moreso, it was what it wanted him to become.
Not exactly a mindless beast— although it supported that path too. But what the purple waters really wanted, was for Zan to pursue the path of a devourer. A conqueror. More accurately, the path of a dominator, who forced his will upon all else so that he could achieve his own self serving and egocentric desires.
Truth be told, Zan was only affected so deeply, because he himself bore these deep, dark desires somewhere within him. The process of fusion with an eldritch monster, only amplified his darkness.
In the physical world, the purple swirling sun within Zan’s mouth had grown hotter, and his own jaws dislocated and deformed to better hold the instrument of annihilation.
Zan's mouth stretched three feet in length and width, and the skin on his face peeled off to reveal black blood vessels and slimy alien skin beneath. It was similar to a monster suddenly shedding its human skin, revealing its blasphemous true self. The scene was nothing short of unnatural. It was sickeningly alien, and horrifying.
Using the purple star, that monster would soon then rip itself out of the wombs it was born from, and wreak havoc on the world.
On one hand, a mindless beast might really birth itself from out of Zan’s body. An actual foreign existence from outer space, that would seek to devour the world.
On the other hand, if Zan instead experienced a cold-blooded personality change, the world might have to face the rise of a ruthless demon overlord. Combining his outrageous talent with cruel method and heartless resolve, the entire world might not be devoured but instead enslaved.
…Yet what was that, laying on the white bone floor? It was a gray hand, knocked off of its resting place by the chaos that surrounded it.
As if awakening from slumber, the hand slowly rose from the floor, standing steadily on its five fingers.
Then, as if taking a look around, the hand shifted left and right.
It was a mystery how it processed visual or auditory information, but somehow it realized the direness of the situation, and quickly moved to action.
Braving the intense heat and harsh light of a star made solely for destruction, an undead hand slowly climbed its way towards the location of a monster’s black heart…