John 8:36:
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
KJV(King James Version)
As dawn broke, the streaking sun lit the morning sky. Chirping birds flew, singing their morning songs with renewed vigor. The air was crisp and cool, void of pollution. The streets of Lunaria Central looked like something straight out of an urban fiction novel: luxurious cars and other means of transport moving at high speeds. People—Seraphites and mundane humans alike—interacted with each other, going about their daily business. Skyscrapers covered the entire region like petals on a blooming flower. Among this region's attractions was a massive, estate-like property.
Calling it massive was an understatement; it was about five thousand five hundred acres, making the rest of Lunaria Central look like a mustard seed. This property held the largest, most prestigious buildings in Lunaria Central, and perhaps the whole world. Multiple research facilities could be seen. In one of these facilities, a man worked on a certain project. The man was of large stature, a mountain in the eyes of most scientists who worked there. His appearance was elegant: instead of the traditional white lab coat, he wore a black trench coat with golden, intricate symbols on the sleeves and back.
The tall man spoke with a scientist operating a holographic computer interface. "How did the simulations go?" the scientist asked.
"Mr. H, the simulations of the Soul Temperer are somewhat positive. I used animals primarily as the subjects, and the results—although varying—were successful overall," she replied, tapping a projection that displayed the results.
The man nodded, examining the simulation results intently. "How many simulations did you run?" Mr. H asked.
The woman straightened her glasses as she continued to interact with the holograms. "Two million simulations—"
Mr. H cleared his throat, interrupting. "Two million simulations, and you only ran them on animals? Why weren't there any human subjects?" His tone showed subtle anger.
"Sir, I have been working on this project for months; initially, my primary subjects were humans. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a stabilizing agent compatible with the human soul. Human subjects rarely survived the simulation," she replied.
Mr. H stroked his stubble, deep in thought. After a moment, he asked, "Did you find out why?"
"It is quite simple: the answer lies in the presence and complexity of human souls. Due to the absence of a soul, exposure to angelic and demonic ichor (essence) turned plants and animal life into mutates. There was no soul to influence, so the essence affected their biological makeup," she said, gesturing toward the holographic results.
"From what I gather, higher complexity means subjects are harder to alter. I believe this is why plants responded differently." The woman nodded. "Plants had a ninety-nine percent success rate due to their relative lack of complexity in biological makeup and sentience. Plus, I felt you wouldn't require botanites due to how common they are."
Mr. H made a forward gesture with his hand, and she swiped the holographic simulation toward him. He scanned the failed human simulations, noting every subject's condition.
"I am sure complexity is key, but observe this from another angle. Aside from being more complex, animals possess a higher level of sentience compared to plants. What exactly differentiates humans from our primate relatives?" he asked.
The woman paused. "We are more sentient and less reliant on instinct. Humans can make decisions independent of instincts, and we recognize necessity. We also have souls."
Mr. H clapped his hands, pleased. "This is why you are my Lead Researcher, Francesca. Do you know why some human simulations were—"
His trench coat began to vibrate. Mr. H pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He was about to decline the call when he saw the caller ID: Unknown number. This might be important.
"Excuse me, Francesca; I have to take this," he said, walking out of the lab.
Francesca nodded and returned to the simulations. Why is he so interested in human experimentation? Curiosity gnawed at her like a wild beast. She wanted to know why her boss was more interested in her failed human trials than in her successes.
A few minutes later, Mr. H returned, a scowl masking his visage.
"Sir…" Francesca began, but he waved her off.
"My apologies, Francesca. Something came up. Please send the results of your two million simulations to my contact," Mr. H declared.
"But, sir—" Francesca protested.
He slammed his hand on the table top, destroying it and the holographic interface. "You are paid to do research, NOT ask questions! Don't make me repeat myself!" He bellowed, his eyes glowing a bright orange hue.
Francesca was stunned. What could have happened in such a short time to upset him so much?
"Get someone to replace this ASAP. Good day," he said, walking out of the lab.
He hurried through the facility, passing personnel and ignoring greetings. Using an elevator, he ascended the sixty-nine floors. The doors opened on floor seventy. Mr. H entered his office angrily and slammed the door behind him. His assistant, a short, slender man, stood in the corner, anticipating his return.
"Welcome back, sir. May I assist you with anything?" the assistant asked in a near-robotic tone.
"Schedule a meeting with The Godhand. Inform them it's an issue of world security," Mr. H replied, taking a seat at his large desk. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number. I warned that idiot not to act without my supervision. Now look at what's happened.
After a long moment, the person on the other end answered. "What is it now, Hiram? I'm training."
Mr. H's face flushed with rage at the nonchalant tone. "What the fuck did you do? Wasn't I clear about waiting for my go-ahead? Why did you start the project without me?"
"Relax, Mr. H; we discussed this. I was merely trying to speed up the project. The sooner we found the demon, the better," the gruff voice replied.
"Oh yes, you care about the world's safety! Don't give me that bullshit, Cain! You only care about killing this demon, you battle-lusting pig!" Hiram yelled, fists clenched.
"And you—knowledge-mongering hypocrite—your thirst for knowledge consumes you! Watch your tone, Hiram. You are not my boss. I am your equal!" Cain shot back, anger in his voice.
"What exactly is the issue? I already said you'd take the credit when it's over. Why is it so important that you start the experiment?" Cain smirked.
Hiram drew deep breaths, trying to steady himself. If I get angrier, my powers might spiral out of control.
"Cain, telling you to wait wasn't an ego move; I had my reasons. I was tracing the source of our information, consulting world-renowned scryers for more omens. Turns out I was wrong; it wasn't a vision—it was a prophecy." He spat the word as if it burned.
This dull-witted Neanderthal doesn't realize what he's done! Hiram thought, gripping the side of his desk until his knuckles went white.
"A prophecy? Same difference—" Cain began.
"NO, CAIN! They are NOT the same. A vision is a likely or possible future that can be altered. Prophecies are set in stone; they cannot be changed! Do you realize what you have done?" Hiram demanded.
"I still don't see what you're worried about; you of all people should know the extent of my abilities…" Cain scoffed.
Hiram had stopped listening to Cain the second he started praising himself. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? He pondered wearily.
"Cain, you just set in motion a prophecy that ends with the destruction of the cosmos. Because of you, an armageddonic threat has escaped, and its whereabouts are unknown—"
"Then find it! Why are you contacting me if you haven't found the demon? Find it, and then I can kill it. Goodbye, Hiram!" Cain snapped, hanging up.
Hiram stared at the dead line in disbelief. First, Cain went behind his back and triggered a fucking Armageddon; now, Cain ordered him to fix it. Cain's lack of accountability made Hiram want to explode.
"FUCK!" he yelled, throwing his phone at the wall.
At the last second, a hand caught the device, saving it from damage. "Thank you, Joseph," Hiram muttered.
Joseph bowed his head and placed the phone on the desk. "No problem, sir. What would you have me do, Mr. Hiram?"
Hiram leaned back and massaged his temples. "Ensure this doesn't leak. Get all the information on the Dunkelheit incident. Talk to our contacts in the Bureau. Report back when you're done."
Joseph bowed and left. Once out of hearing range, Hiram picked up his phone again. "Assemble T.H.R.E.A.T. I need an agent. Someone discreet and meticulous," he ordered.
Nestled deep in a forest, a region contrasted sharply with its surroundings. Where rich vegetation and sunlight flourished nearby, this area lacked trees and plants. The few that existed looked near death. The creatures here were anomalies resembling eldritch nightmares. This place was a void zone—deteriorated and mutated from excessive exposure to demonic energies.
A flash of blue light and static materialized out of thin air, startling the monsters. Emerging from the light was Traz'gaxaun, a freakish grin covering his demonic visage. He was high on life. He had escaped the research facility, Astaroth, and Hell.
A strange feeling welled inside him; it was exhilarating. It felt like a planet had been lifted off his shoulders. A wave of confidence washed over him. So this is what it feels like to be free, he thought, grinning. If this is true freedom, I will never return to Hell.
Traz regained his bearings and surveyed the forest. Quite the questionable spot for a portal exit.Humans are odd. He sensed multiple ichor signatures nearby. Unbeknownst to him, the portal had transported him here as a defensive mechanism. He felt the void zone's effects on his ichor. So these are the places described as "Hell on Earth."The density of corrupted ichor strengthens me. To test it, Traz conjured a ball of ichor in his palm. Scarlet sparks danced around the orb like fireflies at a bonfire.
His corrupted ichor pulsed, whispering to him to use it. Traz ignored the urges and extinguished the orb. Interesting... I need to find more places like this to grow stronger. He knew humans would leave no stone unturned in their search for him. Getting strong enough to kill them all was his only option.
A guttural growl pulled him from his thoughts. These lesser beasts are finally bold enough to challenge me. He smirked as the growls grew louder.
Emerging from the shadows was a dreadful sight: a beast like a deceased deer, gargantuan in size. Instead of hooves, it had claws on each foot the size of garden shears. Patches of skin were missing, and corrupted ichor condensed around its neck, giving it a sickly black aura.
The most horrifying part was its head. Pitch-black eyes fixed on Traz. Its antlers branched like trees, interwoven. Globs of saliva dripped from its lips. The monster released a screech that pierced the air.
Traz stood unfazed, his signature smirk in place. Where others see fear, I see opportunity. These beasts knew only fear and rage. I could subjugate them with my ichor, but that would be boring.
He bent his knees and took a defensive stance. With an ear-piercing squeal, the anomaly charged, antlers first.
The impact created a miniature shockwave, blowing dead leaves about. Traz caught the charging beast by an antler branch, halting its approach. The monster pushed, but Traz was immovable. This beast doesn't seem worth my while.But I'll consume it regardless—waste not, want not.
Ichor gathered in his eyes; his scarlet gaze flared. Before the monster understood, a hole burned through its head, killing it instantly. The smell of rotten, burnt flesh floated across the forest.
Traz plunged his hand into the skull and ripped out the brain. He sank his teeth into the soft tissue; blood and brain matter flowed down his throat. Rotten flesh wasn't a delicacy, but Traz didn't eat for pleasure—he ate to grow. I was right; no unique ability to copy, but its ichor won't go to waste.
He tore the carcass limb from limb. The scene would sicken anyone who witnessed it, except for other anomalies.
Growls, screeches, and howls filled the forest as more monsters surrounded him. A devious look crept over Traz. Today's my lucky day. He abandoned the carcass and rose to face them. He made quick work of the beasts, ripping them apart as they charged. The forest turned into a bloodbath—organs hung from branches, and decapitated heads littered the ground.
Amid the sea of red, Traz stood proudly. This reminded him who he was: an instrument of death and destruction. He would kill, consume, and destroy anything in his path—humans, Seraphites, and monsters alike. Oppose me, and you die.Now: how to get out of here? He felt a stronger presence deeper in the void, but wasn't curious. The logical path led south, where the void's influence waned. He began the journey.
After hours that felt like days, the corrupted region's effects faded. Pushing bushes aside, he saw a large, unfamiliar machine with wheels. A fence also blocked his path. Two humans in navy-blue uniforms stood side by side, chatting, unaware of the danger in the bushes. What do we have here? Traz grinned.
"Joey and Tom have to pay us for all these shifts," a blond man barked, wiping his forehead with a napkin. "Ken, all the time I've wasted here, I could've been in a casino."
His companion slapped him on the shoulder. "You're always at that damned casino. I'm glad you're covering these shifts; it's healthier for your bank and your family." The man chuckled.
They joked while Traz watched. I could kill these men without fuss, he thought, but he hesitated. Uniforms often meant authority. He didn't want to leave a trail for mortals to follow. Pearce said that man could kill all demons. Although all demons were a stretch, I won't draw unnecessary attention—yet. He resolved to learn more about the balance of power in this world.
"Speaking of family, how's your wife, Gerald? Still giving you the cold shoulder?" one man asked, nudging his friend. Gerald pushed his friend's hand away.
Traz coughed loudly, drawing their attention. The two men gasped and drew firearms.
"Police! Freeze!" Gerald barked, aiming.
"What the fuck is that, Gerald? I thought there were no humanoids in this forest!" the other man yelled.
Traz grinned, revealing bloodstained fangs. "You humans fascinate me," he chuckled.
Fear coiled around them. "Did… did it just speak?" Ken whispered.
Gerald opened fire. Five shots echoed through the forest.
Traz stared, unimpressed. Wisps of smoke rose where bullets struck. The ichor-tipped rounds were ineffective. I didn't even have to reinforce my skin. Pathetic. He covered the distance in an instant and grabbed Gerald by the neck.
"Gerald!" Ken yelled, preparing to attack.
"Take one more step, and he dies," Traz threatened, squeezing just enough to show he meant it. Gerald's face ballooned; his eyes watered as he struggled.
I didn't even have time to react or use my ability. What is something this strong doing in this void zone? Gerald thought as he gasped. Gerald coughed and fought, but the demon's grip did not falter.
Traz stared into the man's eyes; his scarlet vision coated everything. "None of this happened. Sleep and forget," the demon ordered.
The man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. Ken could only watch his friend fall.
Inhuman strength and psychic influence—this creature can't be real, Ken quivered, firearm still aimed.
Traz turned to the other agent, eyes still glowing. "What the fuck are you?"
"What I am is of no relevance to you. What you will do for me, on the other hand…" Traz paused, moving so fast his form blurred and then materialized in front of the terrified man.
"You are going to tell me EVERYTHING I need to know," Traz declared, eyes burning like miniature suns.