Collide Gamer

The last seal was not broken, it simply gave. The eight-spoked wheel turned once, the entirety of the circle made crimson by the motion. Through it stepped Quetzalcoatl, Xipe-Totec, and then John with his companions.

Before them was one final temple, thrice as tall as all the others, four times as wide at the base, and covered in more gold than John had ever seen before. The untarnished metal radiated power that kept the nearby jungle at bay, even in this time.

Wordlessly, they climbed the stairs. John stuck to the middle of his group, his eyes constantly scanning for any signs of danger. They arrived at the top of the temple, passing a great number of chambers that appeared to have only recently been reclaimed.

At the very top of the temple was a hole. It dominated the vast chamber. The roof and thick walls cast the drop into a deep darkness. The god-warriors jumped into it. Nahua followed. As did the rest of them.

John had felt what followed before, during the Ohmior Raid. Further and further he fell, his descent gradually losing speed, until he reached a point where the gravitational influences flipped. He blinked and suddenly stood in a vast chamber.

John dismissed the window to concentrate on the sight in front of him. He stood at the paved shore of a vast pool of blood. The stench of iron was all-consuming. No incense was burning to hide it. Constantly the crimson body of liquid moved in waves too tall to be called gentle and too controlled to be called churning.

The chamber they now stood in was massive. It went over a dozen metres up, extended over a hundred to the back, and its walls were covered in decorations so dense and intricate that it must have taken a master craftsman decades to complete a single segment of it all. The kind of decorations were not to John’s taste, though. Grotesque faces and animalistic grimaces were mixed with images of ritualistic sacrifice. A particularly gargantuan head, crowned by a half-circle of gold, was the most striking feature on the opposite wall.

In the middle of the fountain of blood stood an empty throne. By the empty throne stood the god that John had seen before. Huitzilopochtli with his black face and diamond eyes. Unlike his avatars, the true Huitzilipochtli was covered in layers of vastly more intricate items. His painted chest was visible, his head covered in colourful feathers, his arms and legs covered in crimson stakes that had been woven under his skin. Jewellery joined them, as did bleached skulls and skin carefully taken from humans.

Xipe-Totec and Quetzalcoatl stepped into the pool of blood, joining the god of sacrifice. They formed a line before the throne. It stood visible and empty behind and between the Flayer Lord and Huitzilopochtli. Their line was completed when, from the blood, a new Tezcatlipoca rose. He was thinner than the last one, taller in return, and covered in an armour of animal hides. His head and black skin were the same as the last god-warrior.

“You desired an audience, invader,” Huitzilopochtli, standing a head taller than any of his god-warriors, spoke. “A brazen thing, but you have earned it thrice over. You have killed the infection upon the Eternal Sanctum that is the ants sworn to gluttony. You have passed the Glory Road. Most importantly, you brought back to me my daughter.”

Nahua lowered herself to the ground with a joyful smile, the act of a noble daughter upholding protocol. “It is good to see you in health, Father.”

“My health was always assured, thanks to your sacrifice. It is your being whole that has me equal parts pleased and deeply surprised. I sense this man worked that miracle?”

“I fought your avatars to break the seal,” John pointed out.

The god of sacrifice reluctantly shrugged. “An automatic response that I was not connected to.”

John chewed on the inside of his cheek, while Nahua answered, “He remade my body with metal and magic, Lord Father. My soul is mine and so are the abilities he granted me in the process.”

“I see. Yet, I can sense a connection between you?”

“Separatable, whenever it is desired,” John assured and noticed the god tensing up at the mention. ‘How odd.’ “I would appreciate it if we could keep it lasting for the time being. Nahua has proven to be invaluable for me not to violate your customs.”

“For the time, that shall be as it stands,” Huitzilopochtli answered immediately.

“I have questions, if I may?” The Gamer did not wait for a response. He wanted answers. “I understand your realm has been plagued by a sickness you call the Purple or the Giant’s Puss. Said sickness was wielded against me, originating from none other than the previous Tezcatlipoca.”

Huitzilopochtli straightened up, his diamond eyes sparkling with great power. “Do you have any proof for this claim?!” he thundered.

The Gamer glanced towards the new god-warrior, arms crossed in support of his leader. ‘Ah, isn’t that awfully convenient?’ “It is as the events have unfolded from my perspective,” John answered. “An agent of mine was in this area and caught the disease upon making contact with Tezcatlipoca – who proceeded to tail her to a hospital to lure us in.”

“Certainly, he only acted to make the best out of the situation,” Quetzalcoatl chimed in.

“He promised us we would be cured if we left the area.”

“…A lie, on his part, if it did happen as you said,” Huitzilopochtli spoke up again. “An approach I disagree with. Still, he acted only in accordance to his secret duty to protect the north of our sphere. Had you been in his shoes, would you not have done the same?”

John dispensed with his personal opinions and traced the steps. Out in the north, preparing for the return of the realm, he would have run into foreign information brokers. An infection of an ancient disease, unfortunate but exploitable, allowed him to try and dig further into these foreign powers. Adding to that the desperation to not deal with more forces than the Grim Reaper, and a lie certainly had its justification.

Yet, that explanation felt… incomplete. “How did the ants invade your realm?” John wanted to know next. “The Serpent’s Graveyard is part of your Sanctum.”

“I must confess a certain… exploitability of my abilities.”

“I already told them, Father,” Nahua confessed. “I deemed it necessary to make them understand your noble intentions.”

“That was not your secret to share, Daughter.” The tone of Huitzilopochtli was warm, fatherly, and yet admonishing. “Regardless, listen and listen close: the ants sacrificed enough that I had to offer them shelter. They took great care in doing so, knowing exactly what they had to do.”

‘Ah… I get it now.’ The Gamer had more questions, but they did not matter. The god had just answered the most fundamental one and all that flowed from there. “I see. Excuse me for doubting your noble intentions.”

The god mechanically bowed his head in a gesture that could have been respectful. “It takes a great mind to change their notion.”

“If you would enlighten me further, why did you retreat to the inner realm? Why are you returning now?”

“Because of you invaders.” That was the expected answer from the Aztec god. “There were too many of you and too few of us. The Purple ravaged our lands at the same time and hard times created internal instability. Many distrusted my leadership, for reasons easily understood. It appeared that I had lost the favour of the greater heaven.” Huitzilopochtli let out a long and weary sigh and continued in a monotone voice, “Nahua sacrificed herself so the Purple would not go out of control. Even if she did not extinguish it entirely, she succeeded well enough that it never surfaced within the inner realm. That it returned is unfortunate, but we never truly understood the workings of the Giant’s Puss. It is a plague from the lower hells. As for our return, it is simply that we are reaching the limits of what the Eternal Sanctum should hold.”

‘Sounds awfully dispassionate about the accomplishments of his daughter and the future of his people,’ John noted.

What the god said made sense in a way, but the pieces just didn’t fit quite right. Nahua radiated a pleased conformity to it all. Was it her that bought into lies or him that was being too cynical?

John trusted in his own intellect first and foremost.

“Would you allow me to stay in your great Sanctum for a time, then?” the Gamer requested. “I wish to see your people and perhaps we can learn a thing or two from each other.”

“Certainly!” Huitzilopochtli answered enthusiastically. “My seneschal shall guide you.”

Out of a nearby hallway stepped a man. For an Aztec, he was a giant, standing at around 1,75 metres. He had long, black hair that was just slightly dishevelled. His eyes were of a striking green, his shiny body covered in black tattoos that fit the great design of the place. Almost all of his toned, somewhat slender body was exposed. A gold band held a pelvic curtain, covering his manhood, and around his neck he wore many layers of golden ornaments.

The seneschal hurried towards Nahua, extending a hand to help her stand. “It is a most serene honour to make your acquaintance. The records of my ancestors speak highly of you. I am Kharn.”

‘Is he for real?’ Metra asked in his mind.

‘Could be coincidence,’ John responded. The communication was kept from Nahua. Most of the things they currently discussed were kept from her, masked by a layer of idle conversation by the other familiars to assure she was not getting suspicious.

“Your line still serves my father? How pleasant.” Nahua let him help her up. He turned the gesture into a kiss on the back of her hand. “Did we pick up foreign habits?”

“Just a few,” the seneschal answered, sounding disappointed. He dropped her hand and then turned to lead the group. “If you would follow me.”

The party advanced through a side corridor. “Come see me later, Daughter,” Huitzilopochtli announced, just as they stepped from the room.

“See, there was nothing to worry about!” Nahua boasted and caught up to the Gamer.

“I suppose I was wrong,” John lied. Charisma made it a good lie, faking mental signals did the rest. Deceiving her bothered him, his interest in her making such acts anathema to his being. Alas, it was either lying or heading for a confrontation he wanted to prepare for first. For now, they would play the impressed foreigners.

Stepping out of the temple made that pretty easy.

They were in the middle of a giant city. Every street and every house was carefully planned out, the god-powers of the owner of the Sanctum allowed city planning on a perfectionist scale. Four main roads split the vast Mesoamerican structures along the cardinal directions. Slightly smaller roads were evenly spaced between them, once more creating the image of the eight-spoked wheel. Roads were, once again, of that weave of stakes.

The houses came in the angular shapes that John was already used to. Everything had a geometry to it that was equal parts impressive and strange. The Aztec’s used a particular interplay between hard shapes and soft edges that was fascinating to behold. In regular intervals along the eight main roads and the outer rim of the sprawling city, vast red obelisks stood, like stakes rammed into the soil.

For as beautiful as the stones of gold and paint were, there was also barbarism to it all. On the obelisks hung corpses, held up by chains strong enough to hold the vultures that gorged themselves on the deceased. Much of the iconography around was that of sacrifice. John spotted a dozen people crowded around an empty fountain, ritualistically cutting themselves to bleed into the structure.

Beyond the confines of the city was a vast farmland. Outcroppings of the central city were spreading out into it, many more houses present than farmers were needed for such an area. “How many people are here, just about?” John asked.

“Roughly 200’000,” the seneschal answered.

John threw a couple of Observes out as they descended the vast staircase. The people were genuine. ‘This just got a lot more complicated,’ he thought to himself. ‘How can I solve this with minimal casualties… and if I just let these people loose on the wider Abyss and world, that’s a crisis in and of itself.’

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The window opened up in the corner of John’s vision. He barely acknowledged it. It was safe to assume that their every move was being watched. Even if Huitzilopochtli was true in all that he had said, he would have been a fool not to keep a watch on his guests.

The seneschal guided them to a palace at the foot of the temple, partially integrated into the gold-clad building’s fundament. A tall wall separated it from the adjacent properties and streets, containing a vast garden complete with a lake deep enough to swim in. “I trust this will be agreeable?” the seneschal asked.

John took one look at the sheer size of the palace and nodded. “More than I would have asked for, most gracious,” he said. “We will find our way around, don’t let us keep you.”

“Very well. If you require something, just ask anyone on the street. They will be honoured to help a guest of the great god.”

Kharn stepped away.

Siena: Should I try to keep tabs on the guy?

John: Don’t. It would be too obvious.

Rave: Sorry, why are we talking about stalking the seneschal?

John: Because his name is Kharn.

Rave: What’s that got to do with anything?

John: Imagine you’re a powerful entity. Most people never get access to information on the wider world, but you’re both arrogant and supremely powerful. You hatch a plot to take control of the entire society and put yourself in a position of influence not to be easily spotted. Would you have a little fun with it?

Rave: I suppose? What does Kharn mean?

John: It is Farsi for Betrayer.

Rave: No way… okay, do we take that on face value?

John: No, for now we keep our feet still and wait for the other forces to be invited in. I give it a miniscule chance, but it could be that I am misunderstanding all of this. I have my theories on how all of this could have come together, but I am waiting for final confirmation.

Gnome: And we have to figure out how to deal with the civilians…

Undine: And we should try not to pick a fight in the Sanctum.

“If you don’t need me, I would like to see my father now,” Nahua said. They had done well enough covering their hand motions to leave the axolotl demigoddess out of the loop. Having her out would make it even easier though.

“Go ahead. We’ll just put our feet up and then maybe have a look around,” John answered.

He would take the moment of peace, even if it was a false one.