by David Walker
Splitshadow sulked under a large cherry blossom tree in the middle of the Talon Clan's training yard. He was approached by his father, Hayashi. Splitshadow arose and acknowledged his father with a honorary bow.
“You're troubled,” Hayashi said, as more of a statement than a question.
“My reputation as the world's greatest mercenary is ruined. The Northerners have exposed our sacred arts and use them to dress up like comic book heroes. Should I abandon the last of my honor and join them?” Splitshadow murmured.
“Your heart would never be settled on that path.”
“I need to get stronger, but there isn't anything that challenges me here.”
“You've already reached the pinnacle of your external power. In order for you to advance now, you will need to build your inner strength.”
“...You're right,” Splitshadow agreed. He released his anger and joined his father in deep meditation.
* * *
Zoltav marched triumphantly into Obfuscation's headquarters in the Golden Badlands. His spell blades greeted him with warmth and veneration. Their base of operations brimmed with jubilation as they celebrated their recent victory. Zoltav addressed his loyal followers with a speech.
“Let us observe a moment of silence for our brothers who have fallen in order to bring us this victory. They are our beloved martyrs. May they forever enjoy eternal paradise with our blessed prophet,” Zoltav reverently stated. The Obfuscation guild collectively bowed their heads in respect for the spell blades who had sacrificed their lives in Operation Saturn's Edge. The guild stood silent.
“As marvelous as our victory was, it is only the beginning. A seed of righteousness was sown into the corruption of the North. We have struck at the root of their civilization; a sign that their wicked reign is near an end!” Zoltav declared. The guild hall erupted with zealous shouting.
“The North has grown comfortable. Arrogant. Their one-eyed, false prophets trust in their technology and are oblivious to the power of the spirit. We have used their blindness against them. Next, we will use their politics against them. The Day of the Prophet is neigh! His holy sword of vengeance will cut deep into the fat of the Northern swine! The fire of judgment will cleanse our lands!” Zoltav exclaimed.
“Death to the North!” a spell blade shouted, amid the frenzied cheering.
“He is the prophet reborn!” another spell blade proclaimed.
Zoltav entered into his private chambers. A dark, glaucous-colored figure with purple, cat-like irises met him there. The menacing entity had two large horns that protruded out of his forehead, curving like ram horns. Zoltav stood before the true Lord of Obfuscation: ruler of the violet shadow realm and master of the abyss, the Fallen Seraphim Baal. Zoltav bowed low before his lord.
“Master, you honor me with your presence,” Zoltav pronounced in obeisance.
“Rise, my child,” Baal said as Zoltav rose to his feet. “I cannot express how proud I am of you. Ages ago, my eldest daughter defied a terrible king and reigned victoriously over mankind. Now, as her power wanes, my youngest son has risen to the occasion. Soon, I will grant you my throne, and your ascension will overthrow the heavens.”
* * *
Overlord Mammon violently shook Shadow Queen Terra by the neck in front of the council members of the Order of the Six Devils. His extravagant, platinum and gold attire reflected the light that shimmered off of his Mantle of Hell. Humanity's insatiable greed had empowered Mammon, granting him with the powerful relic in the early twelfth age. The Lord of Shadow House Mercury stood tall as the ruler of the Order, with the power of the King of Hell radiating off of his back.
“Foolish harlot! I have worked so hard to protect you, but now you've sealed your own demise,” Mammon bellowed.
“My Lord...the signet...remains in the bloodline,” Terra gasped.
“It wasn't the appointed time!” Mammon roared as he released her. Overlord Pythius attempted to hide a smirk while Overlord Abbadon openly mocked Mammon.
“You think this is funny, Abbadon? Do you suppose that Mars can protect you against my weaponry?” Mammon threatened, as his mantle transformed into mechanical battle armor. Multiple gun turrets mounted themselves onto his shoulders and forearms as red, targeting lasers danced across Abbadon's forehead.
“You are a weak ruler. Without that mantle you would be nothing,” Abbadon goaded.
“Nothing? Whose alchemy shielded us from the curse? Who provides us with coins to consume to this day? Yet, that's not enough for you fools, is it? You want to expose us before our foundation is complete. Have you all forgotten that the King of Heaven can make his move at any time?!”
“Calm down, Mammon. Everything is still under control,” Pythius assured.
“Oh, is it now? Beelzebul! How much has time shifted?” Mammon demanded. Overlord Beelzebul examined the rings of a holographic representation of Saturn.
“About eleven degrees,” Beelzebul answered.
“It's a sign, son,” Baal interjected. The number eleven was special to the Order as it represented the premise of duality. Through duality, the Order believed that they were on equal footing with the kingdom of heaven.
“A sign that is it time for your favored heir to rise, is it, father?” Beelzebul scoffed.
“I know we've forgotten many things since our exile. But I can still remember how much potential the King of Heaven poured into mankind. Only through them can we reclaim our place in the heavens,” Baal countered.
“We know that, Baal. We've already decoded that part of the mystery of life. But who's to say that your prospect is better than mine? My prospect is a product of centuries of genetic research and reptilian splicing. Yours is simply a kindred spirit,” Pythius chided.
“Oh, you would think that, wouldn't you? Is that why your team tried to stop us?” Baal asked.
“You did what you had to do, I did what I had to do,” Pythius retorted.
“Baal...you were responsible for Gaia's wound?” Mammon demanded, referring to the attack that injured Shadow Queen Gaia of Triberia.
“You defile my daughter and I stomp on your harlots,” Baal replied coldly.
“Oh, don't be so dramatic, father,” Overlord Jezebel told Baal. She had become Mammon's consort after he had received the mantle, much to Baal's dismay. Baal considered Mammon's move a usurp of his authority since Shadow House Venus now sat under Mammon's power base. Baal was forced to settle for ruling indirectly over Shadow House Saturn, through his son Beelzebul.
Mammon seethed. As much as he wanted to punish Baal for his insubordination, he could not afford to. The Order often quarreled with each other, but they understood how crucial it was for them to remain united. Mammon relied on humanity's pride in order to retain his influence over them. Thus, he needed the continual support of Baal, the Lord of Pride. For better or worse, the members of the Order were bound to one another.
“...Well, now that you're all done with your fun and games, how about we stop targeting our own? It's time that we move against the Royal Priesthood,” Mammon said, regaining his composure. The Royal Priesthood was an awakened military order under the kingdom of heaven.
“What about the radiant soul? He's shown himself to be a serious threat. He even defeated one of Metatron's captains,” Pythius urged. Mammon laughed.
“Don't worry about him. He is going to be our weapon against the Royal Priesthood.
* * *
...The Spirit Spectrum Saga will continue in Volume II: Violet