《The Omnis》


 Prologue: Kingslayer

    His first ¡°true¡± memory was of a two-story tall window. It had billowing curtain drapes made of a royal purple silk. The sun was high in the sky, shining brightly down on him.


    He averted his eyes, instead looking down at himself. He was dressed in a simple, white maid¡¯s uniform. It felt a bit loose-fitting around the chest and hips, yet tight around the shoulders. They felt like someone else¡¯s clothes.


    He then took a look at his hands. In his left hand, he was holding a small thrusting dagger, a dirk, by the handle. The handle fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, though he had no memory of how he¡¯d acquired it. The dirk¡¯s blade tip was stained with dark red blood.


    His right forearm was coated with the same dark blood as on the blade, though it didn¡¯t reach high enough to stain his clothes. On both the blade and the limb, this blood seemed to shimmer in the bright sunlight from the window. Strangely, it didn¡¯t seem to directly reflect the bright sun, but rather, it seemed to collect the rays of light and play with them, twisting them like the reflections of a polished diamond.


    He watched as the blood glistened in this way. As he did, the blood slowly disappeared. It was sinking into his right hand, leaving behind pale skin.


    It also sank into the blade he still held. As it did, the blade seemed to melt, turning into a black cloud. The cloud quickly disappeared into nothingness. Curious, he opened his fist to find all traces of the dirk to have disappeared.


    The man wondered at this.  He lifted this hand, and he tried to visualize the dagger once more. As he did so, he felt something shift in his body, as if his very veins were redirecting blood towards the raised hand.


    Out of his palm came out a new black wisp. This wisp thickened and began to match the dark cloud that had disappeared just moments prior. It took the form of a dirk, the cloud¡¯s soft edges sharpening to points. The man gripped the cloud with his left hand, and it solidified into a new dagger, identical to the one from before.


    It¡¯s a blade crafted from mana. Somehow, the man knew this, but he had no recollection of how he did.


    If he did have amnesia, the man could not tell. Although he had no earlier memories, he did not feel that anything was missing from his psyche. If anything, he felt like a newborn, entering the world with a clean slate for the first time. He was simply a newborn with more knowledge than most.


    As the man contemplated this, he began to feel a strange sensation. He was standing still, yet he began to feel as if he was floating. He rapidly lost feeling in his hands and feet. This numbness advanced up his limbs like a chilled wave, gently pushing his consciousness to retreat towards his head and chest.


    This wave of numbness was neither harsh nor forceful. Though it spread with incredible speed, it exuded calmness in its smooth flow through his body. In just a second, he could no longer feel his knees, though his feet did not give way under him. He could no longer feel his elbows, though his hands did not fall to his sides. The numbness began to envelop him, but he felt strangely safe. It was as if, rather than his body shutting down, he was simply trusting his body to take care of itself.


    This all happened in a sudden, short moment, and now the man could only feel anything in his head and chest. He took in a cool breath of air, and the numbness seemed to fill his lungs. As he lost feeling of his chest, he still felt his nose dip slightly as his body breathed out. He closed his eyes, letting the chill numbness wash into his brain.


    When his eyes reopened, his pupils were of a strikingly different color. Just a moment ago, they were a sheer black, without physical hues or tints. Despite this darkness, those pupils had been alive with faint glimmers of curiosity.


    Now, they shined like small gems. Each pupil was composed of an uncountable number of splinters of color all spliced together. Black, amber, blue, hazel, red, gray, green and brown splinters, varying in tints and shades, merged together to reflect the sunlight like the crystalline reflection of a polished crystal. From a distance, the eyes would have appeared silver in color.


    Yet those eyes were dead. There was not the slightest glimmer of emotion behind those crystalline orbs.


    Behind those orbs, the man was still alive, but he could no longer command his body. He had been compartmentalized and stored in a corner of his own being, now simply viewing through the lenses of his two new eyes.


    Despite his helplessness, he felt perfectly calm. He knew that this pleasant numbness would not kill him. The man watched as his body turned to the left, away from the window. The window had simply been part of a much larger bedroom dressed entirely in a royal purple. His body turned its eyes toward the bed immediately next to it.


    On the bed lay a tall man with a white veil over his face. The bottom of the veil was bloodied, with the stains spreading around his neck. He was motionless.


    The man must have killed him, though he had no recollection of doing so. He could see no other possibility. They were alone in the room, and the bloodstains on the veil were still fresh and spreading.


    Just as with the blade crafted of mana, the man knew the name of his victim.


    Sun Emperor. That was the title that the victim had held. Just moments ago, the man had been ruler of the entire world, emperor over 3 continents and 10 kings. He had been praised as being a wise and just ruler.


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    Now he was just dead.


    The assassin knew all this, but there was one key fragment of knowledge that eluded him. Why did I kill him?


    As the man wondered at this, he became faintly aware of something flowing throughout his body. It felt similar to the flow of mana in forging the blade, but there was a significantly higher quantity of it being mobilized. However, it did not flow outwards as it had before. Instead, it seemed to slowly permeate all parts of his body, including his head.


    Although there seemed to be significantly more mana involved, the man felt no feelings of fatigue. He quietly wondered at this. It shouldn¡¯t be normal for a human to have this much mana...


    There was a mirror next to the bed. Though the angle was slightly skewed, the man could use this to observe as his body then began to shift.


    The most noticeable change was on the face. The face¡¯s cheeks and forehead began to show minor wrinkles, and the chin shrank slightly upwards. The nose became more pointed, and the eyes, eyebrows, and mouth became thinner.


    Each fragment of the body¡¯s prism pupils darkened in color and melded together to form a uniform dark brown, finishing the facial transformation. The assassin now wore the countenance of a stern middle-aged woman.


    Its short black hair became slightly longer and developed waves, simultaneously fading into a tired brown color with a few traces of grey. Its broad shoulders became more rounded, and its bosom and waist grew slightly larger, perfectly fitting the formerly loose confines of his maid uniform.


    In a few moments, the man¡¯s body was gone. It had been replaced with that of Head Housekeeper Joane Hoport.  The dagger she held was now slightly too big for her hand. The transformation complete, the man felt the flow of mana calm significantly, though it was still moving about within his body.


    As the man thought on this, his body still operated without him. It raised its left hand, and the newly summoned dagger reverted from its solid state back into a black cloud. This time, instead of disappearing, the smoke changed its color into a light blue. This blue smoke shifted its form to become an orb of water. The orb floated in midair, the size of an outstretched hand.


    The body then directed the orb with his left hand, sending it floating with the flick of a wrist. The orb drifted over to the fallen emperor. It sank into the emperor¡¯s bloodstains and promptly lifted itself back out of the clothing. The bloodstains disappeared with the orb, which was now tainted a slight red.


    With another hand gesture, the body directed the bloodied water out of the window. However, when the orb drifted into the sun¡¯s light, the red blood began to shine brightly once more, as it had on the first dagger. Small tendrils of blue smoke came from the orb, which became smaller and smaller with each passing moment. Before the orb was close enough to pass out the window, both water and blood were gone.


    Nestled within his own head, the man, for all his knowledge, had little understanding of what had just happened. A normal being¡¯s blood should not be able to dissipate mana constructs...


    He wished to investigate, his curiosity piqued. His body, on the other hand, did not seem concerned. That is, assuming it had any genuine thoughts of its own. For now, the body simply turned back towards the fallen Sun Emperor. Stretching out its left hand, multiple black tendrils extended from its palm. These tendrils seemed slightly more solid then the smoke wisps from before, but they still shared a tenuous bond with the material world.


    These tendrils stretched and wrapped around both the sheets of the bed and the body of the emperor. While straightening the corpse, these tendrils pulled the sheets over the emperor. With some adjustments, the bed was perfectly set. From a distance, it would appear as though the emperor was simply taking a small rest. The tendrils then sank back into the outstretched hand of the assassin, quickly disappearing.


    ***


    The Head Housekeeper quietly left the room, entering the imperial hallway. This hallway was an imposing pathway that stood three stories tall, adorned with gold-leaf paintings across the ceiling. Most notably, a brilliant golden sun was painted on the ceiling¡¯s center, with shining rays stretching to touch the walls. On the ground, 100 soldiers stood guard along the walls. One man detached himself from his post, approaching Mrs. Hoport. ¡°How fares His Majesty, Mrs. Hoport?¡±


    Mrs. Hoport was not one to be intimidated by the guards. Keeping her back ever straight, she bowed her head slowly. ¡°Greetings, Senior Centurion. His Majesty wishes to rest this afternoon. He is not to be disturbed.¡±


    The commander placed his right fist over his heart. ¡°As His Majesty commands.¡±


    Not the slightest bit intimidated by the guards, Mrs. Hoport continued to walk down the hallway, her shoes clacking and echoing against the marble floor.


    And that is how the Sun Emperor¡¯s killer escaped, in front of 100 of the best soldiers of the Imperial Legion.


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 Chapter 1: Demon of the Mask

    Omnis 1: Demon of the Mask


    A young blond boy ran on the cobblestone streets of Medis, the capital of the Sun Empire. His brown tunic flapped slightly in the wind. The sun, standing high above the towering city buildings, shone down on him.


    His running came to a brief stop in front of a city square. The boy¡¯s blue eyes shined in the bright sky as they came to rest upon a magnificent cathedral. It was a glorious building, taller than all others in the capital, save for the Imperial Palace itself. A giant diamond was embedded at the top of the grand entrance, helping the bright sunlight reflect upon the square evermore. The massive doors to the cathedral were kept permanently open, welcoming the public in. Regular pedestrians freely walked in and out of the building.


    The boy rushed into this place of worship, head turning rapidly in search of someone. He was quickly stopped by a kindly old man in white robes, a church volunteer. ¡°Whoa there boy, no need to rush. There is still much time left in the day.¡± The elder chuckled and took a close look at the boy. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve seen you before. What is your name, young visitor?¡±


    The young boy quickly bowed, smiling. ¡°Sorry, sir. My name¡¯s Rolf Burnett, and my family arrived in Medis just today, so I was worried about being late to see Pastor Vance.¡±


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re looking for Vance? Follow me.¡± The old man took the boy to the side, away from the other churchgoers. There a middle-aged man stood next to a stone column. This man was also wearing white robes, though his uniform carried purple stripes around the wrists and shoulders.


    The old man called out, ¡°Pastor Vance, it appears that a rather eager student has rushed all the way here for your lessons.¡±


    The pastor turned his attention to the old man, then to the boy. Upon seeing the eager face of the child, he smiled softly. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Morin. I¡¯ll take this young boy."


    The old man nodded and ruffled the boy¡¯s blond hair. ¡°Since you were in such a rush to get here, you better pay good attention to the pastor, boy.¡± Having said this, the elder walked back towards the masses.


    Pastor Vance firmly grasped the boy¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Come, Rolf. My classroom should be empty at the moment.¡±


    The pastor led the boy to a small room embedded into the side of the grand cathedral. It was one of many such rooms that lined the central halls. There was a blackboard and chalk, designed for teaching the youths. At this time, however, only the boy and the pastor were present.


    As with the main building, these rooms had open entryways, with doors never designed to be closed. Taking a brief glance at his open door, Pastor Vance raised his hand against the marble wall. Faint wisps of white smoke quickly emanated from his hand, coating the walls with a gentle white hue.  Just as quickly as it had arrived, the white smoke disappeared


    ¡°This should protect us from any potential eavesdroppers.¡±


    Vance¡¯s soft smile grew a bit wider and tauter. He took his hand from the wall and turned to the boy. He motioned him over to a desk tucked away in the corner of the room. There, the pastor sat down and beckoned the child to do the same.


    Still smiling, the pastor said softly, ¡°Now, Omnis, show me your mark.¡±


    In response, the boy closed his eyes. When he reopened them, his pupils changed from a calm blue to bright silver. Upon closer inspection, one would see that these silver eyes were in fact composed of countless shards of various colors, all mixed to shine like the reflection of a diamond. It was a chilling gaze that those inhuman eyes cast upon the pastor.


    Vance seemed unperturbed. He clasped his hands together. ¡°Wonderful. Now, a few little birds of mine told me that the Emperor was not feeling well this afternoon. I assume, then, that you were successful?¡±


    Rolf nodded. Still using the voice of a young child, the boy proudly said, ¡°The Sun Emperor is no more.¡±


    ¡°Good, good.¡± The pastor chuckled. ¡°We plotted for ten long years, but in the end you finished the matter within a few hours.¡± He removed a thin key necklace from under his robes. With it, the pastor unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk.


    He pulled out a single envelope, tied shut with red string.


    ¡°The Rothian Legion was recently dispatched to deal with some of our friends, the necromancers of Ociret. They chased down the Ociret all the way to the Kingdom of Ricia, and although the Rothians succeeded, most of the legion¡¯s cohorts were wiped out in the process.¡±


    The pastor placed the envelope in front of the boy. ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate that the Ociret did not make it, but this is the perfect opportunity for your next assignment, child. That army will be returning briefly to the Kingdom of Rothia to resupply its manpower with new recruits. Go to them, and seek Commander Bryce Indson. He leads the 4th Cohort.¡±


    ¡°Your first task is to make him Commander of the entire Rothian Legion. Give this envelope to him, and follow his orders as you would mine.¡±


    *******


    Even in comfort, complete idleness will eventually feel more oppressive than the brand of a slave. That is how the man felt, trapped as he was in his own body.


    His idleness was not dictated by any physical restraints. On the contrary, his body was running freely down the streets of Medis. If anything, this lack of physical restraint made his trapping more painfully apparent, for he no longer had any control over this body. He lacked feeling in his legs, even as he watched them pound across the cobblestone. He was a passenger peering out at the world from behind the lenses of his own eyes.


    Within his body and under his soul, a soothing force seemed to suspend him in mid-air, separating him from his true body below. He felt as if he was lying on a cloud.


    The cloud separated him from his own body, preventing him from gripping any control of his own. However, the man hesitated in fighting this force. Strangely, he could feel no malice from this insulating cloud. Instead, it wrapped around him in a friendly embrace. His helplessness made him feel like a child, carried in the arms of a force he couldn¡¯t yet understand.


    For the past 2 hours, he had submitted to this gentle pressure. He had let the cloud carry him in place as his body marched, first through the grand halls of a palace and then through the open city streets. His body moved as though it had a will of its own. At some point, the man had called out, probing for some other consciousness that could be controlling the body. However, no one responded. He seemed to be alone, trapped in the confines of his own head.


    The man still had trouble believing that the body was moving of its own volition. The man had watched as the body had assumed the personas of Head Housekeeper Joane Hoport and a young boy by the name of Rolf Burnett. In both cases, it had spoken and moved like a sentient being.


    Either the controller was hiding itself from the trapped soul or the body was somehow operating without a controller, a feat difficult to comprehend.


    The man had listened with interest as his body, in the deceptive form of a young boy, spoke with the pastor, but the man only became more discouraged as he listened. The pastor spoke of Rothians and Ocirets, legions and cohorts. These were all unfamiliar terms to the man.


    The man had hoped that, as with the identity of the Sun Emperor and his blades crafted of mana, the man would recognize these terms as he heard them. However, it seemed that the scope of his knowledge was rather limited for the moment.


    Nonetheless, the man had understood the fundamentals of the conversation. This pastor named Vance was able to command the man¡¯s body, and this Vance had ordered the body to go and assist a friend. It seemed he would be joining the Rothian Legion, which was an army of some sort.


    The man vaguely wondered if the Sun Emperor had commanded this army as well. It seemed to belong to a Kingdom named Rothia, but the Sun Emperor had commanded the entire world, hadn¡¯t he?...


    ¡­Now that the man thought about it, he had very little understanding of who the Sun Emperor actually was. The man tried to recall all he could of the emperor.


    Just moments ago, the man had been ruler of the entire world, emperor over 3 continents and 10 kings. He had been praised as being a wise and just ruler.


    The man had thought the exact same words when he first laid eyes upon the Emperor. In fact, it felt as if he was reciting some piece of text by memory, rather than calling upon his own knowledge¡­


    *******


    Two hours of mental confinement stretched into three, and then three to four. The man was growing restless. He wanted to descend from this cloud and reclaim his body.


    Unfortunately, the man had no idea how to accomplish this. So far, he had been able to understand his body¡¯s use of mana to cast spells of creation and transformation. For the brief moment that he had controlled his body, he himself was capable of creating a dagger forged from mana.


    However, he could feel no mana in the force isolating his soul from his body. Either it was not a spell, or it was a spell that utilized an energy source that he could not recognize. Confined as he was to a spiritual form, he tried to press his will down through the cloud. However, he could find no surface with which he could leverage his descent. It was like trying to swim down while trapped right above an underwater vent. Gravity simply would not cooperate with a being that was entirely spiritual.


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    Regardless, the man focused his determination and pressed a foot down through the cloud. His being stretched itself to its limits, trying to get at least one foot ¨C even just one toe ¨C down on the ground. He firmly believed that if he could only achieve that, he¡¯d be able to break free from this encapsulating cloud, and so he stretched and stretched out with his foot.


    In response, the cloud seemed to lift the man¡¯s soul a bit higher. It softly pressed against the man¡¯s skin, soothing him. Instead of pushing back harshly against his attempt to gain control, the soft force, empty of any malice, seemed to tempt his body to rest, sapping it of its energy and determination. Despite this, the man kept pushing his foot down. He closed his eyes, though it did little to help a being without physical eyelids. Instead of darkness, his closed eyes brought a vision of a white canvas, obscuring sight of all else.


    The man still pushed down, and he felt himself drift down slightly. However, he was quickly losing strength. The soft embrace of the cloud seemed to sap at his thoughts. He could no longer open his eyes, which quickly became ever so heavier.


    That white canvas was the last thing he remembered seeing. Then he, an isolated spirit, a lone soul, lost consciousness.


    *******


    Wake, young Omnis.


    The man roused himself. He was no longer on his cloud. He was standing upright, though he knew not where he was.


    It appeared to be night. The land was bare, the ground made of obsidian tiles. There was no moon above, but stars littered the sky, cumulatively shining as bright as any moon could.


    You have left the realm of the living, child.


    The man looked behind him. As he did, he came face-to-face with a large man. The stranger towered over him by at least a foot and wore a white veil over his face. He was dressed in white robes that seemed to glow faintly with their purity¡­


    The man recognized this stranger. ...The Sun Emperor?


    Then he realized what the Emperor had said. ...We have left the realm of the living? In that case, are we in the realm of the dead?


    Though a white veil concealed the Emperor¡¯s emotions, the young man got a feeling that the murdered ruler was smiling. As the young man considered this, he felt the Emperor''s voice boom in his head. The realm of the dead? No, neither of us are to visit that realm. Not yet, at least.


    No, we are in your realm, young Omnis. We are in the land of your 100 souls.


    The young man noticed that his knees were beginning to feel weak. It was all just too sudden. ¡°...This is my realm? What do you mean by this, Emperor?¡±


    The young man¡¯s voice echoed across the empty plains. It was as he heard his own echo that the young man realized that the Emperor was not speaking. The Emperor seemed to be projecting thoughts directly into his head.


    The Emperor¡¯s veil floated with the being''s face as he turned his head from side to side, as if to survey the land. Are you disappointed, young Omnis? I suppose it is a bit bare¡­


    A small chuckle emanated from behind the veil, though the stillness of this world echoed and amplified it. The sound seemed to surround the young man and penetrate his very bones. As it did, the young man fell on his rear, his knees finally giving way in pure shock.


    Just a moment ago, he was trying to reclaim his body, which was currently running down the busy streets of Medis at the summons of some other master. Now he was in a completely new world, in which the Sun Emperor had now appeared before him.


    The same Sun Emperor he was sure he had killed in the Royal Palace. Furthermore, that same Emperor had taken him to some strange realm¡­


    Sitting as he was, the bewildered man felt the ground with his right hand. Though the tiles looked smooth, they were actually slightly rough, friction rubbing against the man¡¯s hand. As the young man began to recover his wits, he noticed a strange mark on his right forearm.


    It was a symbol of the Sun Empire, a sun colored a royal purple. It had not been there before, the man was sure. The mark was right where the Emperor¡¯s blood had been stained earlier that day¡­


    Its my mark, claiming you as mine. I hope you don¡¯t mind¡­


    The young man looked back up at the Sun Emperor. From his place on the ground, the man had to crane his head up towards that veiled figure that seemed to tower far above him. ...Your mark? Why would I be yours?


    The Sun Emperor crouched, coming just above eye level with the young man. Your body is that of an Omnis, the creation of enemies I¡¯ve yet to identify.


    However you, the soul, are my creation.


    ******************************************


    Soul of the Omnis, #100: Demon of the Mask


    My father loved him more. My mother loved him more. Our teachers loved him more.


    I was the older one, but somehow, I was the one trapped in the shadow of my sibling. That¡¯s not how it should be. Divine law says that the eldest son must carry on the family¡¯s legacy.


    Yet, for our clan of mages, talent was all that mattered. They forgot the divine law of our people and gave all they had to their younger son, the child prodigy. At our dinner table, I sat, playing with my food, as they asked him about his studies. How they laughed, how they smiled as they watched him!


    The final straw came when I overheard the servants gossiping. It would be better if the eldest died, so that the younger brother could take on the leadership of the clan. If only the younger could take power, this clan could become the strongest in all the lands.


    Him, leader of the clan? That¡¯s blasphemy against the divine laws. Besides, for now he was just a child, barely a hair on his chin.


    Oh, how much easier it would be if I could be him. With the luck of the gods and our clan¡¯s adoration, life would be so much easier if I were only him.


    It¡¯s not me that should disappear, it¡¯s him. That¡¯s what the gods would have wanted. Yes, I¡¯m sure of it.


    I may not have the same raw talent as my brother, but I was still the son of a legendary line of mages. For countless nights, I would hide away in my room, perfecting my own, special magic.


    Then, one night, I visited his bed. He was sleeping for the last time.


    That night, I took my first mask, the first of many. When morning came, I was him. This was no illusion; my magician parents would doubtlessly have discovered me if it was.


    No, this was transformation magic. A taboo from the time of gods, long thought forgotten by most of the world. However, a few distant ancestors of ours had practiced the magic, so I searched and stole away an ancient text from our clan''s grand archives and reopened the taboo.


    In the end, it was worth it. He was gone, and I had taken his place. His body, his voice, and his mannerisms were all the same, but now they were mine.


    Unfortunately, I could not take his mana or his talent for incantations. For a few days, I was worried that I would be discovered, but my clan was far too caught up in mourning to notice. After all, I ¨C no, the eldest son ¨C had tragically disappeared.


    When my talent for magic happened to disappear on the same day, they attributed it to shock.


    After all, I had lost my beloved older brother.


    Later, I would add many more masks to my collection: diplomats inciting conspiracy, generals ordering reckless charges, and spouses whispering in the ears of rulers. Even though I had not the talent of him, I had gained my own special aptitude. With it, I would lead my clan to supremacy in these lands. I would raise them up to a glorious destiny that even he could not dream of.


    For I am the Demon of the Mask.


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