A figure sat in the utter all-permeating silence of the night…
Hunched over his desk, the only sound that broke the sad and silent atmosphere of the room was the occasional crackle of wood in the fireplace or the clang of glass from the man carelessly banging his empty cup on the desk.
"What am I even doing anymore…" He asked no one in particular as his gaze shifted to an empty bottle—the alcohol was already fading. His face, dimly lit by the fire's light was sorrowful and his golden eyes were blank. His wheat-blond hair was matted with grime—he had become the embodiment of a man long worn down by the reality of his life.
"What a fucking joke!" He abruptly roared in rage as he smashed his hand into the desk, and shot out of his pristine leather seat.
The table was instantly pulverized to dust as the room shook. He looked around in fury for anything to express his anger.
"Hahaha," The man, Mason Goldenheart, laughed both bitterly and manically as he approached the fireplace. Grabbing a fire poker, he aimed it towards his head and stabbed forth without hesitation.
Splurt!
The fire poker pierced straight through his eye and blood spewed from his mangled eye socket, his beautiful golden eye now a grotesque mess. Yet, Mason didn't fall dead, nor did he scream in agony—he merely collapsed to his knees and wept—a silent and hollow thing. Falling further, he embraced the ground like a child would his mother and continued to mourn.
His eye healed quickly, 'All because of this damned power…' he thought angrily.
Laying on the floor, his golden eyes penetrated the thin film of darkness within the room as they played a lifetime of memories. Memories of his role as a student, then a doomed soldier, a husband, and finally, a tragic hero: "And thus my tale is told," Mason spouted comedically, but his face held no trace of humour.
'I don't want to fucking live…' He thought in the silent room, 'There is no life for me on this plagued planet…I can't do this—no, I refuse to do this any longer. Even if there is no hope, even if it's a mere delusion, let it be mine.' Mason needed to at least ask.
All of his family, friends, and even distant associates had died and he no longer cared. His love for this world and its people had dissolved into resentment as he watched them fight one another to the death for the scraps of a bygone civilization. They tore one another apart, and no matter where one looked, despair pervaded. And so for what purpose did his sacrifice and the sacrifice of so many others serve to do? Nothing, they were all for naught. For the problem was perpetual.
His back to the floor, Mason raised and inspected his gauntleted arm, a golden tapestry of intricate carvings and creases marked it as his thoughts wandered, 'For what did I kill the Demon King Drocall? Why did I learn the Holy Teachings and practice even when it felt like my body would explode?' He got up a moved towards an open balcony, his gaze scanned below, where the last vestiges of the Human Race remained, 'I fought for half a century for this?' Mason began to tremble as he firmly gripped the balcony's railing, 'I was promised better than this…God told me life would heal…d-did he lie?' His eyes now burned white hot and every one of his muscles were tensed. Blood surged to his head as a pure emotion took place in Mason's long-dominant heart—hate. Pure and unfiltered hate.
Hate for those who took everything from him, hate for the ingrates whom he fought for and hate at himself for not being powerful enough to prevent it all—to stop the Holy War and save everyone.
"I need to ask HIM, HE'S the only one who can bring them back. If HE was stronger, this would've never happened…Even if it kills me, I have to ask, beg if it comes to it." The railing finally snapped under Mason's grip, reinforced by memories of his family.
With a deep breath, he steeled his heart and made his way out of the dreary room, 'Family is all I want,' He thought inwardly.
The illumination of sterile-white facility lights nearly blinded him as he adjusted his eyes. Looking around, Mason realized that the facility was void of people like usual.
He strode through the facilities' imposing and large fibre cement walls as the identical flooring felt rough beneath his golden greaves. After a few minutes of walking through the facility which was devoid of life, Mason found himself stopped a few feet before a large gate composed of a material foreign to Earth and similar to diorite.
The gate, which held teleportation capabilities, had various patterns etched onto it. At first glance, the patterns painted an abstract depiction of a war between Heaven and Hell.
"Do you require something?" A familiar sonorous voice called out to Mason.
Looking towards the figure, Mason recognized him as Ezekiel, an Angel and Warrior under God.
Ezekiel was tall and robust, with broad shoulders and thick trunk-like arms. He towered over the distant Mason who stood at 182cm, and glared at the latter with a questioning gaze. His eyes were golden too, and his hair was that of gleaming white flames.
"I have a request for the Lord—could I please see him…?" Mason asked cautiously. Even through so many battles and interactions with Angels and Demons alike, Mason had never seen nor interacted with God.
"Quite presumptuous are we?" Ezekiel smiled wryly as he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on, "If you need something, tell me and I shall relay it to the Lord…wait—disregard that. Our Lord has just informed me that he wishes to hear your request." Ezekiel said with an artificial and almost sinister smile plastered over his face.
He wordlessly gestured for Mason to come closer, and though unsettled by the Angel's strange expression, Mason obliged.
Now standing in front of the gate, Ezekiel chuckled as he touched it with the palm of his hand. Imbuing energy into the gate, the patterns on it began to shift, and in their movement, Mason noticed that they looked like mystical runes.
"Welcome to Heaven," Ezekiel's bold and devious tone broke Mason out of his musing as a sudden and overwhelming pressure collapsed on him. His vision abruptly shifted from the door and facility to a black and empty void. A second passed, and just as Mason began to worry, his vision shifted again, this time, the sight was incredible.
Surrounding Mason was a cavernous throne room, with a ceiling that sat ten stories high and accompanying thick ridge pillars which seemed to hole up the skies. Below him, a beautiful red carpet with a golden border led down the room and towards the throne.
Looking straight, Mason saw a majestic and imposing throne. It was composed of white large stones, and its golden edges were sharp and angular. Decorating it was a tapestry of intricately etched carvings. Leading up to the dais that the throne sat on, two Angels guarded either side of it. They were adorned in expertly crafted, gilded silver armour which covered the top halves of their faces, leaving a mere slit for vision. On the sides of their helms, two metal wings protruded from either side. More Angel guards proceeded them down the carpet, more than Mason had ever seen.
Finally, Mason fully took in the most grand thing in the throne room—the figure who sat on the throne—God.
He was seated lazily and looked more youthful than Mason first imagined. He had silky brown hair that fell below his ear, and sharp black eyes that exuded a sense of wisdom.
"So you're Mason, the Hero of mankind and the human with the greatest talent," God asked with a playful gaze, his eyes scanning Mason's entire figure.
"I- I am…" Mason confirmed, still astonished at both his surroundings and the person to whom he was speaking.
God sighed and shifted in his throne, "You know, I pity you honestly," He stated nonchalantly before continuing, "You never asked to be wrapped in mine and Decon's matters, yet here you are. But alas, that is merely the fate of the weak, and you're no exception." God sighed once more before gesturing to an Angel, who quickly brought him some wine, carried in a large gold-trimmed glass.
"What…? What do you mean my Lord...Who's Decon?" Mason suddenly felt sick, and seeing God's expression, he felt dread at the next words out of God's mouth.
"Oh to be so ignorant…The saying on this planet is true you know—ignorance really is bliss."
"What do you mean?!" Before God could continue, Mason cut him off, he was sick of the antiques and confused by God's words.
It was only when Ezekiel retaliated that Mason remembered who he was speaking to.
"Quiet peon!" Ezekiel, who had been silently standing behind Mason t struck him in the leg with a kick, breaking it and causing Mason to fall to his knees.
Resistant to pian, Mason didn't scream but rather looked to God for answers.
"Calm yourself, Ezekiel, it's only natural for the boy to feel anger, he's confused after all." God reprimanded Ezekiel and looked at Mason, "So, you would like to know what I meant? Then let me tell you."
Mason's heart sank as God began:
"Back on our home planet, Illvaria, far away from this desolate rock, me and the one you know as Djall fought often. We were rivals you see, we stood at the hierarchy of Illvaria, and the one who came out on top between the two of us would be supreme and control vast wealth."
Crack!
God paused. Looking over, he noticed that Mason's fingers had dug into the ground, scraping and caving in the white material. The bones in Mason's hands had cracked, yet they kept healing as he repeated the process to calm himself.
Finding it amusing, God continued:
"Yet, after many battles, I could never win against him nor could he against me; and so the dumb bastard tried to catch me in a teleportation array, but I was able to avoid it and dragged him in with me. Something went wrong during the teleportation, and I, along with all my soldiers and Decon with all of his, ended up here, on this planet called Earth. Because of the scarcity of Mana here and the lack of resources, Decon was unable to reproduce an array powerful enough to bring him back to Illvaria. I never forgot my goal, however, so while Decon tried to find a way out of this planet, I gathered my power. And it was through this world's books that I learned the sway religion had on people." God, or, the False God laughed heartily as he reminisced.
Mason was shattered. He just idled, on his knees blankly looking at this False being, whom he and everyone had looked to in hope.
"Ar- are you saying that- that everyone who's died, everyone who fought and suffered and prayed, all of it was for you, a phony?" Mason asked.
Smiling, the False God replied, "You could say that, yes. But did I not play my part well?"
Boom!
Suddenly, an extremely powerful aura erupted for Mason as he imbued his Holy Energy within it. The aura became tangible and coloured everything except the False God and his Angels in a golden tinge, as the materials nearest to Mason began to deteriorate and break into pieces: "Are you out of your mind?!" Mason screamed with fury and hate he had not previously known.
It was this bastard's fault! He was the reason that everything had been ruined—those he loved were killed, and the reason the world had been destroyed!
"Calm yourself," The False God said lightly, yet with undeniable authority, as all the pressure and power Mason emitted was immediately suppressed, "I did not invite you here to witness these childish outbursts-"
"So why did you?!" Mason yelled in desperate agony. All he had ever known had been a lie.
"Because I was bored, but you've fulfilled me for the day, so I am done with you. I've been watching you, and your feeble request to resurrect your family—I couldn't even do it if I wanted to." The False God chuckled.
"What?! You fucking bastard, I'm going to kill you!" Mason jumped to his feet, his leg now healed as he attempted to dash towards the False God, yet trying to activate the energy within his body, Mason was unable to.
"What did you do?!" He demanded.
"Hahaha, I syphoned off the energy of all people on this planet through a seed I implanted into all of your bodies," Mason's heart felt like it was going to explode, yet the False God continued, "It's thanks to all of your precious efforts that I became strong enough to slay Decon!"
Finally done laughing, the False God lightly waved his hand, and with searing pain, Mason could only watch on in horror as his core was ripped from his body.
He wanted to roar, to yell and curse. To flail and fight, but he couldn't. All he could do, after all his efforts and all his years of diligent practice, was watch on powerlessly as an ocean of golden gaseous energy was syphoned from his body and absorbed by the False God, who with a golden flash, flicked his hand,, sending a bolt of dense golden energy through Mason's heart.
Thoughts fading the only thing that kept Mason conscious was his hate.
"Don't worry, I'll exterminate those scum below in a few moments too, you won't die alone—you all have served me diligently, and for that, I give my deepest thanks." The False God smiled maliciously, and with another wave of his hand, Mason's turbulent mind and rageful heart were put to rest.
The False God and all his Angels left the throne room and entered Earth, slaughtering all of the Humans still left on Earth.
Yet, unbeknownst to the being who proclaimed himself a God, a wisp of ethereal essence seeped from Mason's forgotten corpse, and quickly vanished into the cosmos.