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A Dark Blade Waits
Author's note: This started out as a school project, and, over the course of two years, was expanded into what it is now.
If one would find themselves in the Market, they would be bombarded with the sound of Old English, calling "Fresh fish, tuppence a pound!’ shouting "Jewelry fit for Lord Robert John himself, 20 shillings!" The naggy command from over-protective mothers, "Be back by supper!", and the drone of prayer as holy folk walked, their chants filling the air, as did the smells of unwashed bodies, livestock, rotting meat, varying herbs, wood smoke, meat pies of questionable contents, and the foul smell of concoctions made by the apothecary. The gray cobbled streets were filled with mud, garbage, and chamber pots. The yellow thatch on the roof-tops was always either dried stiff or sopping wet from the winter rains. White chalk lines were marked on the ground, so peddlers, selling the most fragrant perfumes of Arabia, the brightest bolts of silk from China, and the sweetest sugar, imported directly from India (though more often then not, for they were nothing but convincing fakes by con-men.) Permanent shops were placed around the outer edges of the Market, usually selling baked goods, like bread, and putrid, vile herbal potions.
There were many roads leading to and from the Market, and it was in one of the smaller, out of the way alleys, that lay Maledetto, a sword of infinite power, cursed by the heathen gods to doom any mortal that held it. This curse granted Maledetto a consciousness, and great psychic gifts, and allowe it’s wielder to be invinsible. It came at a terrible price though. Maledetto would feed upon you, sucking your very essense, until there is nothing left, but a husk. Side-effects were the darkening, and loss, of hair, the reddining of the eyes, and the whitening of skin.
Maledetto was a piece of art. It had a broad sword blade on a slim katana hilt, with purple-burgandy gems along the hilt. The blade was part steel and part granite, pushing against itself, almost, but not quite stable.
The previous owner had run a tavern called"The Prancing Pony", and was a quiet, amiable man, the kind that Maledetto feasted upon.
Over on the other side of the city, residing in the Palace was Lord Robert John XI. Now, Lord Robert John was not a very good fencer, yet he insisted on practicing, so he broke a lot of swords. At that moment, he broke the last one in the whole Palace.
"Confounds and curses tenfold!" he screamed. This was the twelfth sword he had broken this morning. "Page!"
"Yes, mi'lord?" said a shrimp of a boy who only came up to the Lord's knee, and the Lord was not a very tall man. He had just been promoted from apprentice to page this morning.
"Bring me the finest sword, immediately!" Lord Robert John bellowed as he flung a coin purse at the page. The page tucked the coin purse into his cloak, almost fell into the Lord's lap as he bowed a little too low, and ran out of the Palace. "My first errand! Where should I look? I know, the Market! There's bound to be a good sword there." It just so happened that the alley that the page chose was the one that Maledetto sat. When he laid eyes on the sword, he was mesmerized. He picked it up like a starving man would pick up a crust of bread. As he tucked the sword into his cloak, a silky hiss twisted through the page's mind.
"You sure don't want to give me to the Lord, do you? Why don't you find another sword to give him?" The voice belonged to Maledetto, and was highly persuasive. The page continued on his way, acting as if nothing happened, except for the fact that he would look over his shoulder every once in a while, just to see if someone was following.
Several weeks later, the page was found in his bed, deader than a doornail, with his eyes a fiery red, his previously blond locks darker than a new moon, and his tanned skin was a pasty white. Doctors swarmed him like flies on a raw piece of meat, trying to find the cause of these abnormal changes, but they found nothing out of the ordinary. By law, all of the pages few possessions now belonged to Lord Robert John, so he came down to the servants quarter's to claim his booty but the doctors blocked the door with all they were worth.
"What if this was caused by some unknown disease, and you catch it? You have no wife, much less an heir."
"I don't care!" Lord Robert John roared. Using his bulk (of which he had a lot of), he smashed his way into the room. "Everyone out!" he commanded. As the room cleared, Lord Robert John looked around for something of value, like a family heirloom, or a bauble that could be sold as something of of high value. He found nothing. Looking under the bed, his eyes spied Maledetto. Lord Robert John was not a very intelligent man, so Maledetto took hold of his mind almost instantly. Maledetto's bewitching purr echoed through Lord Robert John's fairly empty skull. "I have big plans for the kingdom, your lordship. Big plans..."
In the middle of Lord Robert John's tyrannical, yet oddly intelligent reign, a maid walked into his chambers, and saw him face-down on his desk. Thinking he was asleep, she rolled him over. When she saw his horrible metamorphosis, she dropped his laundry on the floor. What she saw were eyes redder than blood, skin whiter than the morning cream, and his hair, which had all fallen out onto his desk, was blacker than any midnight hour.
After the initial shock wore off, she called out "I know you're here. Tell me where you are, or it will just end badly for you."
“What do you want, foul worshiper of Maleïda?" Maleïda was one of the heathen gods of goodness, thus the sworn enemy of Maledetto, and protected the maid from Maledetto's mind consuming abilities.
"I want you to tell me where you are, you corrupted thing!"
"Under the bed."
The maid reached under the four poster bed, and, sneezing from the dust that errupted into the air, picked Maledetto up.
"Where are you going to take me, do-gooder?"
"You will find out soon." The maid exited the now deceased Lord's chambers, hiding Maledetto under her skirt, took a left, another left, down a stair case, a right, up two flights of stairs, and through an old, warped oak door.
Not many people found themselves in this area of the Castle. The “Atrocious Artfacts, Curious Contraptions, and Odd Objects” department was one of the strangest, and least known, part of the the government at the time. They took Excaliber, the Holy Grail, and King Solomon’s Ring, and hid them where no one would find them again. Many scholars believed that the treasures of the Great Pyramids were stolen, and that the knowledge found in Mayan temples were burned by conquistadors. However, the branches of the AACCOO that were in Egypt and South America got to them before the theives did. Now, they were going to contain one of the most dangerous, and evil weapons of all time, and put it in a place so cryptic, so hidden, that they themselves would forget where it lay. Hundreds of years pass. And Maledetto waited patiently.
“Where’s the onions?” called a voice with a heavy Southern accent.
“In the way back.” Came another voice, this time Middle Eastern.
The Southern voice came from Tom Johnston was just your average 16 year old. He was tall for his age, had almost white-blond hair that would never stay down, and was very smart. He spoke fluent Spanish, French, German, and Latin, and could sing fairly well, and was a great actor. He was in Madrid for an international competition. His choir included Johnny Sahir, from Israel, Thomas Zhou, from Vietnam, Luz Perez, from Mexico City, and Maya Christian, from New York. They were in their hotel room, and were making dinner, but had run out of onions.
As Tom looked for onions, he spied a box labeled, in a faded, archaic script, “Do Not Open. Dangerous.” Now, we all know that teenagers normally do the exact opposite of what they are told, and Tom was no exeption. He opened the box, which caused dust to explode into the room.
After coughing and sneezing, he pulled the old cotton stuffing out of the box. Then, he saw Maledetto, who was not happy about being stuffed in a box for a thousand-some years. This rage fueled Maledetto, and he immediately broke Tom’s mind, granting Maledetto complete and total control. Tom grabbed the sword, and then came out of the pantry.
“What are you doing with that Tom?” asked Johnny. “Where did you get tha-“
“This just in. A group of students here in Madrid for the International Sing-Off competition were found slaughtered in their room, all with fatal puncture wounds. More info as this story progresses.”
Tom had gone to a field outside Madrid. “Your sure this will work?” he said, his voice gravelly and full of malice.
“Of course it will work! Now do it! Bring her back!”
Tom made an X surrounded by a square, and then stuck Maledetto in the very center.
“Kraysha, mistriss of nightmares and horror. Come to me!”
The dirt square started to move, independent of the rest of the ground. It rumbed, then rose 25 feet in the air, with a multi-coloured film covering the now empty space on the ground. After it had finished its acsent, it looked like a rainbow box, topped with a dirt cube. The film started to move, then shifted open to let in a monster.
Its skin was the colour of over-ripe plums, and it’s three, verticle eyes were yellow, and had no pupils. She had the body of a woman, and wore a tight fitting, one piece garment that was the exact same shade as her skin.
After it came through, the rainbow membrane disappeared, like a popped bubble, and the dirt cube fell from the sky, Maledetto still in the center.
“Who dares call me to this realm?”It inquired, in a myriad of voice, not quite harmonious.
“It is I, controller of Maledetto, and now controller of you.” Tom replied.
“No one controls me! Especially not a pathetic, weak human!” It screamed. “You shall pay dearly for your insolence.”
Kraysha reached out, and put her hand on Tom’s shoulder. It felt hotter than a million suns, and yet, as cold as Pluto’s light starved surface. He felt something crawl through his skull, and start clawing at his mind.
“No! Get out of my head!”
“Interesting. Interesting!” Kraysha withdrew her hand, stepped back, and started spinning. She got faster, and faster, and faster still. Finally, when it stopped, Kraysha didn’t stand there anymore. Instead, there was a pile of snakes of different kinds and shapes. Tom was deathly afraid of snakes, and tried to run, but to no avail. The snakes crawled on him. Vipers, water moccasins, great boas, tiny garden, all started to twist, and constrict, and bite. They got tighter, and tighter, until finally, there was a “SNAP!” and Tom went limp.
“Breaking news. There is a killer on the loose in Madrid. Stay indoors t all times. Do not go outside unless the circumstances are dire. More as the story unfolds.”
Kraysha, armed with Maledetto, went on a rampage through Madrid. Using a combination of Kraysha’s fearsome powers, and Maledetto’s lethality, they slaughtered anything and anyone that was unfortunate enough to be out at the time, creating a thick crimson creek through every street. They continued, until they grew bored.
“Why must we stay here, where there is no resistance? I have heard of a country called America, which has the best military in the world.”
“Then let’s go.”
Getting the image of a woman, and an aluminum baseball bat was easy. Kraysha had the power over the mind, so she could just fool the mind to substitute the desired image. Getting to an airport in near-by Toledo was easy. Actually getting on the plane was hard.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need your passport.” said the ticket checker.
“Yes ma’am. And please hurry. We have a lot of people waiting. There’s a killer in Spain, and everyone wants to get out before they get here.”
Kraysha had to pull some strings in the man’s head, and after a second, he said “You may go through. I am sorry for bothering you.”
Then, Kraysha reached the baggage check. She followed the example of the people in front of her, and put her bag, containing Maledetto, in bat form, on the conveyer belt. Then, she stepped through the metal detector. As soon as she set foot in it, it sounded off, as if she had enough metal to make an airplane on her.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step to the side.” ordered a heavy-set female security guard. Kraysha just stood there, confused. What was that awful beeping sound?
“Ma’am, please step out of line.” Kraysha still did nothing.
“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you one more time. Please step out of line.” Finally, Kraysha obliged.
“Follow me please. And let me tell you, if you try to run, I can shoot you, and you won’t like that.”
Kraysha took one look at the guard’s gun, and thought “I’ll take your word for it.”
After searching for 10 minutes, and finding nothing, the guard finally let her go.
“What could have set off the alarm?” the guard thought to herself.
“We are about to land at DFW airport. Thank you for flying Southwest.” said a masculine voice over the intercom. Kraysha chuckled to herself. This was a piece of cake. She instantly took that back as soon as she stepped into the lobby, and was hit by a wall of sound.
“What madness is this?” she cried. Constantly jostled on all sides, she had no choice, but to follow the crowd. She went out the door, then the loud, smelly, and less than pleasant crowd dispersed. Kraysha was left on the sidewalk, buffeted by loud wooshed, honks, and vrooms, coming from large metallic machince whizzing by. To make matters worse, she couldn’t sense Maledetto in her bag. She reached in, and the fact was only proven. At that moment, she made a vow to find the thief, and slaughter them with the object they had coveted.
Maledetto was furious. “Let me go!” it bellowed, and used his entire mental prowess to take control of the thieving entity, but was unfortunately unsucessful.
“I know what you are.” was the reply, in a deranged singsong, followed by an equally deranged peal of laughter.
“Stop saying that!” That was the sixth time that mad woman had said that god-awful phrase.
“Look.” Maledetto adopted a tone used to comfort a lost child. “If you return me to the lady that you took me from, you’ll be rewarded.”
“I may be crazy, yes VERY crazy, but not stupid. Nope nope nope, not stupid.” Another laughing fit. “You can’t take my brain, ‘cause there’s not much there. We can be the best of friends.”
In the dank, dark, and underground capital of Lachesis, the mysterious Waiting Door appeared. The Waiting Door was the only thing seperating the evil gods from this world. It was made of a wood darker than ebony, and harder than iron wood, and a knob in the form of a gnarled old hand of a silvery metal, holding an orb of a magical gem, which could be any colour of the rainbow.
The Waiting Door had appeared many times through history, and every time it happened, the city of Lachesis shut down, as everyone gathered around it, waiting for the moment they could return to Earth. However, it had never opened, and everytime, the gods were disappointed. They still gathered around this time. They were waiting for a flicker, a moment of hotter colour. As the colours got hotter, the chance of returning increased exponentially. Right now, it was at the bottom of the spectrum: green. However, for those who looked closely, it was tinged with purple. The Return was on its way.
Kraysha stalked the crazy woman, always arriving a second too late to catch her.
“Where are you leading me?” Kraysha asked herself. She reached a strange-looking building that had a bizarre sign out front with random shapes on it. Inside, she managed to corner the woman in a room covered in paintings.
“What strange things these humans come up with,” she thought, as she looked upon the swirls and curves of Van Gogh. Then she looked to the corner. The woman was trapped.
Red mortal blood, and sickly green god blood was splattered all over the floor, walls, and the paintings, ruining all three. A very battered Kraysha stood over the crumpled body of the woman, Maledetto finally in her hand again. Kraysha had several bruises, maybe a scrape or two. The woman had fared much worse. She had massive gashes, the most prominent streatching from neck to solar plexus.
“Pity. We could have used her.” said Maledetto.
Back in Lachesis, the Waiting Door had jumped past purple and red, and landed on a golden yellow, which was slowly darkening to a bronzy orange.
In the soft moonlight, Kraysha walked up to the Music Hall at Fair Park in Dallas. Her plum skin was hidden beneath a thick layer of make-up, making her look normal, if you didn’t look too closely. Her dress was pure white, made of the smoothest silk, skin tight, and gathered at her feet like a scared dog. In her purse, she held Maledetto, who had shrunk to fit into it.
She walked up to the door, where she was stopped by a guard. “Can I have your ticket ma’am?” Kraysha just gave him a look, and he snapped up, reciting mechanically “Thank you, and have a good evening.”
“I plan to.”
The play that night was a lovely performance of the Shakespeare classic, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, but that wasn’t what Kraysha had come to see. She wanted the Texan govener, who had come to see the performance. If she could get close to him, she could take his mind over, and start her rise within the American government. This was easier said than done. He had recently done something unpopular, so he had taken every precaution, and then some. He was surrounded by big burley men, who didn’t even let a fly through. But she had a plan. She would disguise herself as a man, and hide in the bathroom. Midsummer Night’s Dream is a long play.
During intermission, the governer decided he needed to “shake the dew of the lily,” so he excused himself, leaving his guards outside, and went into the bathroom, where he encountered a strange man with a strange bat.
“No need to do that. This wouln’t hurt a bit.” Said Kraysha, her disguise falling away as she walked towards him. She drew Maledetto out of her purse, which grew to full size, and felt her energy surge. She was about to unleash it, when suddenly it drained out of her, without her command, knocking her to the ground. A second later, Maledetto flew apart. The stone flew right, shattering sinks and mirrors, sending glassy water and watery glass everywhere. It landed on the floor with a harsh clack! The metal migrated into the stalls, piercing though the plastic as if they were no more than paper, the buried itself 4 inches into the wall.
The handle crumbled with a faint sigh, leaving the gems scattered among the glass and water, their colour fading into a dull, ashy grey.
The governer regarded Kraysha with a dour expression, his burgandy eyes filled with steely malice. But the governer’s eyes were ice blue. Then it hit Kraysha. The “governer” spoke, his voice filled with a new-found coldness.
“This is a breaking news bulletin. The Texan governer has gone missing at the Music Hall at Fair Park. Now, we will hear a first person account from one of the governer’s bodyguards.”
“I don’t know what happened. He went into the bathroom, but didn’t come out. We heard a struggle, so we burst in, but all we saw was several holes in the stalls, and shattered glass and water spraying everywhere.”
“In other news, a woman nicknamed ‘Bloody Mary” is now a ‘Top Priority’ criminal. This woman, as you can see from this tape, was seen at the Dallas Museum of Art fighting, and then killing, local woman Anya Jackabee. Of anyone has any information on either of these cases, please call the authorities. Thank you, and good night.”
Kraysha and Maledetto fled the city of Dallas, heading to an abandoned field, both Maledetto and Kraysha wielding half of Maledetto’s old form. They sparred, each collision leaving a cloud of black, like a drop of ink in water. They kept sparring, going faster, and faster, staining the air, until a vaguely door-shaped cloud had formed. It shifted, and bended, and twisted, until a perfect replica of the Waiting Door had formed. All that was needed was the knob.
Kraysha found a rock, and held it in her fist. A strange yellow light eminated from between her fingers, and when she opened them, a copy of the knob, with a bright red orb, was left in her palm. She placed it into the cloud, and it fit in with a flash of light, and the door opened inward.
The opening of the Waiting Door brought subtle changes to the mortal world. Luck left, the weather patterns changed for the worse, and all the lights dimmed slightly. Small things, but the intent of the gods was much bigger.
They had the Universe first, and they were good, or, at the worst, mischievous. But soon, a war broke out between various gods, corrupting them, and their reality. The fabric of the Universe was torn apart, and everything ceased to exist, except for the gods. And still they fought, even with impinging nothing pushing on all sides. The battle got so heated, that they caused what is now known as the Big Bang, which thrust them into the underworld realm.
After being thrown into Lachesis, they decided it would be best to band together, and take their realm back. But, only from the ashes of our world can they recreate theirs. Now that they had been Summoned, there was nothing to stop them.
At the White House, a new development was breaking. It all started during a conversation between the President and the Secretary of Defense. A small voice said “Excuse me. I have something to say.” They looked around, looking for the source of the voice, when their eyes went to the center of the room. A group of humanoid figures stood there, ghostly pale, their clothes tattered and shaken by some unfelt wind. A small boy, only about 6 cleared his throat and raised his hand.
“Excuse me,” he said again. “I have grave news. You may not believe us, but your lives, and the lives of everything in this reality is in jeopardy.”
“What are you, some punk’s practical joke?” chuckled the President, and he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
“I’m sorry sir, but I’m dead serious. We are the tortured souls of the island Mateso. Let me show you.” Responded the apparition, as he started moving toward the President.
“What are you do-” the President exclaimed, but he was cut short as the boy put a hand on his forehead. Then, he saw something that has no place outside of a psychotic fever dream.
The scene was an aerial view of a patch of sea, dotted by little spits of low-lying islands, and dotted everywhere by endless maelstroms. The islands were plagued by endless rainstorms blowing in from the ocean. The view came in on one of the islands, which had millions of the ghostly beings in chains, whipped by hideous creatures that were made completely of iron tipped whips. Each ghost was either going to the enormous pit at the center of the island, or to the massive storerooms on the shore.
The ghosts returning from the pit to the storerooms held massive slabs of salt, which were pocked and dissolved from the rains, until the ghosts only had a handful of small salt grains when they arrived. If anyone deviated from the eternal loop, they were stabbed by spears made by twilight. After one of these maulings, the ghosts bled, but what came out was not red. It drifted down slowly, a wispy grey, like mist.
“This is true Hell. There is no fire or brimstone. Just water. Endless water. A few of us managed to escape when the hole between our worlds opened, to warn you of the coming gods, and to offer our services.”
“In the many years we were trapped there, we learned the art of True Magic by studying the gods. We have come here to teach our secrets, so that you may have a chance of surviving.”
“Mr. Secretary of Defense, you are to take these ghosts, and teach several battalions what they know. Am I understood?”
Back in Dallas, the gods had overtaken the city, and made it their base. They were preparing for the inevitable struggle that would ensue from their desire to dominate the world. They were summoning minions, practicing Magic, and hining their physical ability. Kraysha and Maledetto, however, did not take part of these preperations. Instead, they were sent for the head god, Caligos.
Caligos had the body of a boy no older than 16, but there were many things that seperated him from any normal 16 year old. First off, he had 4 eyes, one between his eyebrows, one at the back of his shaved head, and two where is ears should have been. One was pure white, to look in the heavens; one was a stunning emerald, to look upon the many corporal worlds; one of a deep cerulean, to look out upon the watery Hell, and across his underworld kingdom; and one that appeared as if it were carved out of ebony. No one knew where he looked with this eye.
He had no features that denoted the front of his head; it merely swivled to accomidate his needs. His mouth was mearly a slash upon his neck, lipless and leech-like. When he spoke, his many teeth clattered, like the sound of Death walking. His hands comprised of 7 fingers on each hand, all tipped with razor sharp nails almost a half-inch thick. His appearance was bizarre and terryfiying, and could bring down the most defiant into a stoop of fealty.
“Welcome Kraysha and Maledetto,” he said, in a voice that was quiet, almost overtaken by the chatter of his teeth, but it was filled with power. “I welcome you. I wish to give thanks for bringing us back into this reality. I have called you to give you your reward.”
Caligos reached into his voluptuous robes, and pulled out a jeweled sword talisman, and made a sign with his free hand. Then, he made a fist, and pulled it towords himself, as if on a string. Maledetto fell to his knees, clutching his throat, something emerging from his mouth. Caligos pulled harder on his imaginary cord, and a mass of what looked like fog came towards him. The shell of a body fell over, his eyes gazing where all people looked when they died. Caligos took the fog, and placed it upon the talisman, which absorbed it, and glowed with an inner luminence.
“And now for you Kraysha.”
She tried to flee, but suddenly stopped, like a becalmed ship. She felt her body twist to look Caligos in the eye. He muttered a few words, and then drew his arms up, summoning four streams of water into the air. They swirled together into the shape of a boar, and charged at the still Kraysha. Its horn gored her, streaking the water with the crimson of human blood.
“Injured, as a mortal?” was the last thought that went through Kraysha’s mind as the boar, as well ah her, evaporated, leaving nothing.
A rare smile graced Caligo’s lipless mouth, a hideous sight to behold. He had never really like Kraysha in the first place, and the fact that she had managed to return the the physical plane before the most powerful god in existance was too much. Now, he had banished her to a special prison, and he had the power of Maledetto at his disposal. Everything was going his way.
“Prepare the assault force.” He commanded to an attendent.
“Yes your Highness,” was the response.
“Mr. President? All the soldiers have been trained.”
“Show me.” The President followed a sergeant to the White House lawn, where the platoon of magicians waited for orders.
“Spellcasters at the ready! Fire!”
Every man and woman brought their hands up and muttered a word or two. A blast emenated from their palms, traveled a few feet, then exploded with a sound that was somewhere between a pop and a gasp, spraying coloured goop everywhere. Depending on the particual colour, it did something different. Red meant fire, blue ment freezing, yellow meant an electric jolt, and so on and so forth.
“Impressive. Are they battle ready?”
“Yes sir Mr. President.”
“Then we attack.”
As the Dallas skyline came into view, the combatants within the chopper prepared themselves for battle. Some even prayed to God, though for some, their faith had been shaken. They had witnessed beings that could only be called gods walk the Earth.
“We will be landing within 5 minutes. Everyone, ready yourselves. Your country and your world need you to be at your very best.
Suddenly, all four helicopters in the formation jammed, the controls erupting in a spray of sparks.
“Spellcasters, halt the chopper!”
The soldiers murured their spells, and the helicopters ceased their descent. They hung in the sky, like a gaint mechanical mobile on invisible rope. Then, with a jerk, they continued their fall.
“They are… too powerful for us… captain.” said one of the soldiers through gritted teeth. “Even with all… of us working… at full power.”
“Then we must float ourselves down. Abandon ship!”
A thousand bodies flew up, and then drifted down on imperceptible parachutes. When they all landed, they formed up, and went into the abandoned city.
After preparing, the gods truly started testing their abilities. They were terrifying, though the scariest by far was Caligos. His ivory eye brought up a gale, which mercilessly blew away everything in its path. His jade eye rent the earth into a gaping maw, gluttonously devouring everything. His sapphire eye drew forth a torrent from the victim, drowning it from the inside out and then evaporated without a trace. But it was the onyx eye did the most damage.
It seized the unfortunate soul in a supernatural vice, their scream stuck in their throat. The body then proeeded to distort, bloating and shrinking, and finally disappearing into oblivion. You knew that they had not died. Apart from that, however, no one, except for Caligos, knew where they went.
He was in the middle of causing this wretched process on a pillar, when his concentration was broken by an attendent.
“What do you want?” Caligos screamed, almost disintegrating the servant.
“I’m s- s- sorry sir.” The servant stuttered, “But I am upset to say that we have not been able to thwart the human soldiers.”
“No matter.” Caligos responded, a malicious grin appearing on his neck. “I always did love a good fight.”
The soldiers were about two miles away when the fighting started. The assault force comprised of a few minor gods, just to see how good the humans were. These minor gods were not very powerful, and the soldiers gained the advantage quickly, After a few minutes of battle, the minor gods were on the ground, battered, bruised, and surrendering, while the soldiers had not even broken a sweat. Little did they know that the real thing would be much, much harder.
“They were victorious with little effort, sir.” Said the lookout.
“Good. It’s been so long since we have had a battle worthy of us. Everyone,” he called to everyone. “Prepare yourselves for a battle that will be remembered for millenia!” The pantheon of gods cheered and screamed their approval. “Move out!”
“We have arrived in Fair Park. Everyone stays on hi-” the commander said, before he burst into flames and burned to a smouldering stain in the concrete.
“Watch out!” someone screamed, and spells were flung everywhere, obliterating rides, buildings, statues, anything that stood between magician and target. Screams and shouts fillled the air as sacreds words of Magic intemingled with curses in a multitude of languages. The soldiers relied on their most powerful magics, and cast with deadly precision, but they were still being picked off one by one. And still they fought, knowing that, should they lose, their entire existancxe would lose along with them. But the gods were simply too powerful. Soon only the three most powerful remained.
“We need to cast It.” One of them said his voice a grave whipser.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He He cried out “For America!” then plunged into syllables of an unknown language, his hands contorting into signs and shapes. The other two reluctantly followd suit, calling upon an ancient power.
Soon, a circle of power surrounded them. Any spell that hit it was diffused into the circle, giving it strength. The circle grew, and got more powerful, distorting the air arround it, creating a tension, like lighting about to strike. With the utterance of the final word, the circle fell back on itself, consuming its creators, who went without a gasp. Then, it exploded outward, a mighty wall of untamed might, devouring everything it encountered, destroying gods, left and right, above, and below.
The gods shrieked and ran, flew, burrowed, anything toi escape the impemnding tidal wave of destruction, but all their efforts were in vain. The cries were cut short as they were dissolved in an instant, leaving nothing, not even a wisp of smoke.
After the shockwave, everything was silent. The wind was stilled, the birds silenced. And only one thing remained in the scorched plain that used to be a sprawling metropolis. Caligos stood, straight as a mountain, defiance eminating from every pore.
“A good try, but you’ll have to try harder next time.” He said to nothing in particular.
“And now, to single-handedly take back this world, this Universe, back, and make it anew!”
He raised his hands and swivled his head, so that the green eye looked upon the horizon, and caused the entirety of the world, and of all worlds, to break open, sending everything into an underworld. Every human, every piece of art, every book, every palace, every hut, everything ws swallowed into the heart of the Earth, into the empty world that the gods had left behind. Nothing was safe from the gappping maw that Caligos had summond. The Earth itself nearly rent in two, breathing in the creatures that lived upon its surfface for thousands of years, leaving it empty, broken.
Finishing this, Caligos put his hands to his side, and, with a single word, resurrected his legions of evil deities. One by one, they popped back into exsistance, their mouths crying their praises of the mighty leader Caligos. Then, they turned their fearsome power onto the rest oif exsistance. They snuffed out every star, dissolved every planet, emptied the entirety of reality of who, what, when, where, and why, leaving a husk that was once full of life and energy. They rejuvinated their own twisted world, leaving humankind to its fate, tucked into the wastland if the Underworld.
We had lost.