Ojero was lying on the ground while bleeding in a thousand places.
The acknowledgment of Chaos seemed to hurt his very soul.
It was like a small break appearing in a glass sculpture, threatening to shatter it all.
His eyes were wide as he looked all around him, but the darkness hid whatever waited to destroy him.
The voice returned, again coming from all directions in a million voices.
"I, me, self… forgot, lost, mistook… weak, poor, lesser… human, creature, species…"
Ojero began to seize, his body convulsing as the unrestrained power in the words battered his body heavily.
Foam began leaking from his mouth, and he felt himself bite into his tongue, tearing a bloody gash deep into it.
Every time his body shook, more pain shot through his limbs, causing the seizure to grow worse, leading to more pain.
It was cyclical in nature and seemed to be designed purely for his eternal torment.
It was all an impossible nightmare.
He vaguely recognized the touch of a human hand on his forehead before a warm glow filled his body. The pain he had been experiencing seemed to flee at the warmth, leaving an unending bliss in its place.
His bones snapped back into position without a trace of having ever been broken in the first place, and the blood that covered his body was banished.
The exhaustion and nausea that had been stifling his brain were the last to vanish, causing Ojero to gasp air back into his healed lungs.
For a couple of seconds, he just sat there and reveled in feeling whole again.
The pain of the last few hours seemed to be nothing but a bad memory now. Ojero even questioned if had existed in the first place.
At some point, his euphoria gave way to confusion, and then terror.
He launched himself to his feet, no tenderness in his healed limbs.
His eyes looked around furiously, hoping to see what had been touching him.
Despite his best efforts, nothing revealed itself.
Seconds passed in tense anticipation. His head was on a swivel, scanning every inch.
"You humans are such strange creatures."
The voice came from behind him, but when he turned around, nothing was there.
What was even worse was that the voice felt familiar, eerily so.
It was kind of like Orphams but with a slightly higher pitch. Less serious and energetic, more witty and judging.
It sounded like his own voice.
"Oh, so you're one of the smart ones? Isn't that interesting…"
'Can it hear my thoughts?'
The voice began to rotate around him, staying just out of his line of sight.
"You do have the properties of Ryla, not nearly idealistic enough. Your fire does not burn like hers. Yet not a kin of Corax. Everything around him felt still, frozen where they stood. You are not like that, you prefer to have the world move to your will instead. Yes… very willed."
At some point, whoever it was stopped moving. Its voice came out again, this time more sarcastic and cruel.
It was awful to hear his own voice mock him.
"Now, if I had found you a year ago, I could have made use of you, but I have already chosen the twelve. The easy option is to kill you and leave your corpse here to rot, but that feels like no fun at all. Oh what a conundrum this is! What to do, what to do!"
'Kill me?'
Ojero grew more fearful with every word, unable to see or acknowledge his opponent leaving him at every disadvantage.
'It has to be a high-ranking mage! A spy, or even an assassin! They probably dug this tunnel to prepare to attack Riverlane!'
Part of him knew that couldn't be the case. It was too strange that the voice was down here, could copy him, and addressed him as a human.
No sane person would do that, but at the same time, a sane person wouldn't in this situation in the first place.
Grasping at the only possibility that made sense in his mind, he steeled himself to confront the foreign adversary.
"If it's information you want, I won't give it to you! Riote will stand against whatever country you represent! If-f you want to try and force me, I'll just fight you off!"
Ojero had no confidence in hurting the voice, let alone defeating it, but he hoped that maybe if he was too troublesome it would kill him quickly.
He had experienced too much pain already that day, and if he was going to die, he would go out with a fight!
Remembering the lessons his father had taught him, he spread his stance and put his fists in the air, keeping one slightly extended and the other close to his cheek.
His eyes burned with passion, unwilling to back down until the very end.
"My, my! What zeal you have, young human! So reluctant to quit! So eager to win! Your ambition is admirable, but is it misplaced?"
The voice seemed to grow closer but still lacked form.
"Tell me, boy, what do you desire in this life?"
The sound licked at his ear, so close he should've been able to touch whatever was saying it.
"Is it gold? Power? Women?"
The voice chuckled again and grew distant.
"Or is it revenge? You humans do love your revenge. That was what Corax desired, and he is well on his way to finding it. Are you a second Corax, Ojero?"
He didn't know how the voice knew his name, but that was the least of his worries.
The words dug into him, forcing him to answer.
It left no room for denial.
"I seek growth!"
His voice reverberated around the cave.
Ojero was both surprised and not by his answer. He wouldn't have said that except for the compulsion of the creature, but it felt true at the same time.
Deep down he realized it made sense. It was why he wanted an ethereal gem, to be able to make and unmake reality around him. It was the only way he could be certain of his growth, because nothing could ever stop him in that quest.
He could grow, learn and adapt to everything, without fear of reprisal.
He could help his family become stronger.
You couldn't just deny someone who remade reality, and Ojero wanted that for himself.
Ojero wanted to be able to become whatever he needed.
"Now that is unexpected! I approve of this, your answer feeds Chaos! You seek growth, young Guestino, but have you the strength to claim it? Would it be wasted on you?"
Ojero found himself falling to his knees and clutching his head at the mention of Chaos.
He did not hear the words after but somehow knew them all the same.
'Do I have the strength? Yes, of course I do! I have to!'
He couldn't allow himself any room for doubt. Either he was wrong enough, or he would die.
He knew which option he preferred.
Even though he had yet to respond, he knew the creature had heard his thoughts.
"Very well, Ojero Guestino. If you find yourself strong enough, then you shall be my thirteenth champion. My thirteenth Archon."
The voice suddenly tutted.
"However! For this to happen, you must learn of the harsh reality that has befallen your world. If the information is too much for you, you will die here. Cold and alone, without anyone ever learning what happened to you."
The voice grew taunting once more.
"Choose now, boy. You may leave now in good health, refusing my offer but retaining your life. The alternative is to have your view of this world challenged, and possibly destroyed, with wondrous power as your reward."
Ojero bowed his head in thought for a moment.
The fear inside him was screaming out, begging him to take the opportunity and flee. He would find other opportunities for strength, but once he died it would all be for nothing.
Staying was a greater risk, especially as he did not know what this knowledge was going to be.
He was learning very quickly that the words this being spoke were not always harmless.
They could destroy his soul.
His mind turned to Orpham, his brother. The thought of being left in the dust, far behind his twin, caused some rage to burn inside him.
He didn't want to be forgotten and abandoned.
He wanted to evolve and become more than anyone thought possible, even if it meant risking his life a thousand times over.
His resolve hardened, and his gaze rose, locking onto where he assumed the creature was.
"I choose to stay."
His voice was full of strength, more forced than he had hoped for.
"Good choice."
With those words, he felt the darkness around them be banished, and in front of him was something he half expected to see.
It appeared to be a perfect replica of himself, but subtly different.
His green eyes were now an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors burning with raw mana.
His clothes were not the colors of his house and instead were black and purple, the large symbol of a phoenix etched where his heart should be.
Two swords hang from his waist, their colors constantly shifting to contrast the other.
Black and white, green and red, gray and yellow.
What was the same was the smile on his face.
A smile Ojero knew very well.
It was the smile he would often give his friends when they played games together.
It meant he had them in a trap.