The crowd was taken aback; Cain's outburst was abrupt and caused panic.
"I will tell you, as long as you tell me who you are," an older man made himself known. It was the chief.
Cain stared at the man expectantly. He uttered nothing as he waited for his answers. Seeing his stance, the man coughed and gave what he wanted.
"It is the year 3244 of the 199th cycle, where you are in Netherane with 4 major cities: Ansross, Cardin, Aprord, and Fulens. I do not know what you mean by major powers, but I suspect I know what you mean by Plague Doctor."
"Over 100 years... I suppose that makes everyone I knew dead..." Cain mumbled to himself as the man stared. He tightened his eyes when he looked at Cain's physical features, a light bulb lighting itself in his head.
"I must ask, being of the red fog, is your name Cain?"
Cain's face morphed with elation, and his smile seemed to lighten the mood. "That I am. Are you a descendant of someone I knew?"
"I'm afraid not. I have seen you in a painting in Cardin. You are the God of Pestilence, the one who said you would destroy the world and return everything to death. You had many believers a century ago."
"Yes, I'm sure they all died in a big battle. One that you know of? Correct?"
The old chief shuffled closer as he dropped to his knees.
"Please, I beg you not to kill us. I read of you when I was a child. I know who you are: the slaughterer of countless, the destroyer of the tree of plague.
You took away the power that we were blessed with, the one who made us weak to the unforeseen. The cause of the red battlefields and creator of the blood-red swamp. I know very well who you are."
"Hahahaha! Hah! It seems someone must have survived if they have so many bad things to say, hehe. I suppose this village is close to Cardin?"
"Yes, I used to go yearly with my father. It is a place of knowledge and truth."
Cain's demeanor changed; his body, in his birthday suit, covered in red mist as he seemed to become one with it.
"I've heard enough. I will just finish that tree and everyone still alive and leave. This place is behind me anyway."
His eyes shone red as the mist seemed to come alive.
The crimson fog swarmed the village, tendrils lashing through homes. Apparitions took form, wailing as they rose. They were Cain's victims - their consciousness preserved within the mist. A new ability and it seemed to work well.
Villagers scattered in panic as the spirits invaded their bodies. Blood vessels bulged beneath skin, faces contorted in agony. The possessed turned on their brethren, tools and bare hands dealing vicious blows.
Cries of panic and pain echoed around Cain. A child sobbed over the broken body of a mother. A husband cradled the mangled form of his wife. Blood pooled on the ground, seeping between the stones.
Cain watched impassively, the heady scent of fear and desperation swelling around him. A group of men charged forward, axes and scythes braced. His ghosts tore through them, their weapons and courage utterly useless.
All the while, the red haze thickened. It probed through windows and under doors, an unstoppable force. Any still left untouched wailed prayers and pleas to uncaring gods. But their doom had already arrived.
The village became a tableau of horror. Bodies littered the streets, the fortunate dead and the less fortunate maimed and dying. Only the whispers of Cain's spirits and the cries of carrion birds sounded now.
'Seems that Netherane's powers have run dry. Numineer should be barely surviving. Perhaps he focused on a human or animal to live? Such is the way for a parasite after all.'
'Even if the mist spirits try to escape, I can control them. It appears the core has changed as well. Would ghosts like these ever be possible? With it not having to supply a whole territory, it must have been affected by its only shareholder, hehe.'
Cain looked around, seeing the chaos he had caused. Weapons and tools were on the ground, buckets with water turned over, and food growing cold. He even spotted a small child's toy with a layer of blood clinging to it.
The smell of death filled his nose, and he could see nothing in this blinding fog—only cries and yells.
Yet, this was the best scene in his opinion. Moments like these were when the human mask was ripped away, where survival emerged and people could become stronger through truth and instinct.
Such trials were a way of life. But unfortunately, this trial wasn't meant to be passed.
He didn't spend a moment longer; his mist melded with his body and didn't even boil or melt his body in the process. It simply transitioned to mist smoothly, like an illusion.
Pleasantly surprised, Cain grew more excited to leave this place and headed for the cave housing Numineer.
...
As Cain made his way toward the cave, his mind churned with possibilities. Freedom—that's what had driven him before. Freedom gained through violence, chaos, and fear. But now, he would soon have it.
Freedom. That must be what drew him to seek out Numineer again after all these years. The man who had controlled him, who bore responsibility for all that had befallen Cain. Yet now he felt nothing when he thought of this great enemy.
Cain had realized, Numineer was likely long dead. The true target of his vengeance was most likely moldered in the dirt. This land and its people meant nothing to Cain now. He felt detached, aimless. Perhaps bringing merciless bloodshed upon the village would rekindle his passion. Violence for the sake of violence.
Or maybe it was validation Cain truly craved. Recognition from these people who worshipped him as a god of pestilence. But that wasn't it either...he was confused.
It only took a few minutes before he stood before a cave deep in the swamp. Inside was an atmosphere similar to the cave below Free City. Luminescent plants lingered, and the ground was damp and loose, with cracks evident in the stone.
Deeper in, he found himself in a forest of trees. It was soft ground made of dirt and grass. There were even animals living down here.
Upon heading deeper, he found a large open space. A big tree was in the middle of this field with a small hut to the side. From its appearance, someone had been living there for a while and still was.
Noticing Cain's presence, the owner of the home walked outside. They were a gentleman in their 30s, with a grown-out beard and wrinkles already setting in. Just from looking at him once, Cain knew who he was.
"I'm surprised to see you in this state, Numineer. Has the well of power dried up?"
The man stared at Cain before grabbing an axe and getting to work on a pile of uncut lumber.
"No thanks to you. Over the years, as you killed me off and my condition worsened, I was forced to put my eggs into one basket, as they say. I came here to live out the rest of my life and to die.
You won. Are you happy?"
"I haven't won until you're dead."
The man paused after sticking the wood. The pieces fell to either side as he let go of the axe to turn towards Cain.
With his arms open, he exclaimed, "You came here for Numineer, but he is not here. I am Lucian, a humble hermit living comfortably in a cave. What you seek no longer exists. Netherane has lost its core; it's worthless in the eyes of others. Its inhabitants can only wait until a ruler from afar takes it over and gifts us with power again."
"You know of Rulers?"
"Yes, I also know you are not one, yet you merged with a core."
Cain was unable to control himself; he laughed as he held his stomach. This was Numineer? The tree of manipulation and decay? Hilarious!
Wiping a tear, his demeanor changed again, and he looked at 'Lucian' with aggression. "I haven't had time to change like you. This past century was like a nap for me. Nor am I a good person to begin with."
Lucian sighed "I know only too well the shadows that reside within you, Cain. I helped nurture it long ago when you were but a pawn. Perhaps we both bear responsibility."
Cain scoffed "I bear no responsibility for what I am. The fault lies with you and everyone who sought to use me!"
"Yes, we used you ill." Lucian nodded sadly. "But the choices were still your own. I have had much time to ponder my own choices in these long years...and regret many things."
Cain bristled, doubt creeping into the corners of his mind. Could this pathetic whelp truly feel regret? Or was he simply trying to erase his own culpability?
"We are what we are." Cain growled. "Your feeble regrets change nothing."
"Perhaps not." Lucian admitted. "I only hope you can someday find a measure of the peace I have found. This world holds more than destruction, if you seek it."
Lucian didn't change his expression; he kept his mature and aged face. All Lucian could do was sigh with pity.
"I think I now understand those emotions of your servant. But I have no obligation to help you. I only set you on the path."
Mist rose from Cain's skin. "Yes, and I'm glad you did. Look at me now."
Like a rattlesnake, the mist reeled back as it waited to attack.
"Even if I can't reach you, we are destined to be enemies until the end. So I hope a fate worse than death befalls you, Cain of Pestilence."
Cain grinned. "Thank you. What doesn't kill me will make me stronger, after all."
The mist reached out in an instant, gliding on the air as it broke against Lucian's face like a swarm of locusts.
The body fell to the ground, its face devoid of flesh, showing white bone instead. Cain looked at the corpse for a moment. He didn't dissolve it in his mist and instead left, not desecrating nor bearing the body.
Cain simply left it there in peace.