Gravetower

by Kell Inkston

  Love whimpers as the essence drains out and shows a young elf woman, her strange face crooked just as it had been as a minion.

  “Hmm, how entertaining this all is,” Oa says with a laugh as it slaps Dark Arts Minion’s body once more in a final insult, before stepping down to Aoline.

  Meeo puts everything into herself to escape the hundreds of grasps as Oa looks over the paralyzed girl.

  Aoline gurgles something as her eyes respond to its gaze.

  “I suppose you’re in a little bit of pain, mmm?” Oa asks as it gently strokes the side of Aoline’s broken neck.

  Her irises tremble as her musculature convulses helplessly. Though Love would rather her unconscious for this to happen, Aoline’s not the sort to back down; she’s fearless even through pain.

  “Nothing to say?” Oa questions as he grips part of her torso with its hand and squeezes into it so hard that it wrings blood.

  With immense focus and an iron will, she doesn’t look away from her executioner.

  “Oa, don’t you dare!” Meeo yells with whatever breath she can barely pull into herself, half blinded from the blood, bile, and diseased saliva of the multitudes of undead holding onto her.

  Oa looks over to Meeo with disgust. “You don’t want me to kill her?”

  “You’ve done enough! How many lives must you take before you’re satisfied? We’re not just parts!”

  Oa looses a pretentious “ahh!” as it draws back in mock realization. “Of course. She should have the pleasure of becoming art. I have been thinking this place a bit drab. Might as well keep her alive— see that nervous system in action, eh?” It leans The Kingdom Slayer over its shoulder as it steps away from Aoline. “Make her a beautiful butterfly. I’d love to see that ribcage spread out to fly,” it remarks with grim satisfaction. At once a dozen strong arms force into Aoline’s stomach, right under her rib cage, and begin pulling at opposite ends.

  Meeo gasps as Aoline is very, very slowly torn open in the rawest manner imaginable— but she holds her words back.

  “Now for you…” Oa says, the anticipation on its voice utterly sickening as it begins caressing Meeo’s pale neck. She just looks at Aoline as Scout Minion, now back to her wits, does the talking.

  “Hey, garbage!” Scout Minion shouts.

  Oa sighs and just ignores her as he carries on. “What would you like to be? A mermaid? A tree?”

  “Hey, garbage!” the just-reconstructed minion reiterates, her meter-high body already forcing its way out of the slipping grip of Oa’s dreglings.

  Oa chuckles as it grabs Meeo’s jaw. “What we talked about earlier… back at Liefland. I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind. It seems as though I was the right one now, doesn’t i-”

  “HEY! GARBAGE!”

  Oa abruptly steps on Scout Minion, again and again— smashing her face open and utterly crushing her for a second time tonight. “You wait your turn.” Oa steps back to Meeo and leans in menacingly. “Well?”

  “You’re not right, Oa,” Meeo squeaks with everything she can as a set of teeth sink deep into her right foot from below. “Having the advantage doesn’t mean you’re right.”

  Oa scoffs. “Might doesn’t make right, then?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You still think I’ll fail in my task?”

  “You’ll never bring her back, Oa. I’m sorry for you, I pity you, because it’s been this long and all you’re going to get for it is death.”

  Oa laughs as it punches Meeo in the stomach. It was holding back obviously, for in her weak state, it could probably breach through her other side easily. “Am I right yet?”

  Meeo coughs out a gulp of blood. “Pain doesn’t equate to purpose.”

  It punches her again. “How about now?”

  “I’m…” Meeo spits up a gulp of saliva and blood. “I’m not going give you that satisfaction.”

  It punches her a third time. “You know, I’ve been wondering.” It says in between yet another strike into her stomach. “You seem so dead set on killing me. I understand you’re a realmancer and are somewhat skilled at seeing the outcomes of things— tell me, did you expect this?”

  She’s quite a moment. “No…”

  “And why not?” It asks before punching her a fifth time.

  “I didn’t have enough information.”

  “And yet you insisted on going all this way?”

  Her features sharpen in self loathing. “…Yes.”

  “Killing everyone you knew.” It says with another strike.

  “….”

  “Dragging your most loyal companions straight to hell to be my food… And for what?”

  “….”

  It delivers a seventh blow, this time winning up a full vomit from her bloodied mouth. “What do you have to show for it? You said I was going to die, that that would be my reward. Well, tell me,” it punches her again, pushing up another cough of blood, “what’s your reward? Why was this so worth it to you?” It picks up her bow Worldloss from the ground and begins weighing its right leg into it.

  “I thought… I thought I could kill you.”

  “Why?” It hits her a ninth time as it continues to weigh down. “I barely ever visit your shithole of a dimension. You should have been honored I wanted the High Tea, and yet you took that away from me.” It cracks its fingers, and instantly its undead minions respond by snapping, then thrusting up her leg— a full dislocation of the nerves.

  Her pain inhibiting magic can push back a lot, but not this. She finally cries out in agony, a scream that Aoline would be giving at this time if she were able to— but she can only whimper next to Meeo as they’re both steadily torn apart.

  “What’s your obsession with me?” It asks, rending Worldloss, Meeo’s truest companion and weapon for thousands of years, in half — reduced to splintered trash.

  Meeo takes a deep breath, taking her nearly half a minute to compose the words out of the pain. “Because you killed my parents when I was just a little girl.”

  Oa draws back in surprise as a weird shadow begins to compile itself within a corner of the tight, paranoid room, their surroundings shaped more like an internal organ than a cell by this point. “So I did… I wish I remembered more clearly, but I don’t much care about parts to my whole,” it explains before resuming with another strike— this time across her face, smashing her inner cheek into her teeth and cutting them across. “History does not remember your family, and history won’t remember you either, Meeo. It will, however, remember me. Now, then I figure you’d be prettiest as a little angel. I’ll hang you up to dry for a long time.”

  At that, Meeo feels four pairs of rotting, semi-skeletal thumbs forcing in between her shoulder blades from behind as they quickly break through her soft skin and reach the back musculature. She screams through her teeth and tears roll down her face as the hands begin folding out her blades as if to form little wings. The crisp sound of muscle being separated and the wet heat of blood overtakes her senses just as she feels a nearby presence.

  “I think that’s quite enough, dear sibling o’mine,” a sultry, serious voice arises from the dark corner.

  Oa grips Meeo’s neck in frustration, just an ounce of strength away from snapping it. “Ahh… Pales, just practicing a little sculpting is all.”

  “I’ll skip the formality. I was the one that gave a human the ritual to summon up Chaos. I figured out the O.E.L.’s plans well in advance, so I decided I’d make the first move and prepare for any sort of… discrepancy.”

  Oa sighs and Meeo looks on in disbelief. The shadow begins to gain shape and definition as the Victorianesque curvature, lush black hair, and distinct snow-whiteness of a female manifests in the air. In this, her darkest of hours, Meeo’s gaze widens in disbelief — it’s all going to work out. She had calculated it all successfully, at least this far.

  Overlord Pales, the undisputed alpha vampire in all The Omniverse, appears amidst the chamber of teeth and corpses as Oa shakes its hea
d.

  “You… you have my thanks,” it responds.

  In her shifting, misting visage, a smile can be recognized. “Don’t think it was for free, dear friend of mine.”

  Oa’s back arches in irritation. “What.”

  Pales looks between Oa’s captives as she floats along effortlessly with a calm, analytical hum. To Oa’s massive chagrin, she stops right at Meeo. “This is the realmancer, isn’t it?”

  “…Yes.”

  With gentle anticipation of Oa’s frustration, she places her lithe white hand upon her lips with a smile. “She’s mine now,” Pales declares.

  “I think not,” Oa states bluntly. “You are too young to understand my delicate art, and she will be my finest work as I near the end of my goal.”

  Pales’ smile stretches eerily. “And you must be too stupid to realize I could undo the summoning at any time— considering the human was using my magic.”

  There’s a pause, and then Oa sighs out in disgust. It raises its hand and snaps its bloody, bony hands.

  At once, the undead servants retract from the maimed Meeo. She almost hits the floor of bodies— but rather she stops midair, drawing close to Pales as her new possession.

  “It means nothing to me. Enjoy,” Oa continues bluntly as it moves on to Scout Minion, who is already lurching back up to a stand.

  Pale coos gently as she brushes a lock of hair from Meeo’s pain-stricken face. “She will be most valuable to the house. I hope you find-” instantly, Pales’ features churn from that of a confident goddess, to a horrified pit-dweller. “Oh, now how does that work?” she says bemusedly

  “How does what work, dear sister?” Oa asks as it kicks Scout Minion’s face in yet again for nothing but entertainment.

  “I… must go. Be at peace, Oa.”

  Oa shrugs. “Why? What has you in such a rush?”

  She crosses over with Meeo in her embrace, just as a massive crackling blast overtakes the mountain of bodies protecting the cell.

  A sizable hole is burst through with nothing but raw, crudely-hewn magic. At the other side of the explosion is High Overlord Chaos— bloodied, dismembered, and still ready to kill anything. As Oa brandishes The Kingdom Slayer in shock, its undead minions already begin clearing out, dropping the caught party and disassembling the mountain in a mad rush; at least they are wise enough to know what comes next.

  “How?” Oa asks.

  Chaos, his vast wide eyes in competition with the great moon above, squints in fury for the first time in centuries.

  “I am not the sort to explain my situation to that which is even lower than humans.” Chaos lays gaze upon the torn and tormented bodies of his followers— his minions, his children— and he does not smile at the sight. “Take a look, Oa. Imprint this image on your rotten mind.”

  Oa hisses as it reels in preparation. “The moment that I kill you with your own sword?”

  “The last sight you will see,” Chaos says as he blasts forward with such power that the dark chamber is filled with a brilliant, white light. He shouts out, in the bright aetherium of the blast.

  Perhaps it is only appropriate the only one who can see is Chaos’ very finest, Scout Minion, waning just above unconsciousness.

  Chaos tears Oa’s meaningless body to bits as the two scream at the top of their lungs— one in indignation, and the other in terror. The Kingdom Slayer’s stolen wielder failing in defense, Chaos departs Oa from its limbs and retakes the blade right before tearing open the phylactery’s corpse; its gaping vessel reveals an ancient sphere, gleaming dreamily with a deep, purely magical light. It takes a mere second for Chaos to take hold of the binding seal Oa placed upon this sphere thousands and thousands of years ago— and all at once, the feeling of Oa’s presence begins to lift from the cell as it fails to move to another host. As he only has one arm, Chaos sheathes the Kingdom Slayer down his dimensional gut to take up the sphere, the truest part of Oa’s being that binds it to the world.

  “You bastard,” Oa’s voice, still untorn and capable of speech, condemns in a pathetic, gurgling tone. “Let me go.”

  Chaos is silent.

  “Let. Me. Go.”

  The High Overlord peers on, holding Oa’s seal in place as it evaporates.

  “LET. ME. GO.”

  “At least die like an ancient. You are no child, Oa. My heart is as hard as the law, and you escape only in death.” The Black Swordsman’s tone is absolute, unyielding. It is at this moment that Oa truly realizes its time has come.

  “…You’ve ruined everything.” It’s clear that Oa’s spirit is finally departing from the coilings of the mortal realm as its heavy soul begins to disperse into the surrounding air.

  Chaos simply stares down at the necromancer’s crippled physique, more like a carrion pile now than anything else.

  “I’ll never see her again, thanks to you— and now I’ll die and burn in the hell that they’ve made for me. You’ve ruined everything.”

  Chaos leans down over Oa, looming and making the difference in height clear between them.

  “All I wanted was to have her in my arms one last time.”

  Chaos smiles. “It’s a shame. Your belief in death is what made your life so miserable.”

  Oa pauses a moment as the final whispers of its spirit start to seep away into Breathlend. “…What?” the remnants of its conscious echo through its deteriorating vessel from somewhere far away.

  Chaos shakes his head, his fury giving way to a gentle sorrow as he looks upon Oa’s decrepit, rotting form. “Do not believe in multiple ends, Oa— for the grim reapers too have a master. Your plight is known, but it is not known by me.”

  “What do you speak of?! All know that you hold the deepest secrets of The Omniverse in your mind Overlord, so long as you were to remember it; so answer me!”

  “I… I do not know why I feel this way, but I know. You will see the one you love again. Now die, and live once more. Your child’s dream has ended, and you will open your own eyes for the first time as you did long ago.”

  Oa is quiet a moment. “I’m scared.”

  “We all know you are a coward,” Chaos says with a faint smile. “Sometimes fate forces us down the road of progress even so.”

  Oa, its jaw steadily losing form, scoffs. “Then tell me, fate, what do you wish for me? I will die regardless, but what do you want. Why was this worthwhile to you?”

  Chaos squints in contemplation as the cold winds blow over the steadily-fleeing mountain of necromancers. His expression becomes empty. “I know much, you old soul, but I do not know the answer to that question. I can only guess. Perhaps I desire good things to befall everyone, or perhaps I take insult at your existence— that someone like you would dare challenge me. I fear that, with every moment of clarity I have, I will forget it all the same. Do not cry for me though, Oa, for at least I realized my condition— whereas you have been in your tormenting nightmare without cease. You are the wronged party, while also the one that does the wrong.”

  “…You don’t even know why you came here?” Oa asks, now but an indignant undertone.

  Chaos peers on. “One does not need an answer to do the right thing, Ohkiij worshiper. Though I cannot answer why, in my heart, that I did this, I can still take solace in knowing the world is a better place with one less obsessed human piece of garbage crawling about the gateways of our realms. I do not hate you, Oa, but you are truly the very lowest of creatures. Even a dog follows its nature and dies when it’s supposed to.”

  “… Very well, you clueless Overlord. You have taken me. I wish you the most miserable and painful death our world can allow. You will wonder, I’m certain, where your precious realman-”

  “I know who stole her away from you. She will be back in my arms in a day’s time; you however, will be rewarded with a well deserved death for your treachery. I am not one to cause suffering— but if there were anything I’ve witnessed that I’d wish it upon, it would be you. I am above that, however, and I am above you. Now un
less you have last words to pay yourself some respect, you will finish crossing over.”

  Oa’s final breath is a scoff, showing its defiance ‘til the end.

  Chaos laughs back with a pathetic tone, overwhelmed with both pity and disgust for his loathsome prey.

  At last, Oa’s phylactery body disintegrates entirely. It no longer has anything to speak with, or anything to manipulate— so Oa simply fades off, the young man’s soul finally taking its rest after its millennia-long crusade to achieve the powers of resurrection. The name feared by billions, Oa, is now committed to the annals of history by the one true High Overlord: He that humbles the gods and the immortal.

  All that’s left is Chaos, the sphere, and his ruined friends.

  Chaos observes the sphere for a long moment, its full, pearl-like qualities endlessly shifting under his gaze. It all seems so familiar.

  It will be many years before Chaos realizes what he has in his grasp— and on that day even Ywn’s High Goddess will feel a chill down her holy spine. He stows the sphere away now, however, down his gut for safe keeping before taking back to his feet.

  There’s an unfeeling pause as the rest of the necromancers pile out, leaving but a weighed down plane of dirt and trash and worms. The Overlord's eyes fall upon his dear minions, broken before him.

  Chaos stares on with a quiet, cold expression— at Ranger Minion’s fierce, concentrated gaze even in death, the sight of Dark Arts Minion’s amaranthine concern, of Aoline’s visceral, semi-conscious shock and agony— and he fails to move himself.

  “P-poppi! I knew you’d be here!” Scout Minion whimpers out at she steadily pulls herself up from the dirt and refuse of thousands of years of careless waste.

  Chaos does not look to her, but focuses still on Aoline, keeled over and half-eviscerated by the now-absent necromancers.

  She doesn’t miss a beat. “Poppi, please, we need to go!”

  “Go where, Scout Minion?” he asks with a continued calm, bitter gaze down at the human girl.

  “Towerne! Duh! Come on! I’m good to go! Let’s-”