The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Fatia Cerulean’s left leg ripped into the Nether King as it turned to flee. A muffled groan came out of the beast’s mouth as the rest of Fatia’s weight and force followed, breaking its spine and grinding its body to a halt against the pebble-strewn ground.

It had taken all of twenty seconds to locate, intercept, overwhelm, and break the spirit of the Nether King. The brevity of the process was almost a disappointment.

Satisfied with his pounce, Fatia stepped sideways and sniffed. He clacked his teeth together contemplatively as he considered the twitching body beneath him. In the end, he shook his massive skull, even as his blue aura flared to greater heights around his skeleton-esque body. Definitely disappointment colored the impression he had of this conflict. “No, I would love to include a Nether King as one of my trophies… but you just don’t belong there. Fatal Predation.”

Cerulean blurred into motion, raking first claws then jaws across the back of the downed Nether King. The surrounding dirt slope endured a very liberal spraying of gore as he ripped off the flesh of his opponent and then crunched his way through the bones. In the beast’s heart, Cerulean found the physical representation of the being’s Nether Core.

For a while he prodded it with his claw, but soon became bored and simply crunched it down like everything else.

Just like that of Aether, a wide variance exists in terms of a Nether King’s strength. It is disappointing to have to hunt down these rabble, but soon-

“My liege.”

Cerulean looked up. Arrayed before him in their neat robes were the leaders of the Cerulean Guard, bowing at the waist and not even batting an eye at the horrific mess he had made. The soft-faced chameleon being that led the guard saluted. “It is time. The Nether’s main army draws near. Already, ours forces have engaged the vanguard. Soon, their Tier 5 Nether Warriors will make their move.”

“Well then, I must certainly hurry, must I?” Cerulean jested. He paused to pick a few flecks of skin and matted fur from his arms; anything he missed would eventually be burned away by his spiritual aura, but he wanted to cut a dramatic figure on this day. “I wouldn’t want you to slaughter them all without me.”

Cerulean made a private note to have that individual sent on the sort of dangerous mission you never return from. Obedience was obvious necessary, but he didn’t need to be a kiss ass about it.

Kiss-asses also tended to be susceptible to foreign influences, in times of peace. One more threat Cerulean needed to mind. One more enemy needing to be struck down but without providing any tangible benefit.

Truly, that is the limit of my ability, Cerulean mused as he rushed up into the sky and sped West toward where their armies would meet. I can hunt and incorporate the most valuable aspects of prey into myself… but there are some foes which are too large to hunt. Or the powerful individuals are smart enough to hide themselves away while I’m prowling. Haaah… if hunting stays this lean, my attention perhaps must turn toward the Nexus itself…

Cerulean’s jaw clacked in amusement. But then he raised his gaze and saw the assembled momentum of the Nether column humming against the horizon. His anticipation deepened; there were definitely several foes powerful enough within this army to be worthy trophies.

Cerulean continued to snap his jaws shut. And perhaps the danger of these battles will even be enough to lure you out once more, eh, original?

From the original version of himself turned trophy, there was no response. Cerulean chuckled and adjusted the vector of his descent, landing on a rocky outcropping where the Cerulean Guard had set up a base camp. A hundred soldiers, those simply resting around the facility, instantly snapped to attention. Once on the ground, Cerulean swept past them to look out and witness his enemies’ arrival.

The clouds looming above the horizon were the breath of the abyss, inscrutable and stark. They clung together, humming and breeding with the thick Nether wafting off of the aggressors that had stomped through half of the Aetherlands to arrive at the edge of the Cerulean demesne. Cerulean pressed the talons of his feet against the ground so that when he straightened and stood very still, he could feel the faintest rumble of their approaching footfalls.

Powerful Nether individuals didn’t throw off distinct flavors in the way that Aether-based individuals did. Instead, they tended to demonstrate their power either through density or pattern. The flames around Cerulean’s body blazed as he looked at the churning mass of Nether tumbling inexorably for him, aiming straight for the heart of his empire.

To his eyes, it looked like absolute chaos.

Simultaneously, he felt vigilant. Because at the center of this column was the mysterious figure which had whipped up the Nether offensive in only a few days, who had mobilized the whole of their opposition and dragged the lion’s share of the Nether forces to his doorstep. An individual who was so exemplary as to become the first Nether Herald in known history to be heralded by another of his kind.

A perfect trophy

Cerulean glanced sideways at his chameleon second. “Dara. Have the Nether Forces made any attempt at communicating with us?”

“Not in the slightest,” Dara responded with another salute. “This group has attacked on sight since the beginning.”

“I wonder if this swelling fondness is what they call love,” Cerulean cackled. The aura of blue flames around his body blazed even brighter. He flexed his claws, already missing the sensation of ripping into flesh. “No subterfuge, no pointless politicking, no hiding our desires. We fight until our enemies are dead. Based on their approach…” Briefly, Cerulean judged the sky. The excitement in his chest continued to build. “...we have until midnight. Have the guard make their peace. It is time to see which of our Narrow Paths carry us to greater heights.”

*****

“Now, Nether King Hungry Eye,” The Prophet’s disgustingly thick fingers spread across the table. “I believe it is your turn to hold up your end of the bargain. Please, tell me what you know of how this situation ends. Why do we fail?”

Feeling almost like he was cheating the Prophet with this answer, Randidly said, “From what I understand, at the end of this conflict with the Nether, Elhume simply overwhelms you. He manages to reach the Pinnacle, I believe.”

“...I can sense the sincerity in your words. How strange. That seems… impossible. How could Elhume’s power improve so suddenly? Even relying on the last wisps of Pine’s essence… overcoming the Cult of the Savior is no small feat.”

As much as he enjoyed the bulging distress in the chin-eye, Randidly offered an extra tidbit of information he deemed harmless. “From what I understand, a great monster is about to rise in the Nexus. I believe it is an ancient being called Duo. Such is its power that-” Randidly paused for a moment, but ultimately decided that the name probably wouldn’t mean anything. “-that the Hierarchy of Karma needs to be used to kill it. I suspect that conflict gives Elhume the insight he needs.”

A single look at the Prophet made Randidly realize he had missed something. Because the strange representative of the Cult of the Savior had completely stilled. And for the first time, the slightest whorls of unease came off of his body.

The Prophet shook his head slowly. “That should… be impossible. One Hierarchy being used against another? Impossible. And based on the original timeline, that would mean- pah, perhaps variables cloud my vision. So then, Elhume somehow overwhelms us and then simply hides out within the Nexus for the rest of his sorry existence? Has he perished of shame by your era, Nether King?”

“Elhume has often opened the doors and sucked more worlds into the Nexus. He has done so… seven times. He continues to rule the Nexus,” Randidly replied.

“What?!? That cannot-” The eye-teeth clenched and the chin-eye bulged. After a few seconds, the Prophet pushed himself back from the table and stood up. “There is something I must check. Perhaps you feed me the incorrect information, but if it is so- Let us meet again Nether King Hungry Eye.”

The Prophet generated a strange note of resonance and bridged the gap to a distant location. The fabric of space around his body began to buzz in harmony with that note. Randidly felt genuinely impressed by the speed and ease at which the Prophet bridged through space; it rivaled the Alchemist’s Passport. So much so that he almost reached out and smothered that note out of existence.

He didn’t appreciate the Prophet stomping here while he was away, approaching Neveah, speaking snidely with that edge of horror in his appearance. Yet ultimately, Randidly needed some time to think, so he allowed the connection to be made.

The Prophet vanished.

Humming to himself, Randidly walked back over to his training area. He thought about why the shocked Prophet had said ‘one Hierarchy being used against another'. He thought about Elhume, being used by these people and being left stranded exactly where he started, with a brilliant child who couldn’t survive alone in the world.

But also, another of the words spoken by the Prophet stuck with Randidly. A man cannot be a universe, huh… either he corrupts the universe, or the vastness contained within eventually smothers his humanity.

Randidly allowed a bitter smile to flutter across his features. “We’ve felt that, haven't we? How difficult it is to balance it all…”

Yggdrasil’s trunk creaked and groaned, shifting in response to his thoughts. The Stillborn Phoenix began to howl, making its opinion so audibly known Randidly could only laugh. “Okay, yes, I know how you feel about the world impossible. It’s just another chance to prove existence wrong. But also…”

Randidly’s eyes sharpened. Around him, he began to recreate the Nether Dome. “...if it came down to a choice, I would allow myself to be wiped out of existence. To become an object, the framework, the protection for the Alpha Cosmos. I… I’m sorry to you three. I don’t know what will happen to you, as my images, if I-”

All three images urged him to stop. They understood. They would make the same choice. They stood with him.

Randidly let out a relieved smile. “Good. Well, that problem is for later. For now… Grey Creature. Can you feel it in the air? The war is about to shift into high gear. It’s time… to find the shape we will use to advance.”

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