Asmodai lurching his way through the tunnels of Mount Nibel looked like something straight out of a horror movie. He drunkenly made his way around the twists and curves of the halls, occasionally slamming his side into a wall and letting out a high-pitched noise that was reminiscent of a cat's shriek. As he went, strange words and phrases were slipping through his clenched teeth like gas escaping a well-sealed tank. His black eyes darted side-to-side, endlessly scanning for nothing. His fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically. His breath was hot and came in short bursts that painted the air around him with the lingering stink of expired food and rotted teeth. Frequently, he would giggle to himself - a giggle that contradicted everything about him, one that was soft and pure and might be heard at a school playground during recess. Asmodai was angry and confused. Asmodai was also excited and eager. But most of all - Asmodai was insane.
Oh that whore. He thought to himself. She dares to make me feel the pain? She dares to betray me after I gave her my love? My… my LOVE!!? No… maybe not my love. But my time, yes, my time. And that might be more important. Wasn't it He who said: "Time is more important than love."? Yes, it was He who said it. It was Asmodai!
The hunched over thing laughed heartily at this thought, to which a black-robe who was several tunnels away stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the insane noise that drifted down the hall.
At the end of his laugh, Asmodai began a nasty coughing fit - one which ended with him spewing out a thick, black liquid into his cupped hands. He made a low gurgling sound in his throat to clear out any residue, and then proceeded to hock a giant black and green and white ball of snot at the floor. He looked down at it as he made his way past and couldn't help another laugh that slipped through his teeth.
Heh-heh-heh… yes, it would have been lovely to take you down there my dear. Oh how we would have had fun down there. Down there by the banks of the endless river of life. Deep, deep, deep down under the mountain where only the bravest of brave go, and only the strongest of strong return. How you would have loved sitting on a rock, looking at the river with me. Staring into the black abyss that once was white and green and pretty but has now turned black and thick and slimy. Oh yes, some say it's been rotted, but I say it's been ripened! HAHAHA! You would have loved to hear that one, yes, I think you would have. Maybe you'll still see… after they've changed you. Will it be the same? Will you still talk to me like you used to? Wait… no! NO NO NO! Not like that, that was a lie! All lies, in fact. You are the deceiver, but now they'll fix you right my love. They'll make you pure again just like they did to your mother.
Asmodai put one trembling hand up to his cheek and touched it. The skin on his face felt dead and fake. A whiny sound came out of his throat and he clenched his teeth even tighter together.
Why did you have to hurt me, my love!? Why!? Was it because I wanted to hurt him? I think that was it dear. I think you love him dear. Not me dear. We can't have that. Didn't you think it was funny though? How I came to him and I put on that little show. "Daddy! DADDY!" HAHAHA! No luck kid, daddies gone and soon you'll be too. Even if they change you, I'll make sure you'll go away too. I'll shove you into the endless river that once was white and green and pretty, but has now turned black and thick and slimy. Oh yes. You'll smother before you drown. The lifestream will clog up your throat and your nose and your eyes and your ears. Then you'll know what it's like to be dead. You'll know what it's like long before your body dies. HAHAHA! Yes, I like that idea quite a bit.
Names weren't important to Asmodai anymore, so he didn't bother to remember them. The woman he spoke of who had "deceived" him and then hurt him was Marlene. The one he believed she loved and now he wanted to kill was Teioh. Even his own name (his real name) he had forgotten, for he wasn't always crazy, unstable Asmodai. Once - longer than he cared to, or could, remember - he was Allen. He was Allen long before the cult came to him; long before the experiments they performed on him; long before a guy named Allen ceased to exist, and the thing named Asmodai replaced him. A thing that was now long gone off the deep end and was more monster than man. He didn't even believe he was, or ever had been, a human. His thoughts were random and dangerous, causing him to always live his life from one crazy obsession to the next. A month ago it had been rocks. He studied the shape and size of them, the sound they made when they were thrown at all different lengths, the color of them, the taste of them. It had been an obscure and queer obsession, but it was not much of a dangerous one. His current obsession, however, was Marlene - and he was determined (at least for the time being) to make her his, for she had come to him in the short time she was playing along with the cult and actually spoken to the horrible creature.
Imagine that, Asmodai thought when she had first stopped in front of him in the hall and introduced herself. This human speaks to Asmodai willingly… this human must… must love Asmodai.
And so the obsession began, and would not end until something else caught his attention, or he himself ended it in his way - which even he wasn't sure how that was.
Now Asmodai lurched through the tunnels of the mountain, half insane, half obsessed, and he was determined to make everyone and anyone pay that stood between him and his love.
Yes, my love. You will be changed. Just like I was, for even the great Asmodai was confused once… so long ago that what he was confused about has been forgotten, but confused he was nevertheless. They'll put the black stuff in your veins, and it will wrap and coil around them until it reaches your heart - THEN we'll see what you think of Asmodai. THEN we'll see how you feel about him, indeed. Maybe you will be given a gift, like I have! Wouldn't that be wonderful dear? For the lifestream has many powers - some known, some not - and you will feel most of them inside you when it comes. The lifestream changed me, I remember that much, and it gave me power that none other on this planet posses. Oh yes. The best. Only Asmodai posses - the power in my chest! HAHAHA! The lifestream knows, dear. It knows what the heart wants, and it SHOWS what the heart wants. It will make me the one you love the most. It will make me someone from long ago whose been secret and forgotten in the deepest depths of your heart. Because the lifestream knows, dear. It knows and shows, and soon enough you'll know, and we shall bathe in the all-powerful knowledge of the lifestream together. Forever.
Asmodai giggled at that thought and turned a corner. Around it was a door, and behind that was his love - probably in the process of being changed right at that moment. He grinned at that belief: a dark, crazy grin that was the mask for a thousand insane thoughts.
That's when he heard the sound of chains rustling about. He sharply cocked his head towards the direction the sound had traveled from, which was just down the hall to his left. He studied that path hard for a moment, his beady, black eyes locked in a relentless stare, his thick and puss-filled nostrils flaring rhythmically. He looked like some insane dog that had crept out of the bowels of hell and was hot on the trail of an injured angel.
The noise came again - a soft, jingling sort of sound.
A low grunt leaped from his mouth as he heard it, and suddenly, he was heading in the direction of the noise in quick steps.
Whose that dear? He thought as he went. Is that a bad man coming to stop you from changing? Who could it be my love? Who would want to stop you from becoming perfect?
He jogged (if it could be called jogging) down the hall a bit quicker, eager - almost hungry - to reach the source of the noise. His movements were sluggish and filled with a clumsiness that came with years of derangement, but alas, they were determined movements, and soon enough he was standing in the room that birthed the peculiar 'clink-clank' sound. Only now, the noise was accompanied by a chorus of whispers that sounded like they were trapped inside the walls. On a look around the room he was in, Asmodai decided he was wrong - not the walls they came from, but the ground. He stood in the upper room of the feeding pit, and saw The Descender had been already lowered by its chains deep into the mountains belly. Yet the chains were the source of the sound he heard and was still hearing. Three of them stood almost completely still to the fools eye, but Asmodai had no fools eye. He could see the subtle movements in them: the subtle movements that gently jerked them up against the ground and caused the slightest little jingling sound - a noise that would be lost on the fools ear, but Asmodai had no fools ear. The whispers were getting nearer to. Asmodai took another second of listening to confirm this, and when he was certain he was correct, he moved over to a crate in the corner of the room and bent low behind it. The sluggish, almost infant-like movements he had in the hall had been completely erased. He was focused now, and a focused Asmodai could move as quietly and swiftly as the wind itself.
As he poked one half of his slimy, dead-looking face around the corner of the crate, he was sure to stay hidden in its shadow. Although, after all, it didn't really matter if they saw him. They wouldn't actually see him, but they would see something.
Oh yes… they'd see something alright. The lifestream knows. And it shows.
One by one, Asmodai watched them come crawling out - like ants from an ant hole. The first three, the women, had once been associates to their party - but now, it seemed (and Asmodai began to wonder if all women were this way) that they had betrayed them. No problems there: three more ants to squash under his boot. The last two were unfamiliar to Asmodai - a dark-skinned kid and a pudgy one who looked about as red as an Ifrit's tail and who rained sweat from his chubby face. No problems there either: two little ants to fry under the magnifying glass - one of whom looked to surely be easy pickings.
Yes, pick off the fat one first. Quite smart, old Asmodai. All five may be a problem, but if one can fall behind - the rest shall fall to. The girls won't be a problem… unless… no. Are these the ones? The ones who had been given the lifestream the same as Asmodai? No, no, no. Can't be. They don't look changed. They don't look… ripe yet. Heh, ripe. What a perfect word for a PERFECT condition. Maybe they shan't be squished or burned up. Maybe they should be changed. Be ripened. For we all know if your not ripe, your going to go rotten. HAHAHA! Write it down Asmodai, write down the word of He.
The little party of ants cautiously made their way out of the room, and Asmodai followed. Surely, he believed, they'd be headed to his dear love's room, and he was right. They turned the corner and crept towards the door at the end of hall like a couple of ROTTEN ANTS.
Oh, they'll fry. Asmodai thought to himself, pulling out a small blade that was beneath his belt and quickening his pace. The pudgy one was at the end of their line - how perfect. They can't be ripened. They must be rotten already, for they are trying to put an end to perfection. That can't be allowed, no, it can not. I'll fry 'em. No! Squish 'em! NO! Better yet… I'll cut them up and let them bleed out real slow and easy - a fitting death for a couple of rotten ants. They might see me after I end their friend, but I'll pretend, oh I'll pretend. For all my foes, will be dead in rows, for the lifestream knows - it knows and shows.
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