--01.
The Insanity.
An epidemic that took the world by storm. The power of the metaphysical washed over the world, connecting it with various unseen planes and universes. Few portals lead "out," yet there are many organisms that have crept "in."
These organisms are not fully compatible with the plane of the material in most cases, however, and so they hide in the spiritual plane, coveting minds, energy, and who knows what else...all to support their materialization or amuse themselves.
At least, those are the most straightforward objectives they have.
The Insanity has allowed beings of all ken to walk amongst the already warring world. Magic is no longer the highest issue. Technology no longer reigns supreme. Instead, the supernatural is the realm of all Epigonists, and the preexisting powers struggle to integrate with the new change in the world.
If these factors were all, aside from the lowering sanity of the people…it would not be unfit to call this a "Polarity" instead. However…
This world possesses the races of metahumanoids and monstrosities. The Metahumanoids are the sentient races with the capability of reason and choice…and the monstrosities are akin to ferocious, frenzied, and seldom intelligent creatures. When the Insanity occurred…this position started to flip. Many Monstrosities mutated and gained enough reason to become metahumanoids. Many metahumanoids lost their forms, their reasons, or both as they mutated into the Astray.
Thankfully, MOST of the prior metahumanoids still exist. They have also mutated, dividing into various subcategories within their race…and some of their compatriots may be lost to their nature forevermore…
But this changes nothing. Sentient or not…affluent or poor…in this world, it is hard to imagine a person lacking any Insanity.
There are many of these beings, these "Presences," that can simply be summoned by any gathering of faithful people…or those that have the suitable offerings or etiquette. Many are capable of bestowing their fancy or favor for nothing at all. This does not make them any less dangerous, however…
Many beings wish to feed on the productions of Insane or Sane minds. Some have a parasitic relationship, some are symbiotic, and some present as sycophantic. Nevertheless, they must be fed, and occasionally, what they wish to eat may change.
They are at their most dangerous when they are hungry.
They are at their most vulnerable when they are hungry.
Poison and medicine aren't so far apart. Be careful not to tempt fate, lest you end up with no luck to your name. Contrary to popular belief…it is a very transactable currency.
--Excerpt From "Introduction to The New World Order"
By: Noxis Blanc
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In a red room.
Children gathered about, receiving teachings as they stilled themselves in their uncomfortable seats.
A stained window had a single shadow cast onto it, its owner holding a book in one hand and a ruler in the other.
The juvenile procession was a motley assortment of ages, the number of which was sparser the older they were. The oldest could hardly be considered a young adult.
All in the room were cloaked in red, their clothing both pleasing and reminiscent of priestly garb. The children were hardly as refined; one could tell from their eyes and the way some mumbled underneath their breaths.
And yet, none could even dare to move.
A woman with a kindly face and eyes twinkling with the light of reverence paced around the room, her voice bounding off the walls as she passed numerous columns.
Her adorned red habit emitted a subtle stirring noise as her footsteps came to a stop.
The children held their breaths; their emotions were quite varied as they gazed at the lonesome child at the base of the crimson pillar. Derision, sorrow, concern, and even happiness...were all accompanied by the shared tinge of pity they all held.
A painting with a shifting silhouette and a frightening glare creaked and shivered with delight. The figure adorned on the fleshlike parchment encased in a garish red frame smiled down at the two beings below it.
"S#003-JU."
The woman with lengthy, pointy ears spoke with a voice akin to a soft breeze. Looking down at the young man underneath her, it was clear that she was referring to him.
The adolescent did not stir or move. His eyes were hidden beneath his unruly hair, and his clothing had many rips and tears.
Grand Sister Dulais looked upon the youngster as if she was looking at him for the first time in her elven life.
Brown, dusky skin that is frightfully pale, akin to the shade of Earl grey tea steeped in ample creamer.
Hair that was as shadowed as a murky night, nearing the pitch of a black widow spider.
It was wavy with a slight curl, its arrangement the epitome of messy...so much so that loose locks formed incongruous patterns apart from the already disheveled shaggy lengths.
His rounded ears peeked out from the unruly mess, the lobes obscured by his hair.
The bangs fell over and completely covered the upper portion of his face, hiding his eyes and the uppermost part of his nose as it trailed downwards in thrawny locks that framed as well as lay against his cheeks in asymmetrical lengths and curves.
And the rest of his hair fell down past the base of his nape as it nestled the rearmost sides of his delicate neck. Covering the back of it entirely, it curled around to the front as it trailed around the lowest point of his neck and ended around the collarbones.
His nose was straight and fine, the bridge slightly rosy. His lips were downturned in shape and relatively smaller than his peers, a beauty mark sitting a bit further down and to the right of the striking pair.
His jawline was a delicate shape yet sharply defined all the same, the chin equally intricate.
All in all, he was a perplexing lad to take in the features of. His face was a complex blend of soft and sharp features that incorporated both angularity and gently rounded arcs together, exquisite in appearance. His looks were that of a regal, nonpareil beauty, the nobility of which was unfitting considering the purpose he and the rest of the children served.
His expression was like a blank sheet of paper, his countenance listless as his head was inclined to the side. He did not engage with the scrutinizing stare of the nun who was placing the book and ruler upon an empty desk.
"Unit 003 of District J. Are you paying attention? It is the last week of lessons you will be attending before the eve of your Ceremony."
Grand Sister Dulais bent down and cradled the listless adolescent's chin in three of her milky fingers, her thumb pushing his supposed line of sight to meet with hers.
"Well, child? Your Ceremony will be arduous if you care not for the words of our lords--the Nunally. How could you serve the great Presences of the Vermillion Court? The Vicar Matron would weep in despair if you were to displease them, S#003-JU."
A faint and mild voice answered, his enunciations clear, the sound mellifluous, and his words exiguous.
"...Ah. Okay."
...The silence grew louder at the point at which the statement ended. The smile of the silhouette leaked a sanguine glare that shone down upon the two, both of their expressions unchanged.
Grand Sister Dulais continued to speak her mind as if she had not heard the words he had stated. Yet the uncertain wavering of the gazes that filled the room was louder than her words, their ignorance unstable.
Beneath her rounded pupils were beaded slits, of which were only starkly apparent to the listless child receiving instruction.
After five minutes of her instruction, she strutted back to the upraised platform at the head of the room. The gazes spun back to her, some trembling and others expectant.
S#003-JU sat back in the last row.
His seat was the third to the left.
The red wall a couple desks away had an emboldened J at the height of it. Other rows had other letters, the meanings of which tended to elude the knowledge of all that wasn't sitting in the row's line of desks.
50 students. 10 rows. The instruction proceeded as always at this point, and like always, the boy's gaze was situated on the atmosphere shining behind the stained glass windows.
A sky that was a swirl of black and red, crisp white snow raining down on the planet. It was the Eleventh Month of the Cruan Calander, the 6th Millennia's Noon, and the 21st Day.
This Colony was in a remote region of Crua Louhade, where it snowed in all but one month. The boy had seen naught but this minuscule portion of the world; his mind only informed on the rules of this place regarding his place within it.
Those below 15 were lambs that required guidance from the Nuns of Nunally, the priesthood in which the believers attended to the Presences within the Vermillion Court. They did not receive names until the completion of their Ceremony, where their body would be reshaped by the influence of the Nunally in order to facilitate their obeisance.
Their fealty? Inevitable. Their Purpose? Ineffable. Respect for the Vermillion Court was the highest purpose the metahumanoids within this Colony were taught.
The boy's mind lacked such fervor, however. Long years of instruction had not triumphed over the irregularity of his mentality. He was...a rather rare specimen that had been unheard of since the dawn of the New Millennia.
His mind was clear and sound, yet barren in most aspects. He did not demonstrate the ordinary state of mind and seemed unaffected by the influence of Insanity, nor was he Sane, for that matter.
Like all beings that were either alive, sentient, or suitably rich in energy or power, he possessed a Psyche. The power of his soul's union and occupation of his mind and body produced distinct energy that could be classified into three branches.
Manus, Misis, Phobos. Or Obsession, Hatred, and Fear. These raw forces fuel manipulation of myriad powers, most notably of which was Supernaturality, the new power brought about by The Insanity.
Presences consume this natural energy and influence minds to their liking over time, and whether the process was quick or slow and subtle or direct were the only questions.
As such, a mind could be considered Sane or Insane, the state of possessing or lacking resilience...states that were two sides of the same coin.
The boy's mind was neither.
He didn't speak much. His opinions were rare, and he seldom thought much at all. He was more like an automaton than a sentient creature, and the question of rather he felt anything at all was often posed.
He did not wish for much of anything. He acted solely on what he was taught, showing adaptability, but it was apparent he didn't have any belief or skepticism toward the actions he was performing.
He was aimless and indifferent.
He was unfit to be fed upon by Presences. What desire was there to tempt? What preconceptions were there to twist? How can you convince someone incapable of the concept of persuasion in the first place?
Nevertheless, he had never acted against the strict set of rules. He had never demonstrated a desire to escape or speak heretic of the Vermillion Court.
...It was against the rules to dispose of someone who had not betrayed the whims of the Nunally. It was stated in their canons, and it was obeyed henceforth.
And so Grand Sister Dulais let this pass, like all the Sisters and Brothers Few. Next week would be the start of a tremendous change in his his behavior, so it was even more permissible.
The questions of "what if" never entered their mind. They had all undergone the Changing Ceremony. Therefore, they could not consider anyone resisting the Nunally.
In a week, another number would be added to the Brothers Few. The Corteges salivated at the prospect of another added to their ranks; all they needed to hear was the Purpose of the boy after the corresponding Ceremonies were finished.
The instructions ended as the sky brightened, the crimson swirls pulsing as they radiated the light that spilled upon the Nunally's Private Colony, Numach.
The individual parts of this region hummed as bells tolled, each Sector, Each District, and Each Locality buzzing in chants extolling the virtue of service.
And so to did the boy and the other juveniles. And louder than they were, the Grand Sister herself.
In their minds were intelligible words, the prompt to depart.