Frenzil ??? - (DIMENSION: THREE-SEVEN-FOUR - LOCATION: TEJ KALMONIS HEAROUS - TRANSLATION: TOMB OF THE DAMNED):

SPLOCK! Was the sound that was created by my boots making contact with the damp floor, slick with unknown residue. Wading through, I glanced at my map, knowing that I was getting near.

"Frenzil, are we close?" Blezeren asked from behind me as the other followers of the Darkstar Empire followed close behind.

The red gems embedded in his dark blue suit gave off enough light so that it was easy to locate and differentiate him from the others. He was five feet and eleven inches tall, yet he was just barely skimming the roof, his brunette hair brushing against the roof.

"Yes, I believe we are approaching our final destination," I answered, pulling out the Crealon, a device that would allow me to activate the Darkblade corpses.

The fumes from bodies decaying over the course of millions of years were extravagant and could easily kill a normal human being, but the suits that we were wearing allowed us to breathe through the toxicity, and even if my suit tore, my healing factor would easily keep me alive, although the same couldn't be said for the others.

"AAARGH!" yelled one of the group members as their suit got caught onto a sharp object sticking out of the wall, tearing a small hole in it.

Unfortunately for him, that was just enough, causing the group to stop and watch in horror as he fell into a fetal position, clawing at himself. Blood seeped out of his orifices as he slowly died due to being melted from the inside out. He coughed up his liquified liver into his helmet, drowning in it while decaying.

"We have to keep moving," I remarked, paying no attention due to losing others who had joined us earlier in much more gruesome ways.

After several more minutes of walking, we finally came to a stop in front of a large wall, where our map ended, meaning that our prize was right beyond this obstacle.

"Time to shine Blezeren," I said, taking a step back as Blezeren aimed his hand in the shape of a finger gun.

A brilliant glowing ball of light shot out, slamming into the wall, but not breaking through, but of course that wasn't his intention in the first place. The wall began to collapse in on itself, being absorbed into the small sphere in the middle. When the hole was big enough, Blezeren opened his hands, causing the ball to fizzle out and disappear.

Stepping through the newly-formed cavity, we emerged into a mass grave, about several-hundred kilometers across on all four sides. The floor was littered with the preserved corpses of the original soldiers of the United Realm Empire and the deceased Darkblades alike. The deactivated Darkblades were still intact, clearly being able to be differentiated from the dead ones.

Setting down the Crealon, I typed the code that the Emperor had given me, and a small yet audible buzz could be heard in the silent room, with the silence occasionally being broken up by the slightest drips of liquids.

"REEORRRR!" broke up the silence, as billions of Darkblades awoke from their slumber.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"What now?" Blezeren asked me.

"Now we go after the brothers," I told him as I observed the screeching valley. I smiled as I imagined the pained screams of those self-righteous bastards who ran this "empire".

Christopher Jacobs - (DIMENSION: NINETY-SEVEN - LOCATION: SAN MARCOS, TEXAS):

Waking up to the alarm blaring in my ears, I leaped up and slammed my head against the bottom of the top bunk, pressing my hand against my forehead in pain. Max on the other hand just rolled off of the top bunk in a panic, slamming onto the floor with a loud THUD!

"OWW!" Max yelped in pain, clutching the right side of his stomach while doubling over in agony.

I slowly got off the bed, trying not to slam into the walls of our cramped room, if you could even call it that. Opening the door to the hall, it reeked of alcohol from the night before, along with wine stains being scattered everywhere. Our stepdad, Brock, lay passed out on the couch, beer in his hand, while our step-mom was nowhere to be seen, probably drunken out of her mind somewhere else in the apartment. I still don't know how they managed to hold jobs for more than a few days.

The carpet was still soggy with red wine after last night's ordeal, shattered glass littering the floor with little specks of blood on them, nothing out of the ordinary. We skillfully dodged them after years of learning, trying not to tear our duct tape "shoes" apart.

I tried to rush into the bathroom, but Max, being the only one out of the two of us to work out, shoved me against the wall and made a run for it, stealthily leaping over the shards, just barely missing them. He slammed the door shut, almost breaking it off its hinges, making Brock rustle in his sleep but somehow not wake up. I, on the other hand, looked at the time and decided that maybe I didn't need to shower and that deodorant and cologne would do for today,

I walked to our balcony and changed into the third pair of clothes I had, still damp from the night before. Gazing down, I saw my only other two pairs laying on the street, covered in mud and cigarette butts. I only needed one pair of clothes until I got my paycheck anyway.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I combed my unruly black hair using a very dull knife I had found. The black jacket, khakis, and blue T-shirt barely covered all six feet of me, stretching to fit.

After changing, I went to our kitchen and looked through the pantry, eventually stumbling upon the seven-month-old cereal box, where a plant was growing out of it. Maybe milk and a bagel would do for a few hours, I thought as I threw the box into the trash. Thankfully the bagels were fine, but when I took out the milk, I saw the expiration date.

"June fourteenth, twenty-twenty-one," it read.

It was August tenth, twenty-twenty-two today. Our first day of school was going well, I thought to myself, and there was no way it could get any worse, but I was proven wrong five seconds later when I split the bagel in half to share with Max, but looking inside, I saw a greenish-white mold clumped together and just tossed the bagel away. Max eventually got out of the shower, steam pouring out with the welcome scent of shampoo momentarily clearing out the smell of smoke, wine, and misery.

Whilst he got changed, I opened the closet and brought out the two new pairs of shoes that I had recently bought using almost all of my money. When Max came out after changing, he was wearing a bright orange t-shirt that clung tightly to his six-feet-one-inch form, accompanied by black shoes and black shorts. His black hair was unruly like mine was not too long ago, so I sat him down and combed his hair after washing the knife, much to his protest. Once he stood up, he went to put on his outside duct-tape shoes, but right before he could, I stopped him and presented the shoes to him, rather than being happy, he was mad that I'd spent about fifty dollars on him.

"Chris, you didn't need to buy these," he said while putting them on, showing that although he was disappointed that I spent money on him, he was still grateful.

"You're right, I didn't, but you're the only family I have in my life, and I want you to be happy," I said, drawing attention to the fact that we only had each other to rely on.

"But I can't repay you," he said, hugging me tightly.

"You don't have to," I replied as I wrapped my arms around him, acting like I was shielding my brother from this horrible reality we lived in.