God and Devil.
In today's age, such concepts had become all but fantasies. The people had grown smart. They couldn't be led by far-fetched ideas of an after-life or punishment of sins awaiting past death.
Though that didn't mean people's moral worlds had crumbled. It was just that people didn't adhere to them now due to the fear for a God or some Devil, but, rather, for themselves.
It was the same for Santy. Especially now that his teenage hormones had began to calm down and maturity had budded wings in him.
He wasn't practically opposed to there being a God. But he didn't vehemently kneel to one either.
His reasoning, though, was diverse from others. He didn't think science was the be-all of everything like others, after all, it was just research of what already existed. It didn't create what it was studying.
In fact, the reason for his particular detachment was due to the Supreme Dichotomy he believed in.
Everything had a counterpart. Something of a nature opposite to an object being observed.
Light and darkness. Good and evil. Justice and injustice. They were interlinked. Their existences batten upon the other.
So, if an all kind God truly did exist, it would be so sad... because then, an all evil Devil would surely exist too.
But right now, a thought polar opposite to it had crowded his head.
'If a Devil exists... then so must a God, right?'
Beads of sweat rolled down his chin. His gaping mouth was firmly constrained by him to only take subtle, small breaths, opposing his body's reflex to swallow in mouthfuls of air.
The four steel walls of the locker prodded him from all sides. He didn't even know if it was a locker, it's suffocating, squeezing walls brought a sense of security to him, that was all he cared about.
The creepy darkness clutching at his body and heart alike was restrained barely by the flickering yellow light which dug its way through the four parallel slits he was cautiously peeking out from.
The bulb hanging barely from its wires atop door leading into the messy, abandoned room buzzed with sparks occasionally.
The room was silent, eerily so, making him all the more desperate to hear a sound from outside. But his heart, going dum, dum, dum, with ferocity that rattling his ribs and throat, made it impossible.
A part of him roared in-vain for it to quieten, afraid that that thing might be eavesdropping, but it continued unchecked.
He might've swore, maybe even landed a punch or two at it if that made it listen, had all his strength not already been sapped from him that was.
His throat was parched, his muscles burned, especially his thighs and calves. He prespirted as though he had ran a marathon— well maybe he did.
He had run blindly. Not to save himself, but because that was the only response his body gave him in face of that.
Suddenly, with a creak, the door opened. Each echo of a step rang fiercely in his head like a booming bell.
His eyes moved to the sound with a tremble. First, a shadow loomed into his sight. Then its caster.
And then finally that thing... which had no shadow.
As he laid eyes on it, a shade of murky red dappled his irises. His pores poked out, as if they too wanted to witness that thing.
He was sure of it. The more he stared, the more he confirmed it.
"Even if there is no God in the world. There certainly is a Devil."
Why wouldn't he be sure? After all... there it was... in front of him. In the flesh.
The Devil.
It turned its head abruptly to lock gazes with him. As if the thin steel door wasn't a hindrance at all.
"hGibdqGHAiosPplask–"
The noise boomed in his ears like a gunshot. Incomprehensible and screeching. Like nails scratching against a board.
His eyeslids squeezed tight, not daring to meet eyes, yet unable to break free away, 'Fuck! Why? What the fuck happened? Why can't I remember clearly!?'
One instant there he was with his friend, waiting for the clock to strike twelve and join in on the cheers greeting the new year.
Then Boom!
Before the clock could even hit 11.00 PM, there was a terrible explosion. Followed by a blinding flash of light which dragged the next excruciating seconds into hours.
A cacophony of pleas, cries and screams rose. Then he saw that harrowing thing descend.
His body ran and ran and ran.
Clouds of dust rose as buildings kept tumbling down due to the ground pulled from beneath them.
No matter how far he ran, he could still see the two flashes of black and white in the sky relentlessly crashing heads against each other.
His expression crumpled inward. His fingers balling to the point of turning pale.
His gaze stirred as the man turned to face the... thing, "Spades, did we escape them?"
The creature looked androgynous. With ashen skin, that was glowing subtly even in the dim light and physical features so chiselled one would instinctively know that it wasn't human.
It turned its head toward the door they appeared from before facing the man. Yet Santy knew, its eyes were peering through that man and the steel door... on to him.
It spoke. Yet Santy only felt himself retching at whatever that thing said. He slowly raised his hand and clamped his mouth shut.
Heat was marching its way to his cheeks and ears, dying it red. Yet he felt so cold.
The man, as if understanding what it said, groaned before looking around.
Then he looked towards Santy.
Santy neared pissed his pant, had fear not wrestled him still, he would've thrashed like a fish.
With crisp steps, the man approached. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he brought something out.
'A gun? Explosives?' Santy's neck quailed back, his back softly going flat against the cold metal surface.
Yet contrary to his expectations, the man brought out a rock. It was rather large. Twice the size of a fist.
Santy's eyes squeezed. Then suddenly, the same grating sound pierced into his ears. The more he looked at the rock, the louder it became.
He tried pulling his eyes off of it, but a suction force keep dragging them back. It made him light-headed, like the effect of some psychedelic drug.
Finally he succeeded and barely restrained himself from swooning. Cold sweat conjoined with warm sweat on his forehead.
When he finally collected himself, the man had already closed the distance. Santy felt his heart leap to his throat.
But then, the man collapsed to the floor and leaned against the locker. Scrutinising the rock with intensity.
"The fuck is this thing? It has cost me so much... all my defensive gadgets are busted. My Nether reserves are running dry. I can't cast a single damn spell... And the worst of it all, they will soon find me here." He muttered. Making Santy silently brand each and every word and repeat it tens of times in his head.
Hoping for it to at least lift one or two of the veils from his eyes. But it all only perplexed him further.
'Spell? Gadgets... what's he on?'
The man exhaled, then chuckled, "Spades, you bastard. Tell me what exactly is this thing? You know, I know you do... There's no way all those fucking Heretics and those piss-smelling Guards are going crazy over little old me."
Spades moved to the other side of the wall. Then sat down with legs crossed.
Or it would have sat down, had there been something to sit upon.
'How!? Howww??! How is that thing doing this? Ghost? Spirit?... Devil?!' Santy trembled. Had he been a bit weaker of heart, he would have really collapsed.
Spades floated in the air. Its face supported by its 10 inch long fingers that curled to create a flat support for its chin. It leaned froward. Its eyes glistening like red marbles. But just as it opened its mouth, something glitched
BOOM!
The sound louder than a rifle shooting from over his shoulder made Santy clasp his ears in a futile attempt of lessening its impact.
Then Santy saw it again. The pure mass of white that had signaled the start of this catastrophe.
Just like before, it remained undulated, with the momentum of water forcefully bursting out of a dam. It resembled a throng of billions of fireflies crowding his sight.
Dust rose to the height where old walls stood before. Everything bathed by that beam vaporized.
It burned past the grimy tiled floor, charring the ground beneath it, making it glow a subtle red like lava.
Another roar erupted from a distance, deep like the hum of a whale. It had a cackle like a hyena's.
It was ear-percingly high. No creature that Santy knew could have produced something like that.
His eyes snapped awake, 'W-wait how am I alive?'
Santy soon got his answer as he saw the man slowly stand up and dust his clothes.
From this close, Santy could see him. The man had a bristly, short beard. A dark complexion and hair tangled together into a ridiculous mess by air and dust.
Still he maintained a pose. At some instant, Spades had appeared beside him.
Or likely had always been here, maintaining the translucent dome that had protected them, and coincidentally, him.
Santy vaguely caught a whisper from the man, "Fucking shit they summoned an Echo for... This is beyond my league."
As the dome fell, Santy saw billows of smoke and dust whirling about chaotically. Then suddenly, with a snap, the dust drifted away and a man in special military attire stood taut in opposition to the Devil.
His breath was a bit haggard, his complexion stained by dirt and messy hair matted to his face by sweat.
Santy shouldn't have been able to see him so well since it was pitch black... But he could.
Because the large, unfurled silvery wings behind him glowed ever so subtly, bathing the glowing molten ground he was standing upon, unperturbed, in a cool light.
He sent an indifferent glance at Spades, then set sight on the man.
"Heretic, hand over the egg. Maybe I will spare you." He spoke, his words making Santy frown.
'Heretic.. that enormous terrorist organization? Holy fuck.. how is this related to them?'
"Don't make me laugh, Guard Dog." The Heretic shook his head. His eyes glowed imperceptibly to his words as he gripped the stone in his palm tighter, "I told you before, I have no such thing. And, do suppose, whatever it is, I hand it over and that bastard Heial miraculously doesn't kill me... would you really let a man with a Stain walk away?"
The Guard paused, before nodding. His hand moved toward the sword on his waist, "Then die!"
Boom!
He vanished, blasting the gooey ground splashing back. His silvery wings left streaks in the air as he flitted over, the slender sword in his palm pointed its gleaming edge toward the Heretic.
Santy felt his pores jump from fright, as if the Guard– that sword was coming for him and not the Heretic.
Before the cold blade mercilessly ripped through him, Spades shot forward.
Black gas relentlessly pumped out of his body. It cloaked him wholly before he met the blade with his long fingers.
Their clashes unleashed fierce booms.
A terrible shockwave swept over. Without Spades to defend against it, the man and him, alongside the locker, got swept by the wind and whistled away.
The locker banged and smashed into the surroundings. The experience was worse than riding a roller-coaster for the first time.
The impact twisted the locker out of shape, causing its gate to swing open and fling Santy out.
The rattling in the locker made his gut spin. His vision rocked as he constantly retched, yet all that came out was a splash of blood.
He was bleeding from several places. But the blow to his head had numbed all the pain.
His vision slowly settled, he could roughly see two dots of black and white smashing back and forth in the sky.
His brows creased, and the haziness receded from his sight. The battle's booming intensity knocked him back into his senses.
He could see the Heretic coughing out blood while struggling to get up... the impact had down its part on him too.
But that wasn't all he saw. His gaze veered left and right, the sight dampening his scalp.
Their were numerous silhouettes all around the street and on the buildings, hiding subtly. He could see about a hundred of them. All greedily spectating, like a pack of hyenas watching ferocious lions rip each other to shreds, only to kill and eat the survivor themself.
His brow deepened, 'What are they doing? Those monsters... they are right there... why aren't they running away?'
A thought softly tugged at his weariness, 'Are they all... monsters like them?'
Each daunting second made him question his senses and the world he knew more aptly.
These things couldn't be from his world... there's no way.
Suddenly, in the rubble around him, his sight fell onto a particular stone.
As he focused on it. His ears began to buzz with the same garbled voices.
'Shut up! SHUT UP!!' The shade of red in his eyes intensified.
Then, unconsciously, he wriggled his body closer to it. The sharp pain rebounding throughout his body made him groan and hiss. Yet he persisted, unfettered.
For the bystanders, it looked like he was approaching the man. But just after dragging himself a quarter of the way, he paused and cupped the stone with both arms.
Whoosh!
The chaos of the battle instantly dissipated like a dream. The voice screaming in his ears suddenly hushed.
Santy gulped, a realization too late to alter his actions struck him.
He was not supposed to touch this thing.
A pitch black glow burst out of the stone and the voice that had been constantly scratching at his ears... finally bellowed with vigor.
Open the gate of hell.