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Lennon 'Bladeless Monster' Hull

My spine wrinkles under the pressure of the Gourd Of Suffering, an artifact that I allow to assail me for training. It has quite a substantial effect on the mind and body. It both consolidates mental and physical trauma, turning the two into a puncturing point.

To most, hell, to nearly all, that wound would only leave them broken inside and out. I take it with stride. A loss is never meaningless, and neither is any form of pain.

One can grow with it all. Furthermore, Dominions seem oddly receptive to this kind of training. When I first gained this Dia, I could only conjure one or two swift blades. By the time Eli fell, I could manage a dozen, the stress forcing me beyond my limits.

Now, however, the limit has been shattered. I can form hundreds at once, condense their effects, and even form 'limbs' or non-cutting blades shaped into arms to help me do things. And it is thanks to this thing.

I know Dominions come from the soul, but as I bristle over the pain, the past feelings of loss and grief washing over me, I realize just how it works. Or at least how they grow. Unlike all other parts of a Sigil, these things are... malleable. I don't know if they have a limit or if they are simply akin to us, with different bottlenecks depending on the form.

Suffering is the most efficient way to grow, as it is the attempt to break out of that suffering that advancement is seen. Diamonds cannot be made on a lovely plain. They can only be born within the most lethal pressures on the earth, and humans are the same. Nonetheless, I know that I am unique, as all Dominions are, and so are their methods.

My back bends, it creaks, it shudders under the pain, and yet, I slowly rise. I lock my knees as I stand partially, feeling such colossal weight upon me that I struggle to even function. As I do so, I sense something on the edge of my vision.

No. I don't sense anything.

I... simply know. It is the little creak in the back of my neck, the one that aches when danger is afoot. Edmund once called it a seventh sense, one beyond the sensation for Ether, presentiment. Unlike all other senses, this one is never innate, not in any creature. It can only be trained or awoken within Augurs.

The shiver that runs down my spine and into my heels tells me all I need to know. I reach forward with my Dominion, cutting off Silas' connection to the Gourd Of Suffering by lightly slicing open his skin. It is only a paper cut, but he is not happy.

"Hey! What the fuck was that for!? I'm helping you!"

I glance at him shortly before reapplying my attention.

"There is someone here. Focus."

The Undead man shifts his head all about as if asking the figure within him as I stare ahead toward the cliff hanging over us. I don't move my attention for even a second. Whoever or whatever this is...

"Huh? Mie doesn't feel any minds other than yours, mine, Marion's, Otto's, and Birdie's. Virgil should be out for another hour, anyway."

This person is antithetical to my way of fighting. I can just feel it. It is an absolutely awful match-up for me. One that would get me killed, even if they aren't a high Sigil, which I doubt is the case.

The sensation, the knowledge of such a threat, allows me to accept the rhythm of my heart's rapid beating. I know it's insane, but this is how the world made me.

Seconds pass as Otto wakes up from Silas' loudness, and Marion comes to from his stasis. Birdie shuffles to her feet slowly, too, and they all question me without ceasing.

"Hey? What are we awake for? I thought we were resting."

"Are Wyatt and Aniwye back yet? What about Virgil's scouting? Any news?"

"Lennon? What are you staring at?"

The hair on my body stands up as I pivot with enough speed to cleave the rock below me off the ground. I leverage my Dominion point a dozen Slashes toward another cliff face. The four around me only grow more annoyed, but an echoing voice shuts them all up.

"It would appear the stories from back then were true, Lennon Hull. A monster indeed, with the senses of a Tinihowl and the dedication of an Uktena."

My brows furrow as the voice is... slightly familiar. I don't think I've spoken to this man before, but I have heard it before. Who? They were definitely an enemy, but I can't put my finger on it...

Otto and Marion shuffle back in fear as a figure materializes above, feet dangling off the rock above. Yet, even as I see the man, I know that is not his real form. I sense... a cloud of danger on another cliff face. Nevertheless, I give the man the idea that I don't know any better.

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"And who would you be?"

The illusion never strides beyond his neck, pausing at the bottom of his chin, concealing his countenance utterly. Otto begins to shout something, but he never even manages to utter the first syllable as the man's hand flicks to the side. With that motion, I feel only the most minute of Ether manipulations as my hearing fades, leaving me with only my sight.

Nonetheless, I hear the man's answer.

"It has been long since we last met. Back then, I was still working for the research division of the Hunters. You were there simply to help us on an expedition into a ruin. You saved my life, as you often did back then. I am known by many names, but I have grown... tired of such things. Call me Faceless. That is who I wish to be now. We are much alike, you and I, Lennon Hull, poet's son. I am a writer, like your father. He and I spoke through letters here and there before... before it all."

My Dominion tightens as I prepare for a fight. Faceless seems... unsound of mind. I know exactly what is wrong. He's lost his guiding star and for a long time at that. Most would have died in such a place even with one, let alone without such motivation. The details about my father are ignored, as they are likely a lie.

Respect blossoms in my heart as I see a hint of a kindred spirit within him. However, I am not as naive as to believe such an illusionist. Especially since Otto, Marion, and Birdie aren't near me anymore.

Wait... I'm not even in the Underworld anymore. Now... we're in that ruin he mentions. The walls are made of cobblestone, and our heights converge as I find him hanging from a cage above me.

Faceless' arms peek out from the bars as my suspicion only grows.

"And how do you come to such a decree?"

The illusionist laughs sorely as if he had been hurt by my words. The hands within the cage sink heavily, a depressive weight placed upon them. This man is broken, shattered into a million pieces. He is me; if I did not have Edmund's sermons to guide me beyond his death and those of everyone I cared about.

"Onwards, Lennon. Never stop, my boy. Tighten your grip. Raise your head. Open your eyes. Bare your fangs. When uncertainty arises, swing with your gut, and you will never falter."

I do as my mentor asks, his voice appearing whenever I think of him. He is not real, but he is to me.

"I have lost all those I have ever cared for, just as you have. We fought for them and did all we could to save them, no matter how fiendish the act. We bled, we murdered, and we slaved away day and night without pause. Yet... in the end... we failed to save any of them. I wonder, Lennon Hull... how is the monster within still capable? How do you wake up in the morning? How do you... continue?"

An inkling of this man's identity enters my mind, but I don't let it build any further out of respect. He wants to be nameless, so I will allow him that blessing. Still, this encounter is beyond odd. It is... so very bizarre.

Nevertheless, I answer him with honesty. All the while, I search for his true figure, itching to attack.

"I continue for those I have lost. When I wake up, the determination is rarely there. It is hard to feel the fire with crust in your eyes. So, I think back to the faces, specifically of my mentor. He always tells me to stand, and so I do. Once on your feet, it is easy. I desire power, to do anything as I want, to remold the world into the image that pleases me. It is a grand wish, but it requires an equally strong force to meet it."

The figure moves his body as if he nods from inside the cage. Still, I have no semblance of his head or face, the nod only occurring from the neck. Faceless doesn't seem to carry my vigor.

"I see. You pull from within. I have nothing left to draw from, I am afraid. It all ran dry in search of what was never there to begin with."

A solemn sigh exudes from my lungs as I hold empathy for this fellow monster. We are one and the same. We have done awful things in search of power and those we once cared for. The only difference is the only thing that ever pushed him was love.

I always had that secondary reason, that selfish one. Yet... I know of a way forward, even for a hollow being. I have met many such as him, left without purpose.

"There is still a path for you. If there is nothing within, you must simply take from those you took from you. Tell me, who took them from you? That is who you should seek."

A moment of silence hangs. Then, it lingers. A second, two, three, five, ten, all the way to thirty. I stay quiet, merely peering at Faceless. His arms dangle listlessly until his chest stretches with him leaning back.

As he does so, the surroundings change from a damp cobblestone room to an open plain. Rocks litter the earth alongside blood and sweat, but my attention is not set upon those things. It is levied upward toward a creature I have never seen before.

It is a... gargantuan being, having to be thousands of miles across. Vast and incomprehensible numbers of teeth and maws cycle throughout the being stuck to the ceiling of the Underworld. Faceless raises a hand to point at that... thing...

"Her. Death. She took them from me. I tried to take them back... but... I was too slow."

I nod, hearing him gain his resolve with each and every word. He starts unhurried, but the final word is spit with such power and vitriol that the scenery shifts before my eyes.

"Then you should kill her, no?"

Faceless chuckles dangerously, a high-pitched ring to the laugh for a moment. I step back, readying myself for a skirmish, but Faceless doesn't strike at me despite his madness.

"Yes. I suppose I should. It is ironic, our stories. May I never see you again, Lennon Hull. Oh... and one last thing. Tell the kid I'm sorry. I should never have gone after him. My feud was not with him but with his father. And even that... It's not what it once was."

My head sinks lightly as I recall those that I have hurt as a byproduct of my actions. Many have died simply because I was too focused or in the moment to care. Afterward, I always regret not doing something deep down, but I push forward anyway. Only before this man do I allow myself to feel that guilt.

I blink, opening my mouth to reply to him, but when I do so, I find myself staring at the Gourd Of Suffering in my palm. Huh?

I twist around, searching my peripherals, only to discover that everyone else is asleep or in stasis. Virgil is even passed out, taking his short but needed rest.

How... how long was I under his grasp? Fuck.

Shit.

I pat down my body, searching for any wounds with my Dominion, but I don't feel any pain. Remembering who just he might be, I investigate my flesh manually with my eyes, but still, there is nothing. Just as I'm about to give up, a letter falls out from my coat to the ground.

Upon the front are neatly written words. They remind me of my father's when he would pen poetry, decisive and purposeful.

To Wyatt Iron Graves

I open the letter, the paper sliding out easily without any effort.

Thank you for killing me. It brought me finality to know they were already beyond any depravity I could ever reach while alive. I am sorry for lashing out at you, even under the guise. You are but a child and, as such, are exempt from the father's sins.

I know you are after Killian. I will give you four days. Beyond that, we will have our long-awaited meeting. After that... I hope you will not come after me, no matter how it turns out. There is much I wish to do and see. My first foe is the Undying, and then it is Death herself. After even that, should I accomplish it truly... I wish to see them once more through her corpse.

No child should ever suffer as you have or as mine have.

May my journey's end pave the way,

For me to find deliverance's ray.

Gods shall fall,

No matter how tall.

For they stood idly by,

And let them die.

Yours in penance,

The man who deserves no face.

I slide the paper back inside the letter as I realize how similar we indeed are. He was a writer, an academic, if I remember correctly. If I had not met Edmund, I could see my life following an identical route. I'd gain fame and wealth through my works before gaining a Sigil, though it'd take a long time. I'd probably get a wife and children because it would be such a long journey. Then, I'd continue with it. Eventually, I'd piss the wrong person off because that's just who I am.

And my family would die.

Fast forward several years...

I seal the letter before crouching to wake the others up. Aniwye and Wyatt have been gone for too long. I would like to deliver this letter to him.

"Get up. All of you. We're going to find Wyatt."

Virgil is the first awake, the slightest bit of noise drawing him to action. He doesn't panic or hesitate, hastily putting together his things. Good. I like him. No bullshit, just business. Otto and Marion, however...

I walk away from them as they squabble, heading toward the Cardinal not far away. It's where Wyatt must have gone. There is simply no other option.