Aren bent his legs, leaning forward, his blood-coated teeth showing and clenched. He looked at the broken, contorted piece of metal in his hand, and threw it away, looking at it as he would an indeterminate piece of rubbish. “Useless.” He muttered. He pulled from his damaged coat a piece of silver that fit perfectly in his hand.

            [No… I’m not going to be worthless like this. I’m done. No, no, it won’t happen again. Anything… anything but that. Anything to stop me from being useless again. Anything… I’ll do anything, so…!]

            [Then surrender.] A deep voice spoke within the recesses of Aren’s mind. It echoed seemingly infinitely. The patient voice spoke calmly, but heavily. It was the voice of a hungry snake conniving his prey into giving its own life.

            Aren responded in his head. His eyes widened and his hands gripped the sides of his head, ignoring the pain that delivered shocks through his entire body.

[Oi, at least let me finish before you go making remarks. Surrender your consciousness to me. You said you’d do anything. What’s wrong? Are you too weak to trust yourself?]

[…] Aren didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to respond to. This… thing was right. He was weak and useless, and this was all that was left that he could do. Surely, he’d die if he didn’t let this event take its course.

            “Manifest Insanity.” Aren’s mouth chanted two words in a voice entirely unlike his own. The simple handle immediately transformed. The handle itself grew outward, two bands curling around the central hilt. The crossguard grew outward by several inches on each side, softly curving downward at the end. Out of the crossguard appeared a blade. A flat, rectangular rod grew outward several feet, and stopped. The corners cut off and the blade thinned on the edges, small elliptical impressions growing outward slightly. What was in his hand was a long vorpal blade in a bright red hue. It seemed to glow, too bright to look at, but its light was not radiant, only blinding.

            The downward-facing head of Aren turned upwards to look at the man. The eyes weren’t Aren’s usual calm, mildly disgruntled eyes. They were wide eyes dyed red, accompanied by a vicious smile. He stood up, his stance and posture uneven.

            “’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves…” Aren leaned forward, his smile widening. He bent one leg. “…did gyre and gimble in the wabe…” What was left of the boy’s sanity disappeared. He jumped forward with speed incomparable to before. Within a second, he had arrived before that man.“…all mimsy were the borogoves…” He danced around the man, not attacking, but waving the sword in wide, bright arcs. He spun and raved and laughed, the sword not once touching the man. “and the mome raths outgrabe.”

            “Beware the Jabberwock, my son!” He cried out suddenly, jumping forth and swinging the sword in a sudden, flinching movement. “The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!” The man finally responded, swinging his axe. The sword was hit with tremendous force on the level that it should have been batted away. The power of the blow forced Aren’s hand open. However, all this revealed was the presence of four silver spikes, each one penetrating Aren’s hand, holding the sword to his hand no matter the cost. “Beware the Jubjub bird and shun…” Aren swung again, entirely ignoring the axe. His sword swung downward, making a whistling sound as though it were cutting the wind. His ruthless slash was interrupted by the long haft of the weapon. “…the frumious Bandersnatch!”

            “He took his vorpal sword in hand…” Aren swung his blade again, this time from the side. Just as the man’s axe was about to meet it, the blade stopped, retreating as Aren spun, the slash meeting soft flesh on the other side of the man’s body. Aren’s chuckling evolved into maniacal laughter as he saw the blood fall from the wound. “…long time the manxome foe he sought…” He raised his sword again, pointing it directly at the man’s face. “So rested he by the Tuntum tree…” As the axe swung towards the blade, Aren jumped back, planting his feet a few meters away. “…and stood awhile in thought.”

            “And, as in uffish thought he stood…” He again lowered his waist, aiming his blinding crimson blade forth towards the tall man in front of him, who wore a grim expression.“…the Jabberwock, with eyes of flame…” He took one leisurely step, moving away from his stance, sword resting at his side.“…came whiffling through the tulgey wood…” Suddenly, he shot forward with speed inconceivable for a human. “And burbled as it came!”

            “One, two! One, two! And through and through…” Aren danced around his enemy as if playing, sword slashing endlessly, rending the body of his enemy. “…the vorpal blade went snicker-snack!” He made one final stabbing motion, managing to plunge the blade into the shoulder of the man as the haft came up less than a second late, failing to redirect the blow. “He left it dead, and with his head…” He spun around once, pulling his bloodied sword from the destroyed left shoulder of the man.

            Halfway through the spin, however, an axe met Aren’s side, digging ruthlessly into his hip. The huge, cold blade met his hot blood, gouging out a great hole in his side, the force behind the desperate strike catapulting his body into the outer fence with tremendous force, splintering the wood and sending him further flying into a poor, innocent tree that was entirely bifurcated by the power.

            “This vessel… still… too weak…” He mumbled in a pained voice as his eyes fluttered, blood pouring from his great wound. He blinked, his eyes switching from crimson back to blue.

            “Dammit… Greg…” He muttered as he went limp, a shadow appearing at the door to the mansion.

---------------------------

            [You again?] Aren thought as he looked up at the somehow familiar being of shadow. His momentary clairvoyance surprised him – he almost felt offended by himself that he’d forgotten his entire past life. His ingrained hatred, his perpetual depression, everything had just disappeared. Aren had enjoyed that freedom, and he hated himself for it.

In the same way that had happened before, he could not move a muscle. His facial muscles worked just fine, but he didn’t breathe. There was no need to do so.

            “Yes, me again.” The shadow said flatly. A slight amount of anger could be felt in its voice. “There is not much time.”

            [Hehe. That line has been spoken by billions at this point.] Aren thought, a mocking smirk widening on his face.

            “And I know. However, this time, it’s serious, so shut up and listen.” It spoke, a slight tinge of emotion threading through its voice for the first time. “When I brought you across, someone else knew that I did so.” The shadow receded slightly, a tinge of guilt in the speech.

            [Someone?] Aren responded, earnestly flummoxed. What did that have to do with anything anyway?

            “Yes. That someone is Caligula, The Mad God.” The voice paused, as if stumbling over words. “You have no idea how greatly I have wronged you.” The words were not apologetic. They were self-deprecating, almost hateful words.

            “Allow me to provide our history. I am among the existence of those known as Immortals. Immortals are the lowest class of Deity, below Gods and Elders. We Immortals, however, have a special privilege. Being immensely weaker than the Gods, we are not sealed. We can meddle in other worlds’ affairs as we please, as long as we do not do so directly.

            Eons ago, there existed just one. Desius, the highest of Elder Gods, he is hailed by the Humans as the God of Creation. However, that is not who he is. Desius is the God of Rivalry. It has been decreed that through his Rivalry, all is created and destroyed. He created the prideful existences now known as Elder Gods – Caron, Emperor of Gods, acted as the leading existence. Sylisith became the God of Betrayal. Avas became the God of Creation. Halia became the Goddess of Kinship. Finally, Falwen became the God of Ambition.

            Nobody, not even the Elder Gods, know how the world came into being. It has simply always been. Without it, Desius could never be created.

            In the creation of our pantheon, Desius split himself. He and his duplicate had perfectly equal power, and fighting will that has never been matched, not even by Falwen. Desius clashed endlessly against himself, and the power that he expended escaped, forming into Avas. Avas, deeply saddened by how destructive the combat was, took a part of the world and used it as a bond to link back together the two Desius. Together, the two competed to create something greater than the other.

            Through their competition, they created countless beasts, refining them and refining them as their opponents became more sophisticated. At the end, the two each had different races that had reached the peak – these races could grow by themselves. Originally, they were known as the Ovos and the Essence – after the two Gods that created them. Over time, the Ovos who continued to perfect themselves reached a state of variety. Each of them could be told apart very easily. They renamed themselves the Humans, so that they were known not to be simply the pets of a God. They banded together to create all that they could, just like their patron god.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

            The Essence split apart practically instantly. They grew themselves to beat each other, rather than for the sake of growth. Thus, small groups were formed that each grew differently. They grew further, and became called another name by the Humans. The Humans called them Desmond for a little while, but decided that was stupid, and called them Demons as a compromise.

            A single Human rose above others. He was an abnormal existence that walked around, gathering together the human race for the sake of a tantalizing goal – the growth of Humans as a whole. He traversed the world with his small corps, gathering more and more people. Eventually, he led tens of thousands across the world – a beautiful and horrible sight. He never looked down upon the people, as they were of the same race as he, and he firmly believed that all born of a race were born as equals. However, it depended on their actions to define them. Once the man had gathered every Human he had seen, he returned to his humble home and commanded the race with great charisma to build a city. He assigned people to plan different parts of the city, and assigned others to build it. Finally, the third group supplied resources to the people. Together, they built an empire of dozens of cities and hundreds of towns. The humans lived happily. However, each one had a limited time in the world. That man, Caron, died. Avas, touched, granted a part of his power to Caron, ascending him to godhood as the Emperor of the Gods that had given order.

            However, the Humans suffered a problem. They were originally a sufficient population to populate the cities, but nobody wanted to. The population was shrinking and no new generation was being formed. People died unhappy and young because they lived in populated cities where their will to create was suppressed by their lack of assets. They saw no advantage to living within cities, and they strayed from the path paved for them by Caron.

            Deeply saddened by this was a young girl who lived in a city and loved the people around her. This young girl, Halia, was a simple child in the original city, the capital. After so many of those that she loved to talk to left, she resolved herself to stop anybody else from leaving. To her, there was no pain greater than loneliness. Thus, she took it upon herself to stop the people from leaving the city. She taught them the wonders of growing together – what could be accomplished together rather than alone.

            Later in her life, she also taught humanity of love, and the joy of creating a new generation to carry on their wills. That’s another story. It also kind of ascended her to godhood as Desius was interested in her… techniques.

            Meanwhile, the Essence was still in the natal stages of growth. The population had grown apart. From simple bodies of energy, they evolved into different species – Imps, Succubi, et cetera. Of course, the Succubi were only created after Halia ascended. Anyway, one Demon was a child. He was a Spirit who possessed what Desius thought was simply a strong competitiveness. Desius blessed the boy with his favor, but did not know what that boy harbored within.

            With his newfound power, the boy won battle after battle. He became addicted to victory. It got to the point that he challenged others not for the difficulty, but so that he could feel the taste of victory. He did not limit himself in any way, and used dirty tactics and outright lies to get his way. In the end, he became the supreme, unquestioned ruler of the entirety of the Demons – the first Demon Lord. It is because of him that Humans hate Demons. At the end of his own life, this man, Sylisith, extorted Desius into granting him enough power to ascend. However, due to Desius’s reluctance, Sylisith only gained enough power to become an Immortal, about on my level. Only through his unique methods was he able to gather enough of the ambient energy of the world to ascend beyond that and become matched with the other Elder Gods.

            Through his meddling, the Humans learned hate. Those that left the cities became lonely. They lived out in massive areas with nobody near them for miles. They saw what love was, and they left their homes and returned to the cities. To their regret, the cities had already been filled with people. Those from the countryside grew distant, dejected, and lonely. They banded together and raised their swords against the cities. They were ruthless in killing people so that space would be made for the others that inevitably would return, feeling the same. When the descendants of Caron, the leaders of the cities, showed outright hostility towards them, they dispatched the nobles that descended from the construction directors and the Emperor himself with ease, leaving only the good looking women for their own sakes.  They had no means of communication, so the cities grew apart. The nobles saw their power’s potential and abused it. Through betrayal came corruption. They took from the people and didn’t give back. Sylisith divided the people Halia worked so hard to unite, and thus they still share animosity to this day.

            There was one special case. A man born of a Succubus and a human male, someone who shouldn’t have existed was made. He was named Falwen. In the beginning of his life, he was kept isolated from the world, raised by his mother. He was brought one day to his father, who lived in a small town.

            The odd appearance of this boy garnered attention. He had hair that was black with strands of white, and he had one eye that looked more like an orb that glowed bright blue in his head. He had two tiny, yet visible, fangs. He was ostracized, hated. He was viewed as a child that shouldn’t have existed, someone between the Humans and their mortal enemies, the Demons. He was viewed as impure, a taboo existence. He was hated severely and cruelly, and it never stopped.

            The hatred spread to everyone he was close to. Those who didn’t care about his aesthetics were scared of the mob of people that hated him so severely. He was alone. One day, his father, who refused to abandon him, was slaughtered. He was decapitated, his house burned with Falwen inside it.

            Falwen should have died in that fire, but he didn’t. His right eye became normal, rather than being the translucent blue orb it was before. However, he became cruel, ruthless, dark. He held animosity towards the people who murdered one of the only two important people in his life. He manifested his fury in massive amounts of energy. He condensed the energy and imbued it with the element of fire. That same fire that razed his home and his past would be used to cleanse this world of evil. The flames spread incessantly, and nothing stopped them except for Falwen’s own lack of power. However, such power was plenty to immolate all that lived in the small town. None were spared.

            When Falwen came to, he was surrounded by ash. When he looked to his left, he saw the burned body that he immediately recognized – his father. He realized what he had done, and just how atrocious it was to end and ruin the lives of hundreds as revenge for his own. He used his own willpower to seal away that spirit of vengeance that existed within him. He lived on his own, afraid to hurt others, and studied the phenomenon he caused that day.

            He was the first to feel the flow of Mana. He felt it all throughout the world, flowing endlessly. He could manipulate it to his will, and created all sorts of spells. He wrote down his findings.

            When he finally came to a society, it was that of the Demons. The aged, starved man arrived in the settlement of the Succubi. His final action was leaving his dozen books of research on magic systems. The glowing orb in his eye socket, which had returned with his sanity, neatly rolled out of his eye as his body fell to the ground. Falwen became known as the greatest innovator in the history of the world, and he ascended with his own power as the God of Ambition and Innovation.

Those six gods formed society. Desius gave them the will to compare themselves to each other. Avas made them, and gave them the will to create whatever they thought of. Caron gave them order, so that they would not scatter. Halia gave them kinship, so they could benefit even when together. Sylisith corrupted the Humans’ minds, to balance the light with darkness. Falwen’s sheer will to use his mind gave Humans the ability to use that vast potential of theirs.

The orb is still in existence to this day – in that crimson sword of yours, that clear gem is what remained of the strength of that alter-ego of Falwen – Caligula. He influenced where you would arrive so that you would find him and contract with him. His prison is no longer that orb, but you.

Oh… time is out. I have spent too much time explaining these things, but you should have a far greater understanding.

Remember this – do not, under any circumstances, release the voice when it tells you to do so. If Caligula ever uses Manifest Fury, the world may not survive.”

The ambiguous world of light and shadow disappeared around Aren. A soft, warm feeling enveloped him. He immediately forgot part of what the two spoke about – probably the Immortal’s doing.

            He sat up with a start, met only with an unfamiliar face.

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Author's Note

Spoiler :

I suppose I'll leave it here. Exposition chapter, yay! Anyway, make sure to comment if you have any ideas or opinions. I want to hear them. I MUST HEAR THEM.

I'm sure I don't deserve half a star for this, but whatever. I'm not writing this for the ratings, I'm writing it for fun. If anyone hates it, they can stop reading and fuck off.

Oh, and happy Thanksgiving!