As the massacre came to an end, Demon felt the presence of other Distorted emerge from their mind. Dread slowly increased, he could feel it. Yet he did not react.
These were his new brethren. Unwillingly delivered to them by one of their own, shattering who he was in the process. Demon lingered on the memory.
[Here they come to feast. As a Distorted yourself, don't you need this kind of nourishment?]
Demon flinched, unaware the Nine were watching the entire encounter alongside him. And they, just as he, felt the increasing dread of creations they did not make.
[After you brought me back, I had no use to sustain myself. But I still do it out of tradition.]
[Yet you're only victim has been that sibling.]
[Perhaps I've been distracted to continue my works as a traditional Distorted. But I have a question. How did the Distorted came to be if you didn't make them?]
No response, as expected. Sometimes the Nine would do this to tease their Servant. Their cause was unknown. They didn't feel any pleasure out of doing this.
Maybe it was supposed to be this way. Perhaps there were several answers to that question. Or he had to find this out himself.
But nonetheless, Demon continued his duty. He watched Kellenas and two other Alpha Males disappear into the canopy.
Leaving those who joined them for the final encounter. They celebrated. Males tackled each other while the females took part in a game they made while the conflict raged.
Each female tied a small twig in the other's hair. Making sure it didn't fall out. Then they got in a line and began trying to free it without using their hands.
Their playtime was cut short after they began feeling the overwhelming sense of despair take control of their minds. A black mist swirled inside, host to creations that weren't meant to be.
[Interesting. So, interesting. They stand far away and watch. And that's how they get their fill.]
[It's more complicated than that.]
From the mix of several voices, Eighth spoke out. It took control of their chain and began focusing its eyes through Demon's own.
[Show us, then.]
On command, Demon began feasting as well. Black mist swirled back into him, empowering his natural abilities as a Distorted. Black lungs and a purple muscle began operating like normal.
This was all part of the process. Not of consuming it, but of transferring it to the Distorted Mind. Each negative emotion, destroyed legacy, and forgotten memory fueled it.
Not because of any particular reason. But because it was the only way the grander powers separated the bad from the good. A concept the Nine didn't understand.
[What a marvel. A mass of complex signals all portraying all that's bad. That makes me wonder, is there one that portrays all that's good?]
[Is that not something you can make?]
No response, again. As expected. But this time, their lack of response didn't feel like he was ignored. Instead, they felt like they were unsure of a proper response.
Something Demon secretly stored inside the Distorted Mind. While the Nine watched the 'feeding' process of a Distorted, he jotted down another self note.
While he was busy, the Nine watched each Feral get up and form a well made barrier. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Cheeks sparked into various colors to silently convey their emotions.
[Look at how they impact our creations... so careless and ruthless of who they rag on. If only we knew where this, 'Distorted Mind' is.]
[Did your Servants not take that information from me?]
[They did. But when we sent out our strongest Servants, they came back baring bad news. It was not there.]
Demon crossed his arms. Silently watching the Distorted return to their banished realm. A place far away, where no eyes or paranormal creations could reach them. Except for the likes of two equally distant bodies.
Syndicate Dust consumed him before spitting him back out in a different location. Vile powder corrupted existence itself to allow a Servant through.
Frozen terrains welcomed his already cold body. Making him feel right at home, except for the fact he didn't belong there. Demon's new natural nature wasn't on this Koroth. It was somewhere else.
The Nine ceased their connection, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. A looming sense of guiltiness struck his body.
[I can confidently say I doubted them. Light has stronger warriors than I thought, with a wise plan. Now they return with knowledge they didn't have before. And a plan I made.]
A frost-wave washed over the mountain. Catching what it could in a sudden freeze. Except for the paranormal, such as Demon. He was immune, not because of some sort of evolutionary trait.
But because of his priority in the Nine's eyes. He was too important to get caught in the freezing point temperatures of Digon.
Distant lights dwindled out. Fires became too cold to continue giving out heat, so they ceased until the frost-wave was over.
Variants struggled to keep their body temperatures warm enough to allow their insides to operate. They hugged who they could and hid from the cold.
An attempt Digon brushed off. It wanted to operate the mountain normally, so that's what it was going to do. Everyone, regardless of them not being a Thawed, had to play by its rules.
Except for Demon. He was there to inspect the mountain. Making sure everything was working as it should.
Syndicate Dust clouded his mind, connecting him with an entity the Nine can't control. It was there where he retrieved every memory he noted down.
[Judging by the Nine's silence, I can tell they cannot make paranormal entities. I was birthed by chance, or something saved me but was too late. Now I lie in the palm of their hands.]
One armored hand reached up to the helmet, getting placed between the chin and neck. It came off without a sound, the shattered helmet fell to the frosted ground.
[So many Variants lose sight of themselves. I did too, at some point. My legacy wasn't supposed to be at the fingertips of a higher being.]
He settled down, eyes stuck on the battered piece of equipment. Despite his lack of emotion, he could feel himself deep down. Perhaps there was a way to bring back his younger self.
Joining his brothers during this journey has been a hope since the day he made his presence. Those final moments before slipping in and out of the Broken Melody were spent hoping.
Praying to recover so he could be reunited with his siblings once more. That time has passed, they have separated from one another. Losing sight of what it meant to be brothers.
Which saddened Demon. He felt isolated. No one understands his world, not even his older brother. Being by his side while watching Jakery grow was something he longed to relive.
Off in the distance, somewhere far away. Maybe not in this dimension. All three of them rested together under an apple tree. Holding each other tight while embracing the progression of time.
One hand reached up for his face. The metallic feeling broke him out of his trance.
[Those times are over. Childhood was made as a tease - something you cannot return to but can remember forever. For that reason alone, I am going to make sure others understand me.]
Dust encased his hand, then his arm. Eventually, his entire body. The helmet dissolved and got remade where it belonged on his head.
[Little, little pawns.]
Demon fixed his gaze on the distant Frosticus Legion. The bright grey walls stood proud against Digon's waves.
[Remember, Digon isn't your ally. Nor is it your enemy. It is an instrument others use.]