(A/N: The following scene is inspired by the short horror film "Portrait of God" by Dylan Clark on Youtube.)
No man shall see Me and live.
The first commandment that gave birth to life.
—And he spake unto the premier pope, saying, Thou shalt not behold my visage in this hour, lest my wrath be awakened against thee and thine, and I bring ruin upon thee and thy kin; for none who gaze upon me now shall draw breath again, for they are steeped in iniquity.
...…
"Tell me, what do you see?" The voice, though quiet, loomed in the empty chambers in an open space that spread out beyond the clouds, far and far away to the crest of the Divine Mountain.
The figure shrouded in darkness spoke in this dimly lit open space emanating cold air, with the vague outline of the moon covered by clouds hovering above the crystal-clear mirror ceiling.
"What do you see, King Eliheid?" The pope of the Church, Ishtar Langbard—along with many other cloaked priests—poked the King's psyche in some disturbing satanic ritual masked by their blind worship to the God of Creation, Ehit. With every heartbeat, the air grew frigid, and Eliheid shivered uncontrollably, his instincts screaming for him to flee.
Before them hung a curtain of absolute darkness, a void so complete it seemed to devour light itself. It had an alien pulse, like the heartbeat of a slumbering monster. The king's gaze was drawn to it, his mind recoiling even as his eyes refused to look away.
"I... I see nothing," Eliheid stammered, his voice barely a whisper. But even as the words left his lips, he knew them for the lie they were. In the depths of that unnatural blackness, something moved.
Ishtar's hand gripped the king's shoulder, his nails digging into flesh through layers of royal garments. "Look deeper," he hissed, his breath hot against Eliheid's ear. "Gaze upon the face of our Lord, He who watches from beyond the veil of mortal perception."
The gathered priests began to chant, their voices a dissonant chorus that set Eliheid's teeth on edge. The words were no language he knew, yet they resonated within his very bones, awakening the primal fears long buried in the collective unconscious of humanity.
With trembling hands, Eliheid reached for the curtain. The fabric—if it could be called such—was cold beyond measure, stealing the warmth from his fingertips. As he drew it aside, what lay beyond defied description, a sight that his mind struggled to process.
It was a face, yet not a face. A visage of bone and shadow—skeletal—with incomprehensibly large eyes like dying stars, and a maw that promised oblivion. It grinned, oh how it grinned, with a hunger that went beyond physical need.
"Behold," Ishtar breathed, his voice thick with ecstasy, "the true face of God."
Eliheid tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips. The thing before him is no god, it was an abomination, a worldly joke played upon dozens of millions of souls' worth of belief. In its features, he saw reflected every sin, every dark thought, every moment of weakness he had ever experienced.
And it saw him in turn.
For to gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back unto you.
It was a hideous parody of vicious divinity.
A twisted majesty.
Its terrifying eyes pierced his soul, laying bare every secret, every shame. Eliheid felt himself unraveling, dissolving under the weight of that terrible scrutiny.
"Do you understand now?" Ishtar's voice seemed to come from a great distance. "This is the price of knowledge, the truth behind creation. We are but motes of dust in the eye of an uncaring universe, playthings for our God beyond our comprehension."
The king's mind fractured, unable to reconcile the horror before him with his understanding of reality. Blood vessels in his eyes burst, staining his vision crimson. He tasted copper on his tongue, felt something thickly wet and warm trickling from his ears.
His consciousness slipped away.
The chamber fell silent, save for the soft drip, drip, drip of blood upon stone. Outside, beyond the mountain's peak, the stars seemed to blink out one by one, leaving only the void. And in that emptiness, something ancient and terrible stirred.
••
A few days have passed. The distant coastal city faded at the horizon behind their back as Satoru Gojo, Hajime Nagumo, and Yue finally left. They left using Hajime's magic-powered submarine that resembled a massive mechanical shark. The journey under the sea was much too fast and uneventful, too uneventful even for Hajime and Yue's preference.
The group left after having failed access to the hidden labyrinth within the annals of Erisen's legends. They took time to think over it, this supposed seven legends. An undersea treasure that was buried when Erisen was built, a ghost that wandered the sea, a mysterious ghost ship that appeared in times of thick fog, a city hidden at the bottom of the ocean where a pirate king's treasure lay, a fish with a human head that was supposed to bring good fortune, and the shimmering ocean—the oldest and vaguest rumor—that appeared at random times in random places and was home to a mysterious entity that would grant a wish to whoever found it.
Satoru Gojo lounged in a corner, his blindfolded gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Hajime sat at the controls, his face a mask of concentration, while Yue curled up in a nearby seat, a ancient tome open on her lap.
"You know," Satoru broke the silence, his voice dripping with feigned nonchalance, "for a hidden labyrinth of untold magical power, it sure did a good job of staying hidden."
Hajime's replied. "Maybe if someone hadn't rushed off on their own, we might have found something."
Satoru leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, a frown etched across his face. "Yeah, I expected more excitement from an oceanic adventure," he remarked, glancing at Hajime, who was busy adjusting the controls.
Hajime chuckled; his eyes focused on the display. "You think every trip under the sea is going to be a thrill ride? Sometimes, it's just about getting from point A to point B," he replied sarcastically even though he too felt bored.
The vessel shot forward, parting the waters with ease. Schools of fish scattered in their wake, and the occasional sea beast barely had time to register their presence before they were gone. As the hours ticked by, the initial excitement of their undersea journey waned. Satoru found himself idly tracing patterns in the condensation on the window.
"So," he broke the silence, his tone deceptively casual, "seven legends, huh? And not a single one panned out. I'm almost impressed by our collective incompetence."
Hajime's sigh crackled over the intercom. "You're the one who insisted we chase after every half-baked rumor in Erisen, Gojo."
"Ah, but wasn't it fun?" Satoru's grin was audible. "The undersea treasure that turned out to be a sunken garbage barge. The 'ghost' that was just a bioluminescent jellyfish. Oh, and let's not forget the 'mysterious ghost ship' that was actually a floating brothel ship."
Yue couldn't suppress a giggle at the memory. "The look on your face when that... gentleman invited you to his bed, Satoru. I've never seen you so flustered."
"I wasn't flustered," Satoru protested. "I was... strategically retreating."
"Right into that barrel of pickled herring," Hajime added dryly.
A more contemplative mood settled over the group. Yue's voice was soft as she spoke, "I wonder about the other legends. The hidden city, the fortune-bringing fish..."
"And the shimmering ocean," Hajime finished. "The oldest and vaguest of them all."
Satoru hummed thoughtfully. "A mysterious entity granting wishes? Sounds like trouble if you ask me. But then again, trouble is my middle name."
"I thought it was 'Pain in the Ass'," Hajime muttered.
Their banter was interrupted by a sudden lurch of the submarine. Hajime's voice came sharp over the intercom, "Heads up. We've got company."
Through the reinforced windows, they could see a massive shape looming in the murky depths. A kraken—the second one they encountered now—its tentacles as thick as tree trunks, reached for their vessel.
"Finally, somethin' good!" Satoru exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat.
Hajime's response was terse. "Launching torpedoes. Brace yourselves."
The ensuing battle was swift and decisive. Hajime's creations tore through the water, exploding against the kraken's flesh. The beast's agonized screech reverberated through the hull, but within minutes, it was over. The kraken's lifeless body drifted away into the abyss of the ocean blue.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," Satoru pouted.
The rest of their journey continued in much the same vein. Each encounter with sea beasts was met with Hajime's efficient weaponry, each potential storm quelled before it could pose a real threat. For three days, they traveled in relative comfort and absolute boredom - at least from Satoru's perspective.
The nights, however, were a different story. As Hajime and Yue went to their bed, Satoru found himself subjected to an auditory torment he hadn't anticipated. The first night, as the sounds of undeniable passion echoed through the submarine's hull, Satoru tried to maintain his composure. "Well, isn't this cozy," he muttered, pressing his pillow against his ears. The sounds intensified. "For the love of all that's holy," he muttered, "can't they at least wait until we're back on dry land?"
What's worse was that it lasts for hours until it was nearly dawn. By the second night, his patience was wearing thin. "I swear, if I hear 'Oh, Hajime! Faster! Harder!' one more time, I'm going to void my ass out of existence."
On the third and final night, Satoru had reached his limit. As the familiar sounds began, he stormed out of his bunk, marching to the control room. "That's it! I'm sleeping with the fishes. Literally. I'm going outside."
Hajime's voice, slightly breathless, came over the intercom. "The pressure would crush you, idiot."
"Bold of you to assume pressure can affect me," Satoru retorted. "But fine. I'll just sit here and contemplate the vast emptiness of the ocean—all by myself! It's still preferable to... this."
The couple with him made it much too unbearable. Imagine having sex inside the enclosed space of a submarine, where even the tiniest sound resonates as an echo throughout every nook of its mechanical structure. Yeah, too unbearable, Satoru mused.
As dawn broke on the fourth day, their aquatic voyage finally came to an end. The submarine surfaced near the western shores of the continent, and Satoru was the first to emerge, dramatically gasping for air.
"Land! Sweet, beautiful land!" he exclaimed, stretching his limbs as he stepped onto the sandy beach. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see a beach."
Hajime and Yue followed at a more sedate pace, the former manipulating a small ring on his finger. In a flash of light, the massive submarine vanished, stored away in the ring's pocket dimension.
"Show-off," Satoru muttered, eyeing the ring with sarcasm. He too, could do it with his own void.
As they made their way inland, the lush seaside vegetation gradually gave way to more arid terrain. The heat shimmer on the horizon signaled their approach to the Gruen Desert.
"Ah, I can feel my skin crisping already," Satoru said cheerfully in Hajime's Brise. It's an armored vehicle with a thick Azantium armor plating and is heavily weaponized, such as side mounted missile launchers and a retractable autocannon turret. It has off-road suspensions, and the same ground leveling mechanic as the motorcycle "Steiff", which gives it smooth ride on any kind of terrain.
Hajime rolled his eyes. "We're not going into the deep desert, Gojo. We're just skirting the edges to reach the next town."
"Spoilsport."