《The Banality Of Eternity》


 Humans Are Such Easy Prey

    ¡°So, I¡¯m a God now?¡± But only the wind answered his question, and whatever it said made scant sense to him; just mindlessly howling through arching trees.


    ¡°A God.¡± He tried out the words again, letting them slowly roll through his mouth ¨C back and forth. Though, try as he might, it simply didn¡¯t dawn on him. Like when you look forward to an event for so long, the day it comes you fail to fully grasp the reality of it. Today was such a time.


    ¡°Unlimited power, immortal. Nothing can stop me.¡± He thought about that for a spell, pawing at the grandness of such a concept. But no matter how he twisted and turned it, the idea would eventually be the end of him.


    Ages will roll past like waves in the sea without any real meaning or substance. He could fan his might before the masses of this new world ¨C have them honor him as a God and rule them all. No matter what, his word would be law. Who would stop him? But that would bore after a while. It could take a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand years but the time will come and even that incomprehensible amount of time will fly past at the blink of his eye compared to the eternity he will live and be left with nothing to satiate him. Like using cheats in a game. The fun in such things lay in the challenge. And when the game becomes easy, it is left to the player to challenge themselves.


    Self-imposed restrictions. No death runs. No damage. Certain RPG behavior. It seemed like it was left to him to make everything last longer. Perhaps he could stretch his boredom induced insanity for a couple millennia, but it was worth the try. Though¡­


    ¡°What the fuck will I do to make that happen?¡± the steadily poring stream of water offered little clarity on that query, too; calmly flowing down the hill through pebbles smoothened by it.


    ¡°Becoming a Hero could be interesting.¡± He hummed, knowing only himself would know what to do.


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with that and see where it¡¯ll lead us, shall we?¡±


    ¡°Metal burst!¡± She shrieked while raising her arm accompanied by the groaning and crying of ripping iron; from fallen blades, abandoned maces, bloodied plate ¨C the Ancient one¡¯s tomb was filled with the remains of its past challengers. Kant tripped over such a piece when she twitched away from a cloud of spitting flame cast by the horrific skeletal entity.


    ¡°I have lived for an eternity!¡± It bellowed, terrifying as the screams of the sinful dead consigned to hell. ¡°And I shall not waver before mortal mud!¡±


    A hammer blew a chunk from his lavish throne as it cut through the air, missing its target by a hair. She squinted her golden eyes, peering through the darkness. Black as hell down below, and like hell it reeked of death. The stench so horrid it seemed a solid thing.


    Yovens retched next to her, clasping his warped blade glittering with a dull light. Kant gritted her teeth, and her lips moved as if by themselves, casting one line after the other; endlessly, unceasingly barraging the Demon Lord with spells both divine and forbidden, but equally destructive.


    Dust raged through rusted gear and gilded armor, round crumbling pillars and torn flags, all aflame by the mad battle.


    The skeleton grinned emptily, teeth lined like tombstones and its mouth a graveyard, here to mark their place to rest. How many had he killed like this? How many thousand thousend people with lives and hopes and dreams?


    Her eyes flared with a hard gleam and she dashed forward under cover by Helios¡¯s rain of glittering arrows. Kant¡¯s sword whistled as it tore through the pungent air with idle rage, the metal beaming as if alive and drooling searing flame.


    She hacked away at the ivory bones, carved with endlessly moving letters and circles, spinning and turning with sickening patterns of times lost in the passing of ages. Her edge sparking and showering them in embers as it bounced and scraped of the bone as if it were bedrock.


    ¡°Fool!¡± It thundered, voice sounding like gravel and sand. And it clutched the sword in its claws. ¡°I¡¯m a God! How do you kill a God?¡±


    She tried tearing the blade away, but his grip was solid as the roots of a mountain. ¡°You¡¯re not invincible!¡± She spat through bared teeth, flicking trails of spit in its face. Her magic fanned out, taught to her by masters of the arcane and unholy alike, all for the purpose of killing this monster. But its mantra was relentless as the tide; a coiling, boiling ocean of mad and forgotten magic.


    ¡°Oh, I believe I am.¡± She felt a tugging at her guts, a cold spreading through her limbs and she torqued aside as space warped and screeched, flared and then collapsed leaving nothing. The sword still rested in its hands and he snapped the ancient steel like a withered twig ¨C shards of the metal flying, cutting along her body.


    Gorth roared mightily and his lance bore inside the being¡¯s ribs, brilliant light twirling around it, but the monster only laughed. It lifted a crooked hand and the carvings along it shifted, and then Gorth dropped to the bloodied tiles; eyes bulging and tongue hanging limp from his blue lips.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Kant blinked as she finished the last line of Old Magic. His death would not be in vain, she would not allow it. Golden arcs and beams roared to life around her as the Ancient Code was born once more, dancing around Kant with her as the progenitor.


    ¡°How¡­ Who thought you that magic!?¡± The monster lurched forward, air twisting around its bone frame. The spell required much of her. Sweat leaked down her face at the stress of it, knees buckling.


    ¡°The first Hero!¡± She bellowed, working some strength in herself. ¡°The king¡¯s adviser has entrusted me with the scroll of my ancestor: Vail the Vanquisher, First of the Mages, First of the Heroes, Keeper of both Heaven and Hell, who¡¯s magic is sealed bellow the tabernacle in the forbidden thirteenth of the thirteen scriptures of God.


    The golden spear surged and breathed inside her hand, eager for battle and do the work it was made to do. Arbiter. The holy spear of the First Hero.


    ¡°you think I fear the makings of a mortal!?¡± it screamed, but he couldn¡¯t hide the doubt in its echoing voice. It spoke words unknown to her or the world and frightening circles and magics spun around him, both fascinating and vulgar.


    But she darted forward, and Arbiter ate the magics whole, leaving naught but wavering wind that rustled her white hair. And then it plunged inside its ribcage with terrifying might, flaring golden leaves of Right in a radiant explosion. She was close to the monster now, closer than family, closer then lovers.


    ¡°You should.¡± She whispered softly in its ear. It made a hollow noise, like the echo come from the mountain, before falling apart like it should¡¯ve ages ago.


    They lamented their fallen brethren and honored the corpses by wrapping them in flags torn from their pedestals. Gear that seemed of use was collected and the rest was left for the scientists to come and collect. After which they left the tomb to rot in the banality of eternity.


    Silence ruled its decrepit depths before the air stirred the ancient cloth though there was no wind. And then sounded a strange hacking laughter; mad, lucid, joyful. The world shook with mirth at the foolishness of man.


    The skeleton slowly rose from the dust and ash, bone scraping along the marble tiles as it joined the frame, nauseating circles of magic writhing along every inch.


    ¡°That was fun¡± The being hummed tunelessly. ¡°though it took the better part of two centuries to set everything as I wanted it¡­¡± He waved his bony claw and the tomb started to rain dust from above ¨C ready to collapse.


    ¡°Collecting the troops, uniting the Demon land after their feuds¡­ then carefully crippling the surrounding lands so they¡¯re easily devoured while alienizing humans and beast folk alike, making them easier to kill for the demons¡¯ consciousness¡­ They¡¯re not monsters, after all. Though man certainly thinks so¡­¡± He grinned, and it was worse than any snarl could have been. ¡°Though I can¡¯t blame them. That was my doing too.¡±


    The tomb shook and rumbled as it fell apart, chunks of rock tumbling down loud as thunder.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± It breathed. ¡°Time to get this show on the road.¡± And then he sagged, and the bones dislodged once more for a last time. The vessel had done what needed doing.


    The aged cave made way for a lavishly decorated room. Walls hung with priceless paintings, the finest carpet sprawling along the floor, a bed where any maiden would dream of resting in. A room fit for someone with his status.


    The door sounded with three soft nocks and he smiled easily. ¡°come in, please.¡±


    The oaken frame opened and allowed entrance to one of the most beautiful woman to wander the mortal earth. Hair white as virgin snow, skin perfect as porcelain, eyes golden beyond any treasure and an alluring body dressed yet not hidden by radiant silver battle armor. She smiled to him, thin white scars stretching along her soft cheeks.


    ¡°I¡¯m back.¡± She breathed, staring at him with longing eyes.


    ¡°Welcome home, Kantianis ¨C Hero of light.¡± He grinned.


    She watched him smile that easy smile of his, teeth lined like perfect pearls, a mouth that begged to be kissed and lips where she wished to rest. By the dead, she wanted to throw herself at him, straight in his arms. But that wouldn¡¯t be appropriate, would it? He was the King¡¯s councilor, and she the Hero. She blushed as her eyes fell on the bed and a scene played inside her head. Such insolence! Kant quickly tried focusing, failing ever so slightly.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard the slaying of the demon lord was a success?¡± Gavelion said, slowly walking to her with that straight gate of his, those square shoulders, those¡­ Broad¡­ shoulders¡­ Focus!


    ¡°Ehm¡­¡± she fumbled. ¡°Yes, though the honor is yours, that is. Ehm¡­¡± She wished her magic would allow her to sink through the floor. Kill the Demon lord? The ancient one? Bringer of destruction? No problem. But ask Kant to talk to her crush and she was lost in an ocean of words and emotions.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± He asked ever so casually. How could he be so calm? Look at those steel eyes of his! No single waver or tremble! Did he even care? Well, she couldn¡¯t blame him. There were many pretty highborn girls who lined for his hand. Why would he choose a battle maniac like her?


    ¡°Well, ehm, you gave me the scroll¡­ ehm. Thanks for that.¡± Die, Just die, Kant. Fuck, she hated herself.


    ¡°So your life goal has been completed, huh? The reason for your birth and lifelong training?¡± He walked closer, closer. She could hardly breathe for a strange feeling in her stomach, tickling her insides and what was below them. Tinkling, prickling with eager delight at his presence. She needed to calm down but was way past saving. Eyes wide and gleaming.


    ¡°Yes, though that doesn¡¯t leave me with much to do¡­ can¡¯t really fill my time with just training and leading the army, there are other people for that now.¡± She laughed awkwardly. ¡°Only seventeen and already I am lost in what to do in life. Ha¡­ Haha.¡±


    But he drew closer still. ¡°I have a proposition as what you could do.¡± He was close now, closer than family, closer than lovers.


    ¡°You could marry me.¡± He hummed, and a lump caught in her throat.


    ¡°Marry you?¡± She croaked, both surprised and happy beyond relief. ¡°but we have our duties and tasks, our place in the hierarchy. Though I would like nothing more. By the gods I would love nothing more.¡± She whimpered. ¡°I don¡¯t know if we can¡­¡± His breath tickled her lips.


    ¡°You should.¡± He whispered softly as their mouths connected and his hands moved over her body. She made a gasping noise, nothing like she had made before, and collapsed on the bed like she had wanted years ago.

 Some Kind Of Coward

    The world lurched. James tumbled into the empty abyss yawning below. He felt the static line hissing past his cheek, knowing another turn would¡¯ve twisted his head off just so. But he was lucky. Always been told he was. His stomach floated, throat tightening, teeth clenched as he gave a squeezed yelp. A tugging pulled him straight as his parachute deployed. He started looking up, caught in the drill of it, but flinched as he stopped himself. There were more urgent things now than checking his chute.


    He spun around, staring into the vast blackness of the night, the rattle and whistling of bullets all around. How many had already died? How many had he known? How many of his friends would reach the ground alive? A tearing scream pierced the night, terrible and skin-prickling before being so suddenly cut short.


    James grimaced, pressing his eyes shut, blood surging through his ears. Had he known that man? Maybe. Could¡¯ve been Butch, or Earless Jack, or Jolly Yuvens. The wind raged at his coat, piercing his flesh with a deadly chill. The guns kept barking, spitting lead in seeking sprays; searching him out as he descended. Were they close? Had they already ruined his chute and he just didn¡¯t know? James could almost imagine the bullets nipping his skin, chipping it, blowing it apart like that pig¡¯s carcass the Sergeant had shown them. Couldn¡¯t think about that now. Needed to focus.


    His eyes sprang open and he looked down below, peering through the dark. James barely saw the ground, and noticed it to be closing in. Fast. Some tracers zipped past him in a spraying line. Not good. He took the Para position, knees bent, chin tucked, elbows in, hissing a quick prayer through his gritted teeth.


    They always talk about the landing as soft and calm. They were full of shit.


    The earth crashed into him, barely executing his roll; legs flopping. His skull hit the soil and started ringing, his vision a blurry smear. Everything swayed and spun round and around, sharp screeching blocking all the noise. He tried getting up, but his limbs were tangled in the cords, obscured by the curtain of night. He grunted another curse as he snagged his arm free and twisted the other about.


    The ringing faded and was replaced by the horrible thundering of war. Muzzle flashes blinking in the dark, cries and lamenting sounding so frightful of what was to come. Another spasm and his legs were free. Had him crawl to his knees, then fumbling with the Parachute¡¯s buckles. They did not cooperate.


    A bullet hit the soil and showered him in flecks of dirt and bits of stone. If he hadn¡¯t retched in the plane, his meal would¡¯ve left him then. Cringing, he flung himself at a pit in the soil, still struggling to get his chute loose. Those consigned to death crumbling all around him. Would he be next?The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The blue moon, Rohm, shed his iron coat of cloud and showed the battle clear. James saw the countless bodies litter the earth. Some still moving, some still crawling, some still. He didn¡¯t like thinking about those last ones. Better ignore it for now.


    The moon gleamed on the buckles and so he pried them off and wriggled free from his constraints. He took a calming breath, which didn¡¯t work. So, he took an urging one to fill him with courage, which failed too. He wheezed, fighting for air while glancing over his earthen cover at the tree line ahead, gunfire flashing between the shrubs and stumps like mad eyes. Demon eyes, blinking in the dark with their infernal stare.


    He pressed himself to the soil again, breath rasping through his pained lungs, staring up at the lower moon. They say Rohm rewards boldness, and James had always considered himself to be bold. Told all who cared enough to listen that Rohm watched over him in his crib. That he was blessed by Sihn¡¯s older twin. James the Bold, the lucky, the blessed. Told them so often they actually believed him.


    A shadow loomed over. The enemy, they were advancing. A creeping dawned on him. They had failed. He had failed them in not providing a foothold, in not disturbing the enemy lines. How many had died to get him here? On this field of death? How many had died in vain?


    The shadow wasn¡¯t some evil monster, just a lad not much older than him. But he looked a monster then, with the rifle pointing at James, wide eyes filled with fright staring through the sights.


    James stretched out his hand, as if to block the bullet. The boy grimaced, pulled the trigger, and the rifle wreathed. Metal twisted, wood split and the boy let out a surprised cry as he dropped the ruined weaponry. He looked down at James, hissing his breath, now so horribly cold.


    ¡°A Relic...¡± The boy murmured, eyes brimming with wet. ¡°Please, I only want to see my moth-¡± his words were cut short as James twisted his wrist and the lad¡¯s head compressed. The sound reminisced of a wet sponge¡¯s wringing. Eyes pooped from his deformed skull, puss and brain and blood oozing from a yawning split down the middle of his face before he sagged to the mud.


    James was peppered with shards of bone and blobs of flesh, his breathing slowing still. He did not glance at the mutilated youth. Instead, he worked himself up and forced his eyes to look for a path to the enemy lines. Through the enemy lines. He was trained for this purpose. Get behind and spread havoc.


    A dangerous job for only the craziest of men. A daring job for the bold. Rohm is said to reward boldness, and James was Bold indeed.


    He sprang from cover, bullets soaring past him, near him, at him. But his Boldness deflected them, swatted the lead aside as if no more than persistent flies. As the enemy realized what he was, all fire focused on him. They might¡¯ve just as well pelted him with grass clippings. Rohm had watched over him in his crib. He had no fear for cowards hiding in the woods. But they feared him greatly. And it was time to show them all why they should.