The Devils speak no common word, and therefore they cannot hear us.
Thus their messengers, their amalgamations of flesh and sinew, they are blind to the truth.
I tell you this truth: there are devils among us who prey upon the weak and ignorant, like sheep led to slaughter.
However, these devils, unaware of their own sin, wield power that rivals the Ego. We cannot see them, for they are infinite.
We cannot perceive them, for they are unknown to us.
For in their heart they desire to feast upon the innocent. To steal their lives and fill their bodies with black poison. For in their heart they are nothing but a wall, a wall of worlds and realities stacked against our own. Every single wall in this space is a brick in a world, all which we cannot see, hear or feel. Each wall is filled with horrors, pain and despair.
A brick in a wall in a building in a city, that sits on an island in an ocean in a world in a void.
That is what they are.
— The Third Anarchist
Within the mirrors, was an inbetween space of shifting corridors, long winding roads with mirrors adorning walls, doors leading to various worlds that could be entered and explored. Although the inside of a mirror was normally two-dimensional, a distorted image that reflected back in the observer's direction, in this world, the mirror's interior was three-dimensional and distorted accordingly. Yet the images reflected from outside of the mirrors, although they were distorted, had a very high degree of accuracy and could accurately reflect what was on the other side of the mirror.
What this meant for Zabulus was that, while entering one door may take him to another world and lead him to a specific destination, exiting from another door would have him appear somewhere else entirely. For instance, walking through the mirror in the woods led him to a desert, though walking out of a door to that same desert would then, in turn, lead to a swamp.
These mirrors were akin to a Looking Glass, in that it reflected back the reality of our world.
Yet it also allowed for travel between worlds and could create new worlds, all based on a singular thought process.
If he entered a certain mirror, he could travel to anywhere, whether he knew its location or not.
What manner of nexus was this?
A pocket dimension. Perhaps an alternate dimension, which existed on top of the void in blue? Within a mirror that was just slightly altered, like a grain of sand on a seashore.
'Hm...' He began to think.
'One of these mirrors should eventually lead me to my home, the land that I have been inhabiting for the past thousands of years... maybe I can pay a visit... yes, that is exactly what I should do!'
Eventually, a plan formulated inside his head to get revenge and inflict misery upon the entire world, one piece at a time.
But of course, he had to start somewhere, and that somewhere was his little forgotten construct.
That being, a home planet that he crafted so long ago.
Yes, that home that he made, that home he inhabited.
Why not cause a bit of havoc upon the people that dwelled within, as well as its surrounding areas?
If he grew from deceit, then he should do what is appropriate and destroy all life on that world, correct?
Truly, he felt thrilled thinking about it! Deceiving the world into its own destruction? Surely no god nor demon had done such a thing, only he was capable of doing such feats!
Let's see what will become of it all!
...
The air around him grew thick as he pushed his hand into the mirror and tried pushing against it, as if it were a door or some sort of barrier that he needed to penetrate through, but alas, this barrier was unbreakable.
As a last resort he extended his arm into the mirror, in hopes that somehow it would help him open a gateway.
His arm began to fade into the mirror as its surface distorted like water, the mirror ripples turned red and began to grow violently, it was as if his arm had been submerged into liquid magma. His fingers contorted in an unnatural fashion, twisting backwards unnaturally before cracking audibly and painfully ripping themselves apart.
A test of the body; could he handle what was to come, what awaited him inside the mirror? This would determine his fate; he could not leave until he had satisfied these tests.
Slowly he twisted and cracked and tore at his bones as he drove them deeper and deeper into the depths of his arm.
The first bone, his radius.
It bent in an impossible fashion and cracked as it split apart into jagged bits and pieces.
As the flesh began to swell and bloat around the shattered remains of his arm, the skin turned bright purple as the blood rushed upwards to cover the area with new flesh tissue that would soon exist in this body of the mangled man, that lay propped up in the dirtied grass beneath him.
"Come on... Just break...!" He grunted in his struggle to enter the gateway of mirrors, a struggle of pain.
Blood streamed down his arm as veins burst and exploded with red viscous fluid, his arms seemed almost on the brink of exploding as the skin began to swell and stretch with grotesque bulbous shapes forming in odd places.
Soon afterwards his humerus shattered into bits as he forced them inward, splintering apart like tree bark being chainsawed through. Another eruption of gore spurt forth, leaving his elbow disfigured, deformed, and dehydrated with no moisture remaining within the damaged tissue.
He began to doubt if he truly had to torture himself for this in the first place... before recalling some unknown memories that once belonged to Guillerme.
Alice had once said, she did, that the void in blue itself is not traversable by any ordinary means. It corrupts the soul till it transforms into an amalgamated monstrosity that acts upon pure instinct rather than sentient intelligence, no matter the creature or man, nor the intention. It was by no means an exception, but rather it is just a simple fact that is stated in many ancient books, both recent and ancient ones dating back hundreds of thousands of years.
Though... one of the few ways to traverse it was this thing called 'The Nexus', or so she says.
He figured that this was where he was in the moment, but she never said anything about some painful sacrifice-ritual thing! What a sham!
Actually, he remembered a passage, something he skimmed over in his boredom, but surely this had to be what this place was? Perhaps this place required the body to be broken and reforged? Just as it reforged the paths between worlds and dimensions?
The Looking Glass began to bubble and boil rapidly, bubbling, popping and frothing wildly like boiling liquid.
His fingers began to extend outward, stretching like rubbery tendrils of flesh. The bones of his finger shattered as they stretched outward and then reformed, but instead of straight and solid, his fingertips became crooked and sharp.
He pushed harder and harder and harder and harder until his arm broke cleanly off.
His torso was left behind as only his left arm remained attached to his body.
Pain wracked through his brain as nerves fired endlessly in anguish at this mutilation he endured.
Soon after the agonizing ordeal was finished, the mirror calmed down.
Slowly, as the portal had opened itself, he crawled into the mirror and found himself in the middle of a strange room.
A large room that made him feel like an ant in size. The colors were all shifting in static-y squares, lines and splotches of greenish browns and other colors that moved independently from each other. A kaleidoscope of psychedelic swirls and patterns.
Moving objects surrounded him, they were constantly shifting, changing, transforming. A chair, a dresser, a bookcase, a plant, a nuclear power-plant, all changing to keep up with the motion of the universe.
What stood out were the statues that occupied the area.
Made of marble and rock, it depicted what appeared to be multiple gods. They were tall, but still dwarfed by the magnitude of the room. There was a lightbulb at the top of the room, dusty and surrounded by an amalgamated fly nest. In the far corner of the room, was a television set that displayed the news and several infomercials.
"So this is... a possibility of the world... No, a world that already exists?"
He was dumbfounded at how dull and mundane it all looked despite the weirdness. How could any world be so boring? What is this place, this world, he found himself in?
Upon looking out a window, it showed the sky ablaze with meteors of great proportion and fire that swept an entire planet in the form of a shockwave that burned it to oblivion in 8 seconds flat.
An excision event was underway and had consumed everything... everything...
"Ah! How utterly exciting!" He exclaimed loudly. "This place is wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! What is this?" He asked as he pointed at one of the gods, a humanoid bestial figure who wore a variety of different masks on its head. All faces of beasts of varying kinds. His face could not be seen underneath those masks.
For but a moment, the underneath 'skin' of the god's statue was revealed as the masks shifted, that absolute peek, that absolute beauty, that absolute god of beauty! Just that slight sight alone made him wish that it was all that he could see for the rest of his existence.
An idea.
"Ahaha, ohhh~ how interesting, how curious, how interesting! That's it!" Zabulus announced, having an epiphany. "What a lovely idea. A most beautiful plan!" He chucked, he giggled, he snickered. "I shall not make a single being suffer! Instead, I will bring to them my sweet blessings, ahahaha!"
Of course, this disdainful person was doing anything but telling the truth once again. Who would do so anyways?
Just what is this madman's scheme this time?
A flicker of madness danced within those sockets of his, those deep, dark, bottomless pits of death that bore holes into the very soul itself, albeit now filled with an invisible joy given to him by the sight of absolute beauty.
Truly, he must find out what this statue's sculptor intended to do, and thus perhaps he too should mimic them in a way. Yes, yes, this could work, he thought to himself.
One thing he noticed, at the foot of the statue was a little plaque engraved in an alien language that he had never seen before. It was a runic pattern, although he could not discern its meaning, he assumed it meant nothing of relevance.
Then, he laid his hand against the plaque.
'The Lover, God of Beauty Vivamdizoc, Etho of the 5th Plane.'
Words engraved with perfect understanding with no grammatical error whatsoever.
"Now, what would a lovely deity as yourself need from someone such as I?" He asked out-loud to the statue, caressing it.
He was mistaken however, thinking that the God of Beauty was present. This was merely a statue; a replica of the Etho.
"That... is none of your business." An ethereal whisper echoed into his ear, barely audible but definitely real.
It came from the statue.
"Ahaaa! Splendid! Truly!!"
From this point onwards, he took that image of beauty he saw underneath, and made it into a form that he would remember forever.
So... What happens when one takes the shape of the beauty he had envisioned underneath?
It becomes tainted and ugly.
So what happens when one tries to replicate that vision with his own hands?
It becomes horrid, grotesque, repulsive, and even worse.
He gave a wicked grin. As if his mind could have conjured something more twisted and horrible than this sculpture, which was the ultimate incarnation of his own selfish desires. But that would be ridiculous, would it not? A man cannot go against his own innermost yearnings, can he? Not unless one were a puppet controlled by something much bigger than oneself.
With a flicker of motion and the wave of his hand, the sculptures in this room shifted, the paintings changed and altered, becoming images of carnal and violent depictions.
Or perhaps, the shift occurred due to the very nature of this place.
He was convinced enough that it was him, however, enough to the point where he did not once ponder on the possibilities otherwise.
The statues now had heads full of mouths, gnashing and drooling. Some of their limbs were replaced with animal parts. One statue was a young boy sitting atop a giant frog monster, whose legs were replaced by two snakes and who had eight spider eyes.
Ah... He messed up, the statues were now... Gone?
In the next instant, the room was back to how it was when he entered, colors shifting, statues of Gods with plaques at their feet.
"Damn it... was that beauty some sort of a possession attempt?! Tch, to try and take my mind hostage with such filthy tricks! Well, I'm no idiot!" He hissed outloud to the statue he was touching. His hand shifted towards the plaque.
It said the same thing, so he opted to touch the mask that hid the beauty from view.
"Haha! Very funny!" A laugh escaped his lips, as he tried to grasp the beauty hidden underneath the mask.
A snort escaped his nose, a cough from his throat, and an uneasy feeling overwhelmed his stomach, an instinct that warned him that he shouldn't be doing this. That can't be right, there's no way that this is right.
So he walked away, before noticing that there were twelve other statues, each with it's own Plaque.
This sudden thirst for knowledge couldn't stop him, now knowing that he could receive some sort of message from each of them, he ran back and placed a hand on a random plaque.
This plaque read:
The Ruler, God of Hierarchy Caeloch, Etho of the 1st Plane.
"What a pretentious title, ohhhh?" Zabulus mocked, then went off to touch the next Plaque.
The Magician, Goddess of Fate Velvorna, Etho of the 4th Plane.
"What nonsense..."
Zabulus took another look around and walked towards the third.
The Sage, God of Wisdom Gwylghadan, Etho of the 2nd Plane.
"Hah! These titles are ridiculous! Do they think that anyone would ever actually worship them? How funny!"
Again, he turned to the next Plaque, at this point he had stopped paying attention to the appearances of the gods and simply went to satiate his need for knowledge.
The Jester, God of Jokes Diarmu, Etho of the 10th Plane.
"You are quite the jokester, aren't you?"
He chuckled to himself and touched the next one.
The ???, God of ??? G??e?o, Etho of the ??? Plane.
"What use are you, if you refuse to give me information, then I shall go to the next."
Another step. And the next plaque. He sighed and groaned at the stupidity of this ritualistic task.
The Fool, God of The Beginning Saklas, Etho of the 12th Plane.
No comment was said as Zabulus skipped onto the next without hesitation.
The Rebel, God of Revolution Grannaioch, Etho of the 6th Plane.
"This is useless..." He commented in disappointment. But regardless, he moved onto the next.
The Explorer, God of Land Kors, Etho of the 7th Plane.
"The Explorer huh... these gods must be quite useless! Who's to say that this isn't just the result of someone's creative imagination! Perhaps some author or writer somewhere made these gods up! Hah! How rich, how pathetic..."
And yet, he still touched the next Plaque.
The Caregiver, Goddess of Amalgamation Barbelo, Etho of the 8th Plane.
"Onto the next..." He muttered to himself.
The Hero, God of Sacrifice Nebron, Etho of the 11th Plane.
"Moronic! Heroes don't exist, Though... sacrifices do solve problems!"
As Zabulus laughed out loud he proceeded to move to the next etho and it's Plaque.
The Orphan, God of Destruction Lusbionar, Etho of the 3rd Plane.
"I'll be sure to destroy you too, you pathetic being."
He moved on to the last Plaque, excited yet disappointed at what he read. "How disappointing. What is the meaning of this...?" He muttered, visibly unhappy. "Do they intend for me to praise these pitiful beings?"
The Innocent, God of Nothing Alcarn, Etho of 9th Plane.
"...Well, that's nice," He responded blankly, in total disbelief of the titles given to them.
He began recalling their names and titles, he was amazed that each one seemed equally silly and insignificant, he began chuckling to himself.
"God of Beauty... Vivmandizoc, God of Jokes... Diarmui... God of Destruction... Lusbionar... what does it mean?" He wondered outloud in confusion.
Why was he seeing this? Why was he experiencing all this?
Was it for the sake of mocking these supposed omnipotent deities, as they were deemed, or was it so that he could learn more about the world beyond his own creation?
Wondering... Wondering... Wondering.
He stared off into the distance, his gaze lingering on nothing.
His eyes caught something, an entity in front of him.
It was staring directly at him, unmoving and silent, it was floating there in a very relaxed position. Its expression was that of a cold and calculating intellect, as if it were observing everything around it and making notes in its head. Something about this being was clearly otherworldly.
Of course... It was a disdainful face he recognized..
A disgusting mess of gore, a slurry of entrails mixed in with chunks of organs and flesh and bones and other unspeakable bits, this was no human... no being. No life. Yet, under that frail flesh of hers, that skinny thin layer of flesh and fat, her blue eyes, her white, thin and tangled hair, it all once held the beauty of a Lady... no. She wasn't just a lady. She was his torturer.
"My... My dear friend, what have they done to you?"
But the question lingered, did he really care? Was she ever even a person to begin with?
In truth, he was frozen in fear at the sight of her once again. Being haunted by one's mistakes, now that's comedy. What if he had caused all of this unknowingly, what if everything that he has witnessed until this moment was merely the ramblings of a madman who couldn't accept reality and tried to twist the laws of nature to his advantage? Was he truly seeing her, or was this another case that she was another illusion? One must never be so arrogant in their assumptions, but he believed she was just another mirage, similar to nearly everyone else that he had met...
"I am not your friend... nor am I your enemy... I am neither and I'm both." Said the muddled woman, who floated gracefully in midair. Her voice carried a slight lisp.
"Q-Quiet! You dare talk to me in this manner?!"
"...We haven't spoken since my creation... Since then... I've observed you, always and forever... Now, I see your future and your past. You do change your form quite often... which makes it hard me to track you! Be more mindful... Young Lamb." Her voice was smooth, feminine and alluringly pleasing, was it any different to how it was before? Why does this... provide any sort of comfort to him?
Zabulus winced at that term she used for him. That was something that Vadim would call him.
"Hm? Is there a problem, Young Lamb?" She inquired, looking down upon him with contempt. A frown adorned her face.
"B-be quiet, demon! Speak of nothing and leave me alone!"
"Demon...? Demon... Demon... You call me the demon... yet, you were the one... who hunted me down for millennia upon millennia... Across worlds and universes. Existences and Realities. You dare call me demon? You unassuming abomination of an anomaly..? You insolent bastard..." She glared at him angrily, her blue eyes shining like stars in her eye sockets as she looked at him. "Hypocrisy is such a cruel mistress... Isn't it? I suppose... you had the ambition not to be a dying star. But Yet, yet! You defile me so with this disgusting vessel and words that were uttered, those are vile things I'd rather forget..."
This entity, was it once human? What happened to her? To whom did she belong? Why was she so hostile towards him? Why was this thing speaking of a past he could not recall? He wondered. His mind raced in the fear, but none of the thoughts persisted for longer than a second. He felt suffocated; drowned.
"Young Lamb, I call you that for a reason... because of your lack of age. You are but a child compared to myself and others... Born from the accidents of your experiments! Your toys!" The girl snarled, baring her teeth and gritting them in annoyance. She was not pleased to be here.
"T-that's-..."
"And if I am a demon... then you are also a demon..."
"I'm no such thing! Shut up! S-stop saying that! I'm no demon!" He shouted back at her in fury, growing enraged by her words.
"You have no right to claim otherwise... what you have done to my soul... Nagheel, what you have done...! How do you think I felt when you tore my essence from that body...? I am in the right to call you a demon! I am in the right to kill you! You frightened abomination!"
Nagheel?
Such an alien term. No, wait. He knew this name... he heard it... was it... In the land of Eskra? He couldn't quite recall.
"Pay attention to me as I speak. Lamb. You know exactly of what I speak of..." Her voice began to echo in his head, reverberating and vibrating in his skull.
His mouth tasted blood as he bit his lip in rage and frustration.
As she continued to speak, he felt with his vision that there lay a looking glass behind him, perhaps he could escape this decrepit woman of many words!
Perhaps... perhaps.
So, with all his might he broke off into a sprint and leapt into the mirror that stood behind him.
Just as he broke through the surface of the mirror and slipped back into the nexus between worlds, something grabbed his ankle and tripped him over as his body was halfway through. As a result, he hit the ground and shattered every bone in his ribcage, shoulder blades, spine and pelvis, spilling out a tremendous amount of blood and organs.
She, The Decrepit One, watched as he writhed in agony with amusement. An amused look was etched into her decaying face. "Look what happens when you run from problems..." She said with a smile.
"L-let me go...! You fucking nightmare! You don't belong in my ideal world... Nobody belongs in it! You should not exist, I never created you! Mother would never create a thing such as you!" He screamed in anguish, wriggling in the clutches of her.
"Oh? How funny. You were the creator...? Oh! Ohohoho... How amusing..." She smiled mockingly. Her smile was wide and insane, almost as wide as her face itself, exposing the rotten flesh of her lips and cheeks that were eaten away at, revealing the reddened gums beneath. "Yet, you expect me to believe such a bold-faced lie? We know you're a liar. Always a liar, a cheat, and an imbecile."
There was a moment of silence that passed over them, the only sound being the shifting nature of the nexus and the many people entering and leaving mirrors.
Those people that he saw... they all seemed to be skin and bones... fragile bodied and lacking souls. Souls, there are always souls within humans. He remembered what Guillerme had taught him. Humans have spirits that remain tethered to them and what they value long after they die, but so-to-speak, the spirit is separate from the soul. The spirit, or so he called it, Zabulus understood that it was more of a Psyche.
Why would he recall that now?
"Mother... Mother, I killed you, I am sorry. But bless my existence once more and allow me to live... Let me have a reason to continue on. Mother..." The whisper came from Zabulus as he shed a tear, but there was no mother around, and so nothing happened.
"You... still persist? The only dream I wish to pursue... is to tear you limb from limb. I'll ensure you will suffer till I rot away completely, then we shall both disappear... together... in tandem!"
That word made Zabulus cringe in disgust as a chill ran through his veins.
"You are the only tree branch that had dared to wash itself within the rivers of life. However, you seem to believe that you are the trunk. Pathetic. Simply pathetic."
An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. This creature truly irked him with her constant ramblings.
"So, why don't you come and see the afterlife, it's all a big joke isn't it? Where the damned crawl through a false sense of eternal bliss, isn't it? They are being tricked by this universe that has deceived them, yet..."
"No.... NO! Hell has delayed my visit, for I still breathe, I continue to breathe! I won't give it what it wants! It can wait longer, I won't give in!" He shouted back in retalliation
"But why do you desire life so much...? When you know that death awaits you eventually? If it meant your death, your erasure, I would not be so opposed to you clinging onto dear life. But no matter what, Lamb, I know your destiny and where your path lies."
"S-so?! So?!"
"What do you think lies ahead for you, Young Lamb, do you think... that you'll be able to live a happy, fulfilling life? Maybe... You wish to be one who indulges in anything but your own carnal desires? Would you want to be loved, cared for and treated kindly? Perhaps you yearn to become something grand? To conquer the entire universe...? Tell me Lamb... Do you hope to be remembered for eternity... Or do you wish to destroy this place?"
Her tone was menacing yet her voice was soft-spoken, almost melodic, almost poetic, as if she enjoyed watching him squirm and beg her to end the misery. Her decaying, bloody nails dug deep into the skin of his leg.
Zabulus refused to answer any of the questions.
"Poor Lamb. So confused... What's wrong...? You do not have the guts to answer any questions directed toward you? Is the subject too uncomfortable, Young Lamb?"
He did not answer.
"Do not ignore me. Do you think you are above answering questions directed to you?" The grip on his foot became tighter and harsher. He screamed out in pain.
"Y-you damn creature..." So he led himself to the most natural conclusion, kicking off towards the decrepit woman's face, which caved in from impact.
With that force, her hand loosened from his ankle, allowing Zabulus to stand back up and limp away towards another mirror with a weak pace. His bloodied and ruined upper half of his body spilled innards and intestines with each slow step taken, whilst his left arm dangled limply by his side.
"Waiiit-" Spoke the decrepit lady as she regenerated her mangled face and chased after him, reaching for the nearest mirror. "Have you grown afraid... of me? What a joke! Hah! Come on Lamb! Don't run away from your problems!" The Decrepit One cackled like an old witch as she taunted him from a distance.
"Die you old hag..." He whispered under his breath as he stumbled through the frame, forcing his way into the nexus, as his body broke once more.
Spine, Elbow, Knee, Foot. All crushed to tiny pieces. Some shards fell out as he forced his body through the gateway, some pierced the interior flesh of that body of his.
Like shrapnel that stayed lodged within no matter how much time passes.
A miserable grunt could be heard as he puked out bile, crimson liquid staining the ground.
Suddenly, the Decrepit One began laughing maniacally, unable to contain her amusement any longer.
Yet... Even if she attempted to follow him back, she would likely die.
Right?
That weak body; her vessel...
She wouldn't be capable of being destroyed by mirrors just like him.
That was his thought process as he made his way through a hall of mirrors, not wanting to be followed. It was only mere moments before he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
Yet, she walked through a mirror as if nothing had happened.
In fact, nothing did happen. She trekked through with her hands interconnected behind her back, walking with a smile of an innocent girl.
What didn't help was that he saw the shattered and scattered glass shards of the looking glasses near him, creating the illusion of many versions of herself in his peripheral.
Many bodies, walking closer.
What was this horrible woman?
If she isn't an immortal like him, what is she, some sort of artificial God?
"Naaaaahaa! Such an ugly expression, Lamb! What is it...? Shock? Despair...? Disbelief..?" She spoke mockingly, still walking closer, a couple meters away.
How close must she get in order to break him apart, as well? Or was her ability to torment him merely mental?
He didn't bother giving a response, as it wouldn't make sense to anyway.
Not to her, to him. Speaking in terms of defense mechanisms and subconscious coping techniques... It'd be bad, for one such as him. After all, he doesn't have much to lose, except for his current vessel he inhabits.
If she killed him... maybe then he'd have a chance?
'Wait, that's it!' He figured as the grin of triumph filled his features. 'Maybe if I just... allow her to destroy me, I'll awaken in my new body and finally be done with this woman! Afterall, this body I inhabit is still mortal! Therefore, she has no sway over my existence, even if it's just my psyche that remains!'
He was wrong in one aspect however.
"Naaahaaaaa! That expression of yours! Do you plan to defy fate...? You poor lamb..." She smiled, approaching closer. Soon he could reach out and touch her face. He reached out, cupping her chin with one hand whilst grasping a fistfull of white, thin hair that reeked of death and decomposition. "Hm? Have you grown enamored by my form? Oh, how sad, Lamb! You find love in a corpse!" She giggled maliciously as she caressed his cheek gently.
"..." He didn't reply.
"Still silent? You don't wish to converse...?" She spoke again in a voice tinged with disappointment. Her smile widened further, stretching wider than humanly possible, exposing her teeth and almost tearing her lips apart.
He fully expected death the moment he went to touch her... yet his expression remained unfazed... as his body tensed up at her reaction.
'I've got nothing to say.' He thought to himself in silence, staring directly at the girl before him.
"Really? Not even a simple 'yes' or 'no'?" She removed two of his hands from her with ease.
With those hands free, he quickly grasped at her throat, choking her with a fierce intensity despite how much pain it brought his limbs. Bones, snapping like twigs with a satisfying crunch.
"Aaaah.... Gaaak..." A choked gasp escaped her lips as she grabbed both of his wrists, squeezing tightly, threatening to crush the bones entirely if necessary.
But despite this, she smiled innocently at him, her blue eyes staring into his pitch black voids. "Mmmmmm... Good boy..." She said.
"What...?" He stuttered in confusion, releasing his hold on her.
The decrepit woman then closed her eyes and smiled again.
Was she just messing with him? Toying around with him? Or maybe, she knew all along that he wanted to kill himself? Or is she not even capable of perceiving the concept of mortality itself...?
"Don't be mad, Lamb!" She spoke as if she wasn't being choked at all, "You are alive because you've managed to survive this far, you should feel grateful! And remember that whatever happens, you're still a piece of work, Young Lamb! It is truly remarkable how well you managed to stay intact despite all the times you've died!"
Did this thing possess omniscience?
He was mortified to hear her say that without a single hint of remorse or sadness. Actually, how did she even know he died so many times?
"Young Lamb Nagheel..." She uttered that name once again, "I'm surprised. I expected you to be angrier, but alas, here I stand, alive and well. Pity, really, considering I'm sure you'd like to strangle me until I bleed out."
"...Shut up... stop calling me that...!" He spat out, tears streaming down his face, but the rest of his body showed signs of exhaustion.
"It seems you have a lot on your plate today, huh? Well... I did intend to get rid of you once again... however..." She kicked him in the chest to get him off of her, freeing herself from his clutches. With an amused giggle, she continued. "...Unfortunately, I've forgotten how to kill things like us. Thus... I'm going to leave you be instead! Do find solace in your time away from me, okay, old friend?" A genuine smile came about as she shut her eyes and leaned forward, planting a kiss on the forehead of the dying Zabulus, then pulling away and grinning mischievously, before walking off without another word.
It was like she forgot about everything.
Was it a trick?
Was that kiss some sort of a curse?
'Fuck... this body... wait..."
Vadim.
This is the body... of an immortal. Did she somehow notice and simply choose not to kill him anymore?
...
She's mocking him... is she not...? Giving him freedom like that... and after he attempted murder on her... and after all she has said to him.
It felt so surreal... This whole situation was too good to be true. Like a sick twisted joke.
"Why..." Was his utterance as he crawled across the floor, slowly attempting to recover his strength, using his arms to pull himself forward inch by inch as his body twitched erratically, muscles spasming and causing immense discomfort.
Body, recovery.
Immortal, body.
Body, soul, body, soul.
A paradox, perhaps.
Body, Soul.
Soul, Body.
Spirit, Vessel.
Toxic thoughts circled his mind, spinning rapidly inside his mind, not letting him focus properly on anything else.
Something appeared before him. It resembled a hexagonal crystal floating mid air, shimmering brightly, almost blindingly bright. Its shape resembled the sun.
Or a star.
"This world needs no evil." Echoed a voice that reverberated within his skull, resounding loudly throughout his head, piercing straight into his core and echoing throughout his whole being. "Zaig■, join me in destroying these vile creations."
It repeated the phrase again and again until he had memorized every letter and syllable perfectly, reciting it like a poem engraved deep in his memory bank. Yet, the message remained unclear, rendering his attempts pointless. For now, he tried to understand who it was that spoke to him so openly, without fear or hesitation.
'Deconstruct...?' He questioned in disbelief. His body struggled immensely trying to move itself upwards, only managing to rise up slightly.
Was that star speaking to him? Or was it himself?
Was this the dying star that the decrepit had mentioned, and was he the deconstructor? Was he actually supposed to destroy things and bring about a better ending, an actual end...? He remembered his time reading ancient books, written by many different authors, all telling tales of destruction, ruin, despair.
What became of happy endings?
Disdain... Had he just become a vessel for chaos? An agent for someone else's purposes, somebody else's agenda? No. No, that cannot be true, he couldn't accept such an outcome.
If he were to destroy, it'd be by his choice!
His thoughts grew dark as his soul looked towards the future ahead of him.
"To deconstruct the world, I shall cleanse it in fire."
His vision shifted as his head hung loosely from his neck, rolling his head slightly to peer at his right arms that laid next to him, shredded into bits and pieces.
The glass embedded themselves into his wrist deeply, penetrating his flesh and ripping tendons apart with a grotesque snapping sound, exposing the bone underneath with a wet crunch, tearing muscle tissue from bone, separating them with ease and shredding the nerves within his fingers that quivered violently, making a squishing noise as he removed his hand slowly outwards, dragging his palm backwards with a trail of thickened blood flowing out steadily, pooling beneath him in a pool of fresh warm lifeblood.
Muscles contracted painfully, expanding in size and pulsating violently, stretching to their limits and tearing apart under pressure, splitting open along its perforations, exposing more pale meat that spewed outwards like vomit.
"Gods," he whispered between clenched jaws.
Bones protruding, sticking out at odd angles; some splintering in several places and others completely dislodging from sockets, some breaking cleanly, leaving sharp fragments scattered about everywhere around him, poking out through raw gaping wounds full of puss and infected tissue, seeping fluids and oozing thick globs of congealed crimson red fluid.
He groaned out in agony.
No longer caring about keeping quiet he moaned aloud in excruciating torment, crying silently in despair as tears rolled down his cheeks, unable to contain himself for one last time, for the last time he'd ever feel that which is called humanity.
...
"Gods... I will do whatever it takes to rebuild it anew, to cleanse the world of these pests, to restore this universe once more, to get rid of this virus that threatens it, so that I may return home..." He spoke softly, gritting teeth against the immense waves of unbearable physical distress. "I will erase, destroy, deconstruct, cleanse and annihilate everything, everything will fall away, vanish and become ash. And all shall burn as I turn everything into dust... Even if it costs me my own existence... To go against the will of the world... To deceive the world's senses! ...To betray... Myself..." A wailing cry echoed throughout the halls of mirrors, reaching even the ears of those on other planes.
Yet the screams, cries and pleas fell upon deaf ears.
Alone from the beginning, alone till the very end. Just the same way he entered the world. Zabulus stared blankly into the space in front of him.
What did it all mean?
Nothing.
What meaning would it have, had the ending been approaching near and he hadn't found a place in heaven?
There is nothing for him. There will never be anything waiting for him. He will always live alone.
Despite all his efforts, all the power he gained, all the power he stole, all the pain he went through, the hatred he endured, everything that happened was futile.
Futility. It consumed him fully, completely enveloping him in darkness, engulfing him whole.
...
"I will never escape death..."
And in that instant he vanished completely from the plane of mirrors, in every mirror lay a shard of his humanity that he left behind, perhaps for someone else to find in their wanderings. Perhaps they'd wonder why there lay so many fragments of a man. His broken essence, scattered everywhere, lay on the floor and walls, embedded into every pane of glass, hanging limply suspended inside the reflections, staring unblinking.
In the end, what makes something human?
Does it need to be born human?
Does it need to have the characteristics of a human?
Or... Does it just need the ability to think for itself?