Ch.3 - The Herald
Ozma sprinted through the castle.
His dark gray coat fluttered behind him as he sped over lush, crimson carpets, hanging tapestries of fine weaving, and expert masonry. The castle had been built less defensive than other castles and more to impress and overwhelm the masses. After all, what threat could be brandished against gods?
Ozma cared for none of these luxuries as he hurried onward, his heart beating in fear. He had endured more than most had. He recalled his earliest days of learning magic and setting out to establish himself as a rising hero. His journey and quest to rescue Salem from her tower. To surviving death and establishing this new kingdom.
But this battle?
This battle exposed and threatened him in ways he had never dreamed of.
His eyes landed on the mahogany double doors ahead of him. Even now, he could hear a scream of agony coming from within. His heartbeat nearly doubled.
Resisting the urge to blast the doors off with magic, Ozma settled for throwing his body against them. The doors gave quite easily, and he flew into a large room. Memories clung to every wall as he knew this place intimately well, but his eyes locked onto the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. The cerulean drapes had been wrapped around the frame to provide a clear view of the bed's sole occupant.
The figure raised an alabaster hand. "Ozma?"
Ozma rushed over to the side of the bed. Several women in white robes reacted to his furious movements with varying degrees of surprise and alarm. All save for one who knelt at the edge of the bed. She glanced up and smiled at Ozma before returning to the task at hand.
The moment he reached the side of the bed, Ozma stopped and took a deep breath. It did nothing to slow his heartbeat down, but he wasn't in danger of doing something extreme. He knelt down, and took Salem's hand. "I'm here, I'm here," he whispered.
Salem's pale face managed to look paler than usual as her tired red eyes looked up into his amber irises. She weakly smiled. "I wasn't sure you were going to make it in time," she murmured.
Ozma released an exasperated breath. "The messenger delayed informing me in order to pick the 'right time' between petitioners. I would have been here sooner if I had known."
A chuckle escaped her lips before immediately followed by a scream of pain. Ozma glanced down the bed. Salem wore simple, black robes, modified for a specific purpose. They reached only halfway down her body, only partly covering her swollen belly.
"Do not fear, my god," the chief mid-wife said from her kneeling position, eyes watching carefully. "Everything is going well so far."
"Good, good," Ozma replied, conviction lacking in his own words. Magic was a powerful force, but it was only now that Ozma wondered why there wasn't a damn spell to help with childbirth. Even when the old gods had reigned, childbirth had been one of the few events in life that seemed to be beyond any magic's aid. Ozma's mind raced with all of the tales of mothers and babies dying during the event before he forced himself to silence those thoughts.
Fatherhood.
How was it such a simple word could fill him with more terror than any of the beasts and villains he had challenged? Was he ready for this? Was there nothing he could do but wait and watch?!
Another scream erupted from Salem's mouth, and Ozma did everything in his power to remain calm, even as Salem's grip crushed his hand. Desperate to do something, he reached out with his other hand and softly stroked his wife's cheek.
Salem smiled again before she shuddered and howled with exertion.
"I can see the child's head!" The chief midwife announced. "Keep pushing my goddess!"
Ozma bit down on his tongue before it could ask a stupid question as he kept reassuring his wife and holding her hand. Salem apparently heard the midwife for her shaking body would not settle down as she struggled with all of her might, tension rolling through her.
The sound of wet flesh sliding against each other filled the room as Ozma could not tear his eyes from the birth happening before him. My child, he thought with anxiety.
Agonizing time, time beyond Ozma's ability to track, slipped by before a second cry sounded in the room. With an exhausted moan, Salem collapsed against the bed as her body finally relaxed. The midwives worked quickly in their assigned role. After a minute, the chief midwife approached the couple with a quivering bundle and a big smile. "Your majesties," she began as she carefully held the bundle out to Ozma. "I present to you your firstborn daughter."
With gloved hands that would not stop shaking, Ozma reached up and accepted the bundle. Pausing only for a moment, Ozma looked down.
And promptly melted as he saw his daughter's adorable face for the first time. All fears and anxieties of being a new father fled from him as he held the tiny baby close to his chest, a smile widening over his face. He shifted himself onto the bed, gingerly revealing the new life to the new mother. "Salem," he whispered joyfully. "A daughter! We have a daughter!"
Salem gathered the remnants of her strength as she lifted herself up against the headboard, reaching out with sweaty arms. Moving with utmost care, Ozma lowered his new daughter into Salem's waiting hold. Only then did the baby cease her wailing. Salem peered into the rich cloth and made a sound somewhere between a cry and a coo. Tears slid down her face as she said, "Isn't she the most beautiful child on this whole world?"
"She is," Ozma affirmed as he wrapped an arm around Salem's shoulders with mirroring tears of joy on his own face. "Of course she is."
Salem delicately dragged her finger across a cheek. "Our little Serah."
Speech took a polite bow before vacating the room. The happy family basked in their glow. All other thoughts and servants maintained a respectful distance.
Until a guard burst into the room.
Ozma's head snapped up with a frown. Serah started to cry again. He could feel Salem glaring as the guard rushed toward them; her exhaustion was the sole reason she didn't yell at him.
The guard, in his white armor over his green tunic, flung himself at their feet. "Your majesties, my deepest apologies, but I had to bring you this message!"
Ozma was caught halfway between profound irritation and uneasy concern. "What is it?"
"There is a god in the throne room!"
Although true to the guard's description, it was no god Ozma recognized.
Everyone of the First Age knew the Brothers. While the God of Light regularly answered petitions, the God of Darkness' likeness was well known throughout the world via art and statue. Ozma had personally met the God of Light, which meant the entity in the center of his throne hall did unnerve him.
Because it was godlike.
Instead of gold or purple, the griffin glowed with a crimson that served as its only color. It rested on feline haunches, while its forelegs upheld an avian chest. Its wings folded against its back as it studied Ozma. There were still days he rebelled against court etiquette. In his previous life, he had been a consummate warrior. Noble life was what Salem thrived on. Yet, today, he found royal protocol all too handy to give him something familiar to fall back on.
Because he had no idea what to expect from this being.
He sat down in the golden chair and leaned back into the purple velvet cushioning. No sooner had he done so did the griffin stretch out its right wing. It twisted the feathered limb forward as it bowed toward him. "Greetings Ozma, Second of your Line."
Ozma barely managed to suppress a flinch. There were three layers of discomfort to endure. First, was its address. Although the griffin had bowed toward him, it had not used his title of God-King or called him 'majesty' or even the more zealous title of 'your holiness' (Ozma hated that one). He may have not liked his wife's lessons on protocol, but he understood them well enough that this being was subtly declaring it was superior to him in station.
Second was its voice. The Brothers had made no question that, though lacking in true reproductive organs, they were male in being. This contrasted all the more so with this crimson entity. Its voice hit the exact balance between male and female. Far from making it more approachable, the strange voice only impressed how inhuman it sounded against the mind.
Third was the title it did use. Ozma had yet to explain his mission to anyone, not even to his wife. Yet, this being seemed to not only know that truth, it was also making the effort to communicate its knowledge to Ozma alone. Most people hearing it would assume that the griffin was merely explaining that Ozma's father was likewise known as Ozma. It was known to happen in the First Age. Only Ozma knew that his father's name was entirely different. This impossible knowledge, did it truly confirm that a god stood before him?
His court certainly buzzed as whispered conversations ran rampant in the aftermath of its greeting. After a brief conversation with Salem, he had hurried from his chambers to here, yet the royal hall was full. Nobles, scribes, and servants lined along the white-marble room, careful to stand to either side of the red carpet rolling from the throne to the two giant, oaken doors. Because it was mid-day, unlit candle stands lined next to the support pillars down the great hall, while the Sun provided plenty of light through rows of lancet windows that formed the entire wall behind him and a long row connecting both ends of the halls. Really, the walls were only one step away from being nothing but glass.
Even when she chose to reside in a castle, Salem wanted it to be as open as possible.
Ozma enjoyed the view himself, and it liked how it encouraged a kind of openness with the people who formed their court. Maybe it was because of his commoner roots, but he had made it a point that anyone with talent was welcomed here, regardless of pedigree or past. The latter made even less sense in the Second Age compared to the First. He still wasn't sure how much time had passed (Salem refused to talk about time between the two Ages), but it was incredibly strange to him for anyone claiming a powerful lineage when none besides him and Salem could claim to be members of the First Race. As such, a quick glance across the hall saw native Albions, Westerners, People of the Sand, Southerners, and the Mountain Folk from across the sea.
Not to mention the Demihumans. Ozma still had no idea where an entire race of half-Man, half-animal folk had come from. Not even Salem knew how that had come about. Of less mystery was how hostilities had formed between Humanity and the Demihumans. Hostility Ozma did his best to reconcile. He still wasn't wholly comfortable with the cult, but Salem had been more than happy to let him use it to proclaim equality between the races. As such, a number of Demihumans stood in his court and on equal standing with their human counterparts.
And they all shared equal mixtures of awe, curiosity, apprehension, and fear as they no doubt talked about this crimson griffin.
He knew what Salem would counsel. He should immediately pushback against the oversight and insist on his title. To establish himself from a position of strength.
The thing was, Ozma didn't feel all that powerful in front of this being. He knew he wasn't a true god like the Brothers were. This wasn't one of the Brothers, but it felt like them in some ways. Instead, he went with his own instincts. He nodded to the griffin. "Salutations, I welcome you to the Kingdom of Emuna. I am indeed Ozma, the ruler of this land. May I ask your name?"
The griffin pulled itself out of its bow. "I have no name. If you must call me something, then you may address me by my purpose. I am the Herald." It paused as it considered. "The Herald of Crimson."
More whispers. The nameless griffin seemed more alien than before. Ozma resisted the urge to lean forward, forcing his back to stay firm against the throne. "I confess, I do not know Crimson."
"Crimson is the creator of Second Man and the Faunus, or the Demihumans as you refer to them."
The whispers broke outright into conversation. Ozma could not blame them. He had persuaded Salem to avoid even implying they had created the new races. It would have been a blatant lie, and Ozma would not have tolerated it. Being the sole practitioners of magic had been more than enough to prove their 'divinity' making the point moot. The cult offered no explanation, leaving it as a matter of personal faith.
Well, that was going to become a much more intense point after today.
"That is… a bold claim," Ozma declared with as much diplomacy as he could.
The griffin tilted its head. A motion of curiosity? Aggravation? Amusement? He couldn't tell. "I will prove it, for I have come to spread word of Crimson." The avian head swept around as it turned its attention to the others. "For your creator does battle with the Brothers Grimm for your destiny. The same Brother gods who created this world and First Man… and oversaw the complete annihilation of." It paused as it speared its gaze back at Ozma. "Yourself and Salem excluded, of course." It addressed the court again as it stood and turned in a lazy circle, feline tail swishing behind it. "Crimson offers all of you a chance to secure victory in that battle. A battle I must return to once I deliver its message."
Dead.
Silence.
It had revealed truths Ozma had not told to his people. It had given truths he struggled to believe. Most of all, it spoke of impossibilities he had never considered.
Into this silence, he spoke the first question that came to mind. "You… you will fight the Brothers?"
In hindsight, he realized his words could be seen as a confirmation of what the griffin spoke of.
The griffin seated itself before him again. "I will, for I dare not stay upon Remnant a single second longer than I must. Crimson holds well against the Brothers, but they know of my existence. My very presence might invite them to break their vows and return to Remnant and inflict the disastrous judgment the God of Light swore they would. Therefore, to honor my duty to Crimson and to guarantee the safety of this world as best as I can, I will deliver my message and leave as quickly as I can…"
Crimson hurt all over.
Assuming control over Darkness' titan hurricane had required a great deal of power to begin with. It had also stretched Crimson's strength and being across the enormous distance. Thus, when Light had struck from above, Crimson had endured the strike against his entire being. It had survived, but energy was dangerously low.
Again.
That was the problem with the Offerings, the Doors and Lamps. They could only temporarily return it to its starting strength when it had attacked Light. Not only had it sacrificed the "Major Deity" Door before its fight with Darkness, it had been forced to burn the "Major Demigod" Door in support. That door had provided only a quarter of the power offered by the "Major Deity" Door, but it had closed the gap right before it had taken a god of light to the back. That had knocked it out of most of its power.
But not all. Every time the Cosigners endowed it with their support, its permanent strength grew. It just needed to last long enough to cross the threshold of survival. And then onto victory. It helped Crimson to see that possibility as it noticed Light had not completely healed from all of its attacks.
Crimson flexed will and the griffin construct returned as the three divine beings hovered above the oceans of Darkness' dalliance with planetary creation. Brute force was not in the cards, which meant cleverness would be the tactic of choice. The griffin's head bounced around, absorbing the situation before focusing on the Brothers Grimm. There was a pause as the Contract gifted a dose of power.
A Command had been completed.
Darkness reluctantly allowed his brother to maintain a position between him and Crimson. "There is a second," he warned as he redirected his own energy against the ethereal burn wounds. Healing was not his forte, but the burns began to shrink. Ever. So. Slowly. To Darkness' immense frustration.
"Where?"
"Here."
A second, smaller griffin manifested next to Crimson.
Crimson regarded the other and realized no name had been given to the clone. Which, kind of felt disrespectful in hindsight, but it wasn't like Crimson had a name anymore. "You did it?"
The smaller griffin (would it be wrong to simply call the clone Griff?) nodded its eagle head. "It went as well as to be expected. I don't know how things will last, but the deed is done."
Crimson really wanted to ask for more details, but not a chance of that happening with the Brothers so close by. "Stay close." It extended its wings as it shot forward toward the Brothers. Griff flew by its flank. The Brothers concentrated their energies to counter.
Then Crimson and Griff dived.
As the Brothers watched, the griffins plunged from the sky and crashed into the dark waters below. "What ploy is this?" Darkness muttered as his eyes tracked red as it slipped deep into his ocean. "We should pursue."
"No, we are the target. We prepare and counter. This being is trying to bait us. We will not fall for it."
Darkness grumbled but was too wounded to override his older brother. He did not have to wait long.
A fountain of red water erupted from the surface directly beneath them. Light released a blast of silver against the charging water, and the column exploded halfway to them.
"Weak," Darkness observed in a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Very weak."
Twelve more gigantic geysers broke through the surface. They formed a watery circle below the Brothers as they rushed towards the gods. The Brothers operated in tandem as they started with opposite columns. Where Light was precise and targeted the heads of these geysers, Darkness countered with flourish. Purple power fired from the dark dragon's mouth and sliced through the base of the geysers. The elevating waters collapsed back into the ocean.
These hydro assaults might be crossing the distance between ocean and sky at breakneck speeds, but few reached the Brothers. Of these three, none touched either of them. With a swing of his elegant and elongated body, Light smashed the final geyser feet away from Darkness. Water spray dusted the two Brothers.
"What is the purpose of this weakness?" Darkness wondered aloud.
Light was about to respond…
…And the Brothers found themselves within the false-void of the spiritual realm.
The Brothers looked around and did not see their foe before they turned their attention to each other. "How?" Light asked.
"Quickly, we must locate our foe!" Darkness said as he rushed forward.
"Brother, wait!" Light called out, reluctantly following in order to protect Darkness from his own aggression.
Neither brother took the time to discover two red feathers hidden among their own scales.
In another portion of the spiritual realm that was both next to and completely opposite from the Brothers' location, Crimson reached out to open the Contract with Griff at the side. More power had built up in its absence, and Crimson greedily absorbed it. Most of it was Observations, still the smallest units of power Crimson could receive, but it came in bulk! Crimson could feel power greater than fifteen percent of what he needed to endure be bestowed upon it. Combined with the previous endowment and the Commands already completed, Crimson was two-fifths of the way to matching the Brothers, strength-for-strength.
Forget ten rounds! Just three, maybe two more, and they won't have any hope of killing me.
Crimson braced for the newest batch of Commands.
When you are able and have the time, create a crimson-coloured goat and warp it to Remnant. (From Yip)
Of all things... a goat!?
Crimson had no idea why this particular Cosigner, Yip apparently, wanted a goat, but it remained a Command. Utilizing what power it had left, a goat of crimson hair came into being before the two divine figures. With another act of will and divine ability, the goat vanished in a bright light.
Not one but two Commands were counted in this brief endeavor. Crimson was two steps closer to matching the brothers. For the price of one goat.
"Tell me, what kind of cult did you create?" Crimson asked Griff.
The smaller griffin shrugged its wings. "All I really told them to do was pray for our victory over the Brothers with an explanation of us, the Brothers, and the battle. I didn't stay long enough to do anything else."
"...I don't suppose they're expecting a goat?"
"Uh, no, I uh did not prepare them for an incoming goat."
"I wonder how they'll handle its arrival."
While several possibilities sprung to mind, Crimson hoped that this didn't have too much of a strange impact upon Remnant. Of all things to do, well, that wasn't fair. The Commands could be worse. Could be weirder.
Very good and very detailed especially when Crimson was digging into Light, however my only issues are I can't really connect with them or honestly care much for them, and I'm hoping soon we can focus more on Ozma but still very well detailed.
It was another Command that did little more than pass along a message.
Kind of an irritating one, to be honest. Crimson did not seek to win some interdimensional popularity contest. This was a battle to change fate and personal survival. The painful irony was that it did need to attract support of the Cosigners to secure victory.
Well, unless this cult could provide power through faith?
Crimson hadn't noticed any major change on that front. "Did you tell them when to start praying? I don't feel anything."
Griff shuffled in place. "I do, and I haven't shared it with you because the power I'm receiving... it's, well, it's almost nothing. Weaker than even a single Observation. Maybe it'll make a difference in time as the cult spreads beyond Oz's kingdom, but travel and word are slower on the planet, given the technology involved. It will be years, maybe decades, before it makes any difference, and that's if the cult spreads at all. I did what I could, but Ozma was not supportive. He might try to suppress it."
"He might? He would?"
Griff nodded. "His loyalty is still to the God of Light, not to you. Salem will be more amenable, but it's hard to tell."
Crimson did possess omniscience and could direct its attention toward the kingdom for an answer, but it was unknown if the Brothers would sense that divine movement. For better or for worse, the cult would have to stand on its own without its involvement. Not that Crimson thought it would need their faith to win. Things were going well as it stood.
All of the conflict with the gods was uninteresting; the only things I really liked where your soul is now bound with The Reaper, the Brawler, the Instructor, The Sniper, The Hearthfire, The Android, the Strategist, the Shadow, The Fashionista, and the Copycat and the parts with Ozma where interesting for they are more interesting stakes that one can relate to.
The power gained from simply listening to the Command made up for the irritation the message inflicted. It was not a requirement that the Cosigners be invested in the battle, but still. Crimson was fighting for its life here. The fact that the bonds were brought up as far more interesting than the battle also stung. Crimson still wasn't sure what any of those bonds would eventually do, or if they would ever come into play. Part of it hoped not. To have the soul pulled in ten different directions...
Well, technically, it didn't count as torture.
Not to mention the individuals involved. Their lives would become extraordinarily complicated if the bonds did come into play. It felt unfair, but that was the nature of the Commands. Fairness was not a true concern when it came to them.
Its mind couldn't help but morbidly consider the mess that would come into being should it and they meet...
This Command belays that given earlier regarding the implementation of a Pantheon.
A simple straightforward Command that costed power even as it gave power. It was a pity that simply hearing the temple Command hadn't been enough to warrant an endowment, but then again, considering Crimson had already sent a goat to Remnant. It was perhaps for the best that there also wasn't a string of mysterious temples appearing over the planet, dedicated to beings of another dimesion.
If the goat was enough to cause concern, how much more so would mysterious temples inflict?
Crimson canceled the other Command by Command and grew stronger through obedience.
You will do your best to preserve your mental, spiritual, and physical wellbeing, not prioritizing one at the detriment of the others.
This was… a nice Command? There was nothing Crimson could do as its will was adjusted. Nothing felt different afterward. None that it could sense. Did that mean it was already doing its best? Well, Crimson was doing all it could to win the battle. Who knows what things would look like after the battle?
At the very least, it was nice that one Cosigner was interested in its personal well-being. Crimson couldn't help but think of the Cosigners in general. Two of them had identified themselves. One of them had outright attempted to weaken the boundary between dimensions. All strange developments Crimson hadn't expected. Divine power offered almost unlimited possibilities. In that light, it was good that the Commands had only been strange at their worst.
And it won't last much longer. Just three more rounds, at most. Then, I can rest.
It was so tempting to think about those possibilities. It had sacrificed only two doors so far, and that left the possibility of remaining a divine power of some sort. That wasn't mandatory, yet there were was also the issue of Salem remaining a problem once the Brothers were dealt with. What if-?
Stop it. I don't have victory yet. Think about something else.
Crimson looked over at Griff. Upon reflection, Griff had been very patient as it had remained on standby, while the Contract had unloaded. What if Griff survived? Would Crimson have to split Doors with the clone? A Command had mandated Griff's creation, but what came next?
It was then Crimson realized that the Commands were complete.
Not quite halfway there. Close though. 60 more Observations or 6 more Commands. The former is more likely. Still, I need to replenish the remaining difference with Doors.
The Metaliteral Hallway welcomed its return. Even though two Doors were burned, the Hallway was longer than before by a Door. Instead of the black Doors of Power, Crimson moved over to the white Doors of Knowledge. Through the first Door, Crimson could see a red figure sitting above a galaxy with a giant, metaphorical eye above the red figure. The title of this door was 'Total Omniscience'. Technically, it should have been labeled 'Universal Omniscience' since there was no way of knowing anything about the Cosigners or the rest of the Multiverse. Still, the Door closed, burned, and empowered. Like the 'Major Deity' Door, it restored half of Crimson's starting strength. Thus ended the two most powerful Doors of the Hallway.
Annoyingly, that left a last fraction between restoration and current power. Sacrificing 'Minor Deity' or 'Remnant Omniscience' would be overkill. As would be 'Local Omniscience'. By a hair, 'Minor Demigod' would waste. Instead, Crimson bypassed it to consider the immortality and wizard Doors.
I only need a little more.
'Total Immortality' and 'Major Wizard' would provide too much. 'Conditional Immortality' and 'Minor Wizard' would provide too little alone. Combined, however, they would be just right. It was either that or try to find a more annoying combo of even weaker Doors. Although more effort had been made to distract the Brothers, time was running out. With an unhappy snort, Crimson burned the two Doors.
It was ready to battle again.
"There!
Just in time, too.
The two dragons flew straight at them. Crimson glanced at Griff. "Stay visible but out of the fight."
"Don't have to tell me twice."
Crimson couldn't help but feel nervous. Its temporary power allowed it to trade blows with the Brothers as equals for several exchanges.
Griff would die in one hit.
He's a tactical liability, but if he disappears, they might go to Remnant to find him. It would be okay. Crimson only had to protect Griff for three more fights before it could force a permanent stalemate.
Crimson counter-charged.
"Wait!" Light called out.
Nobody waited.
Twin beams of purple sliced between Darkness and Crimson. They stabbed into a red energy shield surrounding both Crimson and Griff. A portal to the material world opened up behind Light a moment before Crimson crashed into him, throwing all three out of the spirit realm.
With an enraged snarl, Darkness chased after them.
There was shouting in the throne room.
Ozma and Salem sat in twin thrones as she held Hannah, their second daughter. He grimaced as yet another religious argument broke out between his people about who to follow: the Brothers or Crimson. As he watched, a tall and large Demihuman, no, wait, they wanted to be called Faunus now, bear Faunus woman was yelling at one of his captains.
Right before Ozma could intervene, a crimson light stunned all into silence. The light came from an orb appearing in the center of the hall. It vanished in a flash. In its place was a crimson-haired goat.
Silence.
…
The goat bleated.
"IT'S A SIGN FROM CRIMSON!"
Ozma groaned.
A/N: Apologies for the late arrival. This chapter wanted to be a lot more than I expected.