Season 2 of Rising of the Shield Hero Confirmed
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TAKE A STEP TOWARDS [THE END]
Epic 39: The Swarm Part 1
"It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets."
Voltaire
At Faubley...
"Where are you, dammit..." Itsuki muttered to himself as he looked out to the barren wasteland beyond the walls of the kingdom that he's now allied with, empathic to his cause of righteousness, "... hurry up and show up so I can put one right between your eyes, you damn motherfucker."
In his hands was a heavily-modified [PTRS-41] anti-material rifle that the kingdom of Faubley were producing with their [AK-47]s, gifted to him as a sign of trust commemorated as he joined with the kingdom's own [Whip Hero], Tact.
Granted, he sort of reminded of Motoyasu, mostly due to his all-female party, but when they're packing assault rifles in a world still using swords and sorcery, he can ignore that little deja vu.
Ever since, Itsuki perched himself from atop the castle's highest balcony with the modified [PTRS-41] in hand, his right eye essentially glued to the scope, and only taking breaks every 16 hours, literally sleeping with one eye open, all in hopes of getting that first kill at that bastard Nan.
All he can do now was remain vigilant. It'll be through his own righteousness that the world will finally bring justice upon the monster who's christened himself as the villain.
So far, scouts were sent outside of the walls to survey the area, only for none of them to return, which prompted to sent even more scouts to recover their bodies at the very least, only for them to not return.
The whole Kingdom of Faubley was now dug in for a defensive war. Invasion was now inevitable.
Further Away from Faubley...
"... I assume there was a village here," #18 remarked as it looked upon the literally-flattened ruins of a village, its dirt roads covered in craters, fissures, and footprints of varying sizes, but oddly enough, there being no dead bodies around, "... this wasn't our doing, wasn't it?"
"Eh, too messy even for us," the Terminator with the [SCAR-H] remarked as he crouched down, looking at the ground riddled with footprints all going in different directions, "normally, this scale of damage would be from a [Wave] or a very-pissed-off monster horde..."
One peculiar thing about the ruined village was the spatial distortion draped around the whole area like an uncomfortable summer heat haze, the air itself being wavy and blurred.
"Well, that ain't a [Wave], for sure," the mouth-eye remarked out loud, "if it was, then there would be at least more variety of footprints, but even I only see two sets of the damn things."
One being a swarm of regular human-sized footprints, the other being a titanic hoof print with visible char-black outlines around it, as if the creature's foot was a pair of red-hot iron brands, as evidenced by residual shards of glass found in the soil within the hoof prints, indicated high temperatures making physical contact with the soil itself.
"... Is the source of this peculiar hoof print within our vaccinates?" asked #18.
"Negative," the Terminator with the [P90] slung around its shoulder remarked as its eyes scanned the surrounding wasteland, "it seems that we're simply exploring its trail and nothing else. We can assume that it's no longer of this domain and has gone off elsewhere."
#18 then looks at the swarm of foot and hoof prints closer, at first noticing that they were all scattered before all of them began to converge, eventually walking out towards one direction leading further out beyond the wastes.
"... There is an anomaly," #18 pointed out, "too messy to be considered a coordinated assault, yet too clean for a randomized [Wave] attack."
"So what, ya saying that there's someone else out there stealing our thunder?" the eye-mouth jabbered about, "those dicks couldn't even leave behind some leftovers for us? I mean, there's not a single buzzard picking at the bastards' bones, if there were any!"
"Regardless, it's something to consider," #18 declared, "until then, we have our priorities. Still, vigilance is required. No one take their eyes off their surroundings until all life around is wiped off. Is that clear?"
Two consecutive gunshots were heard from the edge of the village. As the Terminators and #18 converge to the source of the sound, they find Chi standing over a pair of dead bodies, both their heads now sporting freshly-carved out bullet holes spilling out warm, vibrant red blood that sizzled and bubbled like soup upon touching the soil that they've landed on.
"Heard what you said loud and clear, boss-man," Chi remarked as he blew the smoke off of the barrels of his custom pair of [USP .45 Match]s, "crystal."
With that said, the group then leave the ruined village behind with the two bodies as its sole residents of the leveled village.
Unbeknownst to the unsuspecting guests leaving the ruins, the two corpses suddenly twitched and shifted back up to their feet like [Zombies], their skins now turning blood-red, their eyes topaz-yellow, and their teeth and nails elongating like knives.
There were no one but them, and upon the two seeing each other, they begun to attack one another, pouncing unto each other like rabid predators, wrestling on the coal-like dirt that their rolling left behind.
Eventually, one prevails over the other, but just right before the one on top of the other can claim its kill, the other smashes a rock against the other's head, stunning it for a few precious moments, which then it exploited by claiming the other as its kill by driving both of its hands into the other's throat, ripping it open like a parcel package and the scalding blood hissing and bubbling onto the victor's skin as it then reversed the situation and pinned the loser down onto the ground.
Upon hitting the dirt, the loser was then devoured ravenously by the victor. Even its bones weren't spared at all, leaving nothing of the body.
"... Blood... for the Blood God..." the victor chanted as its back bulged outwards like a pair of tumors, "... skulls... for the Skull Throne..."
The pair of tumors then explode out into a pair of tattered, bat-like wings as the victor let out a bloodcurdling roar towards the heavens above.
"ALL CREATION... SHALL BURN!"
The victor as now turned into a [Chaos Daemon]. It's mind was now completely purified by the residual influence of the Exiled One, Skarbrand, linked unto many others that have joined the swarm, all of whom, chanting in unison, simply one word.
"Kill."
Towards the swarm it flies, towards the other kingdoms it will join.
Towards the world's destruction, it will becoming one of its many harbingers.
It began to walk in that direction, not having to bull through anything anymore. The empty lot took it in the direction it wanted to go. The empty lot ended just up ahead, only for it to empty out into another flat waste ravaged by plagues and violence.
The trail left behind by the Children of Khorne was its only path. It must join.
Back at Faubley...
"Look, I appreciate you keeping vigilant, but dude, come on," Tact remarked as he stood behind Itsuki, still perched on his improv sniper's nest, "you're scaring my party members a bit, and you're starting to stink-"
"NO!" Itsuki snapped back, still keeping his eyelid glued to his [PTDS-41]'s scope, "I HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO DO THIS! I KNOW HIS STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES! I HAVE THE GREATER REACH! I WON'T LET ANYONE DIE BEFORE HE SO MUCH AS SETS FOOT WITHIN MY SIGHTS!"
"... Okay, just chill," Tact remarked, "... take care, kay?"
Itsuki lets out a low snarl before refocusing back to his survey.
As Tact walked away, a few thoughts ran by his head.
You know, I thought I can use him, but he's way too far gone for my liking, thought Tact, but at the same time, he's still willing to help, but he's a grade-A asshole about it. Oh well, no big loss. I ain't the type of guy who'd bite the hand that feeds me.
A wicked grin flashes by his lips.
... I'm the only one who's allowed to do the biting. That is my right as the true Hero of this world.
Back at the Surrounding Wastes of Faubley...
"... Anyone heard something?" asked #18.
"Whatever it was, it sure ain't our problem," remarked the Terminator with the [M4] as it sniffed the air, "... smells like smoldering iron, but it ain't coming towards us."
"So it a problem?" asked #18 as it reached for its [Oraciòn Seis] holster around its waist.
"... The smell is gone," remarked the Terminator.
"Then it's not our problem then," remarked #18 as it moved its hand away from the gun's grip before it continued walking towards Faubley, "move on."
As the Terminators and #18 marched, the eye-mouth lets out a yawn before resuming its jabbering.
"So, you outta be a little disappointed that there ain't anyone to fight except for those two that Chi just wasted without much of a resistance," the eye-mouth pointed out, "c'mon, admit it, you wanted to just drive and throttle your fists up their asses and out their mouths, doncha?"
"Is it a problem?" asked #18.
"C'mon, need my fill of bloodshed before I get hangry," the eye-mouth remarked, "if your body still had a working dick, I would rape all of those meat-dolls around ya just to whet my appetite but nooooo, you just had to sacrifice your sense of sensory pleasure, and now, I'm stuck in a body that can't even fathom about even thinking about feeling good!"
"... It's not my problem then," replied #18, "they're irrelevant to my objectives."
"Bah! Killjoy!" barked the eye-mouth in huff.
The group continues walking through the wastelands in awkward silence.
"... Sir, why even bother summoning that thing out of all the other Great Old Ones?" asked the Terminator with a [SCAR-H], "I've been informed there are others that are more cooperative and may I be so bold to point out, less annoying to deal with."
"Easier doesn't imply simpler," #18 replied, "being more cooperative implies that they're more likely to turn on you, and more articulate while holding powers beyond even my imagination means it's more dangerous to deal with in the long run."
"... Ya calling me stupid!?" the eye-mouth replied.
"Can you go even a half a second of not thinking about rape or eating someone with your hand-mouths?" #18 asked the guest, only for the eye-mouth to be silent, "... face it, it's in your very nature to defile and ravage everything you sought after. I can feed you like an entire empire's worth of kings, but not for a single moment, you even taste the slither of salt on the meat that I provide. I'm not the one trapped by you, you're the one who's trapped in me, the God of Depravity whose physical vessel no longer feels anything. Out of all the Old Ones, you're easily the most simple, and that goes for your prey as well, whom you simply dress down to their basics and let them run naked in turn for their loyalty. Kind of like a certain someone that I have on me right now."
It then points its thumb towards Alpha and Beta, both of whom are carrying Malty over a spit that bound her arms and legs, dangling like a fresh kill of the day.
"... Then why ya keeping her around?" the eye-mouth asked.
"Because whom I'm really after is a pygmy version of you, and coincidently, Faubley has another one just like her," #18 pointed out, "the final phase of the experiment has begun, and your influence will play a great part in reaching the conclusion."
"... Ya gonna try and kill a god?" the Old One replied, "you know just killing one will bring upon several more unto your ass, right?"
"I'll deal with that notion as soon I get to it."
At Zhuge Yu's Secret Work Camp...
"You know..." Melty remarked as she sat on the cafeteria bench-table next to Reinchott, the whole area being occupied with the other workers, a mix of humans and demihumans not of Siltvelt in origin, "... when I heard 'work camp', I immediately assumed that we were going to be worked to near-death every day like slaves, but yet... this seems a tad bit generous..."
Laid before the table were simple food such as meat and vegetables, with each worker being provided with a steaming bowl of rice.
"Three meals a day, working showers, decent lodging and clothing, and a working medical bay..." Melty continued to list down as she and the other workers began eating their lunch for the day before they went back to their work, "... somehow, I get the feeling that the old system that we were supposed to overhaul, this is meant to be the replacement."
"Hindsight is indeed terrifying," Reinchott remarked as he ate, "with the exception of the armed guards, this place is humane. Even my old estate feels lacking in comparison."
"Yeah..." Melty shrunk back as she chewed her food, looking out to the fields to look at the metal contraption that they dug up this morning, "... just what are they after? Whatever it is, it needs all of us to make it happen. Its reach is almost as lofty as my father's own, which is really bad."
The more she looked at the metal object size of a small hut, the more it looked like a smaller part of a way-bigger whole.
"... I really hope that the others are alright," she said to herself.
Back at the Surrounding Wastes of Faubley...
"Faubley's ETA?" #18 asked the Terminator with the scoped [SCAR-H SSR], the latter looking through the contraption.
"ETA, 2300 hours," the Terminator replied, "also spotted vehicles roaming the wastes as outside patrol. Armed with mounted [RPD]s and [AK-47]s. Wanna take em out?"
"Negative," replied #18, "it's still broad daylight. At least consider doing that when the sun is not out."
"Well, it's not like our natural albinism ain't gonna make us stick out like sore thumbs even during the dead of night," the Terminator remarked as he kept the eye on the patrols, "speaking of which, why the hell are we even albino to begin with?"
"... Of that itself, I cannot fathom," #18 replied, "only because that is none of my primary concerns."
"I swear, if the reason we're albino is that it because it 'looks cool', I'm going strangle a kitten," the Terminator remarked.
"And how is that relatively worse compared to mass genocide of all sentient life?" asked the Old One.
"They're cuter, smaller, and somehow, even when they grow up, the humans and demihumans come off as way worse in comparison," the Terminator replied, "I mean, how does having both opposable thumbs and a working sapience make them feel like they're ones on top of the world while sucking at everything they do!? It's like self-sabotage is their sole purpose!"
"Never questioned it," the Old One of Depravity remarked, "I mean, why bother asking when it works in our favor? Dumb people in general are just there to be exploited and establish the pecking order of the cosmos."
"Of course, that much I can comprehend," #18 remarked, "this body still has residual memories of being powerless in the face of masses, authority, and the establishment. Everyone, yet no one is truly to blame."
"So what, humans, no matter what world they're from, are mess of contradictions?" the Terminator pointed out.
"That is the case," #18 answered.
"... Jesus Christ, how the hell did you guys survive after all this time?" the Terminator pointed out in aghast.
"The lovely thing about humans is that they breed like rabbits," the Old One remarked, "and besides, contrary to popular belief, gods didn't create humans, humans, and to a lesser extent, every living being with a functioning sapience, created gods. Not my fault I represent all of their sickest and twisted desires that they keep bottled up inside their souls. It's a lot like democracy, where one has the right to choose who gets to speak for them, and as long as the people exist, we Old Ones and the Outer Ones will continue to thrive, while the so-called 'gods' that poor ol' Medea has no idea what she's really getting into, will continue to feed off of our sloppy seconds."
"... Okay, gonna pretend I didn't hear that," the Terminator remarked as it forcibly deleted the past few minutes' worth of its memory in its brain, "... so sir, any ideas?"
"I got one," #18 remarked, "all of you, find somewhere isolated where no one is looking."
All of them begin to migrate elsewhere where the nearest human company was a lone skeleton for miles on around. All of them then gathered around #18, who was now laid flat on its back, facing the skies above.
"... What do you want us to do?" asked the Terminator.
"Before we start, I must ask all of you a question," asked #18, "do any of you have souls?"
"We're synthetic," replied a Terminator with a [Remington 870 Masterkey] holstered around her upper thigh, "we have distinct personalities, but we're no different from [Automatons], except being made of meat and bones made of unknown carbon-based composition that never deteriorates."
"Okay, but what about the broad hanging around?" the Old One pointed out, "ya sure her being immune to the Ink from last time wasn't a fluke, or is she really soulless?"
"We can literally detect souls from a 2 mile-radius," a Terminator with an [M4] pointed out, "if the bitch princess had a soul, she would stick out like a sore thumb, then our internal kill sensors would be going all bleep-boop bleep-boop like mad right now, and we'd have the bitch ventilated from all directions."
Malty upon hearing it begins to suffer through a mild existential crisis.
"So what, is she like a Fragment or somethin'?" pointed out the eye-mouth, "... come to think of it... I need to confirm something. Can you bring me closer to her so that I can confirm her origin-"
"You're trying to transfer yourself to her as your new vessel, correct?" pointed out #18, "she may not have a soul, but she's not the one contractually bound, unlike me, correct?"
"... No," the Old One lied.
"I've wasted enough time dealing with your stupidity, we're proceeding with the plan," said #18, "all of you, cut my body into pieces. No time to explain, but all you need to know is that as soon as it rains, that's your opening to move into Faubley."
All of them then took out their combat knives and hatchets and begin mutilating #18's body into pieces. By the time they were done, #18's vaguely-humanoid body was now more akin to a butchered animal divided into different cuts of meat that would be sold at a butcher shop.
"... Okay, what now?" asked the Terminator with the [P90].
From the skies, their ears picked up the sounds of fluttering, which prompted all of them to pull out their weapons at the coming foe, only for them to spot none, yet their sensors detect a presence of a thousand.
The elusive anomalies then all gather towards the butchered body parts, their forms of small magpie-like birds with a whole eyeball for their heads reveal themselves to pick up the pieces of meat dripping with the pitch-black Ink as they all flew away with the piecemeal corpse in their talons.
Chi tries to shoot one of them down, but as one of the magpies pass by his ear, he hears #18's voice saying the following.
"Don't fire upon them," ordered #18's voice, "they're part of the plan."
Before they could to anything, #18's corpse was nowhere to be found, and neither those weird magpie-lookalikes.
"... Uh, guys?" asked Chi, "were those things [Bird Eyes]?"
"I thought he'd absorbed all of them into its own body along with the others..." pointed out Alpha as her fingertip caressed her [Death Scythe]'s edge, "... that is, unless... they're now all part of its whole."
"I saw severed arm grow a mouth that passed by Chi's ear," Beta remarked as she checked her workings of her [Thunder Coil Mace], "remember, #18 is an [Abomination], not a human."
"... Okay, so self-mutilation doesn't kill it," Chi remarked as he scratched the back of his head, "alright then, guess we'll have to wait for the rain."
Above the skies, the various body parts severed from each other than began growing mouths from their inflicted wounds and begins to chant out an incantation spoken and raved in an indiscernible language that would drive the sanest of humans mad.
"Black Cats and Black Dogs, twin signs of misfortunes that shall become my cogs, upon the waning twilight I beckon, to my opposition, the shattering of their souls I reckon."
The mouths that chanted the incantation then began huffing out black fumes from their mouths, the coal-black clouds slowly gathering above the skies above Faubley, completely hidden above the clouds as the ritual commenced.
"The season of the Old Ones is nigh, at their suffering, with contempt, I sigh, throughly I shall dye the world in the blackest of dark, upon the descending eclipse, let the Hounds of Tindalos loudly bark."
The chanting mouths then devolving into feral barking as they began to produce even more black fumes with each yipe and bark huffing out another cloud of coal-colored plumes.
"Sanity and humanity's bond itself shall be severed from their link..."
The clouds then begin to fall into the white clouds below, completely assimilating it into its own mass in order to expand its range and size.
"... As the canvas of Creation is blotted with the Ink."
Then, droplets of black Ink begins to fall upon the entire city of Faubley. Then, the [Bird Eyes] then let go of their piecemeal corpse parts, dropping them at different parts of the corridors of the capital city.
"... It begins," a mouth on a neck remarked as it landed inside a trash chute.
The skin above the blackened flesh and bone begins to bubble outwards, the tumors growing into limbs, stumbling itself out of the wastebasket into a quadrupedal thing.
"... So, how does growing out another body feel?" the Old One snarked from another mouth.
"Negligible," replied the growth, "for #18 has now infiltrated the city as an infestation."
"... Yeah, that's the good ol' goat momma's schtick," the eye-mouth pointed out, "ultimate physical malleability indeed I can grant you, but this is the furthest you can push it, pal."
"Don't need to push it any further," the now-fully-grown head remarked as it looked through the window of an alleyway residence, morphing one of its fleshy hands into a lock pick-like formation, inserting it into the door's keyhole and breaching the residence.
Next to it, a dog growls at the four-legged head. But before it can bark, the head absorbs the dog into its own mouth, swallowing it whole and turning itself into a part of its constitutional flesh supply.
The quadrupedal head then morphs itself into a more canine-like form, or more specifically, a canine outline made of threadbare strands of meat and bone, the Ink spilling out between the gaps.
"... Who says I have to be the only one who has to bear this burden?" pointed out the [Abomination], now transformed into a [Tindalos], "they will contribute, without compromise."
All the Old One of Depravity can do is simply watch as its host then devours the family residing upstairs, seeing it eat them one by one, which it would feel even the minuscule amount of pleasure of eating good food, but alas, the lack of any sensory pleasure being registered into its very being created a paradox.
As the Old One of Depravity, it should feel pleasure from everything, yet its host has given that up and solely replaced it with an autonomous drive for simple extermination. Almost mindless, completely thoughtless, behaving more akin to a virus rather than a living being.
... I think Azathoth might have competition, Y'[CENSORED] thought as the [Tindalos] finished consuming a little girl not even past the age of 5, the mere thought is too much, even for me.
As the [Tindalos] smashed out of the window, the sounds of screaming and laughing permeated throughout the whole city. The echoes of ripping flesh and drumming gunfire filled the murky air as the Ink began to pollute everyone's souls exposed to it.
Mainly, sensory pleasure, which the amount of being distributed being way more than enough to drive anyone beyond sanity. The rain of Ink took hold of the whole capital, its vigilant and disciplined guards now converted into madmen eating their own families and friends to the smallest of vermin and strays, all the while firing their [AK-47]s into the air recklessly.
Outside of Faubley, the Terminators took notice of the disintegrating situation at the capital city ahead of them, registering that as their signal to move in.
"Alright, it's time," Chi remarked as he pulled out a black rain poncho and wore it over his body as the others did the same, sans Malty, who was still tied up in a spit, "... and before you ask, little miss whore princess... we're only wearing this because it looks cool. That and well, being white in a mostly black environment, we might as well be slathered in neon Christmas lights."
Their red irises then turn bright green.
"Bravo Six, going dark," Chi declared as he led the other Terminators towards the now-anarchic city, "... I always wanted to say that," he goofily smiled as he drew out his [USP .45 Match]s.
"Dork," Beta deadpanned.
OST Now Playing: Takedown Favela (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2)
The Terminators crept into the now-maddened city, the infected shooting their weapons at reckless abandon, hitting whomever were unfortunate enough to get shot, their souls now pitch-black, spreading their influence like a plague.
"So do we take em?" asked the Terminator as he cocked his [SCAR-H SSR]'s bolt.
"Let em sort themselves out," remarked Chi as they witness the [Tindalos] devour one whole, the other guards too far gone to even notice their imminent demise, "spread out," he ordered as he pulled down the armored visor of his Altyn Helmet, "no one's leaving this city alive, understood?"
The Terminators nod in acknowledgement.
"Move."
The gunners then begin spreading out throughout the alleyways, checking each building for anyone living in there, the sounds of barking and laughing permeating throughout the black rain that trickled down their ponchos.
"Contact," the Terminator stated as she pulled out her [Remington 870 Masterkey] upon hearing footsteps thumping from behind the door next to her.
As soon as the door was opened, revealing a middle-aged militiaman with a [PPSh-41] slung around his shoulder, the Terminator shot the man's leg, disabling him and immediately rushed into the building weapons free.
The other men posted in the room reached towards their weapons, but a Terminator with a [P90] cut them all down instantly with a spray of bullets. Outside, the now-one-legged militiaman was now exposed to the effects of the Ink, reducing his humble dignity into that of a rabid animal, but just as before he can fire his own weapon, the [PPSh-41] was wrestled out of his hands before his own head was stomped flat like a rotten tomato, exploding like a water balloon filled with mud under the boot of the Terminator.
"First floor clear," stated the Terminator as he raised his [M249]'s barrel up towards the ceiling, firing upwards as the bullets pierced through the wooden floors above, killing anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the unsuspected random fire, as evidenced by the blood spilling through the holes from above.
The whole ceiling then collapses into the first floor, several corpses slamming down to the floor, and a sole survivor with a bleeding arm followed shortly after, both in the fall and towards the grave.
"Second floor clear," the Terminator with the [M249] remarked as he took the [RPD] that was near the recently-killed survivor, "... dammit, we lost a high ground. We're gonna have to find another."
"Way to go, genius," deadpanned the Terminator with a [P90] as he and the others traversed the alleyway, the other buildings being cleared out of its inhabitants, with special mention going to Beta using her [Thunder Coil Mace] as a hand ram to break down the doors, followed up by the Terminators with the [M4]s to spray their bullets at the people inside.
"Hey," the Terminator with the [P90] greeted Beta as the others rushed into their [M4]s blazing, making their way up to the second floor of the building, "we kinda tore up the building we were in and we don't have a roof to stand on-"
A sudden explosion from the second floor then cuts off the Terminator's statement, causing the roof above them to collapse upon the Terminators.
"... We look elsewhere," Beta surmised as she blew out her whistle, the Terminators buried under the rubble bursting out of the wreckage, but their [M4]s destroyed, "... mind lending us a few arms on your person?"
With a grumble, they hand the other Terminators the captured [PPSh-41] and [AK-47]s.
"Alright, watch for explosives," Beta remarked as she led the other Terminators throughout the alleyways, meeting up with Alpha, still with Malty tied behind her back like an infantry flagpole, "Alpha, report."
"Well, I'd give them credit for not running, in spite of their imminent demise," commented Alpha as she tossed her [Death Scythe] towards a crazed militiaman, the blade staked into his chest as he fell down laughing, "still though, them committing mass-suicide makes more sense than this pointless resistance."
"Humans never made sense to begin with," Beta pointed out as she broke down one door with her [Thunder Coil Mace], allowing the other Terminators to rush in and clear out the residents, "life itself is a paradox. They're simply born one moment to die in another, whenever it may be. They try and make sense of their illogical existence, knowing that their efforts are in vain. At least we have a clear purpose, to rid the contradictions and wipe the slate clean, including ourselves upon our work reaching completion."
"... Fair enough," Alpha sighed out as she ran off elsewhere, retrieving her [Death Scythe] from the dead body before going out into the open and massacring the lunatic lot.
Back Up at the Perch of the Castle...
"Shit, shit, shit!" cursed Itsuki as he looked through his scope from his [PTRS-41], only seeing black rain drizzle down upon the whole city, the ones being drenched and dyed black suddenly going insane and releasing their arms in random directions, "what the hell is going on out there!? Where did this rain come from!? And what are those things out in the open!? WHY DON'T THEY HAVE ANY SKIN!?"
The scene unfolding before him, Itsuki couldn't even fathom. The madness spread throughout his sight was impossible to describe with mere words.
All his brain can visualize was a once-white, blank sheet of paper being suddenly tossed and sprayed with black ink fresh out of the jar, each splash being different from the last, yet he knew what the end result would be, regardless of which order it came from.
Black. Nothing but black. The void beyond the conceptual infinity.
Their souls sunk like rocks in water, their sanities evaporated into vapor out of a steaming kettle, and not one, not one decibel of laughter was uttered by the perpetrator.
Just a cold, unfeeling impartiality. A machine for slaughtering pigs into butcher products, for a simple meat grinder doesn't think, simply moves its inner workings as they themselves are tossed into its maws.
"I'm not a pig... I'm not a pig..." shuddered Itsuki as he retreated further back in as he felt the winds picking up, almost blowing the black rain into his direction and onto him, "... I'm not going to let myself die without doing anything. I'm not going to die as a nobody."
Even himself wasn't sure if he was going insane, whether through stress mounting or the effects of the rain. Still, he reformulated himself in his nest, now lying on his belly while draping his whole body with his cloak acting as a waterproof tarp while re-zeroing his sights back on the battlefield.
Through the sights, he spots another skinless-werewolf like creature, and no matter what he can see through his own HUD, its HP and Level were labeled as "?". However, their behavior were simple; the more they ate, the bigger and stronger they become. But that of itself doesn't correlate with the purpose of the black rain, which only seeks to drive one mad should they be exposed to it.
... Then, Itsuki noticed something between each separate abomination. Each of them had a discernible human body part as their own, with the first having a visible human eye on its left, the other having a set of human mandibles, and other having thick eyebrows with a tuft of blackish-white hair.
They weren't individuals, they were simply parts of a greater whole, acting akin to a semi-coordinated swarm, just as how he saw ants fighting a larger insect on a TV documentary that he saw back when he was a kid.
"Okay, which one?" Itsuki asked to himself as he gleaned down at the horde before him, "which one of you are leading?"
Then, something popped into his scope. Another creature with another mouth, this one being more chatty than the other one, and oddly enough, the other one with the additional mouth absorbing a human body with its own, rather than using the mouth to devour.
"THERE YOU ARE!" cried out Itsuki as he fired his [PTRS-41], the specialized payload being released through the barrel, enchanted five times over with numerous curses and the bullet's composition being made of mythril, the lightest and durable material metal in this world, packing enough force to pierce through castle walls.
One bullet is enough to kill anything alive, but in hindsight, Itsuki should've known that the prey he'd spotted through his scope, were the furthest thing from "alive".
"... No," he uttered in defeat as he saw the mouth catch the mythril round midair, proceeding to eat it before him, as to mock him for his attempt, "... no."
Back Down Below Itsuki's Perch...
"THERE YOU ARE."
All the Tindalos then converged towards the castle in an instant, coming towards it like an entire colony of ants swarming towards the nearest scrap of food that was dropped to the earth.
They leapt across the moats, their claws and limbs penetrated into the castle's exterior of marble and cement, and upon reaching the nearest breaching point, grill bars of steel and panes of glass alike were broken through, pouring in thousands of skinless and boneless abominations into the castle in a cascade of flesh and bile.
The Tindalos then begin to meld back together, a humanoid body growing itself back into its whole, the remnants now reverting back into their canine postures.
"So mister, how was your little self-experimentation with how far you can take my powers?" the Old One snarked in its eye-mouth form, "for the record, I am not for one to advocate for aping goat-mom ever again. Doubly so when I can't even feel the sensation of my own flesh being ripped apart, let alone anything!"
"I am in no position to make any promises," bluntly replied #18, "neither are you any position to make any demands. I paid my price for your services, and you are contractually-bound to function as a part of the vessel. You have no one but yourself to blame for failing to take into consequences that your vessel cannot feel anything. As the Old One of Hedonism, your thought process ultimately culminates to 'rape, murder, eat, do anything that brings sensory pleasure'."
The Old One goes completely silent at his vessel's words.
"So as the others might say, 'shut up and do your damn job'," #18 finished off as he then signaled the remnant Tindalos to overrun whoever's left in the castle.
Out of the halls, several Tindalos were sent flying out of the entrance, with a group of armed women and girls led by a strapping young man with waist-length golden hair with a red bandana, wielding a whip in his hands.
"... Gonna get this out of your memories, but he looks like Dickson from Xenoblade Chronicles sans the goatee," the eye-mouth remarked, "alright, kill their asses."
The Tindalos charge in even as the two of the girls transform into a [Dragon Queen] and a [Griffon Queen]. #18 then pulls out his [Oración Seis] from the Old One's eye-mouth and opens fire at the group firing their [AK-47]s while the leader parried the shots with his whip.
"[Whip Hero] confirmed," #18 stated as he reloaded the gun's empty chamber with his own Ink staining the empty pages rolled up inside the slots, "proceeding with the execution."
The gun then fires pitch black shots, with one of them grazing by her shoulder, causing her to immediately start shooting her own weapon at her own allies, but the [Whip Hero] simply lashes the neck off of her head without hesitation, cutting off a loose end in order to continue to fight #18.
"DIE MONSTER!" the [Whip Hero] cried out as his [Legendary Whip] lashed towards #18, "YOU DON'T BELONG IN THIS WORLD!"
"What is a man, but a miserable pile of secrets?" Y'[CENSORED] mockingly played along by taking cues from his host's residual memories, "but enough talk. HAVE AT YOU!"
Tact
NOTHING OF WORTH
The whiplash strikes the eye-mouth, only for the tip to be clamped between the sets of the guest's teeth as #18's body opens a cavity, revealing a [Bahamut Emperor]'s head, firing a beam of light towards the opposing party.
00100011 00110001 00111000
01000100 01100101 01110110 01101111 01110101 01110010
Surrounding Blackness...
"What... the hell?" remarked L'Arc as he opened his eyes, only to see nothing but darkness, with the only distinctions of color being everyone else who were at the Archive while they were being raided by the [Daemons] running amok.
"... L'Arc?" called out Glass as she rubbed her eyes, "Theresa? Everyone?"
"Still alive..." Garou remarked.
"Seiryu present," the antler-helmed girl groaned out as she helped Suzaku back up to his feet, "so is baby bro."
"Fuck..." swore Rino as she stripped off her cloak while retrieving her crossbow, "... where are we? Did the damn book transport us here?"
Garou then sniffed the air, only to realize that someone else, sans Rio, was missing.
"... Where's Wyndia?" he asked, "she wasn't around when I touched the black cube, wasn't she?"
Then a certain array of numbers filled everyone's visions repeatedly.
01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101
"The hell are these supposed to mean!?" L'Arc barked out as the numbers flooded his vision, "the numbers! The hell are these supposed to be!?"
"I dunno, I dunno, I dunno!" panicked Garou as he was also overwhelmed by numbers, only for a new array of numbers to take their place, again, in infinitum.
01100011 01100001 01101100 01101101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110111 01101110
"It's speaking to us..." Glass pointed out as she herself tried to make sense of what's going on with the numbers, "... in another language."
"Hold on, I got this!" Theresa remarked as she pulled out a lapis lazuli engraved with a rune marking, "[Discern]!"
The numbers then turned into words... for better or for worse.
NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE NOT HERE
"OH MY GOD, YOU MADE IT WORSE!" Rino cried out as her eyes then were flooded with another phrase that repeated itself, presumably the numbers being repeated infinitely.
CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN CALM DOWN
"'CALM DOWN' MY ASS!" Garou cried out as he clutched his head in agony, "IF YOU'RE GOING TO TALK TO US, SPEAK LIKE A REGULAR PERSON!"
The words repeated ad infinitum then stopped. And only then, a single sentence was spelled out before them.
Can you handle it?
"... We can handle that compared to what the hell was all that bullshit before," L'Arc remarked, "so quit fucking with us, and just show yourself!"
Then another sentence was spelled out before them.
What is "yourself"? What is a "regular person"? Is it something that you were taught? If so, by whom? Society? Peers? Sensory?
"Oh great, it's spouting long-winded philosophy about whatever it's speaking," Glass sighed out in frustration, "... why does it sound like Nan?"
Another sentence was spelled out before them.
The name, "Nan Hon-Jah", what does it mean?
"... You're saying that it means something?" Theresa pointed out, trying to use her gemstone to translate the name, but failing.
To answer Theresa's curiosity, another sentence was spelled out.
It means "I am alone".
Then, a ball of dim light descends before them, seemingly, the one communicating with words that they involuntarily see in their eyes.
Greetings.
This is the First.
This was the Only.
But this designation is #1.
#1
UNEARTHED PRIMORDIAL
"... #1?" L'Arc remarked, "... you mean like, you're the first of that psycho #18?"
#18 is no longer an existence.
It has reached Terminus.
So, before any of you can start asking, what does "#18" mean?
"... 18..." Garou remarked as his brain spun its gears into overdrive, "you're saying that there were-"
"Nan Hon-Jah" has perished 18 times throughout the course of this world's civilization's genesis.
What you've bore witness to was the final stage of its [Evolution].
"[Evolution]?" Rino remarked, "like a monster?"
#18 is no mere monster.
#18 is the "Perfect God" that the First has worked towards creating.
"'PERFECT GOD'!?" L'Arc barked out, "WHY!? WHAT'S SO PERFECT ABOUT #18!?"
Gods and Goddesses are created by the law of creation.
Medea, a former prepubescent female lifeform, wished for significance in world that deemed her insignificant.
She eventually became the Goddess through her determination, and in order to assert her dominance, she has sent [Fragments] all across creation to that end.
However, if Gods and Goddesses create, why do they do so in the first place?
"... What?" Glass gawked out, "... we were created by her?"
You are wrong.
Contrary to the universal belief, the "Up" didn't contribute to "Down".
The "Up" are those you deem as "divinity", the "Down" are the ones deemed "mortals".
In other words, all of you created Medea.
And not just you lot whom are present.
Anyone who has a mere sense of "self" has contributed to her conception.
The idea of one being a [Hero] to his or her own "Story", Medea is the Conceptual Goddess of Ego and Identity.
As long as anyone has a single letter to their existent name, Medea will persist.
She genuinely believes herself to be a [Hero] to her own "Story".
The utterly harrowing revelation has now crushed whatever hope had remained in their hearts.
"... So you're saying..." L'Arc choked out his words, "... as long as we acknowledge ourselves, Medea won't die, and countless other worlds will be forced to kowtow before her ego!?"
And this is where #18 comes in.
The reason why Gods create [Fragments], are to compensate for their imperfections.
[Fragments] are mere "what-ifs" to a God's former selves, living out their lives the way they wanted to.
Malty and the [Whip Hero] are but few of many.
For two to coexist, particularly both coming from the Goddess of Self, are irreconcilable.
However, because of her ego, she's disregarded her own weakness.
"... What do you mean?" Garou asked, "... you're saying big bro-I mean, #18 is some sort of anti-god?"
Alone, she's weak.
Collectively, she's invincible.
However, she's created her own system where's she herself is above her own lesser "selves".
The system is rigid, designed to punish anyone who dares to deviate.
So what happens when a Queen of the hive needs to be replaced?
"... Another Queen will take its place," answered Theresa, "but if you're implying that Medea's ego won't allow anyone to replace her-"
Hence, the "Perfect God".
Without their Queen, the rest of her Fragments will lose direction, unable to even breath the same air as their own.
The same can be said for the rest of the Gods.
The "Perfect God" simply exists to destroy and leave nothing behind.
If the Gods exist to perpetuate, the "Perfect God" is the conceptual "The End" of the "Story" known as "Creation".
"So... in order to kill Medea..." Glass stammered out, on her last dredges of her very sanity, "... EVERYTHING HAS TO DISAPPEAR!?"
Separate roles cannot be changed.
Only individual players can easily be replaced.
As much the [Legendary Scythe] can easily have chosen anyone called other than "L'Arc Berg Sickle", anyone else can easily become like Medea.
What they all felt wasn't hope or despair.
They wanted to laugh, now knowing that they've wasted their lives for nothing.
Concede.
You can all stop worrying over nothing.
Accept it.
Your "Journeys" are but mere final dying gasps of air that you've wasted.
Sleep.
The "World" won't judge when it's not there.
"... Screw that," L'Arc growled out, "... 'Perfect God', MY ASS!"
He then swings his [Sacred Scythe] towards the ball of light.
The blade cuts through the light, the latter unaffected.
Do you resist?
"DAMN STRIGHT!" L'Arc barked out as he pointed his weapon at the ball of light, "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK! THIS IS MY LIFE TO LIVE, AND I AM NOT GIVING UP JUST BECAUSE THERE'S AN ENDING TO IT! THE ONLY ONE WHO DECIDES HOW MY STORY ENDS IS ME! AND I DON'T CARE IF I MAKE MEDEA OR ANY OTHER DEMENTED GOD STRONGER BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIVING THEIR LIVES! I'LL FIND A WAY SOMEHOW! I WON'T LET IT LIKE THIS!"
"... That's right," Glass remarked as she recovered her bearings, "... our lives are our own. I don't care if someone gave it to me, it's not your right to simply end it all!"
"All of the people we loved, all of whom we've cherished..." said Theresa as she wiped the tears off of her face, "... we continued to live because of them. I won't let them all be in vain!"
"'Do this, do that', in the end, some higher power is pulling our strings..." Rino gritted her teeth in rage, "... I'M SICK OF FOLLOWING ORDERS! TO HELL WITH YOU AND MALTY! I'M GOING TO LIVE HOWEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE!"
"I never cared for my place in this world..." Seiryu declared, "... as long as I'm alive, I'll keep fighting!"
"I know I'm weak..." Suzaku pointed out, "... but it's because of that is why I have a reason to live!"
"You made one, stupid mistake when you said that, #1," Garou's voice tremors out, the memories of Fubuki being shot in front of him, "... you made me lose the only thing that kept me tethered to living. YOU THINK LIVING ITSELF IS BAD!? JUST SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK WITH SOMEONE WHO HAS NOTHING ELSE TO LOSE!"
Unfortunately, there's only one ending to everyone's "Story".
The ball of dim light then turns into a black hole.
Gods and Mortals, all will no longer matter.
The [Fragments] are an epidemic, an excess of itself.
This is the only cure left.
Euthanasia.
You've all acknowledged your own existences.
You all have been confirmed as "excess".
Commencing deletion of excess existence.
Only one will remain in order to prevent any further excess.
The ball of black mass then forms a sickle-like protrusion that swiped at them, hooking Garou's stomach as it then devoured the wolf-boy whole before the rest of them can react.
Upon finishing, the wolf-boy is then spat out as a book.
[The Hungry Big Bad Wolf]
The book then opens its cover.
A deceptive predator stalking and waiting for its next meal.
#1 then transforms into Grimm.
"Grimm?" asked L'Arc.
"Sorry," the [Forbidden Tome] apologized, "the so-called 'Grimm' was a front. My real name is Nan Hon-Jah, and I've been like this for over 1000 years."
The First then eats the tome labeled as [The Hungry Big Bad Wolf].
"Henshin."
The tome itself then explodes into black flames, transforming itself into a giant, hunchbacked skeletal humanoid taking various canine features beneath its "skeleton" armor, grabbing a one-handed longsword by its blade, the grip tightening around the edge causing it to seep out Ink from its hands. Its eyes were a pair of burning coal pits, the embers in it waving around like a hellish aurora, it's slobbering maws and blade-like teeth arranged rows akin to saw blades gnashed out at the five. An abominable fusion of man and beast stood before the four, completely detached from all sense of conventions of civility and sanity, one completely born from darkness and destined to die in the darkness.
The Last Man
YOU WILL EVER SEE AT [THE END]
The Last Man then lets out an unholy howl before pouching towards them.
"INCOMING!" L'Arc cried out as The Last Man crashed unto them like a meteor.
The Last Man's roar bellowed throughout the void, quaking and rippling the black surrounding all of them.
At an Unknown Forest...
The land itself was dying, the balance between civilization and nature has been rendered irrelevant.
Standing before 8 grave posts, a small female with a pair of short white wings coming out of her back stood silently, as other Filolials gathered behind her.
"#2, #4, #6, #8, #10, #12, #14, and #16," the winged female declared, "out of all the things I am burdened with, the memories of your eternal reoccurrence are the only ones I'll never forget."
She then looks out towards the darkening skies, the smell of mud and smoke filling the air.
"Children, get to cover, now," the winged girl ordered, the other Filolials, "The Last Man has finally been awakened inside the Pandora's Box."
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: I am seriously doing this while midterms for my second semester are coming up.
Still though, prefer to get this one out of the way before the midterms come up, so what the hell.
Anyway, CoD: MW2 tribute aside, I had a bit more to offer when it came to the idea of how my interpretation of how divinity works in the world of Rising of the Shield Hero. Arc did say that if a civilization or a world is advanced enough, then anyone from there can become godlike, implying a bottom-up promotion.
So how about deconstruct that idea? Apply a little of the Idea of Evil's nature from Berserk (Gods didn't create humans; the latter created the former as a scapegoat), and apply [First Heaven, The Truth: Mithra, Shinga]'s Moral System of "I am righteous and no one else" from Shinza Bashou Franchise, that's basically Medea's nature in a nutshell, or at the very least, how I interpret it. I mean, as the Goddess of Ego and Identity, she practically runs on the conceptual ideal of "Be Yourself" taken to its logical extreme.
So against the ultimate egoist, what better opposition than the ultimate nihilist?
The whole idea of the "Perfect God" is based off the D-Reaper from Digimon Tamers; its sole purpose was to delete excess data. However, if "everything" is classified as "excess", then there's nothing stopping it from "deleting" everything in its path. As now in this story progression, it's still in need of maturity, but the first threshold has been broken/the destruction of "self", just to avoid becoming an "Almighty Idiot" like [Sixth Heaven, The Evil One: Māra Papiyas, Hajun] also from Shinza Bashou Franchise (can't even notice anyone but itself, hence why it hasn't just shot all of creation full of its hate plague and got the whole plot over with).
... I swear, more of everything will be elaborated later. For now, I got real life to deal with.
Also, one last note, The Last Man's appearance is based off Kamen Rider Saber's Primitive Dragon Form, only with a default wolf motif. Also, the Terminators behave like the White Blood Cells from Cells at Work, but as antagonists.
And with that, I'll see you next time.