I was just an ordinary highschool-attending student living a repetitive and mundane life. Staying in Shibuya was all I had ever known - but as all things good or bad cease to be at some point, so was this "boring" lifestyle of mine. It all began about [—] whole years prior, give or take - with the obscure program the principal's contorted mind initiated: the Pentagram Program. That doomed program scurried under the mask of a harmless school activity was actually a ritual the principal fooled us students and teachers alike to join en masse. Unbeknownst we joined arms in function as a beacon in the midst of a black storm, calling to our humble realm of abode whatever instinct-driven primals lurked in that embracing blackness beyond. The results of our blissful ignorance when tampering with the embryological forces of the Fetus are not the Cells it carries - but the Viruses. "Steer clear of the Virus, for it be the death of Cells" warned that latin grimoire. It were the first words written in dried, partly smoldered black ink on the pages of the Necropandoreum. Words of extreme caution the principal foolishly ignored in his twisted state of religious exticy. The results of his stupidity and our naivety birthed a swarm of slithering creatures, slime-coated and entangled in a swirling swarm of entrails, like worms compacted in masse within a small container. It was a blood-curdling visual paired with the audibly disturbing shrieks of those creatures combined in an amalgamated mixture of teenage screams. It was a glimpse of hell. I will, from henceforth, tell tale in detail of what I witnessed.
I was still human at the time, still bound to the name of Tokinada Izayoi which I strongly felt still held value. My human form were not all too tall according to our current standards by the time I was 15 in accordance to the human aging. I was a hundred and seventy-five centimeters in height, roughly 5 feet and 9 inches total. My skin was pale and untanned. I had pitch-black, messy hair which I often simply moisturized with water and brushed with a comb in a few simple strokes. My irises were a deep and dark brown in color - a tint almost black, the most common among the human gene, and my physique was slender. That was I, Tokinada Izayoi - the authentic me.
During the traumatic events of the horrific Pentagram Program I hadn't learned the many things I now know as well as second nature - but in due time I would, and quickly so. I remember the creatures that poured down from the arched ceiling as inches beneath it opened a rift to reveal a black canvas, ever distant star-like lights glimmering in the midst of it. It were almost like a mere fraction of the infinite expanse of the night sky, cloudless, and colored dimly by the faint glow of faraway nebulas. The creatures could fit any obscure description of the uncanny. Alien, deamon or mutant - it mattered not what they were but they were many. Swarming in a downpour from the space-like expanse onto us students. Their bodies were serpentine in design, but spineless and composed of soft tissue cloaked under a transparent mucus. Boneless centipedal lumps of flesh sprouten from their sides, flexible like the tentacles on an octopus. Those thirty-feet hairless abominations killed at the very least twenty sum students under their weight as they fell down like the rain. The rest of us ran, swarmed the exits or froze in place under the stress of fear. The principal, to whom I shall refer henceforth as mister Kurotsuchi, had not the slightest sign of fear, confusion nor stress to be read from his facial expression. He was blissfully moved by the presence of whatever those creatures were. His arms he spread wide as he hunched back in a slight tilt, swerved his head back and laughed deep in his throat. To his left, held firmly in his grasp, was a thick book containing likely a thousand pages. At that moment, my juvenile self had no clue to what is was, but knowing now I shall tell you of its nature. It was a grimoire, a book of secrets - spells, if you may. They were common, although I feel I must add not those the like of that which mister Kurotsuchi had possession of. That was the Necropandoreum. From over the counted two and a quarter-half of a billion (2⅛e8) that existed only six others were considered the Necropandoreum's equal. I have encountered the combined powers of all six of these "unique" grimoires in later times, each utilized by a Cell - as of course, the Viruses have no need for grimoires when bestowed the powers of a factor.
I remember I was fatigued and at a loss of breath battling a growing weight pressing on my lungs whilst I, entranced by fear and confusion, sprinted - vectored the exits toward only to be met not with the doors flung wide open by the students before me, but the doors shut and barricaded behind a broad-shouldered entity with anthropoid features. Its blood-orange body was an armoured heap of mass, metallic and bolted with large iron screws at the joints and cloaked under a raven-black feathered cape composed of what I presumed were the feathers of a raven or perhaps a crow. Twelve feet tall stood the iron deamon in height, capturing me in the shape of his shadow, yet his cape dragged itself across the tiled floor still. Tracing it's bodily form through the gabs in its armoured hide were trails of scarlet fire and as I trembled at the sight of him I felt his glare pierce me the heart through.
[Interesting] he spoke in a tone of curious arousal.
'W-what..?' I pardoned myself, unaware of his intentions. Eight feet, I'd argue, the distance between us.
[You are interesting, white one]
'P-please..j-just let me go, I won't tell anyone, I swear!'
[No..... I am afraid I cannot do that]
A hulking hand took me by the shirt with a grip so tight the cloth could turn to ash in his palm. To my untrained naked eyes I was approached by a crimson blur visible only for a frame. Any effort I made with the goal of escape in mind was futile when met with that arm so powerful hope broke when struck by it.
[You see, I am in need of a white one] spoke the hulking knight.
[A specific one, foretold in Baasthion's Bible as hell's angel]
Of course, this was I at the start of my journey. Previously unknowing such things as that which I has seen even existed. I had not the slightest clue to what it meant in those heart-racing moments. The iron behemoth walked and by its might wheresoever it walked I went, pulled across the tiled floor like a broom by his hand.
'Please! Please don't hurt me!' I begged, grovelled it he'd allowed me to for the life of me. I was met with a stoic silence from the scarlet iron mass. The behemoth stepped - THUMP - THUMP - THUMP! Cracking the tiled floor under the weight of his armoured hide with each individual step he took, and as I looked over my shoulder I saw a trail of serial cracks in the floor almost like footprints.
[Your kind has a dormant power, white one] he eventually replied as he marched still.
THUMP! A step sounded - CRACK! A title broke.
[Often incompatible and of no use]
THUMP! A step sounded - CRACK! A title broke.
[But in rare cases... extraordinary]
Struggled as I had I was walked like a dog by his iron hand before mister Kurotsuchi who silently observed what I believed was my delivery by the iron golem.
'Oh' he exclaimed as his face contorted, his lips curled in a frown and his eyebrows he raised in confusion. 'You..uh..managed to find a white one, it seems?' mister Kurotsuchi enquired from the caped knight.
[That surprises you? Had you intended I hadn't found the white one?]
An exchange of silent glares between the two for a brief moment whilst I cowardly held my breath, hoping to go unnoticed in the iron giant's grip. But my eyes wandered between the two, journaling their interaction.
[You wouldn't have lied about our bargain, now would you Tamura Kurotsuchi? Because it seems that you have searched among your offerings and have concluded there not to be a white one amongst them]
'...you know,...I could offer a white one to my master. I think she'd appreciate such a gift'
[Your false goddess has enough concubines, Kurotsuchi]
'Her name is Yzhidrre, darkness dweller - and she is a true goddess unlike that false prophet you hope to find'
The iron giant clenched his fist, angrily I wager, as most likely mister Kurotsuchi's comment offended him greatly. And in his anger I felt his grip tighten. He confronted mister Kurotsuchi, a step or two too close in his personal space, towering over him and spoke the following [Uphold your end of the bargain slave...and I shall uphold mine]
'pfffthahahaaa!! — you don't intimidate me Satanael, but I will keep true to my word. Take the white one and pay me the debt you owe'
The iron giant growled at the principal and in a flicking motion his arm he shot out of his feathered cape. I look over my shoulders hoping to see what it is that he does, but I saw mere glimpses caught in the corners of my eyes. A crimson portal seemed to open on his command through which the iron behemoth equipped yet another book nearly as thick as the Necropandoreum.
[Here...the Plutopian Codex, with this my debt to you is paid in full]
'W-what nonsense are you spouting!!? I demand Baasthion's Bible! Where is it!?' mister Kurotsuchi exploded.
[Baasthion's Bible remains with me] the iron behemoth growled back, visibly losing his composure. [My promise to you was one of the seven great grimoires. You have no right to demand Baasthion's Bible from me Kurotsuchi]
Mister Kurotsuchi scowled and angrily snatched the grimoire from Satanael's hand like a thieving bastard. His face, unlike before, was a testament of his ever-growing frustration.
'Take the boy Satanael, and scurry back to your hellhole..'
The iron behemoth, of course with me still in his grasp, dragged my like a fish that had bitten into his prey by the net through a large portal, a deep and dark red in color. That was the Pentagram Program I had experienced all those years before – as for mister Kurotsuchi and the remaining students and teachers...
Well....