The blue sky and the grass below whistled and pushed wind without the notion of natural. The world around them was the very embodiment of artificial, yet it was a constant of the world itself.
"Ahh, man. These words are strange." Staring blankly, not thinking and rubbing their clay eyes, a clay-person stared at the two. He didn't really consider either to be of any importance, so he casually said, "Yo."
Zabulus had little thoughts when it came to approaching the person, but what kept his mind on the subject was the very potential of where or when this place was.
"Hello, and what may your-- Oh! You're trying to pass through the Triandicon and can't help yourself but feel the distance? No problem, simply say 'There are a thousand pairs of thighs right in front of me', you'll be just in shape mentally! I myself didn't fail to pass through." Winking, as if knowing a secret that not even the great leaders could unravel in the universe, the clay-guy snickered under his breath and walked off. He slipped past the two, disappearing behind them with but a thin trace of the same clay pot from before.
But before he disappeared fully, his arm was gripped by a four-armed man. "You, how much do you know of this place?"
He gasped inaudibly, flinched, trembled and wriggled, he didn't like to feel people down to the elbow, his 'arm' was melting right under the touch and falling apart quickly, "Okay, okay! Leave my arm, like! Quickly! ...Okay, okay. Thank you, is there more business you wanted?"
"I want answers," As Zabulus began interrogating him for information that only he may know, Tartaros stood back and watched the skies, noticing how unnaturally flat the shapes of it were. Unnatural yet very natural, in terms of clay, but still no sky, clouds, skies or other artificials...
"Excuse me, I forgot to ask you your name! A-and how tall are you..." Suddenly, he was confused as to why he questioned these two, he didn't think it to be something that needed questioning. But now that he thought about it, something felt different about these two, and these were things which puzzled the person of clay. He tried to hide his perplexed and slightly scared expression, however he could not. It was most likely because his facial expression melted away, or because he was attempting, still.
"You need our names for what? Answer me before I gut you, if you clay people have any organs to live off of." If Zabulus was ever pissed, these were probably the words. Being irritated and angry already, seeing a snide comment on his already massive height made his blood pump through and out.
"H-haha~! You don't have to be so rash young man--"
"I am no younger than 2000 years, speak before I do, or act, you clay-man." Zabulus had his hand raise as a threat, not as an act to strike.
"Y-you'd think that 2000 years would mean to be more composed! I'm not complying with a man like you!" His aghast expression turned into a determined one, and then an aggressive, maniacal looking smile made its way onto his face and arms.
Not wanting to bother himself with the clay-guy, he opted to crush the arm he had held. "How about now? Will you speak if I crush all your limbs? Do you even feel pain you disgusting mess of self-important clay?"
"Naaaah, it's alright! Not like you could damage me! Besides, I have little patience to deal with a demonic Azkite like you! This will be the final time this is spoken, leave my sight!"
"Tartaros, give me the clay pot he came out of and help me crush it."
"AAHH! NO NO NO! LEAVE IT! PLEASE DON'T!" He seemed on the verge of crying while being dragged backwards as Zabulus walked towards his pot. Baring his teeth, he seemed all but desperate to keep his vase in place. But his fear became a reality as Zabulus held the pot above his head, threatening to thrash it into the ground. "G-GAAAAH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!!! MY NAME IS TERROSHA JR. JR. JR. JR. JR.! I AM A DESCENDANT OF TERROSHA JR FOURTH GENERATION, PLEASE! DO NOT DESTROY MY POT OR I WILL DIE, PLEASE! I AM YOUR EQUAL IN BIRTH! WE ARE BOTH CREATIONS OF THIS WORLD I BEG YOU TO SPARE ME AND MY POT! I ETERNALLY OWE YOU OUR CLAY COOKING OF RITSUCHIO! PLEASE!"
It took about half a minute before Zabulus put down the clay pot and another full minute before he had to kick the clay-guy up into the air and hit him to a pulp. He turned to Tartaros who was attempting to hold in her laughter, a somewhat stupid question popped into his mind, "Do you have a clay pot I could borrow for a moment to cook some of that Rit-chuio-whatever food? I'm hungry."
She let out some audible giggles and did not hide her laugh, "I don't have a clay pot like that junk! Besides, they all probably live inside each one of these pots" She laughed some more. Zabulus couldn't help but find her chuckling and laughing faces oddly pleasing.
"A-ah! L-listen to me! Under the n-name of Terrosha jr. fourth generation, f-first nephew of Terrusha the elder brother of Terrasha, I am humbly obliged t-to offer our cooking to any visitors and pluck a whole field f-for their dinner!"
"Sounds good." There wasn't a need to question further than that, the first thing that the man, Terrosha jr. the first—a father and a son—will be obliged to supply them both with an indefinite amount of clay food.
"Then show us to wherever your cooking will be made, and we'll eat your food," That was the essence of the order. With their only problem being, "Hm, my name is Tartaros, and that fellow there is called Z-- Nameless. Because Nameless isn't his name, but merely what others call him! Or what he wants to be called because he's shy about his own name. Tell ya' what, tell him that yourelf." She got tangled in her own words, tripping over them even, but she managed to present a convincing case without any holes in it. "Because I don't wantcha calling him an Azkite like that! It's insultin' to my master! You hear me?! As long as you are not nice enough to call him by his real name! I mean, sure, Nameless is kinda unorthodox as a name but it's his name nonetheless!" Tartaros was a bit upset, about the earlier encounter, being angry she felt justified in embarrassing Zabulus—whom didn't seem bothered at all about being called an Azkite. Although he isn't ignorant about the reputation that the race bears.
"When we get there, make sure to explain this all and cook on, alright?" Zabulus made sure to put the pressure on him, because even if his pride and honour said otherwise, he couldn't care less about someone possibly thinking of him as an Azkite. But still, it would be bothersome if his race brung him trouble.
He did comply with their demands, however it was not without a complaint. "U-um... For us to reach the cooking gardens, the uh, family tradition, here is to walk half a universe's length to the very center of the T-triandicon... That's where the cooking gardens are, but, but!" He fumbled upon himself, feeling the frustration and anger gathering that he couldn't help but notice coming, "That would require us to walk for at least 3 years! Th-there are many shorter ways however, they will require you to become a clay-person forever and live within the pots until the day your family name is lost and so are your limbs and body and soul, a-a-and--"
"I get it, shut up. We'll walk the distance. I can survive off of no food and water for that long and beyond, mind you, so lead the way. I'll need some sleep breaks however. And whatever you have will do."
Terrosha Jr. Fifth Generation Found it hilarious that this man claimed that he could go on without food and water for such a time. Both Zabulus and Tartaros didn't really mind having to walk for so long to reach the other end of the Triandicon.
For instance, Tartaros was a weapon who existed out of Will and had a soul as a primer—who can change into a different entity in terms of both size and physiology, but no matter what form she takes after, she will never have the biological needs of an organism. Or, a living thing. She could mimic them in looks only, just not functionality.
On the other hand, Zabulus has Azkite physiology, wherein it has been proven to be able to go on without food or water for longer than 100 years. Every record from the Azkite's which survived such a passage of time claims that while feeling discomfort, no signs of actual starvation or thirst appear for the entire time and till the 101st year, before any sign of aging appeared.
"Aye! Clay-man-person! What about these... Huah?! Why is there a wall?! Why is the sky solid and lookin' like a buncha random paint splatters!?" Tartaros had her cheeks against the 'wall' that showed more grass and clay beyond it.
"Ah- That... it's called a Metaphysical-Projection-Blocking-Wall. It just does exactly what it says in name, blocks you off from the Metaphysical Projection that the Triandicon creates alongside the main-land. The main land is... how should I put this, it's kind of square in shape? You might not have noticed but... The sky too is fake, it's all blocked off by the walls and is impossible to break through. To ascend the height of these walls, well, you'd be erasing yourself out of existence. Seen a few folks try it before, all they got is... an extension for their own dimension, but they're not really in there anymore. They've been sent somewhere in-between in these walls where they are becoming nothing—they will never leave." It was a true explanation, however he didn't keep it small for their sake. Yet he couldn't hide the smug-joy expression. "Your mind will shatter if you try and look beyond that wall further, lady."
"WHAATCHASAY!?!?!?! You tryna fight, Clay-man-person-terrosha?! Bring it on! Aye aye! I'll bite yer throat off!"
The sudden scream sent shivers and shock through Terrosha Jr. Fifth generation, he forgot they were capable of simply destroying the pot held in Zabulus' grip. "Ah ah ah! E-easy now! I was merely trying to convey a crucial information-alert to you, don't think too much about it, miss..."
"Naaaameeelessss! He's bullyin' me!" If she ever had a childish trait, there it would be, crying foul.
"I'm not teasing, I'm just saying that your--"
"Shut your mouth and lead the way you mongrel piece of clay." Zabulus didn't get mad often, in fact it's the second time today. Rather, he was very mad, from a rather sad face to a livid demeanour. His four hands were constantly coiled and grasping into themselves as the hands shook and trembled. He wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible and find his home. "...Home... What mother left behind. How she promised me she would always return... Vadim...!" His muttering turned into an angry grumble.
"Mm? Oh, ahem." Terrosha Jr. Fifth generation cleared his throat, finding it a bit hard to swallow at this time. "Uhh, follow me please, ma'am and sir Nameless... I just wished to tell you not to look around too much, otherwise things could get... bad!" He urged them to stop thinking essentially. It was at this point that the terrain has changed, and now there was only brown soil and green patches on top of the bare clay pots, upon the slanting clay hill, one could see many hundreds of stacked clay pots of varying sizes that all went down a slope, from their very location, which has had a slight blue sky. It was as if the horizon had swallowed them in the color of the evening star, the closest starlight. Not a single plant dared raise their head, but their shapes still show themselves by means of the dark earth that concealed them.
Aside from a few hundred pots at the top of the hill and along its incline, these clay pots were piled carelessly with no organization or structure. Some pots were stacked above and below, sideways and into the ground, protruding and standing crookedly, each made of stone while giving almost no room for walking besides their center. At the far side was an endless dark, where black sloped with brown soil and grass, and the sky gilded downward yet did not end, as if it itself was an end of something far greater than they could understand.
Something seemed wrong about the world before them, "Ah! Don't worry about all that chaos! The Triandicons need to simulate land, that's what they are, so in simulating land they mimic the change in terrain, for instance when tectonic plates shuffle or when nature shifts or dies, hence..." Waving his arm slowly, as if gesturing to something, he stopped his movement. Instead it became jarring and awkward as his arm was stiff. "Ah... It's kinda hot in here... It's making my clay arm stick." He was visibly disappointed as he struggled and grimaced. "Hey... I'm retreating into my pot, care to let me do so in private...?" He asked, fearing to even ask such an audacious thing. "Please, I ask just that of you."
Zabulus looked over to Tartaros, the question that was asked non-verbally was 'Do we let him?'. Tartaros also looked back at him, nodding with the same question he bore on his face.
The pot touched the ground without a sound, and Zabulus took his hands away, feeling that it might be, as the man called it; Terrosha Jr. the fifth generation, the dirt was gritty and salted with a trace of clay within the dry mud beneath their feet. The pot hovered centimeters above the ground as the clay's arm, leg and stomach disappeared into it. "Uh, sorry about that.. It was a little bit... yeah." Before all of him has left the area. As his clay form began to solidify slightly, he spoke sluggishly, almost frozen, the red spots of clay grew in intensity. "Goooood luuuuck!" His smile distorted rapidly and his voice cracked before he fully disappeared, leaving the two on their own to explore the place themselves.
They both understood a truth; there is only forwards, and forwards is the only direction. They couldn't go in reverse no matter what. Yet still the question still came up, "So, anything ya want to do or is it just walkin'?"
"For the moment, walk. You would know better. Where are we anyway?"
Tartaros slowly creeped away from however close she was to the Metaphysical-Projection-Blocking-Wall. Not like it'd do much to stay in the direct middle of the uneven path ahead, as hills rise and drop, and the plants all huddle together, daring not to spread, to expand, and to grow, they creeped ever closer to the outer edge, where the slope wanders off to non-existence. Above was, aside from the far blue sky, the many yellows of a late afternoon. Besides, Zabulus could smell the remnants of baked stone, while the air was full and heavy and damp.
"Clay man said you shouldn't touch the wall there." His jittery action caught her eye, and his tone was filled with warning.
"Whatcha mean?! I wasn't trynna get close to that scary thing! Geez, stop naggin' me like that!" Despite her actions, he was right on the mark. She had wanted to break through the wall, in her mind it was possible to cut through the solid air. She was sure that because she was a weapon that she could do something about this and uncover some dirty secret of the world.
"Relax, it's not exactly a big deal. I'm fairly sure that neither of us is going to completely crack our skulls and have our body shrive up on the matter."
"Nyaaaaah~! I hate when people think they're bein' witty with stuff like that!" She couldn't feel too exasperated, considering this kind of snark didn't unnerve her like other snark. "You make a mess outta my head! Waddaya gotta say for that?!"
"A decent mess, I'd think." Walking forwards, over the crest, a bit of mud at the edge fell, clumped into a little round mudball, and rolled a few meters away. The strange green grass lay down a new surface. This new site, this grassy incline, where that whole universe seemed to begin...
It made Zabulus want to retch.
"We're jumping down there." Emotionally unwell with the sight, he didn't bother to provide an explanation for how they'd land, just... Jump.
"Wha? What's that supposed to mean? You gonna throw me or some--"
Before she had anything to say, he roughly caught her around the waist and dove head first, not bothering with balance.
"AHHHHHHH! STO-- GAAAAAHHHH!"
The cliff before them seemed so barren in comparison. Then the drop was upon them. Falling into the slope-eating air and all their belongings, the ground rushed up to them, Tartaros gave a start and Zabulus brought the girl closer to him.
They hit the ground and he was mainly fine, though Tartaros was mentally exhausted from yelling and falling like that. "Y-y-y-y-you know... I-I am deathly afraid of heights..." Her legs quaked and started to mumble, holding her mouth shut, tightly she felt her heart sink back down her chest cavity. "Uuugh... my head... Ahh, there's eight of you, master... It's so dizzy." She swayed her head as if drunk and unintentionally giggled, pressing a hand to her face and bending down, feeling for the ground.
Zabulus was the one helping her stay upright, although he had no idea why she'd get so shaken by the action he just performed. In his opinion, the four-armed creature never met any major danger ever. 'Not that there's ever going to be a real danger to permanently kill me. So I can do things like these without worrying for the life of a weapon that likely cannot die.' In his arrogant yet honest thought, he then knew an answer to a question that plagued him before. 'She hasn't gotten a complete look at the world, has that damned Onofre brought her anywhere outside of Onkhivol? Has she even let her mind exist beyond what her senses could comprehend? Ha, perhaps this all makes more sense to me now. For someone who doesn't have a limit to their potential, Tartaros sure is too soft. I'll harden you up, Tartaros, you'll never forget what danger truly is.' There was some pity in his heart for her, but also a slight contempt. She never experienced true danger, Zabulus wanted her to know how death felt like.
...
At this point, they began their 3 year walk to the center of the Triandicon.
...
"What did he say again? A 3 year trek? Sounds unpleasant. I'll send a complaint to the guards." Jokingly, he let out a condescending chuckle.
"You'll be fine right, master!?" She clasped his sides, gently hugging him.
"I told you not to call me by that name! But... I should be fine, I think. Can't remember the last time I ate a proper meal. This all might take too long. Hmm, hold on a bit... Does your body have any nutrients in it?" With the idea dawning on him, the urge to devour what artificial body Tartaros uses became much more apparent to him.
"N-Nutrients!?!? Wha- but-- U-Um, no! Just a soul! A regular old soul, but- But- It has no nutrients or carbon or whatever... just, a soul, in a body! Yep! Nothin' but a fake being! Heh... Um... Whatcha mean... Err, do with-- Do with...?" She seemed embarrassed as red hues littered her cheeks. To a point, this made Zabulus wonder.
"You don't know what having a living body means, do you? What does Onofre teach you if not basic biology and logic? Honestly... All that you will, you could. Your mind works greater than a normal mind, despite never getting to experience something like learning from your failures. How did you live up until now?" His question was a real one that he asked while his mind swam in strange thoughts, such as what would've become of them if he didn't run into that cult.
"Well... um... As you'd know, I was made by a man who was called the Smoking Sage many eras ago and..." Her speech became strangely normal and a duller tone. More reserved than her usual brash voice, "I lived as a weapon with the purpose of choosing my own 'master' and allowing them to fight as one and grow strong as one. I went from man to woman, woman to man. Azkite to Golith, I was by them, whoever they were and whenever, but none of them struck me as my 'master' in combat nor ideals. They were, therefore, not my 'master' even at what the 'Prime' defined them as... My old 'Masters' were not masters. They were simply weak... They had no ideals, no ambitions and no interesting thing to do. There was nothing to stimulate my thoughts to the point of acknowledging them. Nothing they can do is of interest to me, nothing was. Then... I found this girl who I thought was my destined 'master'. ...Who was killed by you after the... After the whole business, of course. And with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my pride as a weapon... I hated her more than anyone else... Perhaps you might understand why! I heard all of your conversation and her utter disregard towards your emotionless presence! That's what she called you... She was stupid! Annoying! Absurd! I hated her down to the bone! ...Haha... Now that I have followed you however... Well, I think I found my calling, where I was meant to be... Because, at this moment, my soul is pulsating a little harder than usual, and my muscles tense a little more. To tell you frankly, ever since I found you, my 'head' began to burn... Is it weird that everything in my existence has amounted to this-- Um, do you remember the very first time you felt death embrace you? I... I feel as if I'm experiencing it right now myself. As I utter these words to you I am being reborn. That is what it feels like. My very being is dancing, waltzing and singing, I'm burning for a reason; Not just survival, but to also... Die-- For my purpose to die a new, yet familiar death. For my purpose to cease existence and find my new 'Master' not in ideal nor person... But in a way to die. There are several ways to die and bring them about. Weapons are to kill in the end, are we not?... Yet, that's not who you are... You're an Azkite. I'll follow you to the ends of any world and see how an Azkite dies when left to itself. Would you be so kind as to let me die alongside you?" Her tone and personality mixed during that speech and after, never shifting and staying in total control and accuracy. Her usual flamboyance wasn't present at all.
As a general rule of thumb, she wanted not to show her 'true self', not even to herself.
Yet, it came out all the same.
As if her words were some scripture, and he was the chosen man to spread her teachings.
He was speechless, and a small part of him, a speck, found her charming. But even worse, he wanted to embrace her ideals. The ones not represented by her voice... Rather, represented by the feeling her words brought out of him. There was no special word, no language, and no grammar, but there was an understanding that brought the emotion closer to him. Without his consent or worry for the notion, Tartaros brought herself and leaned towards him and gently embraced him, "Please don't try to reject me. This means everything for me, master. It's my culmination as a weapon to find a means to kill myself by proxy and use it to help others, even if it means going against what every weapon was ever made for and sworn to, I think." Her tonality didn't change from the dramatic pitch, nor did she ever cry or scream or express anything that she shouldn't be expressing right now.
She still fully intended on walking him across the entire landscape and giving him her full support, however he asked.
It was all a means to an end.
To make his ideal come true and for her own ambitions to be fulfilled in another way.
He had only one question.
"Why are you acting like this right now? You are certainly you, but you seem like someone else, too." In his words, she stopped and released him from her gentle grip.
"Hahaha... You're cruel, I knew that I liked you! But, if I were to say... I guess this was the original ambition of my soul before I was made a weapon." Her lips held a faint smile but her eyes were like dying stars, beautiful beyond compare and serene. "I liked making songs, poems, plays and such... Odes to great men, or to the most useless man. My work was wonderful, ah... It's coming back to me, all the names and faces of those who died in my poems... Though, I never got to see them all the way through, or see someone cry at the fate the doomed brought upon themselves... Mmm..." Her vague expression slightly grew, turned sideways and then let out a heartfelt chuckle. "Still can't believe all this time, I was stuck for so many years with that stupid bitch Onofre..." Her words began to return to their original brash nature as soon as her eyes opened again and stared directly at his eye sockets. "So, master! Let's go! A long road ahead and nowhere else to go!"
Standing up, her mouth was slightly open and no words came out from her dwindling mind. None could be said even if she had one last breath of wind in her lungs.
For him, the Tartaros that stood before him was someone he already knew, yet a facet of her character he could not possibly have imagined. A beautiful creature, 'How interesting...'
Zabulus got his wits back as he held the pot with Terrosha Jr. and rose up.
Her speech was long-winded and confusing at best, it made absolutely no sense to him.
...6 months later...
Phantos rose from her resting state at some point, helping alleviate holding the Terrosha pot. Between the three of them, it was the second time they were walking together from a long distance from one point to another.
Between the three of them, it was the first time they went so long without any action whatsoever.
Staring at her hands, sometimes there were webs beneath her thumbs, other times there were lines along the palms. When there were no distinguishing features, she kept staring and staring, and slowly turned her head elsewhere, either blank or in thought. Sometimes, it was hard to differentiate which was which.
The land was changing every 30 days, regardless of what pot men they met, all the Terrosha's and Terrusha's talked about the same thing: The Triandicons were based on nature's cycle of life, from rot to rot, the seasons pass and it begins anew. Whatever was dead before would again be reborn in the current time. It was a pale yet haunting imitation of the world and its life. At some point, Tartaros got bored and spoke,
"Is anyone besides you guys living here?" It was an honest question. "All I've seen for some time was hills, holes and pots! It's drivin' me crazy! Ehehe~." Such was the unburdened optimism of her psyche and her growing insanity after the days and weeks and months of hellish hiking.
This part seemed safe, without the vagueness of non-simulated land. "I don't know. How can you tell something alive is here when all there is to see is nothing?"
"Guys, I am here and I can be considered alive. Maybe." The Clayman known as the Fifth generation's Terrosha added a third perspective in the conversation.
Zabulus only grew further sleepier as the events passed him by.
Tartaros, meanwhile, tried to stay friendly. All she did was smile.
Phantos however, though her consciousness didn't change her general presence being apathetic, she began to slow down in creating illusions for the pot to slide down on.
"Phantos, are you okay?" Sluggishly, Zabulus called out to her from her lack of creation speed.
Without any sense of urgency and apathetically, "I think I'm having nightmares that I'm going mad with boredom." She did not hesitate nor stop floating by. The book was just... bored from the universe wide walk. Even if they were fast, even if they were going at speeds faster than anyone else could ever hope to reach, the scenery remained all the same, there were no special events happening, no 'action', as she heard the word describe, no adventures to see or make. Nothing of particular importance came about from this monotonous walking and nothing was going to happen. It was killing her just as it was killing Tartaros. They didn't particularly run out of things to speak of, but they ran out of will to speak about things anyhow. It was a horrible eternity that held zero meaning in the scheme of their journey, and for some reason, the pot brought attention to the lack of stuff to do. He kept saying...
"I am Terrosha Jr. Fifth Generation, I am the fifth clay god of the gods." While his voice sounded... Weird, it sounded as if he was just trying to keep himself sane in his own voice. "The clay has melted, oh the clay has melted, its time to bake and cook the pot and eat myself." The perennial ramble just kept going and going, barely making any coherent statements, they eventually tuned him out, becoming mutters and barely audible squeaks of incomprehensible nonsense.
Well, it became very irritating.
At this point, both Tartaros and Zabulus were ready to drop the pot and continue the trek further.
"Ah! Ah! Don't drop me! I'm precious! Terrosha Jr Fifth Gener--"
A firm hand grabbed his head, and, by the use of momentum, tossed him as far as the eye can see.
"Last one to get to him is a fucking loser!" Tartaros joked with the other two as they continued along their trail, the little pot barely visible, like an ant among a field of grass.
"Isn't that a little too cruel, Madam Tartaros?" Phantos' emotionless voice only added on to the disturbing feeling of what they just did.
They eventually caught up to the pot, however...
"I am Terrashya Jr. Fifthe God... I'm Terrosha Jr. Fifth Generation."
"It seems like this pot is going insane, chanting only two lines over and over again is the sign of a truly deranged monster." Phantos sighed and complained a fair bit after noticing what exactly it was the pot had been doing. "Should I kill it?"
"No!!!" Tartaros was practically flying off her feet and smacking Phantos away from the poor defenseless pot-clay-man. "We need as many food sources as possible to create the perfect picnic!"
Tartaros turned the mad chanting pot around and smiled as his mashed up face was molten inside and repeating his same words. "Hiiiii~!" She waved at it enthusiastically.
"Hm. It's getting easier to not think about what I am doing." Zabulus slowly drifted off into fantasy land, where all he thought about was laying on a hot sand beach. "Hm. The sun is nice, as is the lack of clothes needed. Yes, yes it is. I wouldn't have it any other way. Oh? Who is it!? Has my lunch come early today, my friend!? No, you're just a mirage... Shooo." His tone was dazed as was the rest of his unconsciousness.
"Master?!" "Nameless!"
Tartaros and Phantos could only look with concern as Zabulus fell asleep whilst standing.
...18 Months Later...
Although, despite everything they expected of this place, they've still walked and found nothing but grass, no trees, hills, and general scenery. How long had this monotonous, barren yet sickeningly perfect fake world been around? No doubt it was more than the entirety of 9 generations, in comparison to Phantos' age, even longer than the entire universe had existed.
Terrosha Jr. Fifth Generation meanwhile had his sentence repeating permanently in his mind, sometimes returning to his sanity and reminding them of how close they were to the center, "You guys are only one year away from constant walking! And you're somewhere around a quarter way to the end, you're 47.4 months from meeting your fated place!" All the previous forms kept track and were familiar with how his memory worked.
They were used to the little pot man's occasional bursts of energy, in which he would start shrieking out their potential status and the way to what he said was their greatest fate of all. Of course, with little understanding of the pot's rants, they'd continue on without care.
...3 Years Later...
It only took a whole 3 years for them to be somewhere close to an end.
They passed by the Terrosha house, where Terrosha Jr. Fifth Generation met with his family of another Terrosha, Terrasha, Terrusha, Terrisha and Terresha. Most of them happened to be of the Fifth Generation.
The food that Zabulus tried to eat was some of their clay food, but it was essentially burnt dirt and inedible. He was quite distraught.
"You lied to us, Terrosha Jr. Fifth generation." He was seething in something akin to blind rage and anger, his voice had rarely been heard, not since Tartaros did that speech and that he had to focus on not falling whilst walking at those speeds.
All of this simply because it took too much effort for Zabulus to multitask.
At the end of it all, he slaughtered the bunch of clay familial men in some fit of senseless, bestial fury by destroying all of their pots.
...11 Months Later...
At the end of the Horizon, there was a visible and different light. To Tartaros and Phantos, this signified a change, a 'progression'. They were somewhat exhilarated because they'd no longer be bored out of their minds until they collapsed.
There was, after a time, finally a beginning and end to this bizarre thing they had to experience, an end to the insanity of that blasted pottery house and the disgusting landscape beyond that kept their spirits damp.
In that blinding, white light at the end of the triangle monolithic shape, their journeys would cease.
They were just a month away from reaching that glowing, white goal.
Finally, the endless world known as the Triandicon was coming to an end for them.
However, some part of Tartaros and Phantos lament the idea of an end to something that they didn't have to fear or fight.
Even though the journey was long and merely an event akin to walking, the times where they could speak endlessly without a worry in their heart were gone. They would no longer feel the comfort of complete mind-breaking stagnation in their lives.
On the other hand, Zabulus only awaited a message from the other side of the divide.
One that hadn't come for millennia...
His ears tuned in and ears out.
"...'s...'s...dy...tu..."
Nothing was heard for so long...
"na...se....fal..."
Again, it was all white noise to the dark creature waiting for their one singular clue.
"Be..."
For the third time, he could only hear syllables, enough for his mind to fill the gaps.
"Mek..."
As if they were all in unison, somehow...
"Es--!"
A deafening blare was heard from the monolith's white lighted end. The noise continued until their eardrums were blown out, when not coming in through the ears, the booming shock waves sent in through the air ruptured his throats and 'eyes'. The scene became barren and without the ability to support their balance. Slowly, it reconstructed itself in different shapes.
Something strange was happening, the symmetry of everything was completely breaking apart and being pieced back together as if it were a mirror.
All three could see the shift in light and order occurring in this static-filled blitz, colors and silhouettes going by in flashes. The light broke apart whatever matter seemed real to the eye and made it twist and turn in different directions. Their minds were left a blank void with no thoughts, there was no voice besides the echo of their reconstruction.
All in a matter of milliseconds.
Sound and vision were brought back equally, symmetrically, and a pure white void formed. There was nothing, literally nothing. What once was the Triandicon and its infinite repetitiveness of scenery had completely and utterly vanished...
In the same instant. Once again, It was reconstructed to be perfectly symmetrical,flat and white.
Perception changed again, and a small amount of terrain was revealed to be beneath the three.
"W-What is this...?" Tartaros couldn't understand anything about this place. "What's going on? Phantos, can't you create something?" The floor was appearing and then again being taken away, they felt what could only be called shivers go down their backs.
Some parts of Zabulus felt this to be familiar in an uncomfortable way, a very familiar way.
He screamed, screaming was the only answer his mind gave. And he ran forwards with all his might, the confused Tartaros and Phantos only slowly approached as his speed increased and decreased from irregular forces on his body and mind.
As the space began to settle, sounds began to gather, the blare returned and Zabulus went silent as he got nearer to the source, 50 kilometers away. 40 kilometers from where they were. 30 Kilometers. 20. 10. 9. 5. 3. 1, every second took an eternity.
Finally, their eyesight was clear enough to see what was happening as the light dimmed down to a faint flash from an unknown area.
A crack of the Triandicon's Symmetry and everything went normal, but there was nothing there.
Nothing where there should've been a source to that random chaos, it was all gone as if that was the illusion meant to disturb them.
To the best of their ability, neither of them could sense any life forms or see any potential Terrosha's around.
The exit to the Triandicon was bigger than the initial subsuming vortex that was the entrance. It looked like a white rift with black triangles at its edges.
And it was there, all he needed to do was step foot inside.
They felt unease coming from Zabulus.
"Master... Are you okay? I can feel your heartbeat..." Said the worried Tartaros.
"Nameless... We aren't afraid of what we see, rather, we are in fear because of how your emotions are feeling. But this fear that you feel... Is unnaturally pervasive. This is not the sort of fear any being would typically experience, do not try to mask your emotions anymore, we will both make sure you're going to find solace." Phantos' voice was sharp and direct as the book spoke. Her speech, like always, was professional and efficient.
"It's... Just... So... Unfamiliar... Why does my home look like this? This isn't... It shouldn't be... I forgot... Who is that?" Zabulus stared at the black world for a while.
On his little planetoid, where there rests no garden with no seeds, was another Azkite. Its six long arms rested by its sides, shifting their position by sliding through his body, as if there were no bones connected or the shoulder simply ended up somewhere that gave him ample movement.
"Oh..." Tartaros looked at the man's form and tried to gleam whatever she could. 'Humanoid, all black... So he's an Azkite, like Master? Hmm. He appears to have spikes on his elbows and shoulders, perhaps the limbs were built around the bone?' She could not guess any further. "Master... You cannot let a man in your place scare you. Have more spine, please. It is my job to help you fight, if necessary!" Her voice picked up slightly at the end, but the fear that he felt, these two couldn't help but feel down to the very core of their sanity.
"Nameless, I suggest a quick retreat, at the very least. This odd place does not seem at all practical to face an enemy."
"We don't know... If he's an enemy... I'll go... And speak with him." His voice seemed tired in every sense. It was not the type he could sleep off.
"...If you need us, we are just a thought away."
That phrase coming from Phantos was a strange feeling.
'I really should've spoken up more, with the time we have... Well, maybe I'll have the chance soon.'
"Tartaros, Phantos. Go back into my soul. It isn't time to dally about. Onwards..." No more time was wasted trying to think, Zabulus knew the truth. Something no matter how much he thought about it would be a mystery beyond a solution.
Their minds, having their bodies reverted into another more condensed form was not a new experience.
As the darkness filled their visions... It then came back with the sight of over 100 Zabulus' talking to each other.
...
His foot was slowly approaching the rift and by habit, one foot became another and Zabulus was in the white rift...
Stepping on an old land that he missed, a land that he loved and lost.
He wanted to hug the planetoid if possible, so he kneeled down and put his hand on the dirt...
He wanted to play with it. He wanted to sleep inside a makeshift tent and stare at the dark skies. This place...
'Oh, my universe. These skies, this soil, and this grass, am I still a friend?' Zabulus' memory brought him somewhere else as his legs trembled.
Though, his memory was interrupted by a familiar yet forlorn voice.
"Brother... Right?" It felt horrible to hear those words.
His head creaked itself upwards and saw 126 pairs of white eye sockets. Empty just like his, but white on the inside instead of black.
"You... Who... You're not Guillerme... Guillerme is my brother... My... brother." He shook slightly, fearful of what this Azkite from before may want.
His horns moved up and down as he spoke, "It's been so long, brother. How are you? How have you been!? It's only right that I ask you such things. Only right!" He grew to be wide eyed with what he presumed to be a grin. Something was immensely disturbing about the way this creature carried itself.
"You're not my brother... What do you know about my family, you don't know anything..." He didn't speak about his family often, which was a conscious choice on his part.
"Oh, but I do know. You're still nameless, aren't you? Mother never gave you a name, did she? Mohter Umnus knew everyone by a single name, your title from the moment you were born was always 'Nameless'. Ah, It was funny but saddening at the time... But how could I forget anything?! You killed her! Is it because you had no name? Is that it? Does being nameless bother you so much that you needed to kill your own mother!? OUR MOTHER!? DOES IT?! HUH?!" Every syllable was high, echoing and inaudible, it made no sense. "Of course, how can I not shame you? I have to shame you. What your anger made you do—What your sadness made you do! I hate you, HATE YOU! And, now, you even lost the power of your 'home'!!! All that remains for you is to fucking dying for your transgressions against us and for your own ineptitude, brother. I know that father will eventually make our universe disappear in some arbitrary fashion. But until then, you'll have to learn to suffer in ways you couldn't imagine."
"No... I... I didn't mean to kill her, my... anger. " Nowhere was safe. It was even worse than he thought. "It wasn't me, it was that man, Vadim! He made me kill mother! By the end, by the end, I had no choice but to do it. I... I didn't hate mother, but she hated me for the way I was born, for our lost brother and sister, Guillerme and Idalia. I remember it now, remember those times... Before I went blind."
"How do you know... About Idalia? And who's Guillerme!? Did you lie to me and them? Answer me." The brother was furious with Zabulus, going so far as to grab a hold of the man by the shoulders, tightening his fingers around.
They were both alone, alone to exist, and here this stranger, with the knowledge of Idalia and the existence of Guillerme was making him paranoid beyond comparison.
"I... Eat souls. Haha... Yeah, that's what I do, I eat people's souls and their memories. They called me a soul eater and stuff, it's what'll become of you too." He took off what was left of his brother's fingers off of him. "If you want to live, you should go somewhere far away now. I've given you a fair warning, ohh? Maybe it's impossible with that fake-looking body... Should've known that you were weird, Inmoste."
Inmoste was not as surprised as he could've been. Rather, "If I let you leave after everything that happened, I'll be unable to live with my own failure, brother. I'm going to have to kill you."
With such a quick pace of events, both of them were at a tension where a fight could break out between the two.
"Phantos... Crush that little puny pea-sized 'head' of his and bring me his intestines. If it means anything, I'll murder my entire bloodline and more... There are some sacrifices to make for evil, that also means making deals with the world, or rather, making 'it' and having the people worship my creations and command them into doing my will, with that authority, I'll kill the beings of this world with sheer numbers if I had to. But only those that I cannot manage. From what I sense, It's already enough to wipe out an entire universe."
Inmoste was confused as to what his brother meant. "Oh? Intestines? Head? What're you talking about? Brother... I honestly don't understand, I really don't, did somebody gut your brain and take out all the juicy bits and the meat? Is that why you're so brainless?" He raised a hand, getting ready to unleash... Something.
"I'm not one that has to answer your questions. If you had any idea of what was coming for you then you'd be pissing your nonexistent pants in fear..." Zabulus had nothing else to say to the enemy, even if that was his brother or true family.
He had no qualms whatsoever about killing an uninvited stranger who decided to step on his land.
Inmoste released his hand in a swipe, and a line began travelling across the middle of the planetoid. The perfect symmetricality was the first thing Zabulus noted in his mind.
The grass, the glass house, the trees, the side of his memory-less home all remained perfectly symmetrical across all fields. However, at the feet of Zabulus, the line travelled up his body. It was slightly off-center to his body and had begun scratching at his inner organs.
And then...
Zabulus was separated in half.
A guttural laugh could be heard from the Inmoste, and yet, it didn't end there.
He was brought back together as his pieces fell, like a bundle of shredded paper.
"Are you just going to keep laughing at me?" The fragmented Zabulus groaned whilst speaking to the malevolent shadow. His vision split, it came back together as it created a non-existent world for his 'eyes' to see. His entire body was recreated as it slowly continued moving his components without his consent. "Isn't this... too fucking cruel? How am I alive again?"
Inmoste only watched on, content with hearing his fallen enemy speaking and re-regenerating his injuries. "It was quite a stupid move, brother. Do you even wield a concept? Ardour? I feel sorry for you, but mostly for myself. To think, I'd have such a twisted-minded brother as you."
Zabulus' body was eventually fully reconstructed, wider from where the line is but... Perfectly symmetrical.
"Symmetry is my nature, it makes me far more of a concept than you could ever hope to be, nameless brother. As far as the mother's concerned, she was only able to create creatures composed of symmetry... You're an outlier, and outliers make this very universe a foul-breathed affair. So, I cannot truly permit you to live with my conscience. Call me a fool for whatever reason you want, I'll wipe your sins and imperfections away. No matter what."
Somehow, it actually angered Zabulus, who tried moving a step forward whilst the line was still there.
As he took a step, his body was split in half again, yet not horizontally, not like before. His torso was split vertically, his 'guts' pushed outwards towards Inmoste, falling and dangling. A wave was carried within the 'guts' stream, taking hold of his body with no effort.
Even as he 'died', the reconstruction began to repair his midsection. The line would wait until it finished. This kept going for some time.
Several times over and over.
Inmoste laughed, Zabulus was cut. Inmoste chuckled, Zabulus was bisected. Inmoste cheered, Zabulus was quartered.
It became a loop, it kept on looping, it never really stopped.
His eye sockets stared blankly at nothing but a black line that wouldn't leave. But, it was undeniable that with each step he took... He got only closer to Inmoste.
'Is that how it works? One step, and suddenly, I'm split in half? And killed, then brought back...?' He tried to rationalize the meaning behind his murders. He was not granted mercy at a chance to rest or die naturally. The act itself was a call for a meaningless struggle until death for him. 'If I summon either Phantos or Tartaros, then they'll likely be cut too. I don't want to do that... Wait.' In the pit of his stomach, he felt some emotions bubbling about. It couldn't have been that he was afraid anymore, it had to have been something much worse than that. The realization of his power. 'Is that how it works? If I move, I get cut. But that's not it, the planetoid wasn't cut either; because it is perfectly symmetrical across the center of it all. When the line hit me, it travelled up across my leg... Meaning I was off center. But when I was reborn, I was fine and the line travelled across my center. Meaning that with every step I take, my symmetry breaks, and through a loophole, I am given a fraction of a second's break... A fraction of a second of consciousness... But even my vision was cut at some point... Does it cut the asymmetrical intangibles...?! If so... This can be an advantage. For now, I should act as If I don't understand the need for symmetry and entertain him. Until I'm at a certain distance I'll... Symmetrical Punch... That's right, make sure that both my arms follow the same flow to reach out towards the same point, and that my centerpiece doesn't move. I don't have knees, I don't have elbows, I have symmetry. Therefore, a punch shouldn't hurt my strength that much, as long as all parts are symmetrical. With that...!' He stopped and raised a leg, his head becoming two faces 'staring' at Inmoste.
Inmoste grinned at the thought of what would occur next, another death? Another maiming?
Zabulus put one foot down, and was annihilated again.
"Do you want a hint to defeat me, brother? Why is it that your every attempt ends in your failure? Maybe this small hint won't make a difference... I won't give out too much, but my power isn't influenced by the simple fact that one side of the planetoid is touched. Rather, my power... is a complete enforcer of the absolute rules of symmetry! Brother, if you continue trying to follow a concept such as Ardour or other such forms, you'll keep repeating the same failures! Your essence isn't... It... The reason you haven't realized what you truly are... Is because the very makeup of yourself is outside the bounds of the concept that's influencing you. That's why the words of concepts cannot affect you completely." He was still grinning at his triumph. "You're so confused! But you're not stupid. Stop trying to influence or change me, brother. Change... And change everything with you and die!"
After ten or more repetitions, in spite of what Inmoste said, Zabulus remained silent for a moment, ignoring his voice.
But there was no way for him to confirm his theory. If he wasn't so arrogant, it would've taken less time to do anything. 'Now... just to be symmetrical and punch the shit out of him...' To make a fist and then pull his arms back. 'All symmetrical... All perfect, and faster than he could notice... My very essence is outside the bounds of symmetricality.' Every fiber of his 'nervous system' had to tell the rest of his body what it needed to do... Was purely symmetrical.
In less than a millisecond, Zabulus' hands shot forward to meet Inmoste's face. His fingers uncoiled back out in the same motion.
The line shuddered and retreated back into where Inmoste's leg was, and he screamed. "WHAT THE FUCK?! WHEN'D YOU GET THERE? PISS OFF!" He instantly stood himself back up, yet the damage remained in his previous position.
One hand on the ground, another near his thigh and his eye socket cut open slightly.
Even as such an attacker was nearby, Zabulus took advantage of their arrogant nature and distance.
The punch however somehow left Zabulus feeling weak. He was trembling.
"Oohhh, so that's all you had for stamina? That reconstruction uses your own regenerative system, so it exhausts your real stamina too. Oh! You're weak! Even I can kill you in this state! Eee hahahaha—!!" The laugh was more like a shriek, piercing in an almost unnatural way.
'Let me punch this bastard again—Allow me... Phantos, Tartaros...!'
The M shaped scythe and the book manifested in-front of Zabulus at the very instance that he thought about them.
'Master!'
'Nameless. It seems that no matter the circumstance, no matter where you are, you always need us, huh? Isn't that a little shameful?'
'Shut up and tell me how I can reach him, He can throw out another line before I see it.'
On the other side, Inmoste was staring up at the two weapons Zabulus summoned. "Oh, no, no, no. That's bad, still got some tricks up your sleeve? Shit, shit... I'll be leaving then. Be happy that I didn't destroy your planet." Proving his previous assumptions, he created another line beneath himself and rode on it. "Begone, Fucker!"
As the line began travelling the opposite direction of where Zabulus was, the same pain he had experienced occurred as he instinctively moved himself from the path of the line... 'He still uses his power over symmetry...'
'Symmetry? Wuzzat?'
'Madam Tartaros, it is the attribute of things or figures that consists in... the arrangement of parts in relation to each other... So if he is still using a copy of that exact line to pierce into and travel across our master, then we should just break it!'
'Really? Breakin' the laws. Oh my. They'll sue us for sure!'
'...Nameless, We just have to break it with everything we have in our arsenal. Wouldn't that make the most sense to you, Nameless?'
'No... Let him leave. I want to kill him when I'm strong... Wait. Let's not become overconfident in our strength. I lost because it took me too long to figure out his goal and method of defeating me... Let's continue trying to fix myself, Phantos, Tartaros. I'm going to rest, so. Do as you will.'
'Would you mind telling us who that Azkite was that fled, Master?' 'Yes, I am very much interested to hear his identity, Nameless.'
'Him? That was my oldest brother.' No further comments were received and with it came a short silence.
After his reply, Zabulus laid on the ground and stared at the dark sky before slowly fading into his mind.
...
A dream.
No, no, none of those existed in this place. None of them existed where nothing else did. But strangely enough, something resembling a dream was occurring within his own mind.
"You've come again, lamb. Wanting to destroy yourself? Wanting to destroy your family as its remains haunt you? Wanting a better tomorrow and the consequences of your past? What could you possibly seek? Safety? Your name? Your role? I shall give you anything, for I Am because you are. As we live in this god-made body, you're the rightful inheritor of my gifts and powers." A voice that could change or alter depending on which one she is speaking with. A voice and body that many gods and mortals desired, but may only succumb to their wishes through flesh and not by force.
"I... Why do you call me that name, 'lamb'? It's terrible, it brings me terrible thoughts, it reminds me of a terrible woman. Call me something else, no, that's not right. It would be kinder to stab my chest until I die." Zabulus spoke out of sorts with the entity, though not the other way around.
"Right... Would you like me to call you by your true name? After all this time, after all these years... You usurped souls, memories and names. And yet here, the moment you were defeated, you wanted to crawl back to this world and pretend like nothing was wrong. If you weren't such a bad god, I would've praised your efforts." The voice spoke like an angry parent. "Their stolen identities are yours, they make your name, you found your name without my help or guidance being too weak to attain an idea to create any divine construct. Do you remember when you first chose that name, Zabulus? That was the beginning of your role. You lied to the girl—Alice, the true beginning of your concept consciously, your deceit. But, lamb. That wasn't it. Your congested mind had further usurped the very names of these people. It all began with Zabulus. Then Aeneus, then Idalia, then Guillerme, and lastly... Onofre. Fully consumed and gone for a single concept... Deceit."
"Zabulus... Aeneus, Idalia, Guillerme, and... Onofre? I ate their names? To gain the understanding? No. Those four... Were the people who killed me. Aeneus... with a sword, Idalia, in the womb. Guillerme, in the womb. Onofre... in a battle where betrayal was the apex of its use." He spoke with hesitancy and fear of what the voice could possibly grant.
"Correct, the very powers they wield... are the same powers that you exist to enforce. All that you are, lamb, is a culmination of identities. That is how you stand up again and again when destroyed, because life never truly goes away. Because the identities that make you up are attached by the 'names' of their bodies and spirits. However, if their identities were stripped from them, would that mean that they are dead? If so, what would become of your very existence? That is it, the very thing you are, Lamb—the power given to you when 'you were born'... The power given to..."
"Zaigo. Deceit. My true birthright. My concept and role in this world..."
"That's right, Zaigo. You deceive all, yourself, the world itself. Your role as the deceiver will kill many, and save many. Always remember that, when the tides of fate give way. Some knowledge is all that separates and binds gods. Oh, and never tell anyone your true name. True names are a sacred secret of the soul, if given away... One will gain total control over your essence. With that, I send you back."
"Understood. I must be in control over my 'name'..."
A flash of white and black was all that Zaigo saw, perhaps something else beyond those colors that smiled at him with the most dreadful look of joy and kindness, before the colors faded away and he was returned to reality.
...
He awoke and moved his head to face the surface of his home planetoid.
Tartaros and Phantos were somewhere else, doing things that likely didn't matter all that much, thus he was left alone in his thoughts.
Getting up, staring at where his brother fell, he only saw a rainbow kaleidoscope spanning the floor of the universe.
He was already sick of the sight of that thing, even if it has been years since he has been here.
'Plant the seeds to your garden, begin to decorate, be like the child, have fun with an eclipse, there's nothing to be afraid of, it's just your true nature.' The voice from the 'dream' spoke to him.
Zaigo looked around, and he entered his house. The all-glass walls showed his reflection and body which soon disappeared behind closed doors. "My true nature... An eclipse..." The dream or vision didn't continue, so everything was up to him now. 'This world is a falsity... Should it be repaired? Should it be tainted? Or should it be destroyed?' He had nothing.
But already, he left the house in a hurry.
'Is somethin' the matter, Master? Ya ain't lookin' so spry...'
'Nameless... Have I and Madam Tartaros spoken wrongly? We will atone...'
'Ya don't gotta bring me into this!'
"No. It's nothing of that sort. I've just uncovered what we are and what our future will entail."
'May you elaborate?' Phantos asked, being a genuine but innocent speaker.
"Aren't we to kill the fabricators of the system? Of course we will. Hah, what if I become a fabricator in that very same system? I will start changing and maiming the system inside and out. From that, change and malice will prosper. What other type of effect could come out of such a thing? But to reach those heights, we must grow stronger. Stronger... Stronger..."
'I see! So ya would've gotten a big ego so you wouldn't show how much despair you were really feelin'?'
'No, Madam Tartaros I believe you are missing the point of what he's saying. He acknowledges his mistakes and is seeing the ideal way of fixing his errors. Isn't that right, nameless?'
"Yes! You're correct, Phantos. That is exactly it. The falsified system, I was within its system. Being outside of it now, isn't the only means of overturning it. Everything exists because of a system. I want to create a falsified system to govern the real system. What fun." His chuckles created waves. "In order to do that, I have a feeling that a lot of traveling and training will be needed for us. But it's only natural, I was meant for this, I attract chaos and strife, yet I met many systems. Which is the evil in my path, which is the one who made me more than I am? The only answer would be death and its inverse. Of course, the concept of strength... Well, it's definitely the concept that controls every universe and reality. Strength dictates all, it rules and forces through its own rules and laws. It's in me, I am it's pawn."
'Neeh... I don' get it.'
'Let's see... He's trying to say that our job is to destroy the ultimate god with concepts, thus destroying every concept? Honestly, I don't understand.'
"Don't think. You'll understand soon."
From then on...
Zaigo understood himself and his concept better.
In the soils of deceit, he planted hideous seeds to create a hideous garden.
Flesh grew slowly, heads and eyes shifting places as if trying to find their true purpose. Bodies sprouting in grotesque locations, bones from the deepest pits of his nightmare were unearthed and refashioned into living skeletons, some resembling pigs with long eyes, some sprouts that screamed and yet, they didn't even know how to speak, nor that they existed.
The bodies grew and grew, their size and complexity grew exponentially as their evolution eventually reached that of a humanoid figure with tendrils growing out of their back and skulls.
These were mere children.
Mere children being raised by an unkept egomaniac who wouldn't allow for any more room for error.
Merely allowing for these failures to occur.
Each eclipse came and went, but he only sat as the children's self-awareness came into fruition through him. All thoughts came from the children, his own will was taken from him by these beasts, these children...
Was it then that he began to conceive his own identity beyond his original goals and what others wanted for him?
...
Hate.
It's a strong word to describe an emotion. Though it is quite different to explaining what made that emotion emerge... And begin to grow larger.
No one's ever really thought about themselves when they are different due to hatred, only the beings they despise.
This idea never becomes internalized, perhaps we're all too afraid to acknowledge ourselves to see the error of our thoughts and way of living...
Such... Is something to consider.
In other words: Hate burns itself, doesn't it?
Before getting lost in a never ending paradox, let's say the seed of hate begins through the initial negative emotion. These seeds then sprout and cause hatred, the hatred then hurts itself through hatred. Thus, the cycle.
Was the hatred made from oneself or their target? It would appear there's only one clear and obvious answer.
This should explain why a simple solution cannot rid of hate between beings and groups;
By killing, you will only spread your hate to someone else, hate never leaves. It only eats.
Hate knows no kindness, love, morality, justice, time or progress.
It only eats. It consumes as a cancer, spreading throughout our emotional core like poison, a disease that blinds from the truth, the truth itself has the potential of spreading hate. The truth is the biggest hateful thing, all mortals do is avoid the ugly aspects and lie about themselves and others to retain a piece of beauty, because anything not beautiful must be ugly, or perhaps there are gray areas, these kinds of thoughts spread false equivalencies and are often used to mask anger.
In the end, Hate and Love seem like the same things: An emotion of immense passion towards something, an emotional mindset.