85. Mystery mounts
"Our world, Unitopia, is a strange world. For us, there is no question, as it exists before our very eyes. That thing you call Hell."
***
[Unitopia, Eastern Continent]
Within the depths of Hell, through an endless graveyard, the red-robed figure of the Arbiter Prime walked forward confidently, his apprentice by his side. But his self-assured demeanour belied the increasingly troubled nature of his racing thoughts.
My apprentice may not have noticed, but this place is far different than a few Vultures acting out of character. Something bone-deep is utterly, unequivocally, absolutely wrong here.
Some fundamental pillar, something critical has been warped and twisted in on itself. For what purpose, and by whom, I cannot even begin to guess at. She doesn't notice yet and even to my senses it is obscured. Nothing more than this strange itch at the base of my skull. A primal instinct warning me that something is off.
The Director may actually have been onto something this time. She has sent me on more than a fair share of wild goose chases, but this one I know in the deepest depths of my Soul that it will be different.
The figure of his apprentice skipping ahead, looking out at the landscape like a curious duckling, came into the vision of his monocled eye.
Maybe bringing her was perhaps not the most responsible move.
He thought about it for a few more seconds before shrugging.
Well no sword is forged without first being smelted. Or however the saying goes. At the end of the day, I am here. She would be no safer in the depths of the Citadel than within my eyeline.
He puffed up, impressed at his own self, ignoring the way the wind brimmed with malintent as if to refute that statement. Whistling out loud, they continued their own exploration of the graveyard, unaware, unknowing, heedless.
Whether for better or for worse, time has already given its unchanging answer. The stars shrieked in ecstasy as the shifting lines of causality moved inevitably towards that single, inescapable conclusion.
Chaos.
***
Far from such tepid, outer circles, the nameless soldier trudged through his surroundings vigilantly. His eyes and ears were peeled, to the extent where more than once he had jumped at the sound of shifting rubble. He drew comfort from the soothing wrath of the whispers strengthening him even now.
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He had completed one 'lap' around his body, mapping out vaguely what structures lay where. And yet even with the highest vantage point he had reached, an end to the endless battlefield had not been seen. More than once, he found himself cursing the blurry nature of his final moments in his mind, unable to glean anything more. There was something there, he was so sure, but it was just out of reach.
Veiled from his impotent grasp.
He had an instinct deep in his gut, that true secrets lay in that void. Mysteries of the state he existed in now, how he had come to transform into such an...abomination.
Better to become an abomination than to drown in the sea of mediocrity. To be just another nameless soldier, living and dying for grand purposes. What did those so-called grand purposes ever do for me? All I got was pain and misery and death. And now this cursed existence.
He paused his train of thought.
No, this is not a curse. That would imply some greater power at work. I wrought this strength from the miserly grips of Fate myself, with my own bare and bloodied hands. Vengeance against those that sent us to fight and die would be hollow, useless. It will not stop this endless cycle. I will fix this cancer at its root, excise the rot from reality itself.
I shall tear down the Stars!
In his brief exploration, he had attempted to piece together what he could, but with such little knowledge it was far too difficult. He could hardly tell which part of the battlefield this even belonged to, none of the landmarks were familiar. Unexploded shells littered the ground, but they were so heterogenous that the myriad logos only made it more confusing.
This place is far too deep for infantry anyways...we would never have come this deep. Even as a last resort, it would make little sense.
He shook his head.
It's like solving a murder mystery without knowing who was even killed, or if the murder even happened at all.
He added an afterthought.
While blindfolded, handcuffed and gagged. And wrapped up in a cocoon for good measure.
The greater mysteries still hid from him, but progress is always in the little things. After his stint with the Cube, he could add his spectral GPS to his growing list of abilities. To an extent, he could not help but feel excited at the development. Who knows what other secrets lay locked away inside his own body, waiting to be discovered.
Regardless, he had at least familiarised himself with the immediate radius of his body. Which was fortuitous timing, as a shifting shadow caught the corner of his eye.
Even in his constant vigilance, he had barely glimpsed it, nothing more than a blur. He spun around, looking in all directions, only to be greeted by nothing. Abruptly, he felt a sharp tingle on the back of his spine, as if a scythe rested on his neck.
He dropped to his knees just in time as a slicing blade shrieked through the air where his head just was. It flew in straight line, colliding with the twisted, charred wreckage of some tank.
The soldier hissed as he saw the sheer force of the blade slice straight through the tank like butter, spinning off into the distance. His heart raced despite the lack of a physical form and, not having time to focus on the strangeness of that situation itself, he felt that gaze of death on the back of his neck once more.
Death can have me...when it earns me.
He twisted out of the way a second time, the blade colliding with the ground, digging a deep furrow. Shooting to his feet, an insane grin adorned his face. For his dull grey, colourless world had once again been illuminated with the vibrant, crimson promise of blood and death.
And glory!