Chapter ??: 𑀤𑁆𑁊 𑀧𑀣𑁆𑀲 𑀒𑀨 𑀕𑁆𑀮𑁄𑀭𑀻 𑀮𑀻𑀤𑀟 𑀩𑁆𑀢 𑀢𑀼 𑀤𑁆𑁊 𑀕𑁆𑀭𑁃𑀯𑁆𑁊

⟨⟨The paths of glory lead but to the grave⟩⟩

It’s innate human nature to desire an explosive end to big events. However, that’s not how the world works. It’s a bitter truth, hard to swallow, even for those like me that are no longer human. While I had my eyes peeled on the Deity’s fall, part of me was also hoping for some grandiose climactic finish. I was disappointed when it didn’t go out with a metaphorical bang, fizzling out instead.

The winds that had stood still once the Wings had been broken, began to move again. Now, gently. Like a soft exhale let out by the world itself, or perhaps the collective sigh of relief that the PRECIPICE agents let out — now that it was all, finally over.

I had sensed its energy depleting before the beast had been successfully tamed by that man… I believe his name is Liahan Beiker. The heightened, almost omnipresent, senses that come with being my kind had helped me foresee the fate that would befall Death’s Gate.

Who am I, you ask?

Patience. You’ll know in due time.

Stretching all across the city’s expanse was the Deity’s festering remains. The giant towering kaiju had collapsed as PRECIPICE’s miracle boy had emerged from its goopy froth that soaked the rubble at his feet, looking like the newborn Venus. Just uglier… and male.

It took some time for the realisation of their triumph to fully set in. The sun peeked over the horizon, and the panic finally loosed its grip over the paranoid agents.

The sound of sirens filled every block — dozens, scores, a hundred maybe. Emergency vehicles of all sorts traversed across the battered streets and weathered highways. Medics rushed in, as the injured were immediately carried off to hospitals on the other side of the city that had taken less damage. Gurneys rattled to the northern front that had suffered the most casualties.

It was only for another brief moment that I saw Liahan before his unconscious, barely breathing, body was mounted on a stretcher. His chest rose and fell shallowly beneath his stained uniform.

There was a look of concern painted on the faces of every agent that swarmed the injured lieutenant’s body. Their gazes, like mine, followed him till the ambulance doors slid close, and it drove off.

Of course, I wasn’t worried about him. I knew he’d be fine. After all, he was now the vessel for the great Shinsakimon himself. The Deity that had incarnated in the form of the human named William Korspole, which fully manifested in its Chthonic form in the human realm, had now found its place inside Liahan Beiker’s body.

It was the least likely of the outcomes we had anticipated. But, it was welcome nonetheless. For a scientist like me, there’s nothing more exciting than a challenge. Curiosity gnawed at me to see how it would all play out.

I walked through the ravaged roads of the evacuated Crater City slums, the tendrils had begun to shrink back into the cracked asphalt. As the decaying slurry of Corroded remains retreated into the realm of the undead, the exposed steel bones of the broken buildings in the city behind me reflected the light of the rising sun.

It hadn’t been difficult for me to fit in among the throngs of agents that ran about from here to there. All it took was wearing a black suit, and no one was any the wiser. They were too busy to care anyway. They had the injured to tend to, casualties to count, broken things to renovate.

No one noticed as I broke into a cafe down the street, walked behind the counter, and brewed myself a coffee. It was one of the only attachments I still had with the human world.

I sat in the corner by myself in the dark, as I looked on out at the scene outside. The containment and restoration teams ran across the street, rushing to the nearby Crater where the Deity’s heart had been. I sipped my coffee. The beans were mediocre. This was some bland-ass coffee. Sorry for swearing. I get vexed over my coffee real easily. It has to be perfect.

With a sigh, I tossed the cup of coffee into the trashcan where it belonged. I walked out of the front door when the coast was clear. The remaining roots began to sublimate into the air, now cut off from its source of life — or death. The semantics of these things can be a bit confusing.

I began walking. I took a look at my surroundings to see that the slums had taken quite the hit.

The smaller houses and impermanent stalls had been reduced to a dump of rubble. Personal belongings, furniture, and clothes were all strewn about on the sidewalks, as agents worked tirelessly to sort them. Great masses of decaying guts and roots were melting away, as the earth underneath showed its face again — now stained and scourged.

The streets of the slum that had already been cracked after decades of neglect, were now practically in fragments, with chunks missing. My steps echoed faintly as the boots I had stolen from an agent I’d disposed off in an alleyway crunched against the pebbly mass of concrete. The city’s already hollow heart seemed even emptier today.

Ahead of me was the Crater. The City’s metaphorical heart had truly been a bosom yesternight, as it had so gratuitously nested the Deity’s core. Its dormant heart, now shattered — like mine, was being sealed off by PRECIPICE higherups.

I believe I saw Tobias Lodge and Gregory Peel. It’s always nice to see familiar faces. It’s a pity though. They’ve really aged.

I idly sauntered on my way over to the perimeter once the brass had taken their leave. I noticed the rank and file agents now hard at work, as I helped them put up a ring of containment pylons and tape to encircle the Crater.

The air around me felt thick, artificial almost. It seemed to shimmer faintly, in a way that could only be perceived with eyes like mine. Someone had put up a barrier all around. The Deity’s heart had filled the crater, as the large egg-like crystalline yet fleshy heart of the beast was still rooted to the depressed ground, clinging onto it like a newborn child to its mother.

I overheard the others talking about it. They were planning to build a shrine here. Good call. Hiding things in plain sight. Hell, capitalise on the tourism of it. Why not!

The Raven’s brain had probably thought of this as a power play to block off our entryway to Corrosia. Sure, the Crater was a gate, but it wasn’t ours. It had belonged to The Great One before; and it belongs now to its spiritual successor, albeit nowhere near as strong as his Mother.

I paused there, put my hands in my pockets, as I smiled. The future was shaping up to be an interesting one. Finally, after eons of boredom…

Every city needs a god. Crater finally found its own.

Turning away, I took a side street, and then another, until the hubbub of the agents in their containment and renovation faded into a distant buzz. There, within the shadows of an unharmed alley — a facade as prim and proper as a movie set, I stopped.

I walked right through the wall. Clichéd, I know. But hey, it works. Nobody has found the portal yet, in the fifteen years for which it’s been up.

I placed my thumb against a small button, as space around me warped for the fraction of a millisecond before it sucked me into the landscape of skies the colour of rust, and earth made of blazing obsidian.

Corrosia welcomed me home.

It was relatively empty today. After all, a Deity’s summons are hard to resist for the newly dead. The restless flesh of youth had caused a good chunk of Corroded to find themselves in the realm of the living, where they'd met an untimely demise. The human world is now due for yet another population explosion, with all the vanquished souls of the undead ready to reincarnate as living beings.

It would be as much of a tragedy for us, as it was for the Precipice folk, had it not been for our big success. Death's Gate had not only manifested, but had found a host for itself. One that I have high hopes for.

I walked only a little distance as I felt it. New blood.

Jude Faust. Johann Faust. Joseph Grovenburg.

A man of many names. A mere shadow of him stood in front of me.

Yet another old friend, and quite the unlikely reunion. I had half expected for his soul to have lost every shred of humanity by the time it got here. It was a pleasant surprise to see him retain so much of his personality still. He was almost an A-rank undead.

Within his eyes I could see the reflection of memories I hadn’t revisited in some time. A man of ambition, overflowing with zeal, and too curious for his own good. He was brilliant, truly brilliant. Had it not been for his hubris, he might have even been great. Alas, his lasting legacy in the mortal world would be as a traitorous terrorist.

My first meeting with him had been in the Spring of… 1972, I believe. It was around the time when I’d first learnt of this fascinating organisation of human beings that were hunting my brethren. Of course PRECIPICE back then was a far cry from what it is now.

It wasn’t difficult for me to have infiltrated into the ranks. It still isn’t, but back then it was even easier. It was there that I first made acquaintance with Faust… Or I guess, he was still Grovenburg back then.

My goal with infiltrating into PRECIPICE back then had been to retrieve the piece of the Mother Deity that the Science Division was holding onto. But what I’d found there instead was far more valuable. Friendship.

Indeed, I would consider Faust to be my friend. I was the one who gave him the power he desired, the knowledge he longed for, the transcendence he lusted after. I had made him more than human. And, when he had failed both me and his own self, I put an end to his miserable existence. Like a good friend should.

He was a good pawn piece, but that’s how far they go. I don’t desire friendship with the mediocre. Only the very elite please me. I’m hoping that Liahan boy can live up to my expectations. I can imagine being friends with him.

I must thank Faust though. He had served his purpose well. He had set the events in motion perfectly, leading up to the manifestation of the Shinsakimon.

Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus.

(The hour ends the day, the author ends his work.)

I looked at him, his pitiful state, the remnants of his humanity still clung to his undead body like weeds on a wrecked ship. His glowing eyes followed me as I approached him.

I knelt and placed a hand on his head. I patted lightly.

He shuddered, as he leaned into the touch, like a dog to his owner. He even lapped his tongue out with a light whimper, as he tried to speak. “Mephisto…” he said.

I clicked my tongue, and shook my head.

“That name has served its purpose.”

He looked up at me with a puzzled expression. I stood up and continued to walk onward.

The floating labyrinth of adamantine metal loomed ahead, the elevator conjured in front of me as I snapped a finger. I’m sure you can tell that we love theatrics.

I got inside, as the elevator rose up to the level at which the slanting gates to the grand palace rested. The doors slid open, as I made my way past the doorkeepers. They knelt before me.

One of my lackeys awaited me at the foot of the giant central stairwell. She saluted me, as she said, “Welcome back Master Indara. The Lord Amitaava has been expecting you.”

I nodded, as I replied, “Good. I’d hate to keep him waiting.”

I followed her up the winding flight of stairs, as the huge titanium doors slammed shut behind him with a loud sound.

The die has already been cast. It’s now time to move the pieces.

Oh yeah, I promised a self introduction, didn’t I?

I’m Indara, the Snake. The Underworld’s Keeper. One of the Twelve Divine Generals.

> To be continued

Author's Note:
I may have been a little late this update buuuutttt!!! There's like 2 more chapters that I'll upload in a few hours from now. As soon as my proofreader gets back to me :D

Also... I wonder what's with the chapter title...? Freaky!!