Carmine eyes shown in the depths of the cavern, a pillar of one of La Luna's sons' light sliced at an angle, covering only Rad's visage. As clear as his face was, all Rad could see were the beady red eyes of a voice in the dark. Tak's hands clammed together, thumbs rubbing in disgust.
"Calamities run amok, you are the harbinger of such. Creator, you, and your creator. My existence is mute. So will you reveal yourself, or play the fool?"
"I'm unaware—"
"Silence! Awareness I know you do not possess. Lay your disdain at the door, cur. For I shall only speak with the Devil, not some unholy apostle." Tak raised his hand, curtains fluttered from the absent abyss. Rows of pictured beings drew along with names Rad was unfamiliar with. "These are the calamities, the ones you have birthed, and will continue to birth. However if I can disrupt your trail of fate defying antics, then I shall. You are a beast of three or more. Created by something that must not be fought against, yet you choose to defy it, in hopes of what…I am unsure. But it surely can't be good."
Rad stood, speechless. What is this guy on about? I can somewhat follow what he is saying, but I am still a little lost. Scratching his head, Rad sighed. "May I?"
"You may," Tak responded.
"You are quite talkative."
"I am a man of two principles, faith and joy. You disturb both."
Rad could only gleam a chuckle. "Then I suppose you know how I died."
"Indeed, I know you well enough."
"Seems more than enough, but I'll bite. Who did it?"
"Are you aware of Myu Mountain?"
Goodness… Just humor him. "No."
"A grand serpent that threatened the lands abound in times ago could only be tamed by the Priestess of these very lands. Myu, she held the serpent from its primordial destruction. Time is weak to all, her time came, and the serpent had to move on. Molting into a two headed beast. Her Guardian, a follower of Ghal Kuhan and Sol Darr, legendary heroes, founders to the clan of Warriors and the beginnings of the Sorcerers. Fought the fatal being, losing his life within his failings to defeat the tyrannical beast, became distraught in the lands below. Like many who deal with magic he succumbed to darkness, turning into an evil spirit. This champion was crowned the title Splitter of Demons. He was a ferocious foe for many after his turn.
"Years unknown would fly by and his descent on this land coincided with the arrival of the deadly two headed serpent. A problem arose, the Guardian's turn resulted in his cooperation with the deadly serpent. They laid waste to the land, but in the time of the serpent's new molt he would claim their heads. Drowning the mountain of shed skin with its blood. Time passed again, and the blood had hardened into a mighty mountain. The evil spirit names this mountain
after his Priestess. Now question me this, where may this serpent's body lay? Correct. Behind those doors lies the corpse to the great demon, a serpent with three heads, slumbering in the infinite inferno under the belly of reality and space.
"I could speak about many things, but as you have pointed out, that goes against my image. So I will place my closing thoughts here. Your creator also created Azhi Dahāka, a being hellbent on destroying the world. I know not for what his plans may entail, but if fate has brought you about to the door of destruction, then I must force your way away."
Rad looked stunned or perhaps puzzled, both could have been true, he was beginning to lose self. "Interesting story, perhaps I believe it. Then tell me, where are you hiding the blueprints of that super car?"
"Super car?" Tak himself looked puzzled. Although Rad could not see his expression, he could feel the odd pause. "I see, Dante surely put you up to this."
"If you're unaware then answer my original question."
"Daler, you killed him."
"What? I did? How if…"
"We don't know how you did it, but with whom you're connected, it surely isn't surprising. No, I shouldn't say it that way, for it is opposite of how you have behaved in the past. As though you are a different person. The way you took out the Racing Hound was a cheat. When you rode your bike we were sure you were dead. After launching on top of you after the chase, we left you…"
Nokt trail, where the bike was left. I was out on a beach… "Orie's…"
"Bingo. Now you pair up with Dante again and his crude ideals, change your name often, you do. Isn't that right Nishant? Oh, but your Rad, I forgot. Which one is it, Daler?
"Who?" Rad asked.
"Think you're funny? We all used to be on the same side. All of us, Stallion, you, the Hound. Your greed, your blood, you choosing to bend fate, Dante corrupting your mind. Truly that and your creator are what brought this upon us all." Tak walked into the dim light. Rad's eyes shot wide for a moment.
"The farmer…"
Belly of the mountain roared, parting a hole in the sky. Grease stumbled over his feat as he sprouted Hell Crosses, the alley skirted, sharpness as a form shrieked, splitting all that touched it.
Zigarat's hand flew into the wind, dropping into a spiral of blood. Yet he showed no fear, for he uttered, "take up this offering, Connection to Heaven." The hand vanished whilst the blood that sat sprung forth onto Zig's damaged limb, contorting into a black mass of bubbling concern. He cackled, a hand made of something akin to tar, bore a crimson cross. With a wave of this hand he severed space, Grease's insides spilled. A dry cough left blood coming out of both of their mouths, lips dyed with luscious red.
The mourning sky crashed, nearby cans burst into flame. Cold funneled from a gale raced from the peak of the mountain. Shattered winds picked up embers, as if God wished to create a proper stage for the continuing battles. Grease nailed his flesh together, continuing his onslaught of crimson crosses. In the end Zigarat lay bare, nude of the inner flesh, skin no longer, limbs rendered useless, and yet his glee never seemed to fade. His eyes glowed a fascinate fire, his soul peaked with a ray not born from night's illuminance. The black sludge swallowed him, body of origin no longer on this plain. All that stands for the man known as Zigarat was a being evolved by the endless drive of pain brought about by Grease's cruelty. A monster that produces the same pain it felt when alive. Red from every corner of light concentrated in one point, a world of an absent color regained it in one sharp explosion too bright to be counted as red.
Lacerated from head to toe, a body no longer able to stand was merely abandoned with its breath still left intact. Pity, a foolish pity plagued the grotesque soul that left Grease where he kneeled.