As the Patriarch collapsed to the ground, his phantasm began to disintegrate instantaneously as the aura that helped sustain it was spent. Fortunately, the domain managed to maintain itself momentarily; its creation was not solely dependent on the old man’s energy.
Considering its shell probably had the highest defense, it could hardly even pierce the aura surrounding the crimson egg. If you really think about it, this was an expected outcome. And there was only one person at fault for this. Overcome with greed, the Patriarch was blinded, thinking he could fulfill their dream without even devising some contingency if their plan wasn’t enough. Now, he squandered all the decades of preparation just to be met with failure.
Glancing back at the knife, the Patriarch could see a hairline fracture starting to form on its blade, creeping slowly at first before spreading rapidly like a web across its entirety. Seeing one of the crucial pieces of this ritual being destroyed just like that was truly devastating to a man who had devoted his entire life to this specific moment. Worst of all, he was one of those people whose life had been literally laid out to him by fate, where all things seemed to go his way.
Wasn’t this just fair? Where all things must balance out and return to equilibrium?
But when has fate ever been fair? When all things seemed lost, the impossible happened; a crack began to form in the shell of the gigantic egg. Like the blade, it was imperceptible at first until a network of fissures started to spread. It might have appeared that the knife had triumphed in the struggle between the two opposing forces. However, if you looked closely, one would notice that the origin of the fracture wasn’t merely at the point of contact between the two, but rather at the middle of the egg, evenly dividing its two sides.
This phenomenon could only be explained by one thing: whatever was inside the egg wanted to get out. Though the knife lacked the energy to breach its defenses, it appeared that its mere presence was sufficient to awaken whatever horror lay within.
Exhausting all its energy, the knife fell to the ground, embedding itself to the hilt. Even without the force of the blade, it continued to split open, proving that something within that egg wanted to break free. Whether it was benign or nefarious, no one knew. Given its association with this sinister organization, it was easy to infer that it was likely not something good.
“I-I can’t believe this is really happening!” the Patriarch exclaimed, surprised that he had succeeded. Finally, he would fulfill his dream—to complete the sigil of their great cult and be immortalized in the annals of the Umbral Sanguinaries. “Will… Will this be enough to help me step into the next level of cultivation? As long as I complete the sigil, it doesn’t really matter since it will give me a new body that will be impervious to the ravages of time. This will give me plenty of opportunity to ascend into…”
As the eggshells shattered into two, a brilliant red glow shone with intense light, resembling strands of lightning crackling into the silent chamber. The power within was so immense that reality seemed to rupture wherever the streaks of light touched. When the power could no longer be contained, it exploded into a dark, reddish light.
“Ah!” the Patriarch shouted in pain and surprise, shielding his eyes from the intense light. Though momentarily startled, it did not dampen his mood; instead, his grin grew even wider. “Finally, one of our long-cherished dreams is about to come to fruition.”
When the blinding light subsided, the Patriarch saw a serpent’s embryo suspended in the air. At first glance, anyone would notice something was peculiar: instead of one, he saw two heads; the first one had crimson eyes with an ink-black body, while the other was the complete opposite, with a crimson body and ink-black eyes. Both bodies coiled like a rope, merging into one. However, this fetal stage did not last long.
Suddenly, the embryo underwent accelerated growth. It continuously shed its skin, and before the slough could even reach the ground, it disintegrated into the air. The most fascinating aspect of this transformation was the hearts of the serpents. As they beat together synchronously, you could feel the rhythmic pulsations sending vibrations through the air as they pumped crimson and ink-black blood. Veins slowly grew like the roots of an ancient tree, expanding and branching—unstoppable in pursuit of their purpose.
As the embryo went into a rapid metamorphosis, the Patriarch witnessed a swift change in his domain, mirroring the transformation occurring above. Runes morphed into glyphs, while others devolved back into runes. This continued for a while, merging with other glyphs and runes in an endless cycle of rebirth and destruction, evolving into a much more complex formation. It certainly was no creation of the mundane; this was a realm of the divine. It differed greatly from their previous great endeavor, the incomplete sigil they had believed to be on the verge of fruition. The Patriarch finally realized that something like this couldn’t be recreated by men. This was a masterpiece—a sacred work of art that spoke only in truths—the foundation of existence itself.
“Mesmerizing! This is incredible! Incredible!” the Patriarch exclaimed, his eyes widening in fascination. Overcome with joy, he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. In the centuries he had lived, he hadn’t seen something like this before. True, he had read about it, but the description written in the scriptures didn’t do justice to the emotions that it invoked. Without a doubt, it was terrifying. He could feel it in his bones as they rattled incessantly. It didn’t help that he was now afflicted with aura exhaustion—a demi-godlike entity brought down to be mortal again. Yet witnessing divinity manifested in the material world brought back the child in him, momentarily forgetting his fear and fatigue. “Our god has finally manifested in Creation after millennia. The time of the Umbrals has come!”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The leader of one of the Great Cults screamed like a lunatic as he watched the creature grow into an enormous serpent, almost filling the entire dome. Its two heads faced nearly opposite directions as its body coiled around the room with the Patriarch at its center. With no tails but two heads, this was a bizarre creature—a serpent that once existed only in legends, now made into flesh.
As the serpent's terrifying eyes bore into the Patriarch, he willed himself to rise slowly to his feet. “Finally! I finally succeeded!” he screamed and laughed in pure euphoria as the sigil neared completion. “I would love to see the faces of those old fools! Who’s having the last laugh now?” he remarked, grinning widely while his eyes remained fixed on his domain. Time seemed to crawl as the sigil was nearly done. “Come on, faster! Faster! Fast…”
When the sigil was about to be completed, a sword suddenly pierced through the heart of the Patriarch from behind.
“Wha… What?” the great ruler of the Umbrals stammered, stunned to see a blade impaled through his chest. “Who?”
“I’m sorry, Your Holiness,” a voice whispered from the back. “I’m truly sorry.”
When he recognized the voice, the Patriarch’s eyes widened. “J-Jason? Jason…” he uttered softly, more for himself than for anyone else, as realization started to dawn on him of what had happened. “How… You’re alive?”
Pulling the sword free from the old man’s hunchback, Jason trudged around his master warily. Despite delivering a lethal blow, he remained uncertain if this sly old man had something hidden that could alter the outcome of the situation.
“I… I,” Jason responded, a smile spreading across his lips as he heaved heavily. He slowly raised his blade in preparation for any attack, cautiously keeping his distance. “I-I luckily got out of your d-domain before those leeches of yours o-overwhelmed me.”
Glaring at Jason, the Patriarch observed a man whose whole body was drenched in blood. He could discern where his phantasm had taken a bite, noticing patches of missing flesh scattered across Jason’s body. He couldn’t believe that he could still stand, let alone be alive, despite the significant loss of blood. It was a testament to the sheer strength of his will. And perhaps his greed.
When his mind finally calmed down and he got a clear picture of what had happened, the Patriarch’s face contorted in anger. Glancing down at his bloody chest, he could feel his wound slowly starting to heal. It seemed the domain had opted to save him rather than complete the sigil, considering the injury was lethal. Instead of being grateful, he felt resentful. How could he not? He was one step away from fulfilling his enduring desire. Just as it was within his grasp, the ritual stopped, and the completion of the sigil went along with it.
“Do you understand what you’ve done?!” the Patriarch screamed, his voice filled with hate as it thundered around the room. “You insolent buffoon! Do you think you’ll live after all this? Fool!”
“You… You killed everyone!” Jason retorted back, his tone full of bitterness. “Y-You tried to kill me, too!”
“Fool! Everyone needs to make sacrifices for the greater good of the Umbral! You made your vow to sacrifice everything for the cult!” the Patriarch shouted as he made his groggy step forward. “Your selfish, idiotic action has cost us everything!”
“I-I’m sorry,” Jason muttered softly. Glancing at the healed injury on the old man’s chest, he slowly stepped back, fear and confusion causing him to feel flustered about what to do next. “I-I…”
As the domain started failing, the colossal serpent appeared to revert; its crimson and ink-black body slowly turned gray as if crumbling to ash. A loud, guttural scream escaped from the creature as its degradation intensified.
“No, no! No! Look what you did!” the old man shrieked, staring at his life’s work shattered into pieces. “Quickly, take your own life. It wouldn’t be enough to complete the ritual, but a miracle might happen,” he ordered, striding forward in desperation. “Hurry!”
“I-I don’t know about that. I-I’ve sacrificed a lot. I can’t…” Jason stammered, stepping away further, tears welling in his eyes as he shook his head. “I can’t die. I can’t. I have a family… I’ve sacrificed them! I’ve… What have I done?!” he said to himself, realizing the gravity of his actions as regret seemed to penetrate behind the once inexorable veil of fanaticism. Then fear came along; it poured as he was confronted with his mortality. “No. I can’t… I can’t die. I don’t want to die.”
Overcome with despair, the Patriarch shrieked like a lunatic and lounged forward. “You fool!”
“Ah!” Jason shouted in panic as he swung the sword, cleanly severing the head of the leader of the Umbral Sanguinaries. When he realized what he had done, he immediately let go of his sword and stepped back, slipping on the ground.
As his head flew in the air, the Patriarch saw the dome shaking violently, with debris falling to the floor. It wouldn’t be long before the whole chamber collapsed. In his final moment, he stared at the serpent as its body began to break down. This just epitomized his entire existence—that he was a complete failure, as the last vestiges of life drained away from him.
“N-No, no!” the Patriarch shrieked in despair as death dragged him to the abyss—forgotten.
As a new legend was about to be written, the hand of fate proved to be ever so cruel, even to one of her most favored children. Perhaps she was truly blind, for how else could she be so brutal? Maybe she should change her name to Malice, or better yet—Sadist. Was it all a game to her? It certainly seemed to be the case. It wouldn’t be surprising if she were laughing while watching this tragedy. Was fate Lady Justice all along?
At the end of the day, didn’t it end well? Justice had been served—well, to some. After all, existence knew neither ending nor beginning; it’s a continuum—an endless cycle of fairness and unjustness. For some, it had ended, while for others, it had just begun.
~ ~ ~
image [https://i.imgur.com/2pYZwGc.png]
Grunting in pain, Elysian slowly opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by endless whiteness once more. “Am I back?” he asked no one in particular. “It seems I am, with Eye’s remarks popping up in my vision again,” he continued as he sat up, clutching his head, suddenly struck by a terrible headache. “Damn it!”