The swishing of a half-empty cup. Just as the swirling was nearing its settlement, something else rushed in and brought chaos to the mix. The two unknown substances collided and stirred each other, filling the space and creating something new, bringing a sense of completion. A rosy, inebriating liquid sat in equilibrium with a dark, tainted oil.Lars opened his eyes, but the vista that met his curious gaze, which was quickly turning worried and afraid, was that of a boundless mass. It stretched infinitely as if he had woken at the bottom of a dark chasm. Endless with no exit, he could walk indefinitely and go nowhere. This deafening silence made his ears ring and his mind fell into chaos.
Anything—anything other than this, he wanted. It didn't matter how but this terrible darkness needed to be vanquished. It wasn't dormant, he knew as such; the chasm wished to devour everything and it would not relent. His mind raced until he yearned for a single thing—a bright flame. It was then that the world around him ignited.
A warm, bright glow spread outwards like a pair of wings. No one would have to face the harsh cold anymore. It was peaceful—a warm, beautiful world.
As if resisting against his own flesh, his eyelids slowly peeled open and exposed his irises to the orange corridor, lit by the flames of battle. The whole building seemed to ache and moan as it creaked. A moment passed; then he realised where he was, who he was, and what he was doing. His collapse was not him succumbing to exhaustion—he had survived.
However, there was another issue, more concerning to him than anything. Where was Charles and Damien? Lars slowly stood up, feeling his muscles protest as they demanded more rest. Ignoring his body's cries, he hastily looked around before turning away, leaving the charred, carved, and disfigured body of Siegfried behind. Vanessa was somewhere there too, but he already knew what had become of her.
Dragging himself through the winding hallways and rooms that made up the mansion, Lars searched incessantly. He looked anywhere a terrified adolescent could potentially hide. He crossed many charred, unrecognisable bodies. Didn't the flames just start to spread? How was the devastation so prolific? How long was he submerged in that abyss?
Passing through, the fire clung to the walls and ceilings, as if watching him from all angles, laughing at him, mocking him, and taunting him with the worst outcome. No matter how long he searched, Lars couldn't find his children amidst the wreckage. His legs collapsed and his face smacked against the ground. Surely, this must mean that they got out, right? The seduced servants he stationed must have reacted to it and fulfilled their duties; quickly escorting them out, they saved Damien and Charles from the inferno…
Right…? Smoke, fire, death—they surrounded him in an instant, his vision becoming blurry and obscured. For some reason, Lars recalled another time; he held his service pistol, killing two men he was familiar with, but neither liked or disliked, and then went looking for a meal. What was it? What did he eat after that? It was so bland, so unremarkable that it wouldn't come to him no matter how hard he thought. But at the same time, it tasted so good. Lars wanted to eat it again.
The flames extinguished and the world was swallowed by a boundless void. When Lars looked up again, he was in a different place. His entire body felt sluggish as if he was waking up from a twelve hour-long slumber. However, instead of a cosy bed, it was solid ground beneath him. Beneath him was a rocky surface with traces of coarse dirt rubbing against his skin.
A voice—no, two voices buzzed above him.
"Who's this?" "How am I supposed to know?" "He doesn't look like he's from around here, is he a foreigner?" "And what the hell is a foreigner doing here?" "I don't know. Do you think he…" "Maybe, but I doubt it." "But this place is cordoned off. How else is he supposed to get here, with no one knowing until we found him?" "Who the fuck are you asking? Me? Do you think I'm suddenly gonna have the answer?" "Ehm…" "I won't! We need to figure out what we're doing with him. Are we gonna grab him and bring him in for questioning, or just haul him outta here?" "Shouldn't we just leave him and bring a superior here?" "What if he's gone by the time we get back…? We'll be in deep shit." "Then one of us stays here and watches, obviously." "I'm not staying." "Why not, are you scared?" "If he came out of that, then yes, I am!"
Lars' head started to ache, listening to these two, who spoke in a foreign language. Despite his aching throat, he still mustered the words, "Can you shut up already?"
He turned his face, which was planted in the ground, trying to look up at them to express his discontent. He then discovered that the owners of the voices were two men wearing military uniforms and holding rifles. This instantly alarmed Lars, making his eyes widen as he realised that they were soldiers hailing from Tirynn.
While his alarm was still fresh, and the two soldiers looked back at him in astonishment, since had suddenly woken up and spoken incomprehensibly at the same moment, the scene was interrupted by a new person appearing out of thin air. It was a Tirynn woman with long silver hair and a dignified look—only one person came to mind.
The soldiers turned as their already astonished expressions became shock and awe. They exclaimed, "Lady Pendragon…" and "Lady Pendragon!" respectively.
Rhys looked at the two, briefly acknowledging their existence before kneeling towards Lars, stretching out a hand. In the brief contact that was made, the world instantly shifted and warped; the two disappeared on the spot.
"Do we report this…?" "You can." "What do you mean?" "If you're reporting it, then leave me the hell out of that report. I ain't having anything to do with that crazy bitch." "...You know she's still behind you, right?" "What?!" "Hah! Who's scared now, chickenshit?" Amidst their bickering, the two Tirynn men left with an unspoken agreement to pretend that they saw nothing.
Lars fell into a familiar room, aghast from the sudden warp through space. He was far from being in a good condition, so getting dragged over a distance like that nearly had him keeling over. This reunion was far too hurried and uncaring.
"Rhys, you…" Lars slurred, meeting the eyes of the woman who he hadn't seen since literally being dropped into the singularity. "You have an abnormality—and it lets you teleport…?"
With his mind slowly clearing up and his senses returning, his greater grasp of knowledge pertaining to the strange world of supernatural occurrences and powers finally caught up to him. It was easy to associate such things as simply 'the way it was' when Lars was in an entirely different world. However, recalling his experiences before—the unintelligible conversations, talk of corruption, deities, devils, and the indescribable leaps across space that shouldn't be possible by any stretch of the imagination—everything seemed to merge together and his mind turned upside down again.
But his thoughts had fundamentally changed too. It was no longer limited to gawking at the eye-opening experiences, marvelling at the wondrous nature of teleportation—which should only be possible in a work of fiction. The considerations further extended to his recent experiences.
What if Siegfried had an abnormality like this? The ability to teleport—let alone running away and buying time, Lars knew he wouldn't be able to even think about escaping. The difference now compared to before was that he had a reference. If it was Rhys in his place, facing Siegfried, how differently could it have been handled? Would he even be a match for her?
Lars suddenly realised why Sgt. Petersen had told him in full seriousness that Rhys was more than capable of killing Troels and Jensen herself. Abnormalities weren't so narrow, either, usually allowing the user to wield more forms of strange abilities. He was confident that he didn't know the full extent of abyss walker's attributes. This brought him to another question: was Rhys capable of doing more than simple spatial traversal?
Rhys smiled smugly, "You've learned some lingo, Lars. Well done." She then continued, unconcerned about his questions or concerns, "How about you call me Lady Pendragon? Like those idiots back there. You are under me, after all. I hope you didn't forget about that while enjoying your new life."
"Enjoying my new life… You know what happened?" Lars asked incredulously.
Rhys shook her head. "No, I don't."
"Eh? Then, what do you…?"
Rhys explained, as if stating common fact, "Everyone who crosses through the singularity, without exception, will intrude upon an alternate life that reflects their own. They will have the same face, body, and personality as you do. The process of going over there essentially means replacing that version of you and taking their life over. That's what everyone who entered the singularity experiences."
She didn't stop there, chuckling as she continued, "But most wish to return quickly. Only after a few days, they come back. That's what usually happens. But you took much longer—so you must have been quite happy with your new life."
"Is that so…" Lars didn't make any further comments. His face was deep in contemplation, the missing puzzle pieces slowly being gathered.
If he was understanding Rhys' words correctly, then this meant that the condition for returning was to merely wish for it. His own return had been abrupt and lacked external influence or any kind of portal resembling the singularity. It was when he thought about his life before meeting Vanessa and his children that he was brought back over.
Lars realised that he never once wanted to go back until he lost his family.
Rhys lectured further, "It is. The way to return is unlocked as soon as you get an abnormality of any kind. People who go through the singularity develop a special connection with it—a tether that binds them to it. It's sort of like a safety rope. That way, as you delve deeper into the other side, you can rely on it to pull yourself back up. But without an abnormality, you don't have the strength to pull yourself along the rope."
You can only return after you get an abnormality… Hearing this, Lars couldn't help but wonder, "What if you don't receive an abnormality?"
"That won't happen," Rhys stated, shaking her head.
Lars furrowed his brows.
"Why not?"
"Because of a certain distinction we have that those over there don't," Rhys introduced.
"A distinction?"
"Yes, it's something that guarantees some kind of exposure to corruption. A friend of mine once put it like this… Imagine a person to be a canvas. On the other side, they are inherently given colour—because they are exposed to various corruptions from birth. The conflict between these sources of corruption makes it hard for a concrete abnormality to form. But as for us…"
Rhys walked parallel to Lars, forcing his eyes to follow her as she dragged her words out, "We are blank canvases, genetically untouched by corruption. Completely clean. Therefore, abnormalities are very easily rooted inside of us in the event we cross over. Earth dwellers are a lot more likely to develop abnormalities because of this. You're an exception if you don't."
Lars narrowed his eyes, commenting, "You seem a lot more talkative than I remember."
Rhys smiled. "And you've mellowed. But enough of that, it's time you told me about your abnormality. I want to know what a man of your calibre ended up with."
As her straightforward tone betrayed her eagerness, Lars realised what it was that made his experience in conversing with Rhys different compared to before. Her excitement, interest, and intrigue seemed to increase exponentially while talking about the other side of the singularity. Her curiosity—her thirst for knowledge—was apparent. For a moment, he hesitated to tell her what his abnormality was.
Taking a second to briefly recall the details of his reassignment, issued by his old sergeant after being relieved of his previous duties, he remembered that his tasks would include standing in as a guard for Rhys and following her command. From this, he concluded that his status was something equivalent to a lap dog. His role in serving 'his lady' would therefore be adapted to his capabilities—brought to fruition by the nature of his powers.
As the voice had told him, Lars was a wildcard. His abnormality held great potential for all sorts of purposes. If Rhys were to realise this, his work would be set out for him.
Other than that, it generally wasn't a good thing to lay out all your cards on the table. He hadn't sworn the kind of allegiance that swore unfettered devotion. Retaining basic ideas of self-preservation, or leaving a back door to swiftly disappear through in the event he needed to abandon ship, was a crucial step to take.
Realising as such, Lars lied as naturally as he breathed, "My abnormality increases my strength, endurance, agility, and more. I can also turn my hands into sharp claws…
"Its name is abyss walker."