'A tool with no one to wield it? I've already been there. I've been used, thrown away, abandoned, and left to rot in the shadows of a scummy city that doesn't care. If that's my fate again, I've learned to live with it. But right now, my purpose is to be somewhere, my purpose right now is to succeed' a sharp pain came to his head it seems even in another world he can't escape the headaches.
The march continued, the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the cracked red ground drilling into his ears. The white knight with the flowing plume of pure black had remained silent since the previous night. She hadn't spoken a word the rest of that night, only stared at him with intensity like a turret locked on its target, awaiting a kill command. Or maybe she was just trying to figure him out.
Suddenly, a commotion broke the monotony. A group of knights diverged from the main formation, spurring their horses into a gallop as they vanished behind a rising cloud of smoke Through the hazy air, he caught glimpses of light beams streaking across the landscape, carving through the red dust like celestial blades.
Then, near him, a chain snapped. The corpse it had been dragging tumbled violently onto the rocky ground, its body convulsing grotesquely as it began to rise. It violently reanimated, its shattered armor fusing back together in jagged patches. Whittled down to just a small sum of white knights they kept going looking forward always.
"we're here" As the words left her mouth they started slowing down to a stop.
Around them chard remnants of what seemed to be a town, before them loomed the ruins of a once-great monument. A desecrated statue, its face mutilated beyond recognition. One arm reached skyward, pointing toward the oceanic sky above, while the other was missing cleanly slashed off.
Clip lifted his gaze or rather, it was forced upward. Chains slithered along his back, coiling tighter around his neck and shoulders, dragging his head back the knights around had their hands outstretched to him and more chains began slithered limbs were wrenched backward, bound tightly to his back his waist pulled back till his it contacted the rider's armored back he heard rumbles in the ground around as cracks in the earth formed, he felt gravity tug on him, they were ascending.
The ocean sky split open, and he saw the true extent of this aquatic realm. It was as if this realm of water encapsulated the world of stone and above this plain was the true sky of stars. The higher they climbed, the tighter the chains became. They coiled around his torso and throat, constricting with every meter they ascended, as if trying to choke the essence from his being.
Reality itself began to warp. The barren landscape piece they stood on twisted and shifted, giving way to vibrant greenery that sprouted and spread. Trees rose from the ground, their branches glimmering, turning into light, and in the blink of an eye, the lush scenery transformed into a radiant cathedral.
He knew them well the planet he was born on had cathedrals that bore eerily similar to this only this was grander and more pristine than anything he'd seen.
There were no chairs, only an open space dominated by a towering statue of a maiden in flowing robes. One hand reached upward as if praying to the heavens, the other hand offering it to the ground, a stream of water that seemed to float on an invisible path. The liquid flowed freely from her palm to the floor, defying gravity, before spreading into intricate channels carved into the ground.
Around them, stained glass windows adorned the walls, their vibrant colors casting shifting patterns of light across the marble floor. Each window depicted what Clip could only assume were scenes from their religion, figures bathed in light, wielding weapons that casted down the darkness but it still seemed this cathedral was unfished some of the window, paining and statues seemed covered.
'Why have a place of worship when your so-called gods are so blatantly real?' he thought, his gaze lingering on the broken tapestry specifically the depiction of two figures one favored by light the other embraced by the dark.
The knights urged their horses forward, their hooves clattering against the marble as they passed through the cathedral's opening. Beyond the threshold, Clip glimpsed an unorthodox town sprawled out before them.
The town was unlike anything he had seen. The buildings were irregular in shape, constructed from a bright materials marble, gold, and something that looked almost organic. The streets glowed faintly, illuminated by veins of light running beneath the surface.
People moved through the streets, though "people" might not have been the right word as they didn't give of that aura of normal people but they definitely didn't give off the air of soldiers they were also quite small.
Many of them wore an old-fashioned style that Clip vaguely recognized, one that combined metallic grafts seamlessly with flesh. Parts of their bodies gleamed in pearly whites, their skin interwoven with polished metal in intricate patterns. But among them were other, more monstrous in appearance. Hulking figures with extra limbs carried massive stones and crates with an ease. They moved mechanically, less organic more like automatons than living beings.
The crowd parted eagerly as the tall knights rode through, clearing the path for their procession. Cheers erupted from the onlookers, their faces alight with awe as their gazes fell upon the knights' gruesome cargo, the corpses dragged behind their horses.
Some murmured reverently as the reanimated corpses twitched and spasmed, their movements grotesque yet seemingly expected. The townsfolk watched with a mix of awe and curiosity, as though they understood there was no danger, only a spectacle.
Their were also eyes that lingered on him, their intrigue palpable. Was it because he was the smallest of the dark figures, perched atop steed instead of being dragged like an afterthought? Or was it the chains on him were thicker and heavier than those on the corpses?
He even felt some trying to peer into the narrow slit of his helm, their gazes sharp and probing, as if searching for the lifeless void they expected to find within. But when his eyes met theirs, something shifted. Their curiosity turned to terror. Faces paled, and they recoiled instinctively, shrinking back into the safety of the crowd. It was as though they had seen something they weren't meant to, something their awe could not shield them from.
This should have been humiliating.
He should have been raging with anger, his gaze burning holes into these heathens who dared to gawk at him. Being paraded around like some kind of war trophy—an object of curiosity and fear—should have made his blood boil.
But it didn't.
The anger simmering within him didn't feel like his own. Like an echo of emotions belonging to someone else. Why should he care?
This wasn't his body. This wasn't his world. This story wasn't his.
What did it matter how they paraded him or what they thought of him? Their stares, their whispers, their fear, all of it felt insignificant. The only thing that mattered was figuring out what he had to do to finish this trial gate.
Eventually, they arrived. Before him loomed a massive structure, intricate and imposing, its architecture alien yet strangely familiar. Its towering spires and endless carvings seemed to hum with an ancient power, a presence that pressed down on him as heavily as the chains. This would be his prison.
'This is one hell of a place huh, operator'
'…Nox?'