Thurian Vandorius considered himself a man of opportunity. Unlike his rivals, he spent little time with political bribery or the services of assassins. No, Thurian knew that the true power in any nation lay within its people. The Arachni Union's power was almost purely concentrated in Neo Arachnis, the largest city in the world. It was overcrowded and entirely lacking in resources.
This was the fault of people like him, but that bothered Thurian little. His family had worked hard, it was the poor's own fault they could not stand with the Great Families.
But Thurian understood the poor. He knew that many of them were violent and aggressive, craving vengeance against the ruling class. He also knew that the old legends of the ancient days were widely read in Neo Arachnis' underbelly…one only had to take a stroll to see graffiti wall murals depicting Feros Obscurum's battle with the Tyrant King Ferdinand.
This Feros was an interesting figure. Thurian had read all the legends available in his family's vast library. Although he had been crueler than his rival, Ferdinand had sought to wipe out all that represented love and beauty while Feros had defended the people with a cold, hard hand. No one had gone hungry during the days of the Obscurum Empire, and those who hoarded wealth and power were quickly cast down.
Yet the executioner's axe was never dry in those days, for Feros Obscurum was a man who never forgave.
Building a religion around such a man was an easy way to get the common people on his side, especially since the date of Feros' return was soon approaching. Thurian had already rehearsed the return scene in the grand temple he'd built, starring an unknown actor he'd hired for his similarity to the description of Feros.
"Feros Obscurum" would make his grand return and command his followers to rise up against President Cybers and the other Great Families. Once his most powerful rivals were dead or ruined, he'd stage a tragic death for Feros and have the dark lord proclaim him his successor.
But things weren't as simple as he originally thought, for people were not as simpleminded as Thurian believed. He believed what they lacked in money they had in senselessness. How wrong he was.
Thurian had scarcely gone into the temple so he had no way of knowing that, at the dead of night, thousands of people gathered. For this large group of people that gathered in this temple at the dead of night were the real Children of Obscurum.
Right when the clock struck five in the evening Thurian grabbed his long black cloak from a rack, seemingly made of bones. "I am positive that this expensive cloak shall bring them all to their knees! I am sure my entire cult shall participate in this event! Oho, I shall be expecting perhaps even twenty people!" Thurian guffawed, his rotund belly jiggling.
Thurian hopped down the hall towards his huge front door, stopping beside a mirror to comb his large, white beard. As he stared at himself in the mirror he grinned, "Oho! Feros was said to be handsome, but I am sure I am far more handsome then the actor that I hired. My hair is even as white as Feros' was supposed to be!" Thurian chuckled to himself as a wild plan began to form in his mind.
He ran to a holographic screen placed on a table and began a video call to the actor.
"My beloved actor, you may be able to act as a normal leader of a cult ... .but I am the only one capable of acting as a god! So, my acting friend, you are hereby fired. Cheerio!"
Before there was any time for the actor to respond the call was immediately disconnected.
Thuriun walked through the door, trying his best to act regal. He plopped down in one of the back seats of his neon red hover-limousine. "Let us depart, my dear Chauffeur."
"As you wish, Mr. Vandorius." The chauffeur, a middle aged man with slicked back black hair and dark shades nodded, revving the engine.
As the car neared the huge pyramid-shaped temple Thuriun could tell that something was wrong. Thousands of people stood by the huge gate-like entrance, staring straight at the arriving limousine.
"What is happening? There are far more people here than have ever gone to any of the gatherings." As Thuriun stepped out of the door he noticed that the thousands of people were walking towards him, as if they were a trained army. "They…they have anger in their eyes!" Thuriun gasped, his eyes dilating. "Ahem, everyone, have you, uh, come to welcome your great leader?"
The crowd came to a halt smoothly and simultaneously. One man who wore a white coat with a hood covering his eyes stepped out of the crowd.
"I am a representative of the Magnus Videns, Cyrix Metalik. He would like to extend his gratitude for providing us with our gathering place and serving as our source of finances in this great time. He would also like to regretfully inform you that you are not the true leader of the Children of Obscurum, as that title is reserved for Lord Feros himself and the Magnus Videns under him." he spoke, keeping his head lowered reservedly.
"This is preposterous! Why, you dang cultists never would have existed if I didn't come up with the idea. Young man, take me to your Magoos Veedis or whatever outlandish name you called him." Thuriun's round face was bright red with rage.
The hooded man nodded. "If that is what you wish, it shall be so. However, the great time is approaching and I cannot guarantee you shall see the light of day again should you set foot in this temple."
Thuriun gulped. "A load of rubbish. I built this building, and I certainly can go in and out as much as I please." He marched forward, and the crowd parted ways, allowing him to enter the temple. The man in white silently walked a few steps behind him.
The inside of the huge temple was lit by the light of floating star-like lamps. In the center of the room there was a giant white podium upon which a single man stood. Thuriun was used to the room being a cavernous expanse with a few people loitering around, but this evening it was filled with hundreds upon hundreds of loyal followers.
The man, who Thuriun assumed must be the Magnus Videns, stood with his hands on his hips. His outfit was rather ridiculous, as he had left his gold-embroidered black cloak unclasped to expose his broad muscular chest. His neon-red hair was slicked back, but a few unruly pieces fell jaggedly across his strong, young, face.
Thuriun scoffed. "Harumph. More like some soldier brute than a great leader. I'll show this youngster who's boss."
As Thuriun strode forwards, the young man's face broke into a ruthless grin. "Well, what do we have here?" he smirked, gesturing forwards with his muscular arms.
Thuriun figured he better clear up this misunderstanding quickly. "Ahem. You should be ashamed. You see, all of you, I am the great god Feros himself! So perhaps you should wipe those grins off your faces and bow."
"You are?" The red-haired man broke into a loud peal of laughter that rang through the hall. "You're looking a bit old."
Thurian growled, clenching his fists. Who did he think he was, laughing at him like this? However, while he hated to admit it, he felt a bit nervous being in this vast temple, surrounded by hundreds of robed cultists. The impudence of these fanatics!
Thurian noticed that he had been entirely walled in by cultists. His heart began to race and sweat dripped down his pudgy face. "I should've brought more guards!" he thought to himself, beginning to panic.
"Listen, old man," said Cyrix Metalik as he strolled down from the podium. "I'll admit it, you did help us out. This temple's not bad. Your budget even left room for some good ale. I'll do you a favor and let you watch our Master's return, even though trying to impersonate him gives me the right to slice that head right off your shoulders."
Thurian felt as though he'd vomit. Was this Metalik man secretly an agent for a rival family? A minion of President Cybers himself? Perhaps this was the perfect time to demonstrate the martial arts he'd been learning. His skills had been so fine, he'd only needed to pay the master two million dollars for a black belt.
Metalik snapped his fingers. "Nui, Orion, make sure he stays out of trouble."
Two strong hands grabbed Thurian by the arms he let out a yelp. His high-pitched voice echoed throughout the hall. "L…lookey here," Thurian stammered as he looked Metalik right in the eye. "I'll give you whatever you want." He quickly searched his mind for what a silly boy like this would most desire. "I'll adopt you as my son. That's what this is all about, isn't it?"
To his surprise, Metalik met him with a loud laugh. "Yeah, no." he said, before turning around and stretching, ignoring him. "Bunko, grab me an ale. Actually, make it two. I want to drink with Lord Feros when he returns!"
As Metalik strolled away, Thurian began to sob. What would these mad cultists do to him? Would he ever see his twenty-three year old mistress again?