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Chapter 5: A Throne Without Faith

The man trudged through his apartment door, not bothering to take his shoes off as he hung his jacket up on the coat stand.

Following closely in his tracks was his 12-year old son, stumbling through the doorway and nearly knocking over the coat stand in his rapid ramblings.

"And then they said, 'Well that's just the rules' and then I said 'Well your rules suck and mine are better!' And you know what they did?! They kicked me out of the game!" the young boy ranted to the point of shouting.

He was pale in complexion, oddly white compared to the rest of the children his age. The skin around his eyes formed black rings, not the result of a loss of sleep, but as natural markings. The boy was a stark contrast to his father, who was a deep shade of dark green. The only features that he inherited from his father were his deep red eyes and peculiarly styled black hair.

His father barely gave a reaction to his son's ramblings, other than a non-committed "Hmm" as he led them through the living room and out towards the kitchen.

Unsatisfied with the nonchalant reaction, the boy rambled further in an attempt to pluck out any bit of sympathy or acknowledgement from his father.

"And- And then they had the nerve to accuse ME of being rude when I took the ball from them! I was gonna prove a point! If they weren't going to make the game more fun then I ought to think they don't deserve the ball! But no, they had to be goody-two-shoes about it and get the principal involved!"

The boy crossed his arms with a childish huff. "Talk about a bunch of sissy killjoys, right Daddy?"

No response.

The boy's shoulders sagged as he waited for something, anything. But then he noticed how his father was rummaging for something in one of the kitchen drawers, his attention elsewhere.

Knowing that he wouldn't get another word in without pushing his father's patience – and for the lack of anything else to complain about anymore – the boy took a cautious step forward.

"What'cha doing?"

The rummaging went quiet. The dark green Pacworlder paused as he eyed his son. His face was unreadable, even when he spoke.

"You said you've been having trouble at school with your peers?"

The boy froze for a second, standing rigid under his father's calculating gaze. As if realising that his father had indeed listened to his rambles, he snapped out of his stupor and nodded vigorously.

Still stoic, the father straightened up and pulled out a set of cutlery from the drawer. "Well, I'll tell you what to do the next time they have a problem with you."

The boy's eyes grew as wide as saucers. A big grin broke out on his face.

"Really!? You'll help me?"

"Quiet."

The man ignored the slight flinch his son made after that curt command, but it didn't even take a second before the boy was back to being excited and practically hopping in place.

His father held back a scoff. He had cut ties with his other two children long ago, yet this one always stuck to him like superglue, and annoyingly so. Had it not been for the court's insistence on visitation arrangements with his children after the divorce, then he would've gone on with his life without the burden of 'keeping in touch' with them, especially his youngest son.

He felt no fondness for the boy. But if this is what it took to shake him off his tail, then so be it. Perhaps he could teach the boy a thing or two about reality, and using his conflict with his peers at school would make a great example.

"Trayus, there comes a time in every man's life where he must decide between two things; either he is weak and stays at the bottom of the food chain, or he is a real man and takes what is rightfully his. No questions asked."

The boy, Trayus, listened attentively as he watched his father take out a cutting board and begin slicing up carrots, all the while speaking in a low, somewhat gruff voice. He looked up at his father in wonder, a swell of satisfaction in his chest upon realising that his father was teaching him something that he could only guess was extremely valuable.

His father took out more vegetables to chop as he explained. "I am not mad at you for getting in trouble with the principal today. That's your mother's job. Rather, I think you should see it as a learning experience. So, you got in trouble because some classmates decided to rat you out. Now think to yourself, what could you have done differently to convince them to play by your rules?"

Trayus pondered over his father's words for a bit.

"Well… Mommy says I should not have been rude in the first place, not that they didn't deserve it," he muttered under his breath before continuing, "but also that I should learn to play fair, and that the ball wasn't mine to take, and yada yada…"

"Or," his father began with a sly glint in his eyes, "you could've simply gotten them to hand the ball over to you. Willingly. Not by agreeing to abide by their silly rules, but by a little bit of… encouragement. Scare them a little. Let them know that dire consequences will come to them if they don't do things your way, and even worse things will happen if they rat you out to the principal."

Trayus blinked and took a second to think over his father's words. "But… isn't that manipulation?"

"Is that what your mother calls it?" His father countered as he paused in his chopping and raised a condescending eyebrow at his son, which made Trayus falter in his confidence.

Before Trayus could explain, his father resumed chopping the vegetables and spoke, "Why see it as manipulation, when you could rather see it as negotiation?"

He sliced through the bud of a large cabbage, rattling the cutting board underneath it and startling his son. Paying no heed to it, the man shoved the excess away with the side of his knife.

"Sometimes, people will not agree with your ideals. Just like what happened between you and your classmates today, some people simply cannot comprehend that your vision is superior to theirs," his father said.

A beat of silence passed before he turned to face his son and looked him in the eye. "And when that happens, you need to take matters into your own hands and make them listen to you, with fear or with force.

"With time, you'll master the art of negotiating with any inferior and insubordinate people. You'll see how quickly they'll start listening to you. They'll start doing things your way. They'll respect you. Fear you. They won't dare question your authority anymore. You take the glory, and they take the fall."

The sound of vegetables being scraped off from the board echoed in the stillness of the room. His father cleaned the board and brought out a bowl with a whole de-feathered chicken in it. "If you can keep that up, then you'll have everything you ever wanted, and more."

Trayus nodded slowly, taking in his father's advice like it was the key to life. But in the back of his mind, there was a nagging memory of something his mother said, leaving him feeling conflicted.

"Mommy says I already have that…"

"Have what?"

Trayus looked up to find that a pair of challenging, deep red eyes were staring him down. Fighting the urge to gulp, Trayus stuttered. "Eh-…Well, that I already have everything I could ever want. She says that I have her, and Radia and Stratos. That I have a family-"

"Them? 'Family?' Who are you kidding?"

Trayus fought against the urge to flinch when the beginnings of a glare grew onto his father's face.

"Family is only weakness. Always will be. It's how guys like you and me survive. And if a few saps get hurt in the process, so what? Tough. That's life." His father turned his attention back to preparing food, all the while sporting a frown on his face. "Trust me, you don't need them."

Trayus shuffled nervously on the spot as he considered his father's words. It all went completely against what his mother and siblings have told him, but… it made more sense to retaliate against his offenders than to play fair. To him, his father has just proven that he understood Trayus, that he understands what it felt like to be different. Plus, it made more sense to fight back and teach a lesson to those who disagree with him.

Yes… Yes, his father was right. He should be more dominant. He should get what he rightfully deserves: respect.

There was just one other problem.

"Well, then… what if people still don't listen to me?"

"People are fickle, Trayus. Most are easy to sway and to control. It doesn't take much to twist their arms. Play your cards right, and they'll listen to you without question," his father instructed as he took the dead chicken and laid it out across the board.

"However, there are some saps who won't listen and will argue against your ideals. When that happens, you must prove to them that going against you will be the worst decision they've ever made."

With the knife in his hand, his father paused to look sideways at his son. "And so, what must you do when they still no longer listen to you? Or heed your warnings?"

Trayus thought about it. "…I don't know. What?"

A heartbeat of silence passed… before it was broken by a loud snap as the knife came down and chopped off the chicken's head. His father never broke eye contact with his son.

"You crush them under your foot."

Tip.

Tap.

Tip.

Tap.

On and on went the sound as his claw tapped slowly and numbly against the armrest of his throne.

Staring off into space, Betrayus was bent over in a tense slouch as he sat on his throne. From outside and all around the castle, one could hear the faint and ever-present thrum of heat and bubbling magma, the tell-tale ambience of the Netherworld. But other than that, the only sound inside the room was the rhythmic tapping of his claw against the stony surface of the armrest. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, his expression unreadable.

He's been like this for almost a full day.

Buttler would know, since he quietly snuck in now and then to see if there were any changes to his leader's posture. But there was none.

He didn't know what he was expecting, honestly, given Betrayus's outburst and immediate dismissal in the throne room yesterday. Especially after his subjects practically threw it into his face on what a bad leader he is.

But if there's one thing Buttler knew about his master and long-reigning Netherlord, it's that it only takes a few hours for Betrayus to get over his angry fits before he's all set and ready for a new evil plan again. It seldomly took as long as a day.

Which made the situation all the more unnerving.

Buttler peeked through the doors of the throne room for the tenth time that day. Still no movement from their leader. His twin brother floated up behind him to peek over his shoulder, staring into the gloomy room.

"Almost twenty-four hours later and he's still like zis?"

"It appears so."

Dr Buttocks hummed, scratching his ectoplasmic moustache in thought.

"Hmm… maybe zis is a good thing. It's giving us ghosts a break for a change, zat's for sure, but on ze other hand, maybe he'll finally get it through his thick head zat jumping recklessly into attacking ze Pacworlders is not going to work anymore."

"Hmph," Buttler scoffed, lightly. "Try telling that to his face, brother, and see if he agrees with you."

The evil scientist scoffed back in return, "Bah! As if yesterday's spectacle wasn't testing ze limits enough already. Either way, he surely can't stay in there like zat forever?"

"For once, we are in agreement," Buttler admitted after a beat of silence. "But by all means, if you feel so inclined to talk to the pensive beast, then be my guest."

Dr Buttocks huffed but said nothing as he quietly pushed the doors open by a few inches, enough for him to float through.

Buttler watched as his twin flew cautiously into the throne room. He himself had no desire to confront Betrayus and pull him out of his trance, for fear of getting a fireball in the face. Betrayus routinely scorches his backside already, so he was pretty sure that his brother could take this one.

Whether or not his twin would be able to talk to Betrayus with tact and caution, he didn't know, but the point of the matter was that the Netherworld could not be without a leader. They needed their bodies back, and as poor of a choice Betrayus has become, he is probably the only option they have if they ever want to reclaim their bodies and walk upon the surface again. Even if it meant pledging their loyalties to a person whose ultimate goal is world domination.

Buttler was just about to float off to prepare some fried slugs for impending damage control, when a sound from outside caught his attention.

Pausing to hover in the air, he listened intently to try and figure out what it was. The sound slowly grew louder, until he could deduce that it sounded like voices, crowing together in a strange chant.

Confused, Buttler floated through the halls and towards the doors leading to the outside of the castle, particularly the front courtyard. As he got near, the commotion outside only grew louder.

Reaching the doors, he pushed one of them open, only for the commotion to grow even louder in ferocity. He stuck his head out to see what was going on. He was met with a scene that was both familiar and troubling.

"Oh dear."

"Alright, Gang. Let's go over it one more time," Blinky said as he flew ahead of his three companions, "So, what do we know?"

"Well, other than Lord B officially losing his mojo, we haven't had to attack the city in over five days," Inky said, flying alongside Pinky and Clyde as the four ghosts leisurely made their way through the Nether canyons.

"And we know that Lord B has gotten crazier and more unhinged in recent weeks, more so than he usually does," Pinky quipped, absentmindedly fluffing out her bob.

Clyde was holding an ectoplasmic hand against his chin in thought, "We also know that Betrayus took yesterday's events really hard, and he hasn't been heard from since."

Blinky nodded. "Right, so what can we conclude from this?"

Pinky faltered in her speed and nearly came to a full halt, casting an annoyed frown at the red ghost. "Blinky, aren't you being a little too dramatic over this?"

"Nope," Blinky answered simply, unbothered as he slowed down as well. The rest of the gang followed his lead.

"I'm being cautious, not dramatic. All of these things are pointing to the conclusion that something just isn't right."

"Well, one thing we can 'conclude' is that Betrayus has just gotten a bit more wacko. Is that really such a big surprise?" Inky said matter-of-factly, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Not if it's Betrayus," Blinky emphasised with growing unease and urgency in his tone. "We all know how he was in the war. He was ruthless and formidable, but most of all he wasn't mentally stable. Sure, he lost the 'formidable' part ever since he became a ghost, but he's still not quite right in the head… After the absence of ghost invasions and his outburst yesterday, him being quiet and locked up in his castle right now is not a good sign."

"So what are you saying?" Pinky challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm saying that Betrayus could come back worse than he was before!"

Upon hearing the pointed edge in Blinky's voice, his companions straightened up and looked at him apprehensively, floating an inch or so backwards. Blinky looked like he was on the verge of losing his cool, something that didn't happen often.

Taking a moment to collect himself, the red ghost spoke. "What Ogle said to him yesterday might have been true, but people like Betrayus are dangerous when they are unhinged and angered, especially when their position of power is questioned. He could come back and retaliate with full force, and become worse than he's ever been! It only takes a small bit of resistance thrown into someone's face for them to counter it with tyranny of massive proportions. Believe me, I've seen enough wackos in my time as a Pac-Fu Master to know!"

Pinky shared a worried glance with Inky and Clyde as they all let Blinky's words sink in.

"…Okay, touché," Pinky admitted. "But if that's the case, then what do you suggest we do? It's not like we can just waltz into Betrayus's throne room and politely ask him not to take yesterday's events too personally."

"Yup. Best we can do is keep the Lemon Ball updated," Inky stated, wearing a much calmer – if not barely bothered – expression compared to the rest of them.

Blinky was still not convinced, even if Pinky and Inky had valid points. His gut feeling was persistent that something bad was about to happen, and his gut was rarely wrong. Throughout his life and afterlife, he dealt with enough people of Betrayus's calibre to know that the most dangerous thing about them is their unpredictable wrath – you never know what horrors you're in for until it's too late.

And now, Blinky was about to find out just how much his gut feeling was correct.

A group of seven or so ghosts flew out of the canyons, bypassing the Ghost Gang and heading towards the lava fields. Not too soon after, more ghosts appeared and joined together in crowds as they flew straight towards Betrayus's castle. Some of them were yelling and chanting.

"Heyo, what's going on?" Inky asked as he and Clyde narrowly dodged a pair of ice ghosts speeding past. Blinky looked left and right at the growing horde of ghosts, all of whom were making their way towards the castle.

Did Betrayus summon us again?

A pair of ghosts approached them. One was a fire ghost and the other an ice ghost, the latter waving at the Ghost Gang to follow the rest of them. "Come join the rally!"

"What's going on?" Pinky asked them as she eyed the gathering horde suspiciously.

A tentacle ghost joined them and pointed to the castle with a grin. "Everyone is to gather at the castle for a protest. We're dethroning Betrayus."

The ice ghost piped up, "And we're voting Ogle as our new leader!"

The Ghost Gang's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

"What?!"

Betrayus lost track of how long Dr Buttocks had been babbling incessant nonsense to him.

It started with the scientist discreetly entering his throne room and approaching the immobile fire ghost. He had stopped and hovered a couple of feet away from the throne, for fear of provoking his leader, and since then has been trying to talk and reason with Betrayus.

"Lots of leaders go through trial and error, right? I mean, surely you've had to overcome some hurdles yourself when you became a dictator for ze war? Zis is just one of those times," the light blue scientist tried to encourage, sheepishly.

Contrary to his words, he didn't know of any 'trials and errors' that Betrayus had gone through during the war – the ruthless man had a relentless streak of conquering territories and successfully leading his armies into battle, and it only ended when he and his followers were captured and stripped from their bodies. But Dr Buttocks was running out of things to say to try and rouse the fire ghost out of his trance.

"Why not take zis as, um… as a learning opportunity?" He suggested instead. "We think-… I-I mean, they think zat you've become reckless and childish, but so what? You can still take over Pacworld! Zis is just a tiny setback!"

When Betrayus still didn't move a muscle, Dr Buttocks tried to press further, "It's just zat, uh… maybe it's a sign to rethink your strategy? You can take zis as a moment to reflect, and come back as a better you!" he said in an awkward and forcefully cheerful tone.

I don't get paid enough for zis, the evil scientist thought to himself in morbid irritation, only to remember that he doesn't get paid at all. Being Betrayus's scientific lackey and punching bag was one thing, but he never signed up to be his personal therapist either.

The fire ghost was still motionless, his eyes as blank and lifeless as his energy. But not a moment too soon, his brows furrowed slightly and he ceased the tapping of his claw against the armrest.

Frozen like a statue, Betrayus stared ahead of him as little by little the cogs started turning in his head.

Yesterday's confrontation with Ogle was still fresh in his mind, but bit by bit, older memories started filtering in – memories from before he was sentenced to the Netherworld. When he was a dictator and led his armies with an iron fist, taking and brandishing territories under his name. Times when the world knew him for a tyrant. Times when he was feared. Respected.

And now, more than a decade after the war, where was that respect?

Betrayus slowly hunched over, the beginnings of a snarl pulling at his face.

"I used to be great."

Dr Buttocks froze, not expecting his leader to speak. But even as his master spoke, it was in a quiet and threatening tone, and the scientist felt prickles of dread and wariness as Betrayus rose from his throne.

"I used to be formidable. Sinister and powerful."

He wasn't looking at Dr Buttocks, nor was he directly addressing him as he spoke, but the light blue scientist couldn't help but float a few inches back as Betrayus continued his monologue.

"I used to have it all. Power and respect. Conquest. Battle by battle I've watched my pathetic enemies fall beneath my feet… Oh, how I miss the look on my brother's face when I've outsmarted him and his puny little Freedom Fighters for the umpteenth time."

Hovering a little ways forward, Betrayus envisioned himself as the commander he once was. The man with the insatiable hunger for power and the malicious glint in his eyes.

"I used to be a fearsome dictator…" He clenched his hands, claws digging into the leather of his gloves. "But my time in this wretched realm has made me soft."

His voice went from a brooding whisper to a fiery proclamation. "And it's time to change that. My ghosts may be right this time, but the days of playing Mister Nice Ghost are now over!"

Betrayus turned to look at Dr Buttocks, staring him down. "So, if it is by malice and tyranny that I was known for, then I shall become so once again! It's time to take back what is rightfully mine! It's time I go back to my former glory!"

Dr Buttocks gulped as he stared back at Betrayus's fiery glare. His master has changed… and all within the span of a few minutes. He can't recall the last time he's seen that look of pure evil in those red eyes…

Nonetheless, the scientist shook off any bit of wariness he felt and decided to get back to work. They've got bodies to reclaim and a world to conquer. And so, he allowed a mischievous grin to take over his face. "Great! Good to have you back, chief! Now, uh… what will our first order of business be?"

Betrayus turned to face the smaller ghost fully, an equally devious smile on his face. "Summon a horde. I have a plan."

"I'm afraid that order is… compromised, my lord," a new voice entered the room.

Betrayus and Dr Buttocks turned to see Buttler approaching them. His usual nonchalant expression was tinted with worry. "A horde of ghosts are already here. But not with your best interests at the forefront."

Betrayus levelled a hard stare at Buttler. "How many?"

"Approximately half of all active ghosts in the Netherworld, but no monsters or non-ghostly beings are participating," Buttler paused, hesitant in revealing the next bit of information.

"…They are here to insist that Ogle takes your place as leader."

On cue, Betrayus could hear the ever-so-faint sound of muffled chanting and protesting voices from outside of the castle.

How inconvenient, he thought as a spark of anger flared up within him.

But instead of lashing out furiously, he crossed his hands behind his back and a smirk graced his face. Perhaps this could prove useful…

He turned to Buttler. "Summon the dungeon guards, and tell them to bring out the big guns. The real ones. They'll know what I mean. They are to meet us at the front gates."

A beat of confusion passed between the twins… before they glanced at each other in alarm once realization sunk in.

"You don't mean-"

"But-But Betrayus, zat is-"

"Did I stutter?!"

The twins jumped back at their leader's barking command, holding onto each other in fright. "A-As you wish, my lord…" Buttler stuttered, letting go of his brother after a moment of hesitation.

"Good," the fire ghost said, satisfied as his two servants left to make the necessary arrangements.

This left Betrayus alone in the room, the only sound being the faint thrum of magma and the buzz of voices from the rally outside.

He craned his neck to look up towards the ceiling, where the glass mosaic of his fearsome self adorned the walls. A dark smirk took over his features.

"Soon. Soon, I will show the world what I'm really made of. I hope you are ready, Pac-Man."

With that, the King of the Netherworld took his leave from his throne and made his way to the front gates.

It was chaos outside.

An entire horde of ghosts was gathered in front of the gates to the castle, chanting and yelling their protests against having Betrayus as their leader. Some ghosts took the position of ring leaders and spurred the rest on, leading the chants. Some were even holding torches as they all yelled in unison.

"Dethrone Betrayus!"

"Off with the throne!"

"Ogle for president!"

On and on went the shouting, which gave four certain ghosts an ample opening to sneak through the crowd without drawing any attention to themselves.

Blinky led his three companions between the restless horde, doing their best to remain inconspicuous while trying to get a better view of the situation.

"This is a very bad idea," Blinky said, loud enough for his friends to hear him over the raging crowd.

"Ya think?" Inky shot back, eyeing the agitated and angry mob around them.

"I think it's a great idea!" Pinky retorted. She ignored the filthy looks Inky and Blinky were throwing at her and explained, "If Betrayus is not on the throne anymore, then he can't attack Pacworld anymore! Much less hurt my sweet Paccums!"

Clyde was just about to correct her on that last bit, but he shut his mouth when Blinky whirled around to face Pinky.

"This is not going to make a difference! Protest or not, nothing's going to change! This is only asking for trouble," Blinky hissed through his teeth, locked into a tense glare with Pinky.

Pinky looked ready to spit out a string of hefty arguments at Blinky, but she couldn't do so when a pair of cyclops shoved past the four ghosts, nearly knocking them over as the giants pointed towards the gates.

"There he is!"

A chorus of chants echoed in the air as the gates slowly opened, their hinges creaking like old and worn machines.

Four giant, dungeon ghost guards emerged with strange laser guns in their hands, taking positions on either side of the open gates.

And coming out to float atop a steep rock overlooking his audience, was Betrayus with his arms crossed behind his back, leering down at the mob.

For a brief moment, the crowd's shouting grew in ferocity, throwing insults and protests at the fire ghost. But as Betrayus hovered there in the air, doing nothing but glare down at the crowd, the gusto and rage quickly dissipated from the mob until only a few were still voicing their complaints, albeit in murmurs.

Betrayus levelled them all with a sharp glare. When a full minute had passed, the corners of his mouth tugged up into a smirk.

"So," he drawled, "a little birdie has whispered in my ear that we've got a few… rebels that are dissatisfied with my authority?"

Immediately, the mob came alive with vehement shouting and angry voices.

"We've been wasting our afterlives for years because of you!" a female ghost yelled from the front of the crowd, and some recognised her as Mavis. Another ghost at the back spoke up, "You force us to haunt the surface with absolutely no breaks, and we get punished anyway when we return! You treat us worse than death!"

"We've been cowering under your rule for too long! Yesterday we were frightened, but now we know better! If Ogle could stand up to you, then so can we!" A cyclops yelled from the centre.

Cheers of agreement rose into the air and the chanting continued. Ogle himself was promptly ushered forward by the crowd until he was at the front. He gazed upwards and locked eyes with Betrayus.

Ogle crossed his arms. "This wasn't even my idea, but I'll be damned if I don't take it. Someone has to put an end to this."

Betrayus tilted his head and regarded the cyclops with a critical eye. "And you think you're the perfect candidate for my replacement?"

"Maybe not," Ogle glared back, "but it certainly would beat the likes of you."

"You are a cook, Ogle," Betrayus said, lowly and condescendingly. "The only experience you have in warfare is with your spatulas against your pans. You think you can lead an entire army of undead spirits with those?"

Ogle huffed and his singular eye twitched, but he couldn't think of a retort quick enough before Betrayus cut him off.

"And as for the rest of you," Betrayus barked over the crowd, "You all think that your snivelling afterlives will be better under the mantle of a new leader? Do you really think that the Pacworlders would be willing to give you back your bodies now? That this asinine cook will lead you to victory?"

Only a handful of ghosts argued against Betrayus's claims. Some openly voiced their contempt and disagreement, shouting "Of course!" and "Anything is better than you!" but other than them, the rest of the crowd went eerily silent.

With the crowd starting to be swayed and the tides turning in his favour, Betrayus went on.

"So I may not be the fairest of leaders, but I'll have you know that I am the ONLY chance you have if you ever want your bodies back again! An inexperienced, wannabe cook-turned-commander will only be your downfall. The Pac-Pest will gobble and belch Ogle as quickly as he'll do the rest of you!"

This time, confusion and hesitation washed over the mob. Hushed murmurs and tense whispers were exchanged among the ghosts. That is, until the arguments started breaking out and chaos let loose.

"Hey, he has a point."

"No, he doesn't!"

"No more Betrayus, no more problems!"

"Ogle isn't fit for a leader, either!"

"Well, I don't like either of them!"

As the crowd grew louder and more chaotic in their shouting, Ogle took in the scene and felt a growing sense of alarm and unease. He looked up and threw an angry glare at Betrayus.

"You're manipulating them!" He hissed through his teeth, but his statement went unnoticed by the agitated crowd.

Betrayus merely smirked. "Such is the way of the undead."

Ignoring Ogle's death stare, the fire ghost gazed upon the fighting mob and bellowed, "Silence!"

Instantly the crowd went quiet, some still giving each other dirty looks in their differing opinions. Betrayus levelled them all with a calculating stare before he spoke, "It seems like there's only one way to settle this."

He brought out his hands from behind his back and pressed the tips of his claws together contemplatively, all while sporting a dark grin. "How about a nice, old-fashioned game of democracy? A vote shall determine who is the new King of the Netherworld."

Low and fast whispers broke out from the crowd. Most ghosts were surprised at this new development, if not completely shocked – Betrayus playing fair? Unheard of. And yet the fire ghost flew up into the air and pointed a claw towards the left side of the horde.

"Make two groups. All ghosts in favour of voting Ogle as their new leader, move to this side. All ghosts in favour of keeping me in charge, move to the opposite side."

The whispers turned into loud chatter. Ghosts looked left and right as they shared looks of bewilderment – some even looked happy that they were being given a choice. Gradually, the crowd shifted and they shuffled over to the side of their choice.

Ogle was about to float over to the group in favour of him, when Betrayus's voice stopped him, "Not you, Ogle. You're staying right here."

The cyclops stared tensely up at the fire ghost. A strange feeling of dread wormed its way into his gut upon hearing the dark tone in Betrayus's words. Nonetheless, he remained rooted in his spot at the front of the crowd, watching as the horde was splitting in half in front of him.

While the groups were still forming, the Ghost Gang themselves were inching more towards the group in favour of Betrayus. That was until Pinky and Clyde broke off and were about to join the Ogle group, Clyde more hesitantly so. But they barely moved a few feet when Blinky grabbed a hold of their arms.

"What are you doing?" Blinky whispered in alarm, urging the rest to keep their voices low.

Clyde fiddled with his hands and Pinky frowned at Blinky. "Doing my part in actually helping our friends on the surface! I'm voting Ogle-"

"No!" Blinky whispered as loud as he dared, genuine fear and apprehension in his eyes. It made Pinky falter and stare in bewilderment at the look of pure terror on Blinky's face, a sight rarely seen. He pulled her, Clyde and Inky away to hide behind some other ghosts within the group voting for Betrayus.

Despite Pinky's silent threats, Blinky pulled them all into the centre of the group where they couldn't be seen. "Look," Blinky pointed up towards the four guards stationed at the gates.

His three companions went quiet as they observed the giant blue ghosts who usually guarded the dungeons, each of them holding a strange, laser-like gun. Other than Blinky, they've all completely forgotten that they were there.

"It's a trap!" Blinky said under his breath, only loud enough for his gang to hear.

The crowd was finally wrapping up their choices, and now two groups of ghosts floated on either side of the area, one in favour of Ogle, the other in favour of Betrayus.

And not much to Betrayus's surprise, the group in favour of Ogle was noticeably larger than the group in favour of him.

Everyone else in the space noticed this too, and they waited with bated breath. Some ghosts in the Ogle group were smiling victoriously, happy that they had the advantage in numbers.

Betrayus gazed over the divided horde, his expression unreadable. Ogle was still floating in front of the two groups, directly under Betrayus as he waited for a statement.

An eerie silence came upon the area.

And like a predator celebrating the success of his hunt, a smirk pulled at Betrayus's face.

"Very well, then."

He brought up his hand and snapped his fingers.

The four guards at the gates moved, aimed, and…

ZAP!

Cries of shock and fear echoed in the air as a blinding blue light flickered and pulsed in the sky. Four beams of searing hot, electrical lasers met and convulsed onto the ground, where one of the divided groups had been.

Nobody knew how long the blast lasted, but the sky was still flickering with sparks of electricity by the time they opened their eyes. The air was suddenly very hot, and they could smell sulphur and burnt slime.

When their eyes finally adjusted after the harsh light, they were met with a sight that made their stomachs churn.

Smoke trailed up from a black, charred patch of ground on the far left side of the area – where the group in favour of Ogle had been floating mere seconds ago. In its place were the dusty remains of sticky ash.

They were gone.

No sign of any ghostly bodies, and no slime. No eyeballs.

The blistering, silent atmosphere was broken with gasps of horror and grief. The remaining ghosts gaped at each other in shock once they realized what had happened.

Vaporization.

For most living things, it's a natural process of nature, but for spirits, it's a second death. The final death. The only force of power that can kill a ghost. Only the highest order of authority in the Netherworld is allowed to use such power. And once hit, a ghost will never have a second chance at life ever again.

Like a switch had been flipped, the atmosphere went from defiance and anger to fear and submission. The group that voted for Betrayus was now cowering and panicking amongst themselves, staring fearfully up at the fire ghost.

Blinky barely registered how Pinky, Inky and Clyde were trembling around him – he was in too much shock over the fact that his instincts had been so horribly right. It was a trap. Had Blinky not stopped his companions from going over to Ogle's side, then he surely would've lost them.

Ogle himself was spared, but this left the blue cyclops staring at the spot where his supporters had once been, horrified.

"Not so brave now, are you, old friend?" Came Betrayus's bitter remark from above, but Ogle could only stumble backwards into what was left of the crowd, staring at the ashen ground in horror.

Satisfied, Betrayus looked over at what was left of the horde and spoke in a booming voice.

"Let this be a reminder to all of you that any form of rebellion against me will be met with a fate most damning."

As he lowered himself down to the steep rock, he smiled wickedly and shrugged. "After all, if you disobey my orders, then what's the point of keeping you around? By obeying my command, soon you'll get your bodies back. But if you don't want to follow me, then what's the reason you're still here, in the Netherworld, stuck in limbo? Might as well speed up your trip to the Eternal Dead by extinguishing your souls."

Flicking a speck of dirt off from a claw tip, he gave the frightened crowd a narrowed stare. "From now on, you obey me. And only ME. Am I understood?"

The crowd was silent, save for the heavy breathing and faint whimpering of those who were still reeling from what had just happened. But they all were thinking the same thing: there's no backing out now.

Betrayus just made a show of how he was more than willing to go against the Order of the Netherworld for his own gains. Nobody could stand up against him now.

The silence stretched on for several heartbeats. Then, a single ghost from the back of the crowd rose up and yelled, "Long live King Betrayus!"

One by one, more voices joined him until they all grew louder in volume, forming a new chant and pledging their loyalties to the tyrant who held their afterlives on the line.

"Long live King Betrayus! Long live King Betrayus!"

On and on went the cheer, and while everyone was distracted with hailing Betrayus, a certain gang of four ghosts, led by their red companion, quietly took their leave and snuck out before they were found out for not participating in the cheering.

As the chanting grew, so did the smirk on Betrayus's face.

This is how he will overthrow the world. This is how he'll take back the respect and glory he once had. This is how he will defeat the last Yellow One, once and for all, and how people will start listening and taking him seriously.

And he will make them listen. Make them rue the day they ever stood up against him. Make them fear his name and tremble at his robes. And when resistance comes, he'll simply take the necessary course of action.

Just like his father once said.

You crush them under your foot.

When Pac opened his eyes that morning, he expected to wake up in a cold sweat.

It was a reoccurring pattern for the past few weeks. He'd wake up in fear, restless as the remains of terrifying images lingered in his mind before dissipating into darkness. He'd feel cold and helpless, fighting to get his breathing under control.

But this morning, as he roused out of his slumber and opened his eyelids, he was met with the warmth of sunlight on his face. He was curled up and nestled in the soft, comforting sheets of his bed. Birds were singing outside.

He felt more rested than he'd felt in weeks. No cold sweats, no restlessness, and no hammering heartbeats.

No nightmares.

Pac released a deep and sleepy sigh of relief, as though he's been holding his breath the entire night. He couldn't have felt more grateful for a peaceful night without bad dreams haunting him.

He rolled over onto his back, yawning and stretching out his limbs as he relished in the feeling of a good night's sleep.

"Mornin', Spiral," he said, groggily while rubbing his eyes.

When no answer came, Pac looked up at the top bunk bed, noting that it was way too quiet for Spiral to be up there. From what he could tell, Spiral's bed was empty.

Pac turned his head to the clock on his nightstand. It read 11:23 a.m. Saturday.

He slept in.

And he didn't have a single regret over it.

He needed the extra sleep, and now he was feeling more energized than he'd felt in a while. Plus, it was Saturday. He and his team needed all the rest they could get.

Speaking of, Pac thought to himself as he glanced at his wristcom, lying on his nightstand. After a few more stretches, he sat up on his bed and picked up the mini communications device, turning it on.

He had one new text message, sent about an hour ago. It was from Cylindria.

Cyli:
We're hanging out in the library. Come join us after you've had breakfast :)

Pac smiled.

He wasted no time in getting ready for the day. Soon, he was in the cafeteria and eating a hearty breakfast. But he didn't stay there for long and wrapped it up after one round of seconds. He wanted to spend time with his friends and was eager to meet them in the library.

With a pep in his step, he arrived at the library and made his way towards the spot where he and his friends always hung out whenever they wanted to relax.

Just as he thought, Spiral, Cylindria, and Elliptica were in a little booth at the back of the library. Spiral and Elliptica were sitting cross-legged on the floor, engaged in a game of cards, while Cylindria was sitting in one of the chairs, reading a book.

Pac waved when they noticed his approach.

"Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty!" Spiral playfully jested.

"Hey, it's not noon yet," Pac chuckled as he took in the scene. "So, who's winning?"

"I was winning," Elliptica said with a slight pout, "until this guy pulled out a trump card on me."

"Hey, ya don't change a good strategy if it works," Spiral grinned, shuffling his handful of cards in the right order. Pac grinned in amusement as the competitive card game went on. He made his way over to the chairs.

"Somebody's in a chipper mood this morning," Cylindria remarked with a smile as Pac took a seat next to her. He gave her a bright smile in return. "I had a good sleep."

"I'll say," Spiral agreed while picking up a card from the deck, "you slept like a baby. Didn't wanna wake you up, bro."

"I did need that extra shut-eye," Pac concurred, appreciative of the fact that his best friends knew when to leave him be whenever he needed rest.

"Things have gotten pretty quiet, lately," Elliptica mentioned as she looked up from her deck of cards. "It's kinda strange that we didn't have an invasion in almost a full week."

"Yeah," Spiral hummed in agreement, "Betrayus has been pretty generous lately by not sending any attacks."

"Don't jinx it," Cylindria quipped from behind her book, but her brows were furrowed in thought and suspicion as well. She, too, was feeling on edge with the lack of ghost invasions, despite trying not to let her worries get in the way of their relaxation.

But as with all things skewered with the universe, they just had to be handed the short end of the karma stick.

All four ghost fighters jumped when their wristcoms activated and lit up with a shrill beeping sound, indicating an incoming call - from none other than their friend and scientific guide, Sir Cumference.

"You've got to be kidding me," Spiral deadpanned after a moment.

Quickly, Pac tapped a few commands on his wristcom and answered the call. "Sir C? Is everything okay?"

'Pac! Is the team with you?!' Came a frantic voice from the other side.

"We're all here, Sir C," Cylindria answered as she came into view of the wristcom, sporting a worried frown.

'You have to head to the outskirts of the city as soon as you can!' Sir Cumference said urgently through the wristcom.

'Ghosts are attacking a campsite!'

A/N: Sorry if this chapter is a bit all over the place. At least now at this point in the story, things will start getting a bit more interesting :)

I want to give a MASSIVE thanks to Hope again for their wonderful review on the previous chapter! It warmed my heart and made me giddy for days after reading it, I'm so happy that you are roped into this story! I'll try my best to deliver good content for each chapter ;)

Be sure to leave a review on what ya'll thought about this chapter!