The worship of Naharis dated back to the golden age of mythology and legend, the age when the Titans and the Gods still walked the ground of Escana. Naharis was the One True God. The All-Father, the Creator, the Gifter, the Protector, the Savior. He was everything but the cold embrace of Death. His children were but the extension of his greatness and magnanimity. Back then, those who worshipped Naharis as the one true God of Escana would worship his children in the same reverence. That age has long gone. The Dusk of Naharis has come and gone with Naharis’ ultimate destruction. The First Great War, too, was already a bloodied stain of the past. The Titans, Naharis’ beloved creations, were but bones, ashes, and stories of the long-gone ages. Still, the worship of Naharis persisted.
Those who still worshipped Naharis as the one true God of Escana would carve an oath on their chest. “Live for His glory. Die for His vengeance.”
Eolli, Morpheus 009 grew up bearing such mark on top of her full, ample breasts. She was told that was her only purpose. Her life was devoted to spreading Naharis’ glory. Her death was to bring justice to his demise. She was raised to bear that oath unquestioned loyalty and pride. The very day Eolli bore that oath on her chest, she was no longer a nameless slave in the servitude of the cult. She gained a name, a Titan’s name. She was embraced and accepted as a sister of the cult. By swearing the oath, she gained a name, a purpose, and a sisterhood. So Eolli has never questioned the goodness of the oath.
“Live for His glory. Die for His vengeance.”
The followers of Naharis’ worship were scorned as the occultist of the Dark God. Naharis’ avengers were mocked by the ungrateful world as the Demon Lords of Kharigan, bastard children of Naharis, mistakes. But to Eolli and her people, they were the follower of the One True Gods. And they, who Escana called Demon Lords, were the true Saviors and Gods of Escana.
Why must she fight for a God, who had already become just a shadow of his old self, who was not even fully alive? Why must she die for his avengers? Why this, why that. Neither Eolli nor the people around her asked such questions. That was how the adults lived, that was how the children were raised, that was how the slaves and captives were taught. That’s how a follower of the dark God was.
Eolli was taught not to fear the cold embrace of Death in the process of dying for the greater cause. “You will not see Death. You shall not answer to Death.” Eolli was taught.
If she died for Lust’s wish, she would simply reborn in Lust’s ardent, most desired image. If she died to sate Gluttony’s hunger, she would become one with Gluttony and be a God. If she died for Leshy, she would be welcomed to live the afterlife within his fruity forest. If she died for Sanguine, she shall be heralded as his Champions and his cherished heralder for an eternity to come. If she died in Flokí’s name, she would be the happiest woman in the world, always smiling in blissful happiness into the end of time.
To die for Naharis’ vengeance, to die for his avengers was a special privilege, a reward.
So, Eolli was taught. So, she was promised. So, she believed.
“And so, you shall be rewarded for your devotion.” Never would Eolli forget that sentence, that sweet musical voice, and the person who whispered sentence that to her.
Never would Eolli forget the uplifting elation inside her heart when she heard that honeyed promise poured into her mind. And the betrayal, the appalling, the hurt, the madness that followed.
The world is a cold, unapologetic and unforgiving playground for the Gods to play their game of Chaos. And mortals, regardless of who they were, king or peasant, holy maiden or whore, hero or thief, are just pieces and instruments of Chaos.
Never, Eolli promised. Her accursed deceivers and tormentors, she vowed not to forgive them.
Never, Eolli swore not to forget. In that dimly lit bowel of madness, he appeared as though the darkness itself has arisen. It was as though a starless night has turned into a man and wept for the madness of the world. Never, she swore not to forget, that harrowed, tearful face of the man who appeared out of nowhere to end her torment.
36,591 days he has been by her side. It was lengthy of time in the real world but laughingly short in dreamland.
But a normal person would have fed up and given up on her a long time ago. Not him. The length that he has gone for her was madness, in and of itself. “It’s alright. I’m here,” he said that sentence again, again, and again. He asked nothing. Her salty tears, he drank. Her sanguineous craze he absorbed. Her torment he ended. Her bitter and hurt he comforted. The void inside her heart, the ache in her womb, he filled. “It’s alright. I’m here,” he said, enveloping her inside his warm comfort. He demanded nothing from her. Not her thank, not appreciation, not her love, not her wisdom, not her loyalty, nothing. 36,591 days he has been by her side, granting her a blissful peace and a wholesome love, asking nothing in return.
Her love, her rest, her loyalty, and her soul belong to him and him alone. Never to be given to someone else. Never, Eolli pledged.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When a person saw that absurd scene played out before her eyes, she would believe that she had seen everything.
The Gods of Kharigan told a man that he was an insufferable conceited fool for acting against them. The man mocked the Gods to be a bunch of brain-dead morons for dragging him into their game despite not knowing what he could do.
The Gods declared that they would punish the man, giving him an endless torment to the infinity of time. The man declared that he would end the Gods, their games and their era.
The Gods mocked the man that he could only win against them because he was dreaming. The man laughed at the Gods, telling them that if they could not win against him inside a dream, what hope do they have in winning against him in reality.
The Gods dared the man to free them from their prisons. The man dared the Gods to free themselves from their prisons.
The Gods labeled a man “Mad” because he declared his intention to fight them and then fought them for real. The man called the Gods “Mad” because they dragged him into their game over a prophecy.
Who is right? Who is wrong? Who is conceited? Who is humble? Who is stupid? Who is smart?
Does it matter?
Both sides are wrong. Both sides are arrogant. Both sides are stupid. Both sides are equally mad.
From her objective point of view, Eolli reckoned that the world is mad. The Gods are mad. And her man, the Prince, who declared war on the world and Gods for real, must be a unicorn among madmen, Eolli sighed inwardly.
Unicorns are often regarded as the weirdest creature that Mother Nature has created. They could sniff out if a female’s hymen was torn or intact. They could tell if a female was pure, virgin and be of undiluted elven pedigree, or unpure. They don’t allow themselves to be tamed. They only allow pure elven females to ride them. They could tread and run on the surface of the water for a limited time. Their blood heals wounds and lifts curses. No creature is as weird as the unicorns. Therefore, the proverb “a unicorn among unicorns” means “a weirdo among the weirdoes.” The ‘unicorn among madmen’ is the madman of madmen.
Therefore, she, who wishes to be the extension of that madman’s madness, must be mad, Eolli exasperated over how she has come to terms with that. But if she wasn’t already mad, she could not walk among his Morpheus.
The Baku is the Prince’s merciless fist to hold the Gods in one place for his executioners to slay them.
The Morpheus is the magical, deft hand of the Prince, allowing him to mold and reshape the world as he pleases.
The Warren is the farseeing eyes, sharp ears, and lifeblood of the Prince’s body and body extension.
The Baí Zé is the invisible sixth sense of the Prince, warning the Prince of the calamities of the world and the tides of war.
The chief of the Divine Dream Warfare Department, the Queen of the Succubi, the Red Queen herself has once sung, telling her subjects just how great their role would be in the Prince’s vision.
It sounded beautiful and inspiring when the Red Queen said it in her lovely ardent voice. “Members of the Morpheus exist only to shape the world as the Prince’s decrees. Your role is to turn his dream into reality.” Her words were as beautiful as they were mystifying. So the Prince translated, “If I can do something, you must be able to do it as well. If you can do something, I can do it as well. Share and instill this mindset among yourself and your dream hosts.” That is a very unrealistic and ambitious goal to set.
Be able to do everything that the Prince can do, that is what it takes to be a Morpheus.
If the Prince commanded Eolli to make an incompetent king competent, that king shall go to sleep and an incompetent king and wake up competent. If the Prince commanded Eolli to turn a hardened soldier into a child, “Consider it’s done,” she would reply. If the Prince told Eolli to make a brilliant general stupid, “That’s easy,” she would laugh as any member of the Morpheus would.
But her Prince gave Eolli a list of faces and told her, “Teach these scarred beasts to live standing on their feet. Make them independent of me. I’m not going to fight this war with my arms and feet tie to them.”
At the time, Eolli shook her head in disbelief and grabbed her Prince by his collar. Madness, she thought. “If you are going to be a busybody, worry about your own safety first. If you want to protect someone, protect yourself first,” pleaded Eolli in a furious voice. No longer had Eolli had any delusion about her Prince being a selfless saint, a gallant warrior or an otherworldly prince. In dreamland, where time drifted infinitely, Eolli had outlived such naïve, romantic delusion of hers. She realized that he was nothing but a hopeless mad fool. She could no longer admire him. She pitied him. He could cure people’s madness but not his own. Not that he had any intention to rid or cure himself of his madness. That. That’s what made it nearly impossible for anyone to cure his madness. It was something everyone has accepted and resigned.
Her Prince commanded Eolli to make a group of beasts, that could barely speak their name, human. Thus, Eolli played the dual role of being a teacher and babysitter to every face appeared on that list. Her Prince has given them, the scarred beasts, his promise to welcome and protect them until they could stand on their feet. So if Eolli could make them stand on their feet through a Divine Dream, her Prince was freed from his promise.
By the time Eolli began her work on the third case, she realized that she was trapped in a loop. It was a dull repetitive cycle of spending years to befriend her dream hosts, gaining their trust, getting them to share their hurt, and alleviating their hurt bit by bit. Then, Eolli would teach them a repertoire of life skills. Making weapons and tools, hunting, fighting, killing, reading and writing, sewing, cooking, trading. Eolli did not just teach them. She trained them, but never as hard as her Prince has trained her.
When her dream hosts cried because of the toll of the training on their mind, Eolli would signal her succubi partners to comfort their mind, channeling their charm magic on Eolli. Eolli would hug her dream hosts and reinvigorate them to train again. She did not allow her dream hosts to quit halfway.
Chaos is volatile and unpredictable. Therefore, in order for a person to survive the chaos, that person must be lucky, skillful, adapting and wise. Eolli gave them but small, acute wisdom to avoid the inbounding claws of carnage and the wheel of chaos. That was her lucky charm given to them. Even if they leaked this small piece of wisdom, it would do nothing to her Prince’s vision. When her job was done, Eolli told her dream host to be thankful to her Prince and to stay away from him.
Eolli was repeating herself, moving from one identical case to another. Her work was dull, repetitive, and drawn-out enough that Eolli could make a manual and formulas out of her works. And so she did just that, compiling a manual and formulas of her past experiences in order to accelerate the later cases.
Around the sixth case, Eolli learned to not to treat all of her dream hosts equally. She was reminded again that the same knife, that is used to stab five women’s heart in the same motion and force, could leave vastly different puncture marks. The size, the shape and the severity of the wounds varied from person to person. The fact, that until now Eolli and her colleagues have used the stupid people of dreamland and themselves as the experimental guinea pigs to conduct their study, had its drawbacks.
Normal people could never be as resilient and stubborn as those stupid people of dreamland. Normal people, who had not seen, heard, and suffered the true work of madness, would be vastly different. Eolli thought that it was by the blessing of pure madness that her Prince had saved many people from Sanguine. Ending their confinement and removing their chain was just the beginning, the easiest part. Removing the venom, too, was easy enough. Having the patience and heart to undo the work of madness was the hardest part. Her encounter with the drawbacks deepened Eolli’s appreciation for her Prince. With that, a sneaking shadow of a doubt. Eolli questioned if he had ever truly loved her.
Eolli realized just how toxic and strange her line of work was. The more she tried to unravel and change in the mind of another person, the more she understood of her own shadow and weakness.
Eolli’s mental age has outgrown the desire to be reciprocated by her Prince. She would accept it if he would not. She would be very happy if he did. For a short 36,591 days, he has been by her side, giving Eolli his undivided attention. He cried for her. He smiled for her and he filled her heart and body with love. For a short 36,591 days, he was hers alone. Eolli thought that was enough.
Eolli has understood and accepted her place in the world. Eolli was not a peerless beauty, a woman carved out of breathtaking loveliness and ardent desires like the Red Queen. Even with stylish makeup on her face and glamorous dresses, Eolli knew that she could never be comparable to those high elves of the Baku, the golden apples in the eyes of any male.
She was never the smartest, the strongest, the bravest, or the kindest. When she came across the term “Plain Jane” in her study, Eolli immediately thought of herself. That, she was. So, she had come to terms with various matters. But Eolli questioned if he had ever truly loved her. It does not matter, Eolli sighed. She shook her head and faithfully continued her work.
Eolli worked diligently and tirelessly. Eolli wired herself to think that her dream hosts were not patients needed to be treated but friends. There is no shortcut in mending a wounded heart or gluing a fragmented mind. There is no leeway in learning how to hunt with a bow and arrow. There is no short or easy path to learning how to fight and defend oneself. It is a process for the teacher and the student, the healer, and the patient. Eolli’s work was a slow grind, but sure, a process with a clear goal.
The progress of time and the importance of reality became lost inside the Divine Dream. “Neither time nor reality matters,” in URLOX’s words. That’s why a person must cling to other values such as his own progression and his own reality. Otherwise, he would go mad or degenerate. That’s why inside a Divine Dream, a person’s greatest foes were himself and his own perception of things.
A useless person could become useful with the right mindset and training. Correcting a person’s mindset and give that person the correct training requires time. But we have all the time in the world, her Prince always repeated that line to encourage his subjects. He was often wise and intelligent, but once in every now and then, he would be bafflingly stupid and crazy. It was hard to predict his thought and action. It was hard to tell which was acting and which was real. It was hard, but not impossible, as Eolli has learned.
Practice makes perfect. Eolli did not allow her dream hosts, her students, to lose to themselves and give up. Even if their body would not gain a spurt of strength and benefit from her training when they wake up, the experience that they gained from the training would make a stark difference. She taught them to keep on walking. There were times that they would get angry at her for the training and the over-preparation that Eolli has forced upon them. But there is no such thing as being over-prepared in the face of chaos. When chaos comes, no amount of preparation is ever enough. That, Eolli has learned firsthand. So, she kept pushing them. The stronger they become, the more independent they become, the less worried and distracted her Prince would be.
Her work was draining but not always thankless and rewardless. Eolli found a small joy and resemblance of reward whenever her dream hosts could smile and be freed from their inner demon. Her Prince taught Eolli and the members of his DDWD to be happy for someone else’s happiness. “That, alone, is enough of a reward,” he often said. “Condition yourself to be happy. Thus you will be,” he also said. He was truly an insane man. His recipe for happiness was insane. He was happy because he wired himself to feel happy. That’s just insane. It was because the Prince was like that, during her own training, Eolli and many of her friends and colleagues could not help but wondered if he wired himself to be strong. Nothing seemed to faze him. No force seemed able to put a crack on his mind.
Eolli found joy when her students made an improvement. She found a small, bubbling happiness when her students could crack their own jokes and appreciate the training. But Eolli did not forget to make a record of the useful intelligence from the memory of her dream hosts. One of the women encountered a real demon without realizing. Aside from that, there is a lot of beneficial information to draw out from their memory. The power of the Divine Dream spared no respect of privacy to a person’s memory, and thus, neither a member of the DDWD.
When it was her turn, Erinys’ turn, the girl who has earned his special attention and golden coins, Eolli gave her special treatment. Her Prince has given Eolli his permission to be harsh with the training. And so she did.
Eolli taught the other women to hunt hares and small games. But she trained the girl Erinys to put down something much bigger and heavier. Eolli taught the other women to fight smart for their own protection. But she beat Erinys to fight hard and smart. She beat Erinys to be a soldier and a protector. Eolli taught the other women to evade chaos. But she made Erinys dove into chaos and swam. It did not matter if the girl’s petite physical body could not keep up with the burden of the tasks. Eolli did not care if the girl lacked the talents and aptitudes for the task.
“It is a must,” Eolli repeatedly told herself and the girl. “You are already on harm’s list,” said Eolli.
With Erinys, there is no room for weakness or delay in her training or retreat.
The Prince has given the girl his special care, attention, and promises. And many of the Gods had not missed on that. The three Gods of Madness certainly did not miss on that. The girl was most unfortunate to have the Prince as her savior. She was dragged into his swirl of chaos and battles.
Eolli was especially hard on Erinys. She did not become a friend with the girl. She abused and yelled at the girl more than often. She whipped and caned the girl to complete her training. She punished the girl mercilessly whenever the girl failed her exercises and training. Eolli played the role of a cruel mistress to perfection. When Erinys cried, when her mental health reached a critical breaking point, Eolli made the succubi to make their appearance, playing the role of friends and fairy godmothers for Erinys. Eolli taught the succubi how to help the girl and encourage her to keep going with the training.
Her relationship with Erinys was set to be a cruel trainer and a student, nothing else.
The Erinys lacked the strength to properly wield a long sword or anything too heavy. Eolli taught the petite girl to wield a high elf slim sword, a bizarrely shaped weapon that looked like a fusion of a one-handed sword and a rapier in one blade. The hilt of a slim sword featured a thin knuckle guard, a one-handed grip handle, and a wide crossguard. The blade of the slim sword was extra wide at forte then abruptly tapered down to a long, acute and wicked point. Eolli taught Erinys only the basics and allowed Erinys to learn her weapon on her own through practice and sparring.
Eolli, by no mean, was a one-man-army monster like Lortenite. She was also far from being a one-person army like the leader of Baku. One could part the cloud ocean on the sky and will a storm into existence. The other sneezed and an army scattered. Those two were impossible to become. No amount of training could turn a normal person into monsters like them. The mindset “Because you can, thus I can,” does not work on the two of them. But Eolli has trained hard enough to be able to bring down squadrons of angry orcs if her Prince commanded her. Eolli beat the same mindset into the mind of the girl first and the punishing lessons into her shape later.
Because the reality inside the Divine Dream is separated from the reality of the outside world, Erinys would not gain any muscle and physical strength from her training. Her physical body would remain the same. Adding to the fact that Erinys was sorely lacking in both intuition and natural talent, Eolli drilled her to think fast on her feet even in the heat of combat to make up for her physical prowess. There is no amount of training could make Erinys thinking on her feet as fast as the Prince himself, nobody could, no amount of training could. It is impossible to teach a person to be a one-man army. But Eolli made sure that the girl was as competent and adaptable as she could be.
Stolen story; please report.
Every dreamland day, Erinys was given some short personal hours to meditate and prepare for her lessons or find comfort with her golden coins and fairy godmothers (dream demons). After that, it was relentless 12 to 18 dreamland hours of training with Eolli. Eolli sparred with Erinys using a wide array of weapons and equipment, from saber to quarterstaff, light armor to heavy armor. The sparring field was randomized in every session. It was not always flat land. It changed from one session to another, ranging from a small deck of a rocking boat to a snow-filled land. Eolli did not allow Erinys to grow used to deal with one weapon or situation in specific. Eolli taught the girl to poke and parry with the slim sword while solving puzzles at the same time. Her mind must focus and multitask on both the fight and the puzzles. Failing either one aspect of the task means pain and punishment.
Erinys repeatedly learned the pain from both failing to parry with her slim sword to failing the puzzles. Failing both means double the pain, double the punishment.
“There is a life and death battle to be fought and important puzzles to be solved. So, deal with both at the same time. Fight the fight and solve the puzzles at the same time.”
It was the same, much hated, much-feared ritual and much despairing trial that every member of the Morpheus must go through. It was a part of the compulsory training for the Morpheus and the Baku. Staffers from the other Departments and Divisions of the DDWD did not have to go through this training course. Their role and responsibility do not require them to go through this course. But the staffers of the Morpheus and Baku knew this training best.
The ritual was a caricature to the one that the Prince has gone through.
It was how those two sadistic monsters of the Baku and the Executioner squad had beaten their lessons into the Prince’s mind. The difficulty and purpose of the training would scale accordingly to a person’s potential and power. The abilities he received from URLOX were remarkably powerful that it was pointless for him to learn how to fight with a weapon. Adding the fact that his mind was abnormally fast, he was accompanied by three one-man army monsters as his sparring partners.
The Prince was tasked to survive those three for as long as he could while solving an endless amount of puzzles. His training was a contest of survival against unwinnable foes.
For the Baku, this combat ritual taught them to outlast their opponents. For a Morpheus, the ritual is all about outwitting and overcoming the stronger opponent.
Eolli has gone through the same ritual, sparring with various members of the executioner squad as her opponents while solving some difficult puzzles. But sometimes, the Sword Demon herself would grace Eolli with her (promise of a certain failure) presence.
Eolli remembered failing her exercises and tasks more than she had succeeded. This sadistic ritual just designed to make people quit and gave up from the pain and despairing amount of failures, that or become a Morpheus or a Baku.
Eolli made Erinys go through the same ritual of pain and despair. As Erinys improved, bit by bit, the difficulty of the training scaled along. It was no longer just a face to face kind of sparring. Eolli widened the sparring field, teaching Erinys to fight various combat situations. The girl had no aptitude and understanding of magic. Eolli drilled the knowledge of magic and spells into her head and taught the girl to walk around her lack of aptitude. Eolli taught Erinys to shoot with a horse bow and throw projectiles.
As the training became more taxing, demanding and painful, the girl’s sense of pain dulled. She could take hit without flinching. Eolli told her succubus partners to recalibrate the Divine Dream through their racial power, altering the senses of a person. Pain is a good teacher for the girl who is still learning the limits of her body.
It was precisely because Erinys was truly the weakest among Eolli’s assignment; Eolli was especially harsh on her. She was so weak and hapless in both the department of physics and will that it was worrying. Eolli feared that her Prince would be killed as long as Erinys remained the same, his burden and Achilles heel. Greed could supplement the girl with protective charms and enchanted items. But if Erinys remained dependent on her Prince, no amount of protective charms and enchanted items is ever enough. Thus, Eolli made sure to grind the girl into a soldier and a protector.
Eolli could count more than two hands worthy of fingers, the number of times that Erinys had quitted everything completely. Eolli left the task to the succubi more than half of the time. Other than that, Eolli dragged the girl out of her retreat by force or by abuse. She threatened to take away the coins from the girl. Eolli would employ various tricks and devices to get the girl out of her retreat, and back to the training again.
Erinys did not know that the hardest part of her training has not come yet.
“Our dreams, ours,” that is the motto of the Morpheus, the ultimate goal and training of the Morpheus.
When Erinys achieved a satisfactory result with her combat training, Eolli started teaching the girl to wrestle away the control of the Divine Dream from Eolli and the succubi.
Eolli asked Erinys to manifest the miracle existing inside the coins that the Prince has given to her.
For the first time, the girl surprised Eolli. She did not just surprise Eolli. She shocked her and the succubi. That talentless petite girl did a magnificent job in her first exercise. The Prince’s golden coins have no real enchantment of their own. Their magic and power were invented, a lie. So are their replicas, a product of the Divine Dream, have no enchantment and powerless. And the succubi have made sure that the coins were without an enchantment.
It was a lie that the coins granted bravery and courage to their holders. In front of Eolli’s eyes, Erinys effortlessly willed that invented power and lie into the reality. While holding the coins, Erinys did not just become brave. She became unflinchingly fearless.
For someone who struggled so haplessly through the first half of her training, that petite girl shocked Eolli throughout the length of the second half of her training.
It took Eolli nearly two toiling centuries to achieve the state, “Our dreams, ours,” that Prince described. That was about the average record. Erinys cruised through the second half of her training in lesser than a year just by holding those fake coins. She actually completed the second half of her training before she saw the end of the first half.
Eolli could not tell if the girl was a genius or not.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Baí Zé is a fantastic beast from Chinese legend. It is said to be a wise beast that possesses the intimate knowledge of every supernatural creature existing in the world, whether that supernatural creature is good or evil or neutral. The Baí Zé often lends its wisdom to the common men on how to placate and overcome their conflicts with the supernatural creatures. There are various depictions of the Baí Zé. The Baí Zé could be a sacred beast of goodness, as kindhearted as it is wise, appearing to warn men about future calamity or lending them its benevolent wisdom to ward off the haunting evil of the world. The Baí Zé also has another depiction, being the harbinger of evil and calamity. Once it appears, calamities and evil would ensue without fail. Depending on which depiction, the Baí Zé could be either a force of good or evil.
But the Prince’s Baí Zé is another beast entirely, as every member of the Baí Zé has been taught, neither a force of good nor evil.
“There are many things I could never understand, back then when I was on Earth and now when I am on Escana. They call this game, the Reign of Chaos. From a mortal’s standpoint and a gamer’s standpoint, it is Chaos for sure. There is no set of rules. There is no law, no pattern, no similarity, no nothing. War just happens because it happens. People just go mad because they go mad. Good people become evil because they just do. Warlords just exist because they simply do. But then again, if you look from an Immortal’s point of view, this is not Chaos. They have an Arbiter to settle the disputes between the various factions. They have a set of laws and rules, albeit flimsy and tricky like the rules of a gambling den. As long as they don’t get caught cheating, it’s all right. But still, rules are rules. Don’t you think that this is strange? They call this the Reign of Chaos. And yet, they have a set of laws and rules to play this game. Rules and laws are like the opposite of chaos, the makers of order. Why there are laws and rules in a game called the Reign of Chaos? Don’t you think that this is strange?” Questioned the Prince on the very first day he founded the Baí Zé.
“It is strange, isn’t it? Why must this game be played on Escana and not Kharigan or Coeles? Why mortals must die for Immortals’ conflicts? Why must the Rulers of the other spirit realms side with either Coeles or Kharigan? Why can’t they just take care of their own business? Why can’t they leave Escana alone? Why the soul of Escana must belong to either those who live on Coeles or those who live on Kharigan? Why the one who can inherit the Great Throne must either be a God or a Demon Lord? Why the one who can wear the Crown must be a Child of Naharis? Why a game called the Reign of Chaos has so many rules? I have wasted a lot of time thinking about these questions. And when I say, I have wasted a lot of my time thinking about these questions, I mean it. I have wasted an unhealthy amount of time thinking about these questions. I am done with these questions. I had enough of asking myself these questions. It is about the damn time that I must grow over them. And I need you to do this, Baí Zé.”
If Chaos has a form, he was fair, a statue of immaculate loveliness. Dark enchanting eyes complimented a fair, smiley face was Chaos. Arms wide opened with a sweet, irresistible invitation, a light trap to lure in irreversible catastrophes and maddened cataclysms.
“Instead of asking myself, why must this game be played on Escana and not Kharigan or Coeles? I will bring this game to Kharigan and Coeles and play it there. Instead of asking myself, why mortals must die for Immortals’ conflicts? I shall slay Immortals for the conflicts between mortals. Instead of asking, why must the Rulers of the other spirit realms side with either Coeles or Kharigan? I shall make them choose to either be on my side, stay neutral, or be erased. Instead of asking, why the soul of Escana must belong to either those who live on Coeles or those who live on Kharigan? I would say, let the soul of Escana belong to the people living on Escana. Instead of asking, why a game called the Reign of Chaos has so many rules? I shall show everyone what a game called the Reign of Chaos should look like. There is no place for Order. There is no room for law or rule. In the Reign of Chaos, only Chaos exists and Chaos reigns supreme. This is how I shall grow over these unanswered questions.”
If Chaos has a voice, he was speaking. He was declaring his intention. Comparing to him, Death seemed to be a warm, merciful mistress. Madness seemed to be an oddly good, preferable master.
“Baí Zé, I need you to be the prophets who predict and warn people about the incoming of Chaos but also be the precipitance of Chaos. In another wording, you are the heralder of Chaos who disguises as the Hailer of Order. Just as I say, in the Reign of Chaos, only Chaos exists. Only Chaos reigns supreme.”
If Chaos has a will, he was penning his will down with a childlike innocent smile on his fairest face. The world remained oblivious of his will. “The world needs not to know, not yet.” His will was quiet and humble, spoken in a dream and to 25 beasts, neither as grand as that of the Creator’s prophecy as divinely as that of a prophecy of Gods and Demon Lords.
The Creators grandly pronounced their prophecy to the world. Gods and Demon Lords spoke theirs to their Champion in their divine fashion. Death confidently pronounced hers to the participants of the Great Game. The Creator’s prophecy spoke of a Prince and the succession of the person who was chosen by that Prince. But Death pronounced that Prince to be hers, she, the Arbiter who existed to referee the game. Thus, her prophecy conflicted with the Creators’ words. But it wasn’t just Death’s prophecy. Every prophecy, that has been uttered, formed a web of conflicts to either one or many of the other prophecies.
So the Prince of The Alliance naturally ordained his in a humble, soft whispering voice. “When I wake up, it’s already Game Over.” His first prophecy was whispered in a most saddened voice. His prophecy clashed with every prophecy that had ever been pronounced. “Only one prophecy can come true,” he smiled a wry smile, telling his war beasts, raised and trained for the sake of Chaos, that he wholeheartedly wished that he was wrong. “That’s my first prophecy. So, Baí Zé, pronounce it, realize it.”
The Prince’s Baí Zé, it is neither a fantastic beast representing the force of good nor evil.
The Prince’s Baí Zé possesses his darkest secrets, his unspoken intention, his maddened patience, his chaos, his will, his wisdom.
It is born, fed, raised, and trained for purpose of Chaos. It lives a cruel, disguised life. It lives, predicting the will of Chaos to people like an agent of Order, hiding its fangs and claws, its truest nature. It is the only animal in the world that knows the true form and true face of Chaos. The Prince’s Baí Zé exists solely for the sake of realizing the promised day, the day when Chaos reigning supreme.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Of all twenty-five members of the Baí Zé released to the world, only one stayed within the close vicinity of the Prince’s physical body, acting as the Prince’s personal alarm and point of contact with the rest of the Baí Zé.
Moniy, Baí Zé 001, the current substituted leader of the Baí Zé, was working inside her recently constructed castle of dreams. Her castle of dreams was a house full of memory orbs with messenger succubi came and went.
All 25 members of the DDWD were taught to keep a distance from the physical body of the Prince for various safety reasons. Wherever the Prince goes, he draws the spotlight of attention with him. The eyes and ears of Gods and Demon Lords would point toward him. Thus, anyone and any being staying near him would be inadvertently brought to the spotlight of attention, which is never a good thing for any staffer of DDWD who is supposed to work in the shadow.
Being the Prince’s personal danger alarms and chief of the Baí Zé, Moniy was asked to tread the thin, delicate circumference of spotlight and shadow surrounding the Prince’s body. She must be physically near the Prince to quickly warn him of the dangers and chaos, but at the same time, staying away from the spotlight collared around his body to avoid attracting unwanted attention to her own self. That put a strange limit on Moniy and her work, making her dependent on the fact that someone must be asleep around the Prince’s physical body at all times. Without someone being asleep, Moniy’s succubi could not construct a castle of dreams to provide a secure working space for Moniy. Such a limit could be lifted with the help of Greed’s avarice items and blessings. But that had to be delayed at the moment.
Moniy’s current dream host was a pitiable old maid, the oldest among the harem of the slain bandit lord. Moniy and her succubi could easily detect the woman’s confusion and fear toward her uncertain future.
Since the moment the woman had caught the eyes of the bandit lord, she lived a much confused and afraid life. For nearly a decade, she lived a wakeful endless nightmare, knowing that her fate has been enslaved to the bandit lord’s life and successes. She slept, suffering countless graphic nightmares that she would, one day, be pushed down and violated by the bandit lord’s lawless brutes at the moment of his death. The bandit lord made a living on the spoils of wars and plundering trips. Thus, wherever he went, she followed. She lived, constantly dragging her cold feet and running from places to places with the bandit lord’s war band, not knowing if tomorrow would come.
She had the intuition to understand that the bandit lord did not love her. What he loved was her exact image. Her only meaningful purpose in life was to bleach her hair white and dye it in the green of Zardian’s summer reed, walked and talked as if she was the bandit lord’s deceased mother. Her nightmares only intensified with every wrinkle formed on her forehead and the appearance of her younger images. One was a noble lady and the other was a virgin follower of the Lady of the Light. And unlike her, a lumpy old maid, her younger images were much brighter, fairer and bolder. Since, she had lived fearing the approach of that darkened tomorrow, not knowing when the bandit lord’s cunning rationality would grow bore of her and toss her to his brutes, whoring her for their morale and loyalty.
The bandit lord lived, she was afraid. The bandit lord was killed, she was afraid and confused.
It was depressing for Moniy to watch her dream host’s memory. Moniy instructed her partner succubi to soothe the woman’s mind with a bright, pleasant dream, a promise of a better tomorrow as a rental fee for using her sleep to construct a castle of dreams.
Moniy, being a woman herself and an old lover of Prince Fearless, had been through a similar phase and thus could relate to her dream host. It was a phase that most, if not every freed slave of Sanguine, have gone through.
The Prince was not Moniy’s first and only lover. He might not be the strongest of a man, a ripen body of sheeny muscles. He might not have a strong serpentine lower half to twine around Moniy’s lower body and squeeze her into a coiling embrace. He might not have a back laden with glistening scales. His mouth was a land of foul and blight, caustic and especially venomous every now and then. He loved to argue and pick a fight despite being so physically weak. He was an infuriating, disagreeable man with a big attitude. But he was everything else that Moniy has ever romanticized about a lover. He was more than just ardent fantasy standing on two feet. He was more than just a promise of passion, fervent steeped kisses, and steamy endless sexes.
Her Prince was gentle and understanding when it counted the most. He has stayed by her side for the longest of time, over two-century, helping her patching up the pieces of her fragmented soul. He was always with her whenever the vague phantom craze came over and the Whisperer’s phantom voices twisted Moniy’s mind with its cruel malevolence. He has seen Moniy in her ugliest moments, when she cried, retched and tortured herself like a maddened crone. Yet, he oddly accepted her.
Being a naga herself, Moniy was as fiercely possessive and territorial as any female naga could have been when she was alive. By Nature’s ordinance, male nagas were born to cheat on their partner whenever the chance presented and female nagas were conceived to be unforgiving of the thieving snakes and her cheating partner. Since the moment Moniy was born, she has always been the strongest and most sought out of the stronger sex. It was a meager fragment of her old pride, what left of Moniy when she was alive. She detested how ugly and mad she looked in a mirror in contrast to how fair he appeared. Swollen vacant eyes devoid of thought, tears smudged face, untended mane, unpolished scales, hopelessly insane. She loathed how she could only live crying and suffering and depending on his kindness.
When the pieces of her pride succumbed to the darkness of her heart, she lashed out her violence at him, her savior, with malevolent intents and maddened shame. Even so, he remained by her side even. “It’s all right. I know. I know. It’s not your fault,” he spoke to her and smothered her teary face inside his comfort. Moniy has always hated just how oddly natural it was for her to weakly cry inside his embrace. But Moniy just could not help but act like a spoilt girl around him. When Moniy requested him to be her lover in a strange flushed voice and he nodded his head, she has never been happier in her entire life.
Moniy has thought she knew happiness. But, she was wrong. Happiness was not defeating a queen in a ritual of combat and becoming the queen. Happiness was not a pillared throne of exquisite jewels and dashing gold. Happiness was not a diamond-tipped trident. Happiness was not subservient bow and envy laden eyes from her lesser.
The jagged edge tentacles of madness would come, plowing the inside of her brain. The blaring sirens of the Whisperer would manifest, disrupting her peace. The vague branding visions would project, standing between Moniy and her happiness. But Moniy was oddly fine with their cruel, rude intrusions and how miserable they made her. He was always by her side, readied to smother her tortured body inside his kind, loving embrace.
Living with him inside that small seaside love nest, Moniy could not even recognize herself.
Moniy has never known such small and modest happiness, such strange happiness. It was strange and it made her strange. Her happiness was a small seaside love nest. Happiness was a confoundingly small house, small enough that when Moniy straightened her 16 m half woman half serpentine body, she could touch both opposite sides of the house. Happiness was strange and very much unlike her old self or her normal self. Moniy repeatedly called him by his name without reasons, hugging him and wrapping his lanky body inside her coils on childish whims. She loved arguing with him, then pretending to pout. She giggled in sickening giddiness from knowing his different reactions and emotions. Moniy felt like she could die again from sheer happiness, from holding his hands, hugging his chest, teaching him things. Sometimes, when he kissed her, her eyes moistened and her heart seemed to burst out of her chest for unknown reasons.
It was not like Moniy has forgotten. It was not like her mind has become completely dense. Moniy knew that she was not one of living. She understood that she was dead and he was still very much alive. She knew that her love nest was built inside a bubble of a dream, his dream. Moniy knew that when he woke up, her small bubble of happiness would burst. But that was not the only thing Moniy feared.
Good things could not last forever. Her womanly intuitions seemed to understand many things that her rationality could not perceive. She instinctively found a strange need to cling to her vanquished foe, her madness, her old torment. She did not understand why. But Moniy clung to her madness like her life was depending on it. By Nature’s ordinance, male nagas are cheaters and female nagas are their owner and punisher. When her possession started to slip away from her anguine coils, a female naga felt it. She swallowed her pride, acting weak, undignified, cowardly and crazy to hold him inside her arms and coils, not knowing the true reasons. Moniy recalled the time when she had already overcome Sanguine’s venom and torture. She was not prepared to let go of her happiness. She was not prepared to let him go. She was not prepared.
Moniy acted crazier, feigned madness to prolong his kindness, love, and attention. The phantom, crippling hurt from Sanguine’s sadistic whims was never as terrifying as her inevitable parting with her savior and lover. But even so, her Prince could see through the chaos and the true madness of the world.
How could a feigned madness escape him?
The day her “Fearless” became “Prince Fearless,” Moniy committed suicide only to realize that she was already dead.
Out of pure coincidence, her fretful dream host reminded Moniy a lot of her old miserable self, a phase that eventually most of the Prince’s lovers, if not all of them, must learn to grow over.
“Report from Morpheus 011,” Warren 025 loudly conveyed the message she has just received from a newly arriving messenger succubus. The rainbow-colored, memory sphere unfolded inside her hands, projecting a folder of intel and a highlighted parcel.
Warren 025, Sanhintau was an exotic mannequin hobbling on one brown cloven hoof and one polished metal hoof. A pair of dark caprine horns crowned her thick coral colored braid. A feminine, dark blazer, and a floppy bow tie darkened on a pure white, long-sleeved shirt, knitting her thin, lovely figure. Dark, tight pants shaped the exotic comeliness of her hooved legs. Knowing her developed relationship with Sanhintau, the Prince has assigned Sanhintau to be Moniy’s secretary and immediate point of contact to the rest of the Warren.
Once, Sanhintau was known to be a becharming enchantress herself with the countless males of other races have sworn to sin against the ordinance of Nature and knelt before her hooves asking for but a moment of her gaze. But Madness and his fiendish friends had a different thought. Few of Sanhintau’s olden enchanting glamour were left untouched. A long, pronounced scar blemished her fair-skinned face. Beneath the tight-knit of Prince’s modified uniform and that mannequin loveliness, numerous unspoken tragedies dwelled and kept by none other than the work of Madness.
“Two skin changers spotted among the Wind Trope,” Sanhintau unwrapped the highlighted parcel and read its content.
Moniy blinked her eyes, not really surprised by the news. She recalled from Lust’s memory of the previous round of ROC, White Winter has been a hot contention ground between Sanguine’s faction and Kel’tahal’s faction. Kel’tahal himself was the faction leader of four Demon Lords and all-father of the skin changers. Therefore, it was not a surprise to find a few if not hundreds of skin changers lived within the vicinity of White Winter and its neighboring kingdoms.
Moniy glimpsed over her unique memory orb containing the assignment list to every staffer of the DDWD, double-checking with the written will of the Prince to see if her decision might come into conflict with his will. The orb, despite its mundane outer appearance similar to all other memory orbs, contained the information of utmost importance.
“Tell Morpheus 011 to track their activity, but keep distance and don’t alert them yet. Other than that, proceed with the assignment as usual,” Moniy gave her order while telling her succubus partners to copy the identity of the two skin changers to the database.
“Morpheus 016 reports. No demon found among the captives. Morpheus 009 reports, mission completed.”
“Orb No.000780 and Orb No. 001013 to Morpheus 016,” Moniy read the code of memory orbs. Her succubus partners drew out the orb and sent them to Sanhintau. “Orb No.001276 to Morpheus 009, wait, pass that orb to me first.”
Moniy received the corresponding orb from her succubi, recording and adding a personal message on top of it. “Your next location might just be a hotbed of shadow demons, so be extra mindful of the environment and lighting. Let no demon aware of your presence.”
Another succubus messenger arrived with her rainbow pearl, “Warren 002’s intelligence.”
Sanhintau received the memory orb from the succubus, opened it and read, “No demon confirmed.” Her sharp amber eyes lit up. Without waiting for Moniy’s instruction, Sanhintau directed her gaze at one of her succubi. “Please, inform his Highness that Operation Click is good to go,” said she and sent her messenger away while passing the folder to Moniy.
Moniy processed the content of the folder. “Nine of Hyrios’ men were identified moles of White Winter,” she read aloud the personal message that Warren 002 has recorded.
She pulled out the content related to the nine men, quickly examining their profile with Sanhintau. The Prince, being the insane man that he is, has told Moniy that he would bring at least one of White Winter’s moles with him to his trip to White Winter for the excitement of it. Moniy screened the most beguiled mind among the moles just to make sure.
More succubus messengers arrived, bringing with them the messages of confirmation of various Baku units. They were already in position, ready to trap and jail any foolish, unsuspecting Demon Lord. The fact the participants of the Reign of Chaos pronounced the name of their Champions to their competition made it easy for the Baku to narrow down their net.
“It’s already Game Over,” Moniy sighed. Her forked tongue flicked on her lips. Until these Gods and Demon Lords could kill her Prince, it is impossible for them to resume playing their games.