"He is supreme. He is almighty. He is a piece of shit. He is the Evil Lord Cassiel."
-Lailah, A Guardian Angel of Morael
◈◈◈
Blood.
Maybe it was the colour. Or the smell. But when he saw it for the first time, he felt something eerie awakening within him.
"Shit!" Cassiel huffed. His neck felt straitened. "Shit. Shit. Shit." The black mace fell from his hand as his grip loosened. The more he observed the boy bleeding beneath him, the more his breathing harshened.
The cave was damp and dark, but he could see vividly. He'd sinned, and he realized it.
The more he looked. The more he got sunk into reflection—rumination.
How had it started? He could not remember. Engaging in fights for trivial reasons was a daily occurrence for him. But today, what happened?
That's when, in midair, words materialized themselves in front of his eyes.
❖You have tainted the holy ground of Morael with blood and violence.❖
His heart raced.
❖You have been marked as a Subject.❖
❖Should humans be allowed to wield the power once withheld by the Gods? ❖
❖What of the consequences should they retain such might?❖
❖You shall provide the answers.❖
"What?" he winced.
◈◈◈
"I've no desire for war... or peace."
-Cassiel Dread Klus, the Evil Lord
◈◈◈
Profile#0
Born: Jan 1, 2075 in Morael, Redsphere.
Codename: Dark ▪ Birth Name: #######
Titles: Lord of the Demonic Syndicate | Regressor | Lifeless Reaper | ###### | ######
Number of Experienced Regression(NER): ##
Current Age(After Regression): 27 ▪ Total Age: ####
Former Spouses: Lailah, Siouxsie Wright, Zephyr Morgan, Mayze Barclay, Ulsa Soulton, Layre Creighton, Eldia Bloodworth
Present Spouse: Elaine Shade
—Traits—
Eyes: Black ▪ Hair: Ebony ▪ Height: 6''3' ▪ Weight: 190 pounds
Level: ##
Skills: ####### | ####### | ####### | #######
◈◈◈
The majority of a person's life is spent chasing things like money, fame, and women. I'm not one of those people. At least I don't believe myself to be. I also do not consider myself special or unique. However, the circumstances in which I was raised were not just unique; they were exceptional.
Let's start from the beginning, shall we? When it all started. When I once poured my heart into a piece of paper.
◈◈◈
—Regressor: Prologue—
The Note
"'Why must I struggle?' Simplicity should be the way of life. In fact, for most, it would be the ideal way of life. Problems are a curse. The fear that one's day might not go as planned is imminent.
How easy would it be if kids could simply go to class, make friends, maybe meet a girl, and enjoy their day? But life's unpredictable.
Maybe you do meet a person, but he turns out to be impulsive. And now you are on the bathroom floor with most of your bones broken.
Maybe you do meet a girl, but it turns out that other boys are interested in her. And now, in front of her, you're on the floor with your mouth bleeding.
Fear breeds anxiety. So, you do nothing. You detach yourself. You remain in a corner. You meet with no one. You talk to no one. But you still come to school.
Why?
Because you must not let your parents know your situation in your class.
Still, nothing's solved.
You still fear.
You fear that while eating lunch, one kid might come up and smash your head on the table. You fear that while walking, you might bump into someone and offend them. You fear and fear until it consumes you. And it keeps on consuming you till it morphs. Morphs into something worse. Hatred.
But not towards the bullies or the girl. But towards yourself. Toward your own weakness.
In the end, you realize just how much you hate yourself.
The realization then forces you to take action.
You now have a choice.
End it all. Kill yourself. Let everything end. Be released from it all. So, you take a knife and point it towards your wrist. But you cannot do it. You make excuses. You think of your parents. You try to conjure up that one reason to live. But nothing. You cannot do it.
Then, you understand why.
You have always feared but never taken any action. A coward, you call yourself. You realize you do not even have the guts to kill yourself.
You become self-aware that the only thing you will ever do is fear, no matter the circumstance. You can neither kill yourself nor change yourself.
But then… the clouds fade. Your vision becomes clear. You can tell now. What is it that you want? All your life, what you have strived for.
Now, you start to question your awareness. The question in your mind starts to morph again.
"When did I ever truly strive for change?"_____
◈◈◈
Life#1
◈◈◈
"'When did I ever truly strive for change?' Quite dramatic for a boy your age. You're 14, right, Alistair?"
It was dramatic indeed. However, I was a 14-year-old immature boy who knew very little. Expressing your feelings can be beneficial, especially with friends or family. But, what if you had no friends and the relationship with your parents was a bit awkward?
Well, I did what any archetypal loner would do. I wrote on a piece of paper. It felt good. But my luck was shitty; I expressed myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.
That's how I met the man who just asked me that question. Dr Winmore. I still do not know his full name even after all these years.
At that time, he was hired as a juvenile counsellor. He even looked like a typical therapist with his square glasses and oiled black hair.
To the young me, he looked like a mystery. But so did I to him. I had sparked an interest. He read my note in front of me while sitting behind a table across from me. I sat there with my arms cuffed.
Winmore read the note maybe twice or thrice. After that, he placed the sheets on the desk in front of him. His eyes fell towards the cuffed boy, me, seated opposite him.
From his view, I must have looked like a deranged young boy who continually used his left arm to scratch his right arm.
The scratch marks had started to redden, and little blood had begun to surface.
I remember our gazes had met more than once that day. And my eyes didn't emit a hint of nervousness or anxiety. In fact, they looked thoughtless, dead, and observant. So, he must have wondered why did I do it? Why was I inflicting self-harm?
"Here's what they don't teach you in school," he said after a pause. "When a child your age commits a crime, he gets sent to juvenile. But the thing is, if he shows potential to one day receive a 'Blessing', he's hanged no matter the age." He leaned back. "You see, the ones in the high seat are very conscious about the rising numbers of people who wield supernatural abilities. And you, Alistair, show high potential."
I knew that even before he informed me. After all, I was aware of the consequences when I decided to do what I did. But what I didn't know was his plans. And what he did to kids like me.
Winmore placed two sheets on the desk near me and one pen in the middle.
"Now, here are your options." He gestured using his arms. "If you sign the sheet on the left. You get hanged. You wrote that you lacked the guts to kill yourself in your diary. Well, good for you. The government will do that for you." His lips curled into a smile. "But if you sign the sheet on the right, you'll be sent to a hellhole. A hellhole that I crafted. On the surface, I might appear to be a typical therapist for juveniles, but I run a fairly large organization, you see. There, you might end up dying in the worst way possible or living in the worst circumstances possible. The choice is yours."
What do you think I did? What would you have done?
I signed the sheet on the right. Why? To understand that, you would first have to understand my story.
◈◈◈
—Regressor: Initialization—
◈◈◈
The sunlight crept through the forest. "Run shitheads!" A man shouted. He was young, tall, and muscular. In the intense heat, he wore black leather pants and a black t-shirt. His green eyes shone with sunlight, giving his face a remarkably handsome look. That attractive man wasn't me. He was the trainer. I was one of the kids huffing in the forest.
"Damn it. Damn it." I murmured and huffed intensely. From my toes to my back, everything ached, yet I ran. Why? I asked myself. Was it the persuasive tone of that man, or was it because I was in the phase of life where stupid decisions seemed like the right choice to take, that I decided to sign the sheet on the right?
Running wasn't easy. The ground was no smooth land. Pebbles, broken branches, and bones were scattered across the ground. My feet were bleeding. But so were the ones of the kids running beside me. If they had not stopped, then how could I?
Gods know how many holes had been ruptured in my feet. My eyesight had also begun to blur. But I forced my eyes open. I was marching through a forest, not an open ground. Obstacles that needed to be avoided were everywhere, including trees and bushes. Losing sight of the trainer would mean getting lost in this forest, which would be tantamount to imminent death.
So, I followed.
After 3 hours, some kids lost their pace in front of me, and some fell unconscious. But I kept on moving forward. After 5 hours, the trainer crossed the white line. It was the line that separated the forest from the tunnel gates.
Soon after, other kids crossed it too, and so did I. The other side of the line had a cemented floor, and after that were colossal metallic gates.
I fell on my knees on the floor and started gasping for air. Then, my gaze fell towards the trainer, who observed the stopwatch facing the forest.
After a while, I heard a click from the watch. The white line started to morph into Red, and a blaze of fire formed a wall around the line.
This was my 3rd time seeing it form, yet it still amazed me. Magic, I thought. The kids who had failed to cross the white line would now get stuck in the forest. There, they would likely starve to death or get eaten by monsters.
I looked around to see our numbers. On the first day, there were over 10,000 kids, by my estimate; on the second day, 1,000, and now there are about 900 to 950.
Barely 50-100 fell behind. A frustrating matter. Others were growing too. I looked towards the firewall. It was semi-transparent, so I could see the kids crying on the other side. My heartbeat increased.
I feared that I would too fall behind and end up like them.
Clunk!
The metallic door opened after a while. All of us were set up in a line and guided inside by soldiers carrying semi-automatic guns. The inside was dark, with only one blue LED on the ceiling that periodically pointed directions.
At the end of the tunnel, another thick metallic door opened. The soldiers halted while the rest of the kids and I entered.
This was the most dangerous yet most crucial part of the day.
Once all 900 of the kids entered, the metallic door closed. We were now all in a white room. Its length is at least 200 meters, and its width is about 100 meters. Even if I look up, I can barely see the ceiling.
"It's mine," "No, it's mine," "Argh!"
It started—the chaos.
In the centre of the room, there are three long desks. Atop the first are piles of hard bread, which we can eat as food; atop the second are milk bottles. And lastly, bandages.
I marched near the tables. I had no intention to hurry like the others. My legs were already killing me.
Obtaining food was vital. I do not know how many pieces of bread are placed on the table. But from what I observed yesterday, less than half of the kids went to sleep with a full stomach.
When I arrived near the table, there were still some piles of bread and milk bottles remaining. I took around five pieces of hard bread and three bottles of milk. That would be enough for the night. There was no limit on how many you could take, as long as you could take it. Others fought intensely over food. And one day, I would have to fight too. But not right now.
No one blocked my way or disturbed me because of the red band on my right arm. We all wore the same dress— a blue t-shirt, a grey jumper, and soft grey trousers. But the thing that separated us was the coloured band on our right arm.
On the first day, we were all given bands based on the severity of the crimes we had committed. Yellow for burglary or minor offences. Green for attempted murder or rape. Purple for man-slaughter. And red for massacre or genocide..
Many of the kids were my age, and green and yellow were the most common bands. After all, how many 14-year-olds would actually commit murder? I have only seen about 20 people with a red band, including me.
At first, I didn't make much of it, but it did give me a minor advantage. Others feared me. After all, Red meant murder, and people are afraid to mess with murderers.
In truth, I'm not very strong. Yes, I killed five people. But I succeeded not because I was strong, but simply because I was smart. You do not need to be physically stronger to kill someone; given the right circumstances and meticulous planning, even a skinny man can kill a person 2-3 times his weight.
My height is average, and so is my body build. I've been bullied since I was young, so at least I have high endurance. I can take hits. But lack any form of combat experience.
Right now, no one has attacked me. However, if the others become desperate, they won't recognize who they are attacking. They will go after anyone with food.
I gulped.
In a cage surrounded by starving beasts. How long until I'm exposed?
To survive, what must I do? I must remind myself that everyone here is a criminal. And some are murderers. Murderers not like me, but real murderers, who are strong, swift, brutal, and more importantly, intimidating.
"Ahhh." One screamed. Followed by the screams of others. I saw it. I saw it clearly.
After I took my share of bread and milk bottles, I sat with my back against a corner. Then, I began to observe the others while I feasted on my piece of bread. It tasted awful, but I needed to eat. The more the better. I needed to grow big and strong, so I forced the food down my throat.
But that was when a sharp noise attracted my attention.
Kreeek!
Broken shards of glass fell onto the ground. The bottom of a milk bottle was shattered by striking it on the table. The one who did that was a tall guy who wore a Red band. By doing so, he turned the remaining portion of the bottle into a sharp weapon. But this wasn't when the others started screaming. The others started screaming when he took that broken bottle and plunged it into a kid's face. But glass cannot break a human skull. So, he, after striking the face once, inserted the remaining bottle in the kid's stomach. Blood spattered everywhere. It happened so fast that it was while before others started to scream.
The one who just committed a murder stood up and declared, "It's mine now." He said that in a low tone, and I was in a corner far from him, so I didn't hear his voice. But my eyes are incredibly sharp, so I read his lips.
By 'mine', he must have meant the remaining bread and milk. I instantly scanned my gaze for other red bands. I spotted that all of them had already taken their share of food. They were observing the situation quietly.
'Did he only take such an action after all the red bands had taken food?' Very clever, I must say, but still risky.
He looked to be around 17 or 18 years old. Actually, most red bands were a little older than the majority. Some even had tattoos. I am guessing that most likely, they are gang members, or perhaps some victims of circumstances. But more importantly, they look strong.
The hall went quiet for a while. Those who had food kept eating, including me. Those who didn't gulp and stared.
'Shit.' I thought, and quickly gulped the remaining bread I had taken. I didn't even take time to chew, but swallowed with the help of milk.
The milk bottle was made of glass and was approximately 15 cm long and thin. 'Why would they even use glass instead of paper?' I had an idea why, but I didn't ponder it.
Those without food started to gather. No doubt they were starving. The long run in the forest was no joke. Yesterday, we only got bread and milk once. Now, undoubtedly, they must have realized that if they don't eat today, they will die on the run tomorrow.
"What makes u think u can monopolize all the bread?" someone shouted. I could not see who.
"Attack!"
My senses jolted awake, hearing the majority suddenly leap towards the red band who had killed someone. But he did not look surprised; instead, he almost seemed to hope this would happen.
He leaped and landed on one of the kids' faces. Then, stabbed the one in front. Immediately, his legs hurricaned and hit the yellow band kids.
'Shit. He's skilled.' I could not even jump half the length or move my legs that fast. 'I hope he dies.'
Two more yellow bands went past him and tried to reach the table to grab bread.
My face frowned, looking at their behavior. 'Use your high number advantage! Kill that guy!' But they were more desperate for food.
Scatter!
At the same time, I heard a lot of bottles breaking. Others, including those with red bands and those who had milk bottles, broke their bottles.
I too stood up. 'Fuck they are smart.' I guessed such a development would at least take a week. But the madness spread sooner than expected.
Arugh!
Screams spread across the hall, and red bands kept stabbing. Their faces did not show excitement or happiness, but horror.
Of course, they were still children! I don't think they did it out of pleasure, but necessity.
Many must have already guessed that the purpose of the run was to dwindle the numbers and filter the capable ones. So, if they killed those here, there might not be a run tomorrow.
Everyone here was only human after all. Their legs were most likely swollen, tired, and injured; the possibility of surviving another run would not be guaranteed.
However, killing others right now would be easier for those wearing red bands. First, red bands had at least eaten some bread. Second, the majority were 14- 15, while they looked to be around 17, so they were a little bigger. Third, those who were hungry were starting to show signs of madness.
'This is not fair.' But I couldn't let those thoughts occupy me.
"Milk!" a green band gulped on the bottle like he had been thirsty for ages. But his neck got stabbed from behind by another green band. "No, it's mine." But he, too, got pushed by a few yellow bands behind them. Amidst the chaos, the bottles fell from the table. This ensued more chaos.
My heartbeat rose. I was in a corner, ready with my bottle broken, in case someone attacked. But many were gathered around the center near the tables with milk and bread, fighting for food. I have already eaten mine, so the probability of me getting attacked is low for now.
'Huh.' I just realized the one red band who started this mess was leisurely standing on another corner far away with a grin on his face.
'How nice, inciting a conflict, and stepping away.' My lips curled up. This was a chance for me, too. I was already thinking about whether I would survive the run tomorrow or not. For now, if no one attacks me, I will be ok.
I instead took this chance to observe.
"Mom…dad.." I saw someone crying. Many were screaming. No matter how hungry, there were also those unable to take any action.
"Mom.." his voice got cut off as he felt his neck getting stabbed from behind. The stabber took a harsh breath. "..U would not have survived tomorrow..I am doing an act of mercy…" The stabber also did not look too sure of what he was doing. No one had a face of confidence, except the one red band in the other corner, who started the conflict.
"What have I done…what am I doing.." the one who stabbed broke down in the middle. Unfortunately, this place did not allow the luxury of self-repentance; he, too, got stabbed in the behind from another yellow band. Yellow bands were those with petty crimes, such as theft; they had never killed before. "Shit. Shit. Shit…" he also broke down.
I controlled my breath. For now, I was incredibly thankful that I could just be a spectator for now.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound of gunshots stopped everyone.
The soldiers looked down from the balcony. "Wonderful performance." The green-eyed trainer said. "Now, let's begin round 2."
I gulped. Already? Fuck. How are they so well prepared?
Looking around, I could guess our numbers were closer to 500.
The floor vibrated. Small metal pillars rose from the ground. Atop the pillar was a floating white plain mask.
"The temperature is currently, let's see, around 19°C, every 1 minute, the temperature will rise by 1 Degree…so what will happen to you? Maybe you should try wearing the mask," he smiled and did not explain further.
Thud!
Metallic doors closed, isolating the room from the balconies and other floors.
Is that it? The signal for the round start?
I quickly observed. There were around 200 pillars. Most were densely concentrated around the center. I am at a huge disadvantage.
I quickly calculated the time. Every minute, the temperature increases by 1 degree. I have about 20-30 minutes before the temperature reaches around 40–50°C, then signs of exhaustion, confusion, severe dehydration, and risk of collapse will appear. Maybe before that, considering everyone's condition.
"I got it." Many of those who were fighting in the center had the opportunity to take the Mask quickly.
I stopped thinking, and I ran towards them. I saw the nearest pillar and dashed.
"A mask." But a green band boy took it. My eyes narrowed, stabbed marks around the thigh and left arm. He's injured. At the same time, three others also rushed near him. My arm clenched around the broken milk bottle.
The other three didn't appear to be injured, but they also didn't have a bottle as a weapon. I took the chance; as the four were fighting, I stabbed one from behind. Only then did the other three notice me. I dashed to the left of the one wearing the mask. He tried to block me using his left arm, but too bad it was injured and didn't rise in time. I mercilessly stabbed with my right and snatched the mask with my left. My stab was not powerful enough to do severe damage; it just penetrated the lights, but due to it being a vital spot in the neck, he bled. The other two dashed toward me, but I stepped back and ran toward my corner again.
If they were clever, they would not chase and leave the center, as there were other masks too. But one of them persisted. I stopped and looked back at him. I was not scared of only one person, as I had a broken bottle, and he did not.
Our gazes met. Maybe it was due to my gaze, or the fact that the bottle in my left arm was covered in blood, he too got intimidated and backed off.
Phew!
I took a sigh of relief. I don't consider myself someone who takes quick, rash actions. But this time, I felt I had no choice. 200 masks and 500 participants. And the time constraint meant that the longer I delayed, the harder it would be. That's why I quickly acted.
When I wore the mask, I felt dizzy. Fk. At the same time, I felt a sense of calm. An artifact? It provides a layer of protection, but the negative effects include dizziness and the urge to sleep. I immediately took off the mask. It was risky wearing it now. If I fell asleep and if someone attacked, I would be at a disadvantage.
Maybe I can resist it for at least 1-2 minutes. I have to precisely match the timing to be safe.
The temperature started to rise. How many minutes has it been 5? 10?
It was still bearable. Many who kept wearing their masks became careless and either fell asleep or, due to dizziness, lost the fight, allowing their mask to be snatched. Many began to be more cautious. They also removed their masks, carrying a mask in one hand and a broken bottle in the other.
Fifteen minutes after the start of the round, everyone began to feel discomfort, and heavy sweating started.
Everyone was on their toes. Those without masks were observing those with masks and waiting for a moment.
After 5 more minutes, the temperature rose to around 40°C. Exhaustion and confusion spread. Those carrying the masks began to feel the pressure. But if they wore the mask, they would be immediately attacked. The timing will decide who lives and who dies.
I was in the same situation. I had the mask, but currently, one green band was staring at me. He had one advantage. He was standing on a corpse. While my feet were on the floor, the metallic floor was freaking burning my feet. Fuck! I gritted my teeth. If I wear the mask, he will attack. All I can do is wear the mask and run. I just need to run till he collapses from the temperature while also making sure that I don't collapse first.
I took a long breath, calmed by breathing, and waited!
After some time, the temperature reached around 51–55°C. The air became nearly unbearable; reflective metallic surfaces magnified the heat. Sweating stopped. I felt dizzy. I felt my skin dry and redden. I won't last long. The other guy also did not look good. But more importantly, I felt I could not endure this heat. The floor is metallic. I looked at the other person. With blurry vision, I could not make out his condition.
Fuck.
I wore the mask and ran, hearing footsteps chasing me. I didn't look back; I desperately searched for places with no one. One advantage of the mask was that the heat didn't affect me. The floor finally felt cool, and I kept running. However, the gentle temperature suddenly made me sleepy. I desperately resisted the mask's effect, but after three minutes, I collapsed to the ground. My body felt cool, as if my entire flesh had fallen asleep. My wounds no longer hurt, and I didn't feel hungry. It just felt so relaxing.
Shit…
I gritted my teeth to keep my eyes open.
I could not hear any footsteps near me. Did he collapse?
Soon, I heard screams. The temperature must have been extremely high now. Without a mask, I couldn't even imagine their pain. After a while, the screams grew louder. I saw signs of fire. Their clothes must have burned... Soon, I fell asleep.