My head was inflated with great deals of air; empty, yet full with immense pressure that made me dizzy. “I – I don’t know what your tal– about …iktor.”
You can slur your words all you want, you damn mud drinking porpoise blower. I’ll deal with you after I get rid of this… thing. Fuck off outta here, will ya? Gonna need you to get up, Viktor. Wake up.
“Viktor! Viktor, wake up! Rise, youth! I am not pulling you all the way back!”
Those sand mountains to elysium greeted me as the dread state submerged in one of the infinitely many dark corners of my mind, and color became visible again. It was odd to see those sand mountains — ‘canyons’ — sway violently, as did the strip of blue sky above them. My face was wet, another thing I found quite peculiar considering the Qyvurn having told me these ‘deserts’ are dry and usually are free of any water. For a little while, it was tolerable. Quite quickly, though, it began to piss me off. “Viktor! Is your brain turned back on?” a warbly, yet slightly familiar voice called to me. For some reason.
“The Qyvurn?” my tongue moved tiresomely, choking on a build up of liquid sitting on my throat, with a stream of saliva running down the sides of my mouth.
His hands lifted from my shoulders. At the same time, the swaying of my vision stopped, as did the wetness colliding with my face – and I fell back into the sand. “Good Penumbra — young man, what’s wrong with you?”
I looked into his eyes, still mostly entangled in the tentacles of drowsiness. “A lot,” I said.
“Almighty…” he panted fearsome breaths, “What – are you intolerant to meat? Why’d you break down like that?”
An unintentional cold stare delivered itself to Shaded Qyvurn. “I haven’t a clue what you speak of.”
“I ‘haven’t a clue’ about what the hell is going on. Are you ill? Why did you do that? No – was the meat toyed with?! Oh, Hendricks won’t be pleased about that if you’ve been poisoned…”
“If that was poison – find me more of it. That was the most magnificent entity of this world which has ever had the misfortune of being ripped apart by my teeth. Never could I have guessed something so divine could exist among mere slaves like me. Vagrants — like me… Scum of the Earth — like me. It felt undeserved.”
“What? Viktor, what are you yapping on about? Come — we need to get a move on.”
“The Qyvurn – do you think this one will finally kill me?”
Shaded Qyvurn watched me with clear questions forming themselves in his eyes. “What do you speak of?”
“This one. This time – this encounter. I’ve figured it out for some time now, ever since Father forced Villoven’s armaments onto me I’ve had my suspicions. With you and his surreptitious, yet eager tongues. The way I’ve been granted a gift great enough to bring me to tears of pure bliss — for the first time ever. I know I’m being hoisted into death’s hands once more. My question to you is very simple: will that grim reaper’s hand finally grip me?”
His eyes strayed aloft for answers. Inevitably, they fell right back to me when all which he’d search for had already perished in these sands. His mouth opened and he spoke a single sentence, “What does your Father have to do with anything?”
My teeth gritted and my lips quivered. “Where’s my blade?! H–he… He wants to sl–slaughter my f–f–family just to hide what he’s growing from everyone?! Th–th–then why is he my owner?! What is he— so proud of?! You all want me to hurry back so damn much, fine! Fine – yeah! I’ll— hurry back! In a haste! Y— yes! Yeah! Since F–Father… Stop calling him that! Stop it!”
The broad white cleaver smiled beamingly and called out to me as it rested against the canyon wall, just beside the hideout’s entrance. My feet stomped with bloodlust and as I grabbed my blade, my head began to storm with fire. Fury I’ve never felt before consumed me. Hate I never knew existed within me of such magnitude revealed itself. Visions of seeing that man turn to pieces and his body turned inside out flashed before me. And just the mere thought made me the happiest I had ever been in my life. But foolishly, a hand fell to my shoulder.
“Wait – wait, Viktor! What spurred such ignition—”
I swung the blade towards the Qyvurn’s wrist. The sand speckled with dashes of crimson drying in the sun. My enamored grin watched as the hand twirled through the air, colliding with a sandy stone. It refused to not relish in another successful draw of blood. Then, the weight of reality crushed me – bringing me down to my knees in absolute terror. I was shaking like a leaf in a storm, mortified by my mistake. Tears of dread drenching my face. My baleful, wild laughter clawing their way out my throat. Limb, eye, fingers and toes – all surely soon to be victims of me an avulsing punishment. “Relax! Relax, kid! Relax…”
While my ears were able, my brain was deaf. Breaths filling and emptying my lungs – all struggling hardship through the nautical war with thick foam overspilling my mouth. Then from the heavens, that lovely smell blessed my nostrils once more. With it, the chaos subsided – at least a little – and my other senses could once again function through my firing nerves. “It appears that is a solution – what is your issue? What is with you and these animalistic behaviors? At first, I thought it was just an act, or perhaps you had the privilege of being timid around unknown bodies and this was some bizarre coping mechanism, but clearly that is far from the case. I should have put the truth together at a point far younger than now when you assaulted that old shed. Paramount Hendricks put me in a position of authority over you for the time being, thus I will use such power. I want answers – now.”
“Because of those damned winged goblins up there. I’ll gut them, and then finish off with you.”
“What wallabaloo are you uttering now? I want a clear, coherent answer, Viktor. Is this madness well known to Hendricks?”
My blooded stare turned to him. “Is it?”
“Do not dwell in insubordination, child. I’ll have you puni–”
From back on sand, we lept straight onto our feet in one powerful hurl. “I am Viktor; the child is long dead! Should you not step off, you will suffer a fate mirroring his, old man! Move on already! Go! Leave me to the execution! Need I take your other hand?! Your other — wait – your mitt? Your mannerisms are nonchalant…”
“The loss of a hand does not concern me right now. In this line of work, many losses are to be expected, and their degree unlimited. But I am not speaking about that. Speak to me, Viktor. I can see the many scars of life across you, and while they have stories, they themselves cannot be told. You will find such an opportunity incomprehensibly rare, especially in this society, so it would, to be very, very frank, retarded to waste it. Utterly so.”
Who does he think he is? This is a trap I’ve been smelling since I awoke. Do not speak to that soul eater! I already have this… thing to deal with! I don’t need to have the threat of Father on my mind, too! Are you listening?!
“How? What do you want me to say?!”
The Qyvurn placed his remaining hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. This was a — bewildering pressure. I couldn’t find bone-breaking intent in it. Matter of fact, I couldn’t find any motivations of malice in his actions. What is that warmth? Are you burning?! Squander the flame, meandering slug! Don’t just stand here and succumb to the inferno – there is no flame? What spits up this heat then?! Answer me! Answer me— answer… where have the cries gone?
As Viktor fell silent, the storms of chaos roaming about my head began to retreat. I could do nothing but simply… gaze. Gaze off into nothingness. I could hear the winds whistling through nature’s corridors of sand. I could feel at least a speck of warmth from the day star’s rays. For the first time in thousands of sun and moon ascents and collapses, I felt it — peace.
“Viktor,” Qyvurn spoke to me in a tone driven by stoicism, “It would be dangerous to keep Hendricks waiting. Let us talk as we walk?”
Nosey one, isn’t he? Just head back and cast his requests into the dirt. Father can’t be put on hold.
My lips quivered with agitation. “Is that so, plant man? Absolute refusal to heed my words, do you?”
I looked over to Qyvurn, standing at my side with his severed hand in his other palm. “The Shaded,” I said, “What is that you wish to hear?”
“Well – whatever you feel fine sharing. You’ve suddenly become a lot less abrasive with this information?”
“The savory of spite is almost as delicious as your food, the Shaded.”
He grunted. “I… see, I think? Err – come along now – we must move.”
It was only now that I truly noticed the sand swimming between my toes. The whistling wind from prior now closely resembled low droning spirits in pain. I could not say why these things felt different, nor why I even bothered to pay much mind to it. I felt as if I could even feel the light and the shadows’ weights resting on me as if I were carrying a ship on my shoulders. Qyvurn kept his eyes forward, occasionally staring at his exposed wrist dripping. My heart felt a brief stabbing, and water befell my eye. I wiped it away, licking the salty drip from the back of my hand. I paused – wondering why I decided to do such a thing. I tilted my vision to him ever so slightly, investigating any sign that he observed, and confirming that it at least appeared he did not. Then I began to tell my tale, “Some time ago, I was smaller. It was dark. In a hallway, the dark one. No – there was a table first! In a small white room. Father was there – that lanky bald bastard he’s ever been. Except – he did not tell me that first. He told me that I was not lost. I did not feel that to be true — and all this time later, I still do not… He then went on to ask me if I – if I dreamed.”
“Father – father… Your father asked if you dreamed? In a small white room?”
“Absolutely not! No! Not my — father… My… Did I have one of those, Qyvurn? A true one? Not that wretched hairless – leafless tree branch! No – a real one!” I grabbed his shirt, a welling of forsaken liquid filling my eyes, “Tell me he isn’t my father, Qyvurn! Please!”
He watched me with baffled pupils. “I–I– I cast high doubt on such a thing? Is this ‘Father’ you speak of Hendricks? Besides him most definitely being celibate due to his devotion to Penumbra Undergrowth, I see no resemblance between you two at all. If he were one of the other Paramounts, I would not be so sure, but Hendricks is most dedicated and devout to the Dream – most consider him something to aspire to in Penumbra, in other words… So much so, many consider him an unofficial rank above Paramount – Paragon. What is with this hysteria, Viktor?”
“Lorenzo. That is my true name. He took it from me! Took it from me, and sent me back into the talons of imps and Vultures. I’m going to kill them all, Qyvurn. I will get drunk on the sweet euphoria of revenge and blood, even if death is my reward. As long as we get to drink from his skull. That is the only companionship I will have with Viktor; his drive for a satisfying slay; my lust to see man in truly interminable torment.”
Qyvurn grunted in an off-put manner. “You are brave to tell me this… Lorenzo? Do you not fear me reporting this news to him?”
I grinned. “Will you?”
He stared back, before turning his austere facade into a toothy smirk. “No. That is not my affair. Plus, I asked you to reveal your troubles; it would be rotten for me to use them against you. Do not expect the same charity from anyone else in this society, though. You’d be an utmost drooling fool to do so. But please, tell me: when you say you were ‘much smaller,’ what age are we talking here?”
I looked off into the distant landscape of what seemed to be yellowing grass and that odd broad-topped tree again. I failed to notice how quickly we were returning to him. “I don’t know. It was bright – very white. Fath– Hendricks… Hendricks! Him – that long jawed bird-postured bastard him – he was in there. He was at a table that I wasn't able to even peer over at the time. He shuffled about it, drank from a cup, and then handed me a knife. He rubbed his hand on the wall behind me in some triangular pattern and – I can’t remember what took place afterwards. I just remembered the strikes of raindrops in whatever enigmatic place it was, and seeing what looked like those demons – his Warded Vultures. Then… something happened. It was a blur of chaos, then I looked behind myself, and there Father… Hendricks! Stood! In the light beyond some void tunnel! Before I knew it, I awoke — somewhere else. A prison; my homes – many homes. Cell after cell… after cell. From there, a dog to his bidding.”
“My word, Viktor. Seems you’ve been in this game very early on. No wonder Paramount Hendricks wishes to hold onto you for so long… Impressive. You don’t seem too pleased over it, however. That, though, is quite expected. I – hmm. I will not lie to you Viktor — Lorenzo — I have very little power to put even a breeze in your path. While I am respected for my achievements, it will not take much for them to switch their perception of me into an enemy should I attempt to meddle in these global affairs, and the explosion of new political affairs that were revealed with such discovery. Or worst of all, attempting to meddle with Hendricks’s Chosen. I’d simply be murdered, and you'd remain just where you are now; His arms.”
A snapping nerve in my brain was an omen of bursting rampage – though I realized it was no nerve, but instead a branch of Qyvurn’s favorite tree he decided to tell me about, the acacia. We were close to that strange, illogical area. A patch of lush grass and forest that suddenly jumped into an infinite expanse of sand. But for once, that extremely rare occurrence it be, my mind began to think. I questioned the Qyvurn, “Why do you stay in Penumbra if you understand they’ll have flimsy hesitation to slaughter you? You said you sought to leave behind your homeland, but you’ve been here for how long yet are fully aware they’d dispose of you in an instant. So why do you remain instead of taking leave elsewhere?”
His paces gradually slowed, but his legs did not stop. The Qyvurn replied, “They made a promise to us all.”
“A promise of what?”
“Victory in our war on war. Look alive – we’re here. Wait outside – Hendricks will see you soon.”
Qyvurn paced up the steps with his… hand in hand. I hadn’t even noticed crossing back into the grass I had first awoken in after Father – Hendricks – Father. Do not get used to it. Accidentally call him Hendricks to his face and see the fastest Dunk we’d ever been dropped into. Use me for once; your brain!
It pained me, but his words were true… after Father forced – something into my body. Some liquids, whatever they are, but at the current moment I was most fearful of what Shaded Qyvurn would tell… Father. I rested the cleaver against the railing of wood that set parameters around the porch, and used my low height to sit close by a window of this old dragon — shack — to eavesdrop on their words. Through muffling wood, I heard Qyvurn somewhere along a sentence. He was saying, “... then hacked off my hand in a surprise quarrel I initiated. I sought to test his reaction time and, well, I believe he did well enough.”
“You did that despite having been warned of that boy’s erratic and spontaneous behavior?” Father said.
“Indeed, twas a foolish decision evidently enough.”
Father sighed. “Obviously,” he groaned in a low, drawn out droning. “But I am also at fault here. I should have vehemently stressed caution to you when it comes to handling him, especially so after having endured Evolution. Venator showed great mental degradation after having been injected with The Solution, and Viktor lingered around that point for years before even entering the chamber. Simultaneously, his tenacity, dauntlessness, and utter lack of self-preservation exceeds Venator's by, as you call it, "astronomical units." While impressive, this is an extremely dangerous combination, both for him and others. I'll have to study him even closer than before… let me see your lost mitt."
There was a pause. I presume Qyvurn was presenting his disconnected limb. Father began again, "There is no hope for that. Perhaps we can apply a prosthetic to the wound of your wrist, however. Should I assume it’s infected?”
There was a peculiar moment of silence. “Yes.”
“What a bother,” Father groaned. I soon heard cold collisions of steps on the wood floor from within. Some shuffling took place, but eventually it stopped to a cold silence that made me uneasy. “Come – douse it outside. I don’t want the stench of vinegar stuck in here attracting insects and whatnot. Afterwards, wrap it up and take a rest. You’ve done well enough. Paramount Jovian, that sniveling ignoramus he be, is likely out there waiting to test his shameless copy against my great spartan. You’ll receive proper treatment upon our return back to my headquarters.”
The steps soon grew near, approaching the door beside me at rate not hasty, yet still triggering a reaction in me to hurl myself off the porch into the grass. That door creaked open and my back remained tickled by the grass as I watched the fastly darkening sky. I felt Father’s eyes on me, but he did not utter a word my way – not yet. He poured the bottle of that strong scented clear liquid on the Qyvurn’s dripping amputation, and aided him in securing it in some cloth. “Viktor,” Father summoned me, “come along.”
I brought myself onto my legs and went to retrieve my blade, where I saw Qyvurn doing something with his lips. It was as if he was whispering, but I could not fathom why considering he was way too far for me to hear it. But before he entered that dilapidated place, he spared me a grin and an upwards pointed thumb on his remaining hand. I looked up to the sky searching for whatever he was strangely pointing at, and found nothing. I spilled not an extra second to the oddity, and moved alongside… Father. We entered a portion of this 'pygmy forest' that was directly opposite of the side I had first traveled through with the Qyvurn. For the most part of our traverse, I found it - gratefully - silent. I did not have to speak to him, nor had to put the man in my sight, other than the back of his brown shoes to assure that I was still trailing him. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what they were dragging me into this time. Such poorly handled concealment throughout this day leads me to believe it wasn't intended to be a secret – at least not with Father’s words. The mention of this other Paramount waiting with 'his copy' does nearly pique my curiosity, however. Unfortunately, most of my curiosity is drowning in a pool of angst out in this no man's land. I could take advantage of this. Out in the middle of nowhere. I could cut down Father right here, and no one would know. It's not as if he's a capable fighter… At least I don't believe him to be. I've seen him do nothing on his own other than drip poison into… other than provide a mercy killing to the girl. After I… my hands tremble with frigid disgust in regretful thought… “I really do deserve to die,” my brittle subconscious muttered for me. Why did I do that? No - no, it was Viktor! Him! It – it— is pushing blame going to accomplish anything? Shifting dirt to the corner of a cell still leaves me with a dirty prison.
What did I do to get into this situation? Why would I join such a cult just to be someone's obsequious madness dog that can only kill and cry? I should've resigned long ago! I should've left when I was a Shaded, then I wouldn't be his damn pet! I wouldn't be thrown into another moribund, I wouldn't be beneath the blood-raining sulfur clouds, I wouldn't be moving between these towering bones protruding from below! I wouldn't be hearing these revolting squelches beneath my wearless feet as I step across this ground of infinite pink and red flesh pulsating and overrun with bulging black veins ready to burst!! I – what? I never did any of that… And what absolute abomination of infernal evil is this world I’ve fallen into? A broad red pool reeking of old iron, sloshing about. I was frozen before it, finding a metal box sitting just before with its jaws agape beckoning me inside. My throat tightened and my joints buckled. An infinite weight dropped around me, bringing me down to my hands and knees upon this floor of amalgamated flesh. My breath found interest in all that didn't concern me, and took its leave – deserting me to the mercy of obedience. But then a giggle emerged, a childlike one. It was a tone familiar to me, one that reminded me how I hadn't heard it in many, many years. The giggling persisted, I searched through this grotesque plane for it, and it stopped as soon as I looked into the metal box. There, a blooded blue-shirted child resting against the back of the micro prison. The boy's eyes had gone pale, and his body laid restless like a doll. As I crawled ever so slightly forward, his head snapped off his shoulders, the rusty iron box slammed shut, and the tight prison crashed into a massive splash of red.
"Jasper!" I screamed in a curdling cry. Then I fell into a sorrowful bawl, until two syllables opened my eyes. "Viktor," Father called, and I looked to him, standing before a dusking sky. The flesh floor had vanished, as did the trees of dirty bones. I looked before myself, finding a lake – which sent me away in a frightened jump. "It would be unwise to fear this body of water," Father said, "this oasis is the only one for many thousand miles. We'd very much succumb to the desert’s ire without it. Collect yourself and proceed, Viktor."
My hand nearly crushed Vire’s cleaving holster. I was trailing that bald bastard with every fiber calling for the thunderous hurl of this blade as a flashing bolt to the back of his head – but I do not know why I couldn’t. This silence seems permissive of separating Hendricks’s head from his neck. So I should – but I don't. My limbs won't allow me. Why? No shackles befall me. No chains restraining me to some immovable object. So why do I hesitate? Hesitate… hesitating? Me — since when? One would only hesitate if they were apprehensive, worried… scared. Am I scared of him? Afraid of Father?
No – of course not. I'm not afraid of Father, not even a bit. Instead, his power; his influence. Should I cut him down, who knows what the peons of Penumbra will unleash upon me. I fear they wouldn't even grant me a simple death – I've been in this sludge long enough to see what they do to those they so little as dislike. I can only imagine what hellish subjugation they'd put me under for killing a Paramount, especially him. The Qyvurn says many consider him above Paramount as is! Murdering someone of such high renown of a people so unchained from restraint would surely result in some macabre. I shouldn't care! I should be furious! Only sweet blood should be my motivation! But alas, as it turns out — I am afraid. From the Dunkings, the Vultures' beatings, the rapportive deception– all of it pales in comparison to what would happen to me for committing such a sin. Their eyes are eternal. Their presence; omnipotent. Just as this… enigmatic biome. A sea of sand – this is what Qyvurn spoke of. I would have never guessed something consisting only of sand and the occasional branch could be so beautiful beneath the dozing dusk’s indigo drool. To spend an eternity in this world of ethereal sky and sand; privilege.
“And here he arrives,” a far less dignified tone mocked with throaty bass.
With an aloof tongue to this newfound voice Father replied, “Indeed.”
The fresh voice quickly tore me from my admiring trance. Standing in the sands beyond us were two individuals. One was constructed with an impressive deal of muscle, visible even from within that black, hooded robe with a large red ribbon draping from the groin down. A black rose enraptured by tendril-vines sat at the center of the cerise ribbon piece, similar to Father’s amulet. However, unlike Father, his head had hair – hair that was red like fire and was easily seen even beneath his hood. Standing wordless, yet just as loud, to his right was some bizarre, eldritch entity. Leaving only his ghastly white head exposed, a heavy black trench coat shrouded his body with silver chains running from the left shoulder to right-side waist. On the right side of his face, five piercings implanted in a downward curving path, starting from about a needle’s width just above the right eye to roughly the size of an index finger’s pad at the fift, concluding piercing behind the ear nearby. A plate of metal ran the left-side exterior of his jaws and slightly curved just beneath the side of the chin, revealing only half of his mouth. One bolt was pierced through the metal where the left-sided jaw's joint would reside. He too, was bald like the other anomaly. Unlike Father, however, several piercings ran up from the center of his forehead, over his scalp, and presumably somewhere to the backside. Father expressed a shaking head of revolted disapproval. “Jovian – what are you doing to that boy? He looks ridiculous.”
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“The results of my many hundreds of tests, Hendricks. What you witness here is man scratching a new era; the next epoch. One that the Undergrowth will be the birthers of because of I, the founding father, Paramount Jovian! While you, showing up with this vagabond cretin pulled from some woods! You couldn’t even bother to supply it with any manner of shirt? Just bare skin, eh? Nor pants not riddled with holes and decade-old stains?! Bah!”
“Jovian – settle down. I could tell you everything that is wrong with this, but if you cannot already see the catastrophes brewing despite being at such a high position, then I’ll simply wait for your vices’ culmination to come back biting at you with fire in their teeth.”
“Hah! Surely! We all know you’re simply trying your damn hardest to wield that austere, omnipresent, all-knowing shroud in your shriveling age, Hendricks. It is only a matter of time before you are no longer on top. Soon, Hendricks, someone young, full of magnificent innovative plans for advancement of The Dream will outshine you, claiming your notorious position – and I know that thought just ruins you!”
I almost fell into shock when it hit my ears, and nearly drifted off to the afterlife when I saw it with my own two eyes. Father — Hendricks first… chuckled?! Then when I turned to face him, in true disbelief that such a sound came from him, I found a — a smirk on his face! He – he responded to him with that unprecedented smirk still plastered on his face,“I am in no position greater than you or the other Paramounts.”
His apparent, cloaked rival growled. “Save the feign humbleness, old man… Whatever, let’s get on with it! You ate up more than enough time. Where’s the real combatant?”
“Your eyes have long feasted upon him. This is my grand spartan – Viktor.”
Paramount Jovian took down his hood, revealing a grimace and fiery scar across the left half of his head. The left eye had some shining blue, crystal-like implant filling its socket. His chest bumped as a smile gradually spread across his face before succumbing to a fit of laughter. Father stood with a seemingly proud demeanor, unbothered. Jovian spat, “You are not serious, right? Has your mind finally sunk into the madness of ancient age?!”
“You're a fool to have your expectations curved by merely his appearance, Jovian. Perhaps you should continue keeping low guard to make taking down your shameless rip that more simple.”
His pompous grin melted away mildly, but a weak confidence still remained upon his face. “This scrawny, tiny, rat-nest headed one is what you chose to replace Venator?! You’d think you would try to improve upon that mistake, but instead you continue to fool me in the most disappointing manners, Hendricks. Your little homeless madman from some lost wood being reduced to a splash of blood and mush is none to my concern regardless. Let’s get this over with so we can see his organs fly. Pyreizin, bring whatever little pride that can be scavenged in the obliterated aftermath of this joke.”
His abomination stepped forward, and I now realized it had not blinked even once since me and Father had arrived. Father placed his hand on my shoulder for some time and gave me some sort of nod. “Fight well, Viktor. You’ve done it plenty of times before,” he said before stepping away with Paramount Jovian trailing him. Slicing Father in two with my blade would’ve been satisfying, but I figured it would be better to direct that energy to this ‘Pyreizin’ creature. He walked stiff, as if every joint and bone were clogged with thick sludge. Bizarrely, his movement was still quick for this sluggish movement. His steps became more fluid and loose as he approached, and his speed hastened. I dropped the edge of my cleaver into the sand behind myself, dragging it around the entity in search of an opening. With a sudden burst, he lunged at me, but only the breeze of his passing body struck me. Then, his hand plunged into the sand — and a massive burst of a white crystal pillar exploded through my gut. The statue of glistening white then bursted into a catastrophic mess of thousands of crystal debris, slicing through my skin.
The demon threw an up-arching path of a peculiar black magic symbol with a crystal insignia at the center. Several dozen chunks of magic-born onyx, to which he quickly lept to about. I gawked at this magnificent display – for once, not feeling madness carried by ships of unfettered rage running through me. Instead, my body twitched and saliva leaked from my jaws as the madness once born of ire was now drunk with rhapsody. Following his lead, I slammed my fist into the crystal that cut ever so close to my guts, and soared down to the descending black gems. In his ascent, he casted another flurrying storm of crystals both black and white, and I hurled my cleaver in response. Pyreizin ever so slimly avoided the blade feasting on his nose, but as he looked up, he found me a breath’s way before him. I tackled him, grabbing one of the many cascading white crystals and stabbing him directly at the center of his chest with it. I retracted it, and drove it in deeper, assuring his lungs were reached through the dense coat he donned. His left fist embraced albino crystal and shot dead into my jaw – and I cackled. My face gushed blood, painting us both – but I remained the last one smiling.
I clenched the metal piece attached to his face and flung him below, spine first into another spiked gem. Pyreizin screamed, but it was muffled by his muzzle, granting me only a disappointing, chest-concealed noise for my efforts. “That is not enough,” I beamed.
In our fall, I caught my descending blade and slashed it directly to the side of his oral trap – shattering it in half. His jaw hung, seeming too heavy to be held together by the joint. Not a problem of mine – instead the key; only then did I reap my proper reward – his guttural, agonized screams of torment and the begging for mercy shouted from his eyes. The sandy floor approached rapidly – but I was not done. I grabbed his collar and threw him skyward, and glanced between his blitz of crystals. I found a path between the monochrome gems, and leapt upwards from white, to black, from broken, to intact. “Stop!” the Pyreizin alas roared! His fiery tongue made my blood fuel with a newfound drive, and I jittered further with jubilant anticipation! His roaring frustration birthed a new magic circle from within his throat, and a beam of combusting red plasma left destruction in its wake. My demonic vigor quickly began to dissipate as the infernal beam struck me directly to the chest. The heat of a thousand stars ran through my body – but it couldn’t compare to the practically debauched drive running through my blood. Strangely, Pyreizin seemed more hurt striking me than I did having received the blow. Although the pain was great, I disregarded its ailment and turned its torment into speed – flashing from crystal to crystal, and promising my blade a good feast. Some red glow began to radiate around me, but I was unable to pay any mind to it. Pyreizin crossed his arms and brought a crystal symbol on the left, and plasma on the right.
They ejected out in scattering beams, crossing and clashing with one another, refracting and multiplying into many hundreds of streams of condensed death ray between his hurricane of crystals! A show so magnificent that I couldn’t even recognize the danger. However, a strike into my arm soon reminded me of my situation, and my instincts took over. My subconscious guided me through avoiding paths as many searing hot beams with ever-increasing velocity in my jumps from gem to gem. Eventually, the path was overcome with a net of plasma strings forming an incinerating net before me — but I did not care. With my stupid mind, I jumped straight into it, embracing the agony of a stellar-like punishment devouring me. In the end, it was well worth it when I saw that look of terror plastered on the Pyreizin’s face, and my blade bore through his guts.
His yellowing eyes trembled of me, and he cried, “You – your skin! It radiates red! Are you – no! No, that doesn’t make any sense! No, Paramount Jovian! What is this?! Paramount!”
The bombarding beats of my fired up heart roared loud in my ears as a call to persist my onslaught. Pyreizin raised a hand and embraced white crystal around his forearm. With a sweep, he swiped his arm across my face, leaving a nasty mark. It poured like a bloodfall down my body. It dripped down to my lips, and began to dry at peculiarly quick speeds. Nevertheless, I licked up the juice, falling more into derangement. Despite the metallic taste being extremely more pungent compared to the blood from others, I still beamed with delight. I reeled back a palm, but the petrified Pyreizin screamed a stream of black crystal from a casting ring formed just in the breaths of his mouth, slicing through me with an unrelenting storm of feign riches. I hurled towards the sands with striking speeds, ultimately colliding with it into a grand dusty plume of these desert dunes. I recovered myself, puncturing my scalp with my hands gripping my hair with immense tightness as my excitement was untameable. Then I found a structure in the distance — a glass construct of what seemed to be semi-transparent stairs with an almost clear barrier at its front exterior. Father and Jovian were within that sudden shelter, the former sitting with his arms crossed, leg over leg, and the latter on foot gripping glass railing. I found Father weakly nodding his head in approval from within that thing – and a heavy blow crashed to the back of my skull.
A mix of blood and those angelic meats thrown into the fire by the Qyvurn found their way forcefully out of my throat. As lightning, I curved to my rear on all limbs in preparation to enter a leap-boosting sprint, but some bright luminous red on the sand beneath me hooked onto my attention until it bled. It wasn’t blood, surely not – unless some demon was caught in the collateral of our battle. Then finally, I noticed the skin of my arms turned into a luminescent pinkish-red, echoing Pyreizin’s plasma — and it burned. The veins running from my hands, up my arms glowed cerise through the radiating, ghostly crimson of my skin. From my leaking wounds and slack maw, blood and saliva alike dripped as bright red droplets into burning puddles recoloring the ground. While this strength intensified my skin and ignited veins, it also magnified my soul. I could hear an ocean somewhere beyond the sand infinity, smell embers of Father’s rising pride, the consternation of Jovian’s heart, and virulent terror coursing through Pyreizin’s blood. Even from down below, I could see every pore of his unwell face – even better than I could before when we were essentially face-to-face. Alas, now with full clarity, my ears could drag their moist tongues across every word, cough, sniffle, or so little the beats of their blinking eyes. Jovian screamed, “What is that!” while Father simply sat nonchalant with a condensed, inner giggling.
The landscape turned red, by rage or curse, and the thirst for his blood only exploded. At the same time, I felt my mind evaporating. His slackjawedness crushed his crystal hurricane into dust and dropped into the sands. Pyreizin stood on flimsy legs, staring me down with poorly maintained sternness. His eyes were screaming, but his throat was quiet. “Why?” he questioned in a low, embering tone.
I heard his inquiry clearly, but for some reason I could barely understand it. The only song dancing in my ears was the blaze of rage, but the tune was entering a slow diminuendo, as Father calls it. Much to his ire, I was stalled by silent ponder. “Answer me, damn it! Speak! We can talk now! Don’t leave me in silence! I asked you a question, now answer it! Why are you here? Why are you fighting me, of all people?!”
I remained in my primal stance, feeling my readiness to pounce at any sudden displacement slowly crumble into sand. Ultimately, universal uncertainty kept my silence unending. He raged on, “Why are you following someone else’s lead when such power is inside of you?!”
Weapon in grasp, my hand stretched outward to the side, waiting. Soon, from wherever in the atmosphere it was hurled from some explosion, the cleaver fell gripside into my palm, and I drew it overhead to a rest across my shoulders with one palm sunk into the sand for weight support. “You are not nobility! You are not royalty! And you certainly are no god — so speak! End this taciturn act! Why did you succumb to the dark, too?! Why sink when you have such power like this?!”
Dripping, vibrantly radiating saliva secreted from my feral mouth. He yelled, “Why did you enlist, dumbass?! I know you can at least answer that!”
“Enlist? I never enlisted. I woke up here.”
Pyreizin brought his hand back up in support of his slacked jaw. He took more time to ponder, presumably. “What are you talking about? Do you mean — you were born here? I never considered them procreating to expand Penumbra… So that means this is your destiny; your blood runs with Penumbra’s history; so you’re just doing this because you have to. Then it’s no mystery how you have such enigmatic abilities; such prowess. Having been blood ridden with the eldritch arts for generations surely has evolved within you overtime… Is that how you get around being magicless? By absorbing it?! Such a magnificent amazement. Never have I seen such a thing… which will make the kill all the more rewarding!”
Frankly, I was quite pleased he finally shut up. The dull, groveling speech was quite boring – especially in the midst of our clash. But I did think about his final question, and I know the answer I gave was barely true, but I can’t remember what the full truth is. However, in this very moment, it mattered none. His shards formed as two individual, curving pillars, dove and rose through the sand like sea-skipping creatures. A joy for this nonsense I never had before ate away my aversions, and in the same instance, my mind was devoured by animalistic urges, and I fell into a ‘three-legged’ sprint, with my right hand securing my blade on back.
As I closed our gap at frightening speeds, he rose a palm upward, and a jutting shard of black crystal breached through the sand between us, but mindless reaction guided me around the obstacle. His eyes dilated with worry, and he began tapping his feet to the conjuration of more crystals with each step. Left – right – left – and a squeeze my heart breathed as I maneuvered them. I noticed each subsequent protrusion of the gems were shorter than the previous. As I moved closer, the more frantic his feet stomped, but the smaller his defenses. I grinned at the discovery – the faster I move, the less time he has to cast a pillar of grand proportion. The reddening of my vision centered on him, and my hunting sprint only became greater, and greater. Left – right – and now, over, My voices breathed with a sickly grin plastered on my burning face.
With a shambling throat Pyreizin cried, “You’re too arrogant!” perhaps in hopes my deadset soul would be shaken. His fists splashed sand as they slammed into the sediment, spurring a translucent barrier of his mineral magic between us. I closed in as a soaring arrow, bashing through the crystalline field. It sliced through my skin like a rain of serrated edges, but in the end, my hand secured itself around his throat. I crushed it and cried echoing hearty jeers! I raised my blade, and his eyes lit. A flinched out flash of plasma threw me off the Pyreizin briefly, but such an act only bought me time to catch up to him once more. I swiped at his face, tearing free the round, wet, squishy optic orb from its warm, moist prison. A choking slam brought him down, I presented the eye to him. “You desperately wanted to hear my tongue, right? I make a single statement and you ran to the stretches of the world, so you’ll be thrilled to hear me ask a question: Do you want this back?”
Our gazes locked, his singular optic running unlimited with tears, and mine filled with a disgusting lust to punish. Even in his state of utter devastation, Pyreizin smiled. “It’s truly no mystery why Hendricks chose you. Your aptitude and unrelenting prowl makes you sure-fire to become one of the most renowned in the Undergrowth, but —”
A blow from my knuckles to the stretch of his throat brought an end to his bootlicking. I could sense more liquid ready to flood their way out my throat if I had to stomach anymore of his brown-nosing, yet that revolting grin still remained strong on his face. “...thus, I cannot lose here. This is my way up. My victory here is how I ascend, Viktor. My vict—victory…”
Finally, I crushed his eye in my palm and shook the excess off to the winds and sand. I felt something brushing against my skin, bones, and even soul. It felt as if some transcendent entity infiltrated my being, and the hairs ran across me stood alert. It tasted like abused aspirations left to fester in a cold wasteland. Though decayed, his devotions were undying. I realize that, for the first time, I truly felt being grasped by every fiber of my being: the energy of magic. I could taste it, hear it, and see its trail. A death aura, slowly yet endlessly fading from black, to gray, to white, to red, and repeating the cycle, seeped an airy trail, yet flowing as if a viscous liquid. It dripped from his bruises, cuts, and gaping wounds, ‘evaporating’ into nothingness as it struck the ground. The Pyreizin broke into a revolting brew of crowish cackling. The weight of madness brought him down to his knees, and he wailed and guffawed like a witch. The skin over his back seemed to be bulging, as if some large worm were pushing through his body. His fingers dug through the sand, grasping the loose contents in apparently agonizing pain. I grew angry at it, furious by the audacity of whatever curse befalling him had the audacity to steal my momentum, bringing him this misery instead of allowing me to continue bringing down the hammer despair upon his brittle soul. “This is mine,” I said.
My cleaver swung with a whistling crack through the wind. The white blade, curved as a crescent moon, cried a sweet, delicious, wet crunch as it struck his bulging spine. The hit was hard, as if metal were battling stone. I lifted the blade, and brought it down with explosive strength once more. That one made me drunk with horripilation, bringing a magnificent euphoria I can’t remember having ever felt before. I spoke to him with one more urging request, “Wait – I need you to speak to make this worthwhile, Pyreizin. One more yelp, another cry. Let me hear it,” and a third slash of the blade sent a chunk of hard white material off to the wind.
The blade slid from his back, and I observed the product of my efforts. It was — surreal. The gaping red maw excavated through his spine exposed a quarry of riches only the blood-hungry could respect, though this was even more odd than anticipated. On the interiors of his back, the usual blood and flesh filled, now mixed and shifted to places they shouldn’t be, but beside that there were – things greater. I reached in, feeling them. This was not bone, and definitely not flesh. It was strikingly hard, yet smooth like a polished gem. I broke one free, and examined the blood-drenched enigma. I licked off a portion of the excess, instinctively. I was taken back by what I just did, though not as intensely as before. However, it still stunned me. This did not wield a taste like the usual blood drawn from the cutdown of man. It was something that felt royal, magnificent – something beyond and above us. However, that was not the only surprise here. On the cleaned section of this material, it was something shimmering white. I observed it, stopping myself just before committing a second… cleaning of this piece of bizarre flesh. I rubbed it to a relatively clean point on the fabric of what was barely pants anymore, discovering it to be… a blank piece of crystal.
A shadow casted over me, but shocking bewilderment froze me in my place. In a blink, the sand I was one, with it having forcibly devoured most of me. It was dark for a moment, and I could only hear the sounds of my breath. Soon, the lunar light brought vision to my eyes, but it was brief. Another slam to my back, bringing both pain and a chill as if liquid being rushed over by a breeze. I pushed up, and was quickly brought back down by another crush. It was only now that I realized that red glow coursing through my veins had long left my body, taking its light and the endless burning pain with it. The shadows withdrew, then grew great again, but a roll earned me a hair’s-length of escape. There I saw it in its titanic glory, stretching far into the death night heavens, a gargantuan pillar of a concoction of crystals both black as onyx and white as selenite. It shattered into an exploding rain of shards, bombarding the desert and all near. I dove into the sands, keeping my head from down the rain of blade-like gems. My back, legs, and hands guarding what they could of my neck and rear end of my skull. Eventually, the storm ceased, but my rage was boiling in its death. At the center of the former pillar, there stood Pyreizin in an utterly destroyed and demolished state, barely able to keep himself afoot. He was slouched over, panting like a dog. His heavy coverings were essentially torn off and scattered about, exposing many stitches and sews across his body, and many that were agape. But that mad man had changed, metamorphosed. In the socket where the eye I took as favor once resided, a white protrusion of crystal crept in its place, but it did not end there. Stretching down his left arm, spikes of dark crystal breached its skin from the upper arm, down just before the elbow, and continuing down the back of the forearm to the back of his hand. Starting from the upper left shoulder, the black and white gems broke through the skin of the chest as small breaches, pathing down to a build up at his stomach, and down to the lower body. They stretched down the legs, where they pierced through the leggings of his pants, stopped before the knees, and continued down the shins and concluding just before the feet. Ran throughout his body, beneath his skin at each point, it was fairly easy to notice the radiating crystal magic casting rings — from beneath the skin… I’m no magic user, but I do not believe that is how it is to be used.
For a time, all we did was trade stares. I searched for my blade, finding the handle stuck out of the sand, calling for my grasp. I retrieved it with aching bones, finding a small yet noticeable chip along its edge. Pyreizin coughed, spitting up blood and some shrapnel of gems that succumbed to the dissipation of magical material. “I’ll be renowned, Viktor, and you — remembered. Thank you for the wisdom of silence – fight the fight until the end is met. Only then, a voice will speak; the voice of he who comes out on top.”
His left arm once hanging before him by the weight of the corrupting crystals rose, and I brandished my blade across myself in the rising tension. The arm shattered, exploding into a limb of black and white gem erupting into a jagged pillar. It curved and twisted, dropping its loose parts across the sand. It pursued with none but the rage of its master, mindless prowling, and beastly madness – a trait we share. It reached a breath from my gut, and I plunged the blade into its shimmering body. With the sturdiness of the blade planted in the gem, my weight balanced on a palm stationed at the end of its handle, and I flipped over it. I tore the blade free as my feet landed upon the outstretched crystal, and entered a rushdown with all focus on the Pyreizin. From the ring centered in his chest, he unleashed a barrage of jewels nearly igniting themselves. They soared, and I hurled the cleaver right through the flurry. Pyreizin’s eye became alert, and in a dodging attempt his unrelenting fire of crystal and tower of gem crushed into nothingness. I leapt from the pillared attack just before its vanishing, just as my blade kissed the Pyreizin’s neck. He collected himself, frantically searching for my position. His search took to the atmosphere, as the Qyvurn called it, finding not sky and stars, but my leg hammering him in the jaw, sending that amalgamated man back to the sands. His excruciating wail waved across the desert as a titanic tide. When he faced me again, sadism took me over and planted a smile on my face. His head went light, for the lower jaw had been unbound and casted off into the world. But, our fight was not yet complete. I lunged, bringing the brightness of the blade just to the perfect point of symmetry on his face, but a reaction so fortunate resulted in my elevation. A pillar slammed into my gut, just barely breaching flesh with its sharpened point. The blow sent my cleaver off in a hurl to some point in this seemingly infinite expanse, and me in another space. I managed to push off the first, but then a second one came for crunching me from below. Then, a third curving from above that dealt a quaking shot to the back of my skull which blackened my vision, but only briefly.
I could not see, but my other senses amplified. I could smell his trail, discovering he was no longer backed onto the sand, but instead ascended. I heard his breaths and the beats of his heart, even through the calamitous jarring cacophony of his raging flux of crystals. I broke free a blood curdling scream that nearly tore my throat, but the reverberating waves of noises painted a picture of the scene for me: Several twisting and turning towering tendrils of gems clashing and crashing like mad titans, the number of which reached the dozens. I roared a cry to the night once more, to which a whip of his magic lashed my ribs, but a trail was made. Twelve sky-scraping constructs dancing to the song of bane with one another, several curved or standing tall, broken and jagged. Trusting the paths being laid by sound, I cannoned to a spire, catching a hanging spike or some sort of groove. My ascent went hastily as I leapt several meters moonward between the towers. The screams of wind alerted my ears – I pushed off the vertical incline into a backwards flip onto the incoming horizontal giant slab of precious stone, barely holding onto the privilege of breath. I sprinted on it, only noticing my canine-like sprint upon leaping off the opposing end onto the quartz that formed a gleaming white arch through the heavens. With a brightness so magnificent, I could even see it through my blindness. I was nearly beguiled by its shine, but its rampaging cousins collapsed into a tumultuous collision mere steps at my rear, sharpening my senses once more. One more unintelligible shout, and I made another map. I was closing in, and his heart was on the verge of explosion should it beat any faster.
Pyreizin cried some inaudible gibberish given his disabled mouth, some sounds of ‘E-ray, Arry’ if I were to make a stretch. Whatever it may be only tugged on my hunt once before being eaten. I began to lose the last drops of joy I had for this, but it was not being replaced with sorrow. No – instead it was something more empty, like full instinct. Primal thought and action began to evolve, while strategy and calculation struggled to compete. My eyes began to feel heavy and irritated, but despite this my vision gradually returned. My nostrils tore my vision to a direct lock onto Pyreizin. Several of his limbs were gone, replaced with either a nasty gape or black or white crystal. The empty eye socket had fully succumbed to some mineral growth, and the remaining one had a protrusion breaching through it. While a small part of me was disappointed by the great likelihood of him having fallen blind by his own lack of control, and thus unable to see my face a final time before his execution, my body had already pounced on him. As I watched, my hands ripped through him. His crystal forest began to collapse and vaporize into shimmering dust in the desert night. I wasn’t even bothered by our immensely great height; I could barely make out the shelter Jovian and Hendricks took cover in. All his efforts manifested into these gargantuan constructs of pristine minerals were now collapsing and crushing into ascending gleams of dust, leaving only displaced sand, limbs, and blood to tell the story of their existence. The butchering of his chest was a gruesome display as bone, blood, and… gem were torn from his chest, guts, wherever my hands descended onto first. The sand was finally near, and I remained on his chest. Just as we struck the sand, my mind returned.
I had not noticed the sand whirling about from our dance. It whirled in fright, but I was unbothered. I studied his corpse, finding a protrusion from the center of his head. I moved to grab it, but it became energy before I could touch it. Now that it’s clear, I noticed all the crystals that had taken over his body were gone, leaving behind only the gaping holes where they once were. Though, his left arm was completely missing, as were his legs. My heart was warm, and my pride golden. I stomped on his throat until it was flat, a sign the bones had been pulverized, thus, with ease, I took his head. “Do these ‘kings’ find it an inconvenience to step out of their bedroom?!” I muttered, hurling the skull through the cascading sand before me. The tune of a crunch and splatter confirmed a successful shot put, and that I moved on the correct trail, but I sat in place until the sand had soothed itself, even though I felt a severe coldness all around me, even within my bones, but my heart was still crazed enough to bring a mass circulation of heat. Once it cleared to my satisfaction, I scanned for my cleaver. With the lunar light’s gracious aid, I found its blade reflecting in the sands. The two of them were standing just outside of their little shelter thing, calling me over with the silence of their eyes. I stopped and stared them dead in the eyes. Then, I continued on to retrieve my blade. Only then did I trod at my preferred pace to their position. As I walked, I felt as if something was missing. I felt something I hadn’t in some time; alone. Why is such a feeling so profound now? I’ve been on my own for as long as I could remember, so why is it now that the feeling is unshakeable? I searched through my thoughts, but they were devoid, other than what needed to be done in the moment: walking. Stepping on, until I arrived before them.
Hendricks had a strong, arrogant, smug smirk all over his face, while Jovian’s foot tapped madly with whatever concoction of emotions he had going on. I cared for neither of it, but I just waited for one of them to start running their lips. Of course, it was the ‘unofficial paragon’ who spoke first. “Well done, Viktor. No – what an extraordinary display you performed. Your battle absolutely obliterated expectations! Dear oh dear, I simply cannot lay out my pride with vocabulary suited enough to properly sate the hunger of your endeavor!”
My eyes trudged over to Jovian, silently calling for him to hurry up and spit out whatever his chagrined self had to say. He noticed my impatient message, spitting a quick, and weak, “Know your place,” in a poor attempt to bite back. He continued, “I had not anticipated — this. It is clear that I was disgustingly ill-prepared, and lost my greatest asset in turn. It is also clear that Paramount Hendricks developed you very well to be able to take down a New Greek, especially one like Pyreizin… Him being a virtuoso in this field of work is shown pellucidly, with you being the manifestation of it all.”
Hendricks chuckled. “No need for flattery, Paramount Jovian – but I won’t stop you if you feel it’s necessary, and worry naught – I won’t mock and belittle you over your failure. Allow me to teach you one of the biggest flaws with your shameless rip. I told you, Jovian, if you truly could not see the brewing catastrophes at your position it would be an embarrassment… And, well…” he shrugged mockingly.
“Besides that boy practically being a walking doll with how many stitches and binds you had keeping him together with who knows whatever trials and tribulations you had him endure, it was more than obvious that you attempted to copy my formula for Evolution. See, Viktor was not born to be deeply in tune with the arts of magic to cast and hurl spells as he pleased. He is only at the potential to use its energy to enhance his strength and agility as a melee fighter. Pyreizin, however, was much more in tune with magic, being able to manifest circles and cast true spells, obviously. But this is why it went wrong — well, besides how you most definitely did not use the correct ingredients in development of the Solution, though it appears you were on the right track. Listen well, Jovian.
This is why I never used the solution on a being of spell-cast — at least not without the expectation that their demise would soon follow. It seems that when one who is much closer in tune with magic utilizes their spells, The Solution begins to absorb and manifest into it. Since The Solution is within their blood, this, needless to say, becomes an incredibly perilous combination. The highest chances of survival would be with states of matter such as the gaseous magic, Wind, the enigma of Plasma matter, or the energy of Light, but even then, due to the naturally high amount of magical energy a magic user produces with an attack, it is essentially guaranteed one would still end up a victim of unintended suicide, by exploding or frying themselves, respectively. This is why I avoided making Evolution widespread, and performed it very, very rarely – among other reasons – Jovian. I’ve yet to find a solution to this problem, thus I performed my trials and studies surreptitiously to prevent ignoramuses such as yourself from setting people we’ve invested so much time into on a path of ineluctable death.”
Paramount Jovian’s lips quivered and twitched with boiling ire, but he contained himself. “So why is this one standing here before us? We saw him be hit by Pyreizin’s plasma attacks and become red with his magic flowing through his body.”
I nearly brought my free palm to my face, but Hendricks sighed tiresomely before me. “As I previously stated, Viktor is not a magic user. While his body has the potential to use the magic energy polluting our world to ascend his strength, agility, and stamina, similar to other brawlers, swordsmen, and ranged-fighters, like them he cannot cast magic, thus it does not concentrate within his blood. Instead, it was designed to radiate outward overtime, preventing total self destruction, and bolstering his prowess... Jovian, I know coping with such a hefty loss is no simple task, but you are wasting energy; your structure still stands.”
Jovian gave him a look, one of bewilderment. Realization had not struck him until he adjusted his veiny eyes to the glass-place and settled his balled fists, beginning the collapse and degradation of the shelter, and his furious demeanor. Still, just enough spite lingered in him for me to relish my dominance over his mind. In admiration of its destruction, I glanced at the hurled head, noting it to be mostly intact – at least in the sense of post-our battle. Father — Hendricks — nodded in conclusion of our event. His back faced us, and his hands rested against it. “Very well. I have much work to tend to, as do you, Jovian. We’ll discuss the trades in the near future. I bid you adieu. Viktor - our trials are still calling for completion. Come along, there is much to do.”
“What will you be giving me for my efforts?” I questioned him.
Hendricks was eerily still as a statue, only the fabrics of his wardrobe weakly waving in the wind. “Pardon?”
“Recompense. How will I be remunerated for my victory?”
His position remained solidified. “You’ll be safe from a plunge into a vat of frostbiting water. Feel lucky, for I will not subject you to a Dunk over these transgressions. At least I have not decided to yet.”
Mocking chuckles flooded from my throat. “Who? Who will make me take the plunge, Hendricks? Surely not you – then who else? The Warded Vultures? Does your confidence in them remain steadfast? Is this a test you wish to run?”
Jovian watched on like a surprised duck. Alas, Hendricks turned to me. He stared into my eyes, and I stared into his. Both lifeless, but one of a mad demon, and the other a stoic tyrant. None but the breeze through the sand filled the silence, but my muscles began to tense up with culminating fury. I know naught what Hendricks thought, or if his vision, too, fabricated elements, but I was sure of mine. The longer I stared at him, the darker this night became, and the more raw flesh-like the ground we stood on turned. Besides these eldritch visions, the chimeric creature residing in black sea of my mind began to change, too. A neck now stemmed from its once headless torso of half bird and half man, right and left leg of white hoof and black-furred canine. A chin formed just above the neck, though the rest of its skull was unfinished. Though, I could recognize that it was at least human up there. Hendricks unleashed an echoing chuckle in this arid scape, and smirked. “Referring to me by name, using a fiery tongue in my direction? Bold, bold, bold… Very well – I relent, Viktor. Well done. What reward is it you wish to reap?”
The hellish visions quickly retreated. Frankly, I was exponentially taken back by this capitulation. I was more than eager to bestow treatment similar to Pyreizin’s upon the old man, thus I never considered actually wanting something. Judging by the mild grin on Hendricks’s wretched face, I’m led to believe he knew both of me considering his slay, and lack of near-future vision. My mind ran with strangely quiet thought – for once. It honestly unsettled me. I felt as if something was missing... Requesting freedom is obvious, but a swift denial, no question, is the result. At best, he ‘agrees’ just by letting me out and having his henchmen stalk me for an eternity, possibly using any other tricks until I resubmit to him. Besides, I cannot barter and use my value to him in my favor should I leave now. At least for now, it is best I stay. So what then? I’ve already kept what I wanted from the Vire – the only usable item. What is there of blood that I can keep? I’ve already had my fill on a kill. Perhaps this is the time to — choose something of a nature antithetical to violence? What would it be?
I watched my hands, the weapons used for much destruction. Then it came to me – and I obliged without a second thought. “Allow me to see the Qyvurn – this is what I need. I have a request for him. Something invaluable, that can only be bestowed by him; his severed hand. That is what I want.”
Hendricks folded his arms in thought. He began with a brow raised in curiosity, but it soon fell into — something else. “Very well… I will abide by your peculiar request — with a close eye. Of course, we’ll have to see what he thinks of this… Well then, allow us to get a move on. Time does not wait for us to finish our idling. We have vital… processes to attend before – undesirable events unfold.”