There was a girl running.
He didn't know exactly why, but it was a simple matter to guess the reason.
Disheveled appearance, red rimmed eyes, lack of any serious traveling equipment…
At first, it could be assumed that this is just some vagrant child preforming a theatrical tantrum by running away from their home. He had more important things to contemplate than an unprepared young girl in a forest.
Thus, not wanting to engage in a mere human child's affairs, the watcher would have just silently went away through the forest.
But then he properly saw the eyes.
Eyes of set determination in a young body.
When was the last time he saw eyes like that?
"…The sacrifice."
As a god gazes upon a young mortal, they remember the days of yesteryear.
…And the mortal gazes back.
The girl was running. She had a goal to accomplish, and a sizable percent of that goal was fueled by childish rage.
She had been screaming for a good while before entering the greater part of the forest. "Since when can a parent just do that?"
"He just DIED on me!"
"I DON'T WANT ANY OF THIS."
She glared at her right hand like it was an insult to her. For some reason, it had a light blue tinge like armor. The colouration could be explained away by saying that it was part of her eclectic protection choices, and she actually had done so whenever it was pointed out by other travelers.
But she knew it wasn't any armor, and that's what really counted.
"The Glow" had started three days before the funeral. If she had to give a specific time, it was after she had fainted upon hearing her father's dying words. His voice had sounded dry and shaking, but he still had the timbre whenever he imparted something important.
He held up his hand to quiet her.
"Remember this. This is vital."
She had stayed silent.
"Do not mourn my passing."
Her eyes had widened.
"I am the worst being in this entire world."
She hadn't responded. She couldn't respond. This was in comparison to actual monsters. She might be able to stubbornly deny his claim if she tried to advocate enough for him.
...
Maybe she could fight the Dark Borrower.
… Or, if she vehemently suggested where his soul ends up enough times…
Hell take him. Hell take him. Hell take him. Hell take him. Hell take him hell take him helltakehimhelltakehimhelltakehimhellta-
"Want to know something? Hell used to be where the bad people went when they died."
He had smiled at that. The old coot smiled.
"As we discussed, there is no afterlife. But if there was, I can accept going there."
He clasped her hand as he said this. The dark air stilled around the bed.
She kept chanting voicelessly.
"A wise young man once told me that he would always stand for what he believed in. He wanted to reach the stars."
"I didn't let him."
He went quiet, then lifted her right hand towards the ceiling, slowly from the strain.
"Look up towards the stars, and reach them, Jori."
"Reach the stars this time."
"I-"
"I won't stop you anymore."
She remembered nothing after that point.
Nothing coherent, that is.
The indefinite period was marked with a torrent of memories. Or perhaps they were dreams. She couldn't see them all clearly enough. Just fragments of a life.
Watching a child walk by her.
Her hand brushing past script floating in the air.
Looking up at the new moon.
Combat. Teaching and practicing with the children as the days went past.
A circular stone room, repeated hundreds of times…
Then, in between all the flickering scenes she might have experienced… was fire, blackness, and pain.
Far too much.
When she woke, she went around the house searching for things that would be useful. She made no effort to be quiet. She was the only person here, anyways.
The house was still.
The air was punctuated by the sounds of metal and wood in irregular intervals, like someone reorganising a shelf. If you were not looking at the entrance, being distracted by the noise, you'd never notice the girl had left the house bedecked in her father's eclectic array of equipment.
She recognised every single piece of the equipment she was wearing. Besides the spiked metal ring she learned to fight with, supposedly called a "Quip ring" by her father, all these objects would have just been things her father owned before this day. Now she knew each and every one.
The materials.
The methods to construct each.
The faces of the arrogant fools who used to wear them.
She didn't like feeling this way. There were too many memories to deal with. This, she thought, was because of some problem that remained unresolved. She started walking into the forest, trying to verbalise what the problem was.
"Look towards the stars..."
Something was missing. He left something out. It felt like a poem that had a line removed for obscurity's sake.
She remained this way until she encountered the man.
He was tall. That was the first thing she noticed.
He was also shirtless, but she didn't really care about that much. His body was a bit like Grandfather's, but Grandfather never kept his scars next fight.
This man had a massive white slit in his chest. She assumed it was paint to look intimidating. Nobody human could survive the kind sword blow that could make that shape of scar. She also knew very well that humans can't have the heads of other creatures, especially glowing green ones.
Thus, she combined all of this information together, and came to the obvious conclusion that this is one of her other memories that was making her see things.
Since she didn't have a name for them, she just called them "The Man" and waited for the shock to dissipate. She waited a while, looking towards the man standing in the greenery.
Was he going to do something?
"Hello, human. What is your name?"
…
This was tiring. Standing was tiring. Engaging in the world was tiring. Not actually being dead after he told that bastard to stop the word games and just fight him... To further his annoyance, he forgot how slow humans are in conversation. Yes, this was a child, but he just impossibly regained his life. He was normally quite nice to children, but not two hours after rebirth. He was irritable, tired, confused, vengeful, and this child was taking so long to respond that he was having a full monologue in his head and she didn't even respond to the question ye-
"Jor-"
…
With a silent burst of speed, the inhuman face stared at her. The teeth were very subtly wider. If she wasn't careful, this jackal may bite her head off.
"What did you say?"
Her name was, if she had time to say it, Jori. There's nothing unusual about it, except that it was the name of someone her father had known before.
The therianthropic creature gazed in observation for a moment.
Then it spoke in a voice that brooked no argument.
"I shall call you Child."
The…they… the arrogant fool! What's this for? You… WHAT?
The Child was blustering. It amused me. The humor appeared to bring about some change, and I noted myself becoming... less volatile.
But I would not relent on the name.
I relinquished my apathetic world weary idling with a near effortless burst of fluid movement, halting mere inches away from the mortal child.
They would have said some name like Jorhar, but the similarity is too close. Thus, I deemed it safe to use a placeholder.
…
…. Sigh.
A king, now fallen to puerile acts that even a child finds insulting.
How depressing.
The child eventually developed a reply.
"I'll give you a name then."
I felt some kind of retribution was warranted for this. I did aggravate them for no clear reason on their part.
"I apologise for my rash action. I will accept your name. Within reason."
… This is unusual. I normally don't humor children this much. I still had a standard in the way of titles. I helped the children and their parents in my kingdom, but that was continents away.
Another name.
Another time.
…. It must be the similarity. I died as a king, so the residual protectiveness towards my citizens is coalesced into this child after my rebirth. It seems reasonable to hypothesise.
"What is captivating your attention?"
She appeared to be trying to remember some forgotten detail in order to develop a name for me. Perhaps I will end up taking the nominative yoke of an old family member of this child.
Jori knew this man. Where? The voice was familiar… but she definitely would have recognised an animal headed man in a kilt if she met him before.
They didn't want to hear her name. Maybe they met before and this is punishment for forgetting them? Or did this man know the "namesake" that her father said she's named after?
Jori also heard him talk about "rebirth" in a quiet voice.
… Oh.
OH. NO.
Hell take her.
They've died before.
The Child began to stumble back, directing a chakram at my form. Strange. I hadn't seen her holding it. I stayed still, and they flickered between the weapon and myself. Their mouth was silently forming the shape of "death", so it was rather difficult to not know what she was thinking. I was a threat.
A deathless story used to keep oppressed subjects in line.
They should know better than to try to fight me.
I leaned down towards them, and asked, "Do you know who I am?"
It was as good as any other to gain information. Do the people remember me?
A hero, or a villain?
Deathless.
Father said he killed one that found me once. "Punched it straight to the heavens, kid. They're not coming back."
Jori, hearing the story, remembered seeing a giant, torn into pieces in a field. This and many other bodies in various locations and broken with countless techniques of violence. The name must not actually be true then.
This means she can fight them.
…
Why would they care about her? Or, her name? Nothing warranted…
Jori stopped thinking about now, instead some subconscious part diverted her back to something inside the memory that may be a dream.
Past the pain and the darkness and that boring, boring room.
She went through all the of the years of boredom.
Eventually, she landed on the memory that showed the helmet she now had on her back.
"Him. The thief. He stole you from me-"
The wearer gazing down from a massive height, backlit by the sun.
The unmistakable feeling of indomitable hatred at the sight of the white armoured thief.
"-and you burned his very soul."
A deserved punishment. Sadly, he didn't die."
"It seems wayward Jori still believes."
… Out of anything in the world…
She's named after a THIEF.
… If she had been kidnapped by someone in the past, she expected that she would have remembered it.
The jackal headed form tilted in questioning.
"Well?"
"Aren't you dead?"
… Here I was expecting a human to give a reasonable response.
A child, no less.
I am death-less.
Not dead.
There is a very clear distinction between an immortal being and a corpse.
… I was ignoring the very important detail where I was, in fact, supposed to be dissipated into the void, not standing in a forest arguing with a child.
But they wouldn't understand the nuances of my long and illustrious lifetimes.
My life, my thievery, the many years of my reign…. The years with A- Siris would be a month at least…
To summarise, she is missing the contextual information that allows her to fully grasp my legend.
"You… are dead."
I quickly dissuaded the child of the notion.
"No…. I am Deathless."
She nodded once.
Then her vitriol started.
She spat at me. "Traitorous Anubis."
What was th-
...
Did she say Anubis?
"Jackal headed thief!"
Jackals stopped existing in the first razing of Earth.
"Horrible namesake!"
…
Hah.
Now that was new.
He started laughing.
How DARE he!
Jori didn't know where all this rage was coming from, but it felt good to do something about it. So, she kept shouting at them.
"Tyrant!"
"Traitor!"
It wasn't working.
He was enjoying it.
"Oh. This is hilarious. You don't even know what you're saying, do you?"
His name is an insult now!
Worshipping, Fear, Dread, but not an insult for children. He laughed at the idea. How much time had passed for his legend to be diluted so much?
The Egyptian touch must have come from the Deathless, though. "Immortal God/King presiding over the dead" is definitely a nod to his imprisonment of the Pantheon.
How cute. One of his most impressive feats is kept alive through a childish insult.
...
The horrible namesake line was unusual though.
Do they title tyrannic leaders "Radriar" in this time period? This merited some investigation.
"Do you have any more? Or are you all out of insults for legendary god kings?"
...
This was quite an amusing distraction. This child was so… endearing.
He smiled, like a patient parent waiting for the tantrum to end.
Oh dear. What was happening to him?
Was Ausar's drastically distorted view exacerbated just by the onset of time? That eventually, they all would revert back to searching for human company and he just had a faster case of it?
The worst part is that, despite this hypothesis being unproven and baseless, he felt that the end result was…. acceptable. He had noted an incline towards caring more about his subjects as time had went on.
"Pretender."
...
He was grinning widely now. This was fun. A petty time-waster that he was far too engaged in.
His mind questioned about his incredibly focused interest in this human girl. He had more significant things to do.
But he wanted-
-needed-
He needed to do this.
… Then he heard what she said.
And his unplanned enthusiasm dried up.
...
"Do you care to explain?"
...
Silence.
...
"Why am I a pretender?"
Nobody ever called him a-
… no…
He had called them a pretender.
Is this a lucky guess? There's only so many negative insults in this language. Perhaps it was a mistake and some other word was intended. Just talking with Siris's partner during her drunken pining led him to discovering an entirely new language. Enough time may have passed for linguistic shift, or a new word that sounded similar to it…
The Child glared at him.
Hatred.
He knew hatred.
...
Not just that. He knew that exact hue of hatred. This was the hatred of the sacrifice in the Dark Citadel.
This was the he had for the Worker.
...This was his hatred of Uriel.
He rapidly sealed away his mind.
He stilled, and let them speak, smiling slightly.
"You are not a god, or a king."
...
Jori knew this. It was a fact.
She knew it. The her in her memories knew it. Grandpa and Grandma told her that they knew the first part. Grandpa always says the second wasn't true though.
No matter who she believed, she felt that was a very fitting thing to say to a god king. If this man believes he is one… she just has to show him the infinite light of a truth she formed through years of deep philosophical debate and combat training with her "Quip ring"…
…!
That was it. The information she was missing.
She ignored the jackal's face freezing.
She was having a realisation.
That was it. That's what she was trying to verbalise.
The world is a broken, ruined place. That is a fact.
The Deathless. They do not deserve what they have been given. Also, a fact.
They rained destruction down upon the Earth… She felt it was true. The world seemed fine right now, but if she closed her eyes and went through the maybe memories, she could feel the fire burning her.
They deliver destruction on the earth, then? Fact.
Being "the worst person" is an opinion.
It's a big world. She didn't have any historic documents, but she knew her father was a good person in her family's standards, and in the standards of some of the towns he visited during his days as a…
Worker? She was never sure what he did exactly.
Jori's incredibly strong plan was to prove through her infinite light of her soul's deeply held belief that her father was not "the worst person in this entire world".
Her way to prove this is by ranking her father against the worst entities she knew of existing:
The Deathless.
If she had to, she'd only go against the worst one of them all. Since she didn't really know about the Deathless, this was mostly an evidence collecting journey.
Although… if hell is already filled up with Deathless, her father… would never end up there! There would be no space. So there is an extra bonus for killing all the tyrannical Deathless.
Jori, deep in her heart, knew this was one of the most insane coping mechanisms in the universe, but it was at least SOMETHING to do. Her first step was to find the "worst" Deathless, and if necessary, kill them.
… and she knew exactly how to get her information.
"Butterfly. Who is the worst Deathless in the world, in your opinion?"
Radriar was rapidly theorising the chances of his mind being severely damaged. This was then compared to what he knew of the Deathless, Siris's proclivities, all text made by or about him and his existence, the Worker's penchant for incredible planning, and the chances of an ungodly level of luck causing a ludicrously improbable coincidence.
The summary of the inhumanly fast theoretical framework of investigation is along these lines:
She knows. How can she so calmly recite His words? There are slight variances in some parts, like any old copy endlessly repeated, but still the same message. How? Recordings? Deathless revealing secrets? Siris?
…Is she even stable?
Radriar was willing to have it be an incredibly unlikely coincidence, and he felt mental instability could be a factor in the decision.
After all, she is talking to nonexistent fauna about morality right now.
"Butterfly. Who is the worst Deathless you know?"
She's getting urgent about it, even.
He found humor in this.
…
Then she snapped her hand.
A blue light blinked into existence, and Radriar analysed the spark.
There is a ring embedded in her skin.
… He knew it. Knew and feared the original bearer of it.
… He could comprehend what he saw, but chose to not contemplate any further. He needed more evidence. So, he remained quiet.
Her anger appeared to burst, and she began talking in a rushed voice of annoyance.
"Deathless Butterfly. I am actively conversing with you."
...
"Do you need more clarification?"
…
"Who is the worst Deathless to exist in this world? Please state this clearly."
Radriar noted that she became far more verbose as while she appeared to be in a more distracted state.
Myself? Is she talking to me?
Oh. Yes. She wanted to call me by a name after I titled her "Child".
Let us distract her. She may mistakenly reveal more of her secrets by accident.
"Why am I called butterfly now?"
The likeliest point is that this is coincidental, no doubt.
Childish fancy.
He feared the response, for it may be chillingly reminiscent once again.
…
"You just are."
An appropriately childish response.
… Perhaps too appropriate?
Am I just playing mind games with a child? Is this what he felt like all the time?
I chose to further interrogate her. "Why? Do you care to explain?"
She started moving deeper into the forest, so I followed. There were far too many mysteries around this girl's responses that I needed to further investigate.
Jori was walking through the forest. It appeared that she now had a travelling companion. The memories weren't in her head before the death, so she ignored the feelings of hatred and rage.
Why were they a butterfly? It felt appropriate, but they may not accept that reply.
Eventually, the travelling reached a halt when they encountered a cliff side.
Jori viewed the wide expanse of forest, dotted with small areas of rock and large hills.
There was some large building off in the distance. It was probably larger than her house, since it looked like her thumb's size from this far away. When looking around the forest areas a closer distance to them, Jori noted there was a stack of smoke tufts.
At least, she thought tuft was a good word for them.
"Butterfly. Do you know how far away that smoke is?"
Butterfly glanced towards the smoke. "I would have to estimate the distance depending on your average walking distance and stamina."
So…
"… In terms of a normal human, it would be more than one day."
...
What if there was a way to drastically reduce that time? If she had some sort of… wheel or…
Jori remembered something in the helmet. She began to reach her hand around the inside. It was all greys and whites and very hard to look for such a little shape.
While she fumbled about, she remarked,"Can we go faster in any way?"
The man-figure currently named Butterfly halted, and looked at the child. "You do not share my previous physiology," he said.
"-so you cannot reduce it without any mechanical aid or conveyance."
... Hell take me.
...
She pouted at my reasonable reply to her question, and started walking, seeming to search for a way down the side. Her exclamation during this time distracted me from my patient waiting for a response to my earlier question.
She removed a ring from her unorthodox bucket, and began to fidget with it. No doubt some trite human heirloom.
It was a rather small ring, old, metal worn and scratched, but showing signs of some past sophistication.
It appeared to be made from two differently sized rings interlo-
-inside a helmet.
Jackal head.
Thief.
Traitor.
Why does she know so much?
Children learn from their parents. He knew that well.
He realised he had made a very significant mistake.
The original hypothesis was wrong. A more telling clue is that I misidentified the object she was carrying on her back.
Upon hearing a laugh, Jori looked up towards the man.
"Did you steal that?"
"If so, I'm impressed. Humans have gotten quite bold in recent years the-"
She muttered so they couldn't hear her. "I didn't steal it."
...
It was originally her grandfather's helmet, but her father kept it safe.
…but Butterfly didn't need to know that.
Butterfly was quiet.
...
"Do you have family?"
"Grandfather's helmet, but father keeps it safe."
Odd. Did she expect he couldn't hear her?
That is his helmet. Older, more worn, yes. But it is still his distinct helmet. At first he thought some child managed to steal his helmet from Siris.
That, out of anything, warranted some respect.
But… that doesn't explain the responses in their entirety. His best suspicion relies on her family.
Which Deathless's get are you?
After all, they don't have children.
…
"Father. He's dead now."
Ah. No mother. How to act? Is she a soulless made for allowing someone to feel lingering human emotions?
"Grandpa Siri, and Grandma Isa."
… Ah. Grandpa Siri. Touching.
So they lived. With them… he could assume they actually sired a child. The lack of a mother could be explained by the classic abandonment.
But… why would they teach their grandchild so much? She was intentionally looking for his ring inside the helmet, if the exclaiming was any sign. But, if they taught her that much, she should know how it works. After all, living tissue cannot be transported.
…
That explains most of it. Her family, grandparents at least, are Deathless.
It leaves some points up to guesswork, but he was satisfied. It gives a background and allows some loose extrapolation to link her odd answers to a source in a reasonable manner. Perhaps her being the biological descendant of a Deathless explains his interest. A… hitherto unknown existence would certainly pique his interest.
Now that that was resolved, he can respond to her questions, then they can head to some place of rest. He was quite interested in how Siris would react to him appearing so impossibly.
"Your name. I remembered now."
Ah, yes. Why a butterfly for the new title of Radriar?
… Jori did not know exactly what to say.
She knew when she called him that, before, in her head.
A rare butterfly.
"You're rare, Butterfly."
...
...
… Hmm? That's… nice.
Radriar would have said "incredibly unusual description" but, to a child, he was a rare thing. You don't normally find jackal headed men in the woods.
He was willing to put the similarities down to coincidences again, but the girl wasn't done yet.
An interesting specimen.
"You… are… interesting… no."
"You are an interesting…"
She stopped, her young face frowning in thought.
"Specimen seems… wrong. Like you're just a little bug I raised."
...
He stopped moving. Perfect, inhuman stillness. He had enough evidence now.
You are an interesting specimen, Radriar.
When they put aside the mask, they put aside the god.
But you.
You believe.
… -like you're just a little bug I raised."
"Butterfly. Who is the worst Deathless, in your opinion?
You are not a god, or a king. Merely a pretender.
Radriar looked upon the child.
"Worker."
…What? It was easily connected, you arrogant fool. You kept dropping hints like breadcrumbs in a children's story.
Admit it.
Go on.
…
They looked directly into my face.
"Worker? There is a Deathless called that? That's the worst?"
I, the God King, masked in a jackal's head, respond with a grim look and a nod.
"Okay."
"…"
"Can you help me kill them?"
...
...
…
Dio in cielo, colpismi ora.
What did I do to deserve this?