- Sun Apr 17, 2011 12:02 pm
#8944
Turns out the limit on forum posts is 60,000 characters, so I had to cut this up in to multiple parts. Can you say tl:dr? 
Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun working with this chapter.
Chapter 3
His vision is cloudy. There is a loud ringing noise in his ears which makes him completely deaf. Breathing is an intricacy that his lungs seem incapable of mastering. He struggles to push himself up into a sitting position, his legs and arms both badly mangled. He wipes the blood from his face and summons the strength to stand upright.
The trees around him are collapsed, completely obliterated. Just beneath the debris of the fallen giants are what appear to be totally undisturbed lines of red ash. Though the trees and leaves make viewing this anomaly nearly impossible, Argus is certain that whatever it is has not been bothered one bit.
He looks up from the ash slowly to see a white-eyed, sinister looking apparition spying on him in clear view in the nearby foliage.
“Hey!” He screams after it. It slowly turns around and begins walking almost nonchalantly further into the forest. Its cubed shoulders disappear into the thickets of the leaves and branches.
With a peculiar sense of anger, Argus begins chasing after the phantom. He struggles to maintain sight with it; though he is running after it, every time he catches view of it walking away, it vanishes further into the forest.
Lungs and mind exhausted, he feels almost prepared to end his chase, but believing that this creature has something that he needs, the pursuit continues.
He finally comes to a stop as the entity he had been chasing escapes from his view entirely. He scans every alley, every possible path of the nearby jungle, but he finds nothing. As he begins to head back the way he came from, he begins to feel the jungle floor rumble. The trees and branches begin to shake, the birds all fleeing to the sanctuary of the skies. The air becomes cooler, the sky darker as a deep, bass-like shake penetrates the jungle. Argus panics, realizing that he had experienced this feeling before. But what he also understands is that this time, the events are much more extreme.
Argus regains control of his breathing. He begins to tear up in frustration, horrified and unsure of what to do.
The trees part abruptly to either side, leaving a clear path of about five blocks between Argus and the white-eyed figure he had been chasing.
“What do you want!?” He shouts out to it, expecting an answer.
The creature doesn’t respond.
“You can kill me right now! It’s obvious you run the show here, just do it!” Argus seems almost desperate, begging for death.
The creature’s white eyes begin to glow. He starts his way towards Argus, each step producing a powerful tremble heard surely throughout the entire jungle. Argus slowly tries to back up, but the creature is now within arm’s reach of him. He had never realized how disturbing this entity truly was, but now he can see everything. Its face wears an entirely blank expression. The eyes appear to be the only thing in it that lives.
It grabs a hold of Argus by his shirt. As it makes contact with him, its arm begins to turn to that of a man’s. Its fingertips are freezing cold. Argus is certain that if it were to touch him, his skin would turn black.
“You…” it utters under its breath. “Your gift…”
“What? What gift? Who are you?” Argus forgets that he is talking to the most disturbing creature he has seen thus far.
“It is because of you…” it continues. Argus shudders as its icy breath chills his body. “You bring it here.”
“I don’t know what I’ve brought.” He forces out. He is petrified; any words that he says are little more than comprehensible mumbling. “But I’m sorry.”
The creature releases its grip on him, but it remains before him. It quietly says to itself, “Hirodus.”
Immediately, a pillar of flame is summoned, running through the creature’s body. It channels it at Argus, and he begins to catch fire. He swats at his clothes violently, desperately trying to extinguish the flames.
He is kicking his arms and legs as his terrified scream is heard throughout the jungle. He remains on the ground for a moment, shaken. He slowly turns his head until he is sure that his surroundings are a jungle and that he is still alive. His eyes shoot down every alley of the jungle: the clearing in the trees he had spotted earlier, the solid, dark jungle behind him, and gentle transitions into open land on either side. But no white-eyed phantom. He figures that is a good start.
“I really shouldn’t go to sleep.” Argus comments. As those spiteful words escape his lips, he realizes that he in fact does need to sleep, and so he may very well experience the same horrific dream, or worse, the coming night. He assumes those baleful thoughts will be haunting him for the entirety of the night, but for now, he feels eager to advance. He approaches the edge of the tree-line; the sky is becoming visible, the ground far ahead now perceptible.
Almost immediately, his eyes close shut as they attempt to adjust to the light. The pain is so intense it forces him a few steps back into the tree-line where he can regain his sight. He rubs his eyes for a few moments, but is interrupted as he hears a branch crack.
Following this is a violent shuffling within a bush. Curious, Argus moves closer to investigate.
A cube-man similar to the one nights before, slightly similar to the one in his dreams, lunges at him from the bush. Argus barely has time to react before the man swings a mighty wooden club at his legs. The blow knocks him instantly to the ground as he lets out a fierce roar in pain. He looks back at the man to see a second appear from the bush. They both appear to be dark-tan with strange, faded blue markings across their bodies. They wear rugged leather pants, and one of them also wears an aged vestment with blue symbols adorning its entirety. That is the last thing he notices before he is knocked unconscious.
He awakens momentarily. Disoriented, he barely makes out the two beings that attacked him now carrying him, he being tied to a wooden pole. The jungle is forty cubes or so behind him now, and they are heading in the opposite direction.
He awakens again. He is being carried on a steep angle up a rocky, desolate cliff. A heavy mist coats his surroundings. The humidity and temperature both offer him no comfort as the two beings continue to carry him silently.
He awakens yet again. A dense mist still shrouds his world as they approach a thick tree-line. He notices, though, that they are hauling him towards what seems to be a wooden palisade, sharp wooden spikes projecting outward. In the center lies a makeshift gate composed of what he recognizes as bamboo laced with some sort of vine. They carry him towards the gate when a similar dark-tan cubed man with very few blue markings blocks their way.
“Hnn-Gota etei.” The presumed gate guardian states demandingly.
“Un-Sheyn e’wara.” The front carrier replies. Argus doesn’t recognize the language; it appears to be different than from the archer from nights before.
“E-Tono un-seva. Des’otei itai.” The back one adds. His tone seems nervous.
“Nei-Gota! He’n tonei I seva!” The gate guard shouts back. He points to the back carrier’s feet as he says this, and back carrier almost immediately lets his eyes fall to the ground in fear. “Enyo netei.” It continues.
“Un-tyo. Neya-nubi.” The front carrier responds. The guard takes a moment to nod, then opens the gate and signals them through. Argus watches as the cubed face of the guard shifts from an emotionless stare to that of sincere concern. The carriers begin to haul Argus down a narrow gravel pathway.
After some uneventful minutes, Argus begins to make out the sound of yelling. As they continue to carry him down the path, the originally faint yelling noise is replaced by a blaring, agitated crowd. The trees above Argus disappear as they reach the break in the tree-line. The gravel path is replaced by a steep downward staircase hugging the side of the cliff. Where Argus has been transported to completely amazes him. It is a massive crater, but more astounding to him is that there seem to be dirt buildings, artificial structures, in this crater. More distracting to his attention is the booming yells of what seems to be a collective of at least fifty of these dark-tan creatures. They are beating their chests and raising their arms in triumph as Argus continues to be hauled closer towards them.
The carriers clear a path through the crowd, the noisy beings kicking and beating him as he passes. One in particular throws a stone that smashes his nose just before the carriers haul him up the wooden steps on to a small stage. The crowd erupts in to even louder yelling as the carriers cut the bands holding him to his wooden pole. Argus is amazed that a tool composed entirely of cubes could even function, but he finds it best not to dwell on these things.
The bands are broken and he falls to the ground of the stage. He sits knelt over on one of his arms and knees as he observes the barbaric audience making hostile gestures at him.
A solitary footstep is heard before the entire group falls silent. Argus remains hunched over as he witnesses a peculiar group of cube creatures making their way towards him.
On either side behind the center man are two creatures draped in dark navy blue robes that completely cover their bodies other than a small sliver across the face that allows them to see. The robes are covered with countless white and golden idols and markings. The totems and idols shake noisily as they move closer towards Argus. They appear to be guarding the center creature, whose appearance disturbs Argus.
It wears a heavily torn black tunic with totems and other objects almost reaching the ground. It has the same sort leather pants as the two carriers that attacked him initially, but just as with his tunic, countless peculiar objects nearly cover his pants completely. Its head appears to be divided in half: one side being that of a blonde-haired cube-man’s, the other being the completely burnt, searing remains of its face. The flesh on that side appears to be rotting away, the eye being almost completely disintegrated.
What is more disturbing is what he wields in his hands. In his left, a pitch black short-blade that has a cool blue flame emitting from it. In his left, a bright white short-blade of equal length, a volcanic red flame emitting from it. He holds these out to either side as he approaches Argus. As he climbs the steps to finally reach him, Argus attempts to back off, but his two carriers hold him back and lift him to his feet.
The audience attempts to begin its yelling once again, but the two-faced creature raises the blades to his shoulders, which causes them to silence themselves.
“In-Tosa nu. In-Tosa, E’Veidei!” The being yells to the crowd. They remain silent.
“Unei u-vadrei, no-linte’itei. E’Veidei!”
“E’VEIDEI!” The crowd shouts back, which causes the cheering to begin once more before the being quiets them with a wave of his swords.
“O-kei’la un-Tosa… di-Veido.” It points to Argus with the black blade as it says this.
“O-kei’la ye-Tosa… di-Vaidos.” It points to him now with the white blade. Without any further response from the crowd, it hands the white blade to one of its guards that points it to the skies.
It takes the black blade and grips it tightly, causing the blue flames to erupt into a quicker, brighter burn. The carriers hold Argus pinned in a standing position as the creature winds up with the black blade.
Argus lets out a desperate “Noooo!” before the black blade pierces straight through his chest. He lets out a violent exhale before he chokes up, expecting death.
But death doesn’t come. The blade sits in his chest, not causing any pain and barely any discomfort. His eyes widen at this, but the creature appears to be expecting this.
After a few moments, it slowly pulls the black blade out from his body which allows him time to catch his breath, amazed that it had caused him no harm. As it exits his chest, though, the blue flames appear to be sucked out from his body, escaping his mouth, eyes, and chest. He feels slightly weaker and more fatigued as the two-faced creature observes the blade with his one functional eye. It hands the black blade to one of his guards, exchanging it for the white blade.
The same process happens again as Argus retracts in terror, still expecting death from the blade that pierces his chest, but not feeling even the slightest pain. It retracts the blade from his chest, the red flames leeching out from the body just as the blue flames had. It hands the white blade to the other guard, and both of them simultaneously carry them over behind Argus.
He turns to see them place the black blade on the left side of a balance, and the white blade on the right. They lay on their scale plates motionless, the cool blue and red flames emitting from either one calmly.
The two-faced creature then steps onto a solid, dark purple platform. It lowers its hands to either side before pulling a vigorous surge of energy up from the purple cubes. It appears to channel this force directly at the balance, which brings the two blades to life. They stand pointing perfectly straight up, levitating a few inches above their balance plates. The creature as well as Argus continue to observe this carefully as the balance begins to sway either way.
It sways for what seems like an eternity before it finally comes to a still. It has balanced in the absolute center. Awestruck, the creature slowly approaches the balances. It mumbles something to itself before a furious expression crosses its face. It kicks over the balances, the blades returning to their lifeless state on the ground. Argus is taken aback by this and begins to step backwards. The creature’s guards, however, grab a hold of him. One of the carriers hands the two-faced creature what seems to be a standard sword as it rushes towards Argus. The crowd once again erupts into a booming uproar as the creature prepares to stab Argus.
“Ein-Gladiem!” A nearly heroic call is heard from up upon the staircase leading up the crater walls. The creature almost immediately stops his backswing as he looks to the staircase in amazement and fear. The audience shares its expression, but Argus just stares curiously at what had called out to them.
“Jun-Ados ekenei ba’karum.” Says the figure. It walks down the staircase and begins towards the two-faced creature and Argus, the crowd clearing a wide area for it to get through.
“Und Iken no-shadaros.” Its voice, its speaking appears more sophisticated to Argus.
“Und Iken jey-atet.” It finishes. It now stands before Argus and the creature. The blue-robed guards release Argus and stand behind him, who stands curiously behind the two-faced creature.
The thing that had interrupted the killing of Argus wears garments unlike anything he had seen thus far.
It wears an exorbitant amount of leaves and foliage that completely drape its backside as well as most of his front side. He wears green, leaf pants that blend perfectly with his massive cloak of leaves. It has a woodsman’s beard as well as a blank facial expression. What gives it life, though, is the calm red eyes that stare at the two-faced creature with anger.
“Und Iken nera-atet!” It shouts, pointing at the two-faced creature. It turns to it and finishes, “Du-kotei I’makse.” The two-faced creature nods, and he and his guards retreat into the crowd, proceeding to walk towards some of the dirt buildings out of sight. “Du-jos’ne Ima-vera!” It shouts back at the crowd. Almost immediately, the entire populace disperses into the dirt village.
Completely alone with this leaf-coated man, Argus comments, “Thanks for whatever you did.” It looks back at him with a solemn stare.
“Yeah, you have no idea what I’m saying. But thanks anyway. You things are just absolutely-“
“We’re not things.” It replies to him in almost perfect English. Argus forgets to breathe as he hears the words exit its mouth. Its eyes light up as is recognizes Argus’ astonishment. “We live. We are not things.”
“R-Right, I’m sorry.” Argus says, now feeling guilty for his choice of words.
“I need you to come with me.” The man continues. “Let us go now please.” It begins to start pulling him off of the stage up towards the staircase.
“Woah wait, hold on. Who are you? What the hell is this place?”
It pauses for a few moments. “Your people – they give us no name. I am not anything to you. But my people – they know me as Kerovon.”
Argus’ mouth drops. He suddenly realizes that these things are in fact people: people with names, just like they would be in his world. Feeling eager to have more questions answered, he badgers, “And who was the man who nearly killed me? What were those blades? Why does he have such a disfigured face?” The questions seems to be pouring out faster than Argus can iterate them.
“Our people know him as Cogohst.” Kerovon seems annoyed with the questions. “Now we must go. I can answer any question you may have, but for now, you need to follow me.”
“Why? Where are we going?”
“We are leaving this place. We must go as far away as possible.”
“What for?”
“Something is coming, and we do not want to be here to meet it.”
Fully convinced, Argus nods and follows closely behind Kerovon. They make their way up the steps, proceeding back up the gravel path.
A few minutes of brisk, anxious walking lead them close to the gatehouse. Kerovon stops. Assuming that that is where they are headed, Argus begins walking towards the gatehouse, but Kerovon stops him, his solid cube arm providing no yield to Argus’ shoves.
“That is not the way.” Kerovon corrects him. He points down an even narrower, incredibly dark dirt trail. “That is where we are going.”
Argus appears shocked. “Down there? Why? What’s down there?”
“Like I said before: this is not the time for questions. Please, just follow me.” Kerovon begins to motion Argus to join him on the dirt trail, but Argus backs off.
“No way. You just want me dead.”
“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have saved you.”
The sentence is nearly rhetorical, but Argus knows it’s true. He then proceeds to follow Kerovon down the dirt trail, and the two of them venture further into the dark shroud of the dense jungle.
On multiple occasions, Argus loses sight of Kerovon through the dense shrubs, though he is still only feet ahead of him. To make things more difficult is that his leafy cloak makes him nearly impossible to follow in the first place.
At last, the dense wooden wall that is this jungle finally lets up in a very small area; perhaps five cubes wide is a small opening free of trees, but still covered overhead by the canopies of the other trees.
“We should wait here now.” Kerovon says. He eyes through the canopies of the trees. “It is almost nightfall.”
Argus takes a deep swallow. He realizes that eventually, he may very well be asleep, and he may yet again come face to face with his white-eyed tormentor. “Uhh, Kerovon?” He looks at Argus, expecting a question. “I don’t have very good experiences with sleep.”
“Sleep.” He says expressionlessly.
“Yes, in my dreams, I keep seeing this-“
“Dreams.” He says again, interrupting him.
“Right, and in them I find-“
“So, you are a human then.”
“Of course I am. Aren’t we all?”
“No. Our people – we aren’t the same. We are created of what humans know as cubes.”
“I can tell.” Argus replies sarcastically. “But you have eyes, a mouth, arms, legs. Kerovon: You are a human.”
“Your people, you live amongst other beings besides humans.”
“Yes, yes we do.”
“They, too, have eyes, mouths, legs. But they aren’t human. Neither are we.”
“Then what are you?”
Kerovon pauses for a moment, awaiting Argus’ impatience to settle. “We are known as Crafters.”
“All of you. You are Crafters?”
“Yes.”
“So, what would your people call Crafters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Cogohst and the others – they speak some weird language, I have no idea what they are saying.”
“You mean you cannot understand them?”
Argus is frustrated at Kerovon’s unknowingness. “Yes… I don’t know anything about what they’re saying.”
“Strange: humans before you seemed to speak with us quite easily.”
“Wait wait. There were other humans here?”
“Many. There have been many amongst us that didn’t belong. Humans were of the most common.”
Argus takes a moment to digest what he is hearing. Before he can ask another question, Kerovon continues, “Cogohst is the chieftain of our people.”
“So he leads you guys?”
“No. He is our chieftain. He is not our leader?”
“Well what’s the difference?”
Kerovon seems to ignore the question. “What he said to you, wielding those blades: ‘O-kei’la un-Tosa.’ The closest translation for you would be: ‘This blade, of malice and hatred, judges his soul.’”
Argus is absolutely awestruck. The black blade, he assumes Kerovon speaks of, had some supernatural purpose to it.
Kerovon continues, “’O-kei’la ye-Tosa… di-Vaidos.’ ‘This blade, of love and peace, judges his spirit.’”
Argus is mesmerized by the strange meanings of the blades. “So this black blade is pure evil, the white blade pure good?”
“No. They are both alike.”
“That doesn’t sound right, Kerovon. They seem to be opposite to me.”
“You are wrong.” He says blankly. Argus stands back and reflects on the conversation, amazed at how intricate this cube world truly is. He prepares to ask yet another question, but is interrupted.
A loud boom is heard, followed by a torrent of screams and further blasts. They seem to be explosions. Argus is agitated. “What the heck was that?”
“That is what we are hiding from.”
“It sounds like people are dying!”
“They are.”
Argus is now furious. “Well why are we sitting here doing nothing?”
“Because there is nothing we can do to save them.”
“Aren’t you going to try, or are you going to sit here until God-knows-how many people-“
“Crafters.” Kerovon calmly interrupts.
“CRAFTERS – Die!” Argus corrects himself.
“We must wait for it to pass.”
Argus has had enough. “No, not me, I’m going to do something about it.” Argus begins to take off towards the sound. An expression of fear crosses Kerovon’s face. As Argus bolts off into the jungle, Kerovon keeps close behind. He does not seem to be trying to stop Argus, though, and merely follows behind him.
Eventually, Argus can almost make out the crater. A torrential downpour opens up with complimentary, deafening bolts of lightning piercing through the forest. Over this, he can still hear the floods of screaming coming from within the crater. Argus finally clears the tree-line that opens up to the crater. Even through the rain, fire and explosions persist down below. He leans over the edge of the cliff formed by the crater, observing the burning structures of dirt and wood. The stage is also alit, the scales still in their fallen position, persisting through the flames. He can make out masses of Crafter tribesmen running haphazardly in fear and panic.
“It is them.” Kerovon says, now standing directly beside him. He directs Argus’ attention to the town square near the stage. Crafters are trying desperately to fight against what seems to be other Crafters covered in black robes. The black robed-Crafters are armed with spears and swords, all also clad with a metal breastplate. They viciously slaughter the tribesmen and begin placing explosives inside the buildings.
“Woah woah! What the heck are they doing with that!?” Argus says, concerned.
“They are annihilating the village.”
“Why? Who are they?”
“In your language, you would call them the Destroyers.”
Argus takes a deep swallow, intimidated by the name.
“They are indiscriminate: they kill and destroy whatever they find. Sometimes they will take a few blocks of dirt, other times they will completely level villages like ours.”
“And so you’re just going to watch your village burn to the ground?”
“There are not many other options.”
Argus pauses for a moment. He eyes a deep pool of water down below. For a moment, he remembers his terrifying experience, attempting to outrun spiders in the pitch black cavern. Finally he responds, “Well I’ve got one.” He dives off of the edge of the cliff, plummeting towards the pool of water. It is situated behind a wooden structure that has yet to be destroyed, so he is sure he will not be drawing much attention to himself.
He lands in the pool of water, perfectly fine. He looks back up, laughing humorously, expecting to see Kerovon, but he doesn’t find him there. A strange feeling of aloneness runs over him as he climbs out of the pool of pristine water. Now that he is within twenty blocks, but securely hidden from the Destroyers, he isn’t quite sure what to do. He decides to enter the wooden building he had been hiding behind.
A door near the pool leads him in to the building. It appears to be one of the Tribesmen’s houses. In the center of his view is presumably the main room. It has a wooden platform standing upon a pole which he perceives to be a table, while a chair on either side complete the set. A wide window behind this table opens up to the town square, which gives Argus a full view of the Destroys gradually chopping their way through the Tribesmen. Afraid that one may spot him, he begins to crawl through the house just to be safe. On the floor, he can only make out the skies from the window. What he sees though is not an ordinary sky, rather a downpour falling upon a destroyed village which does little to extinguish the powerful red flames that engulf it.
He crawls behind a wall where he can safely stand again, the door leading to the back on his right. From his left, he hears a quiet voice.
“Hey!” It shouts out to him. He looks over and sees a hunched over Crafter, trying to signal him to stay quiet.
“You can speak English?” Argus quietly asks him.
“Yes! No time to talk though, take this!” The Crafter slides across the ground what appears to be a sword. It is flat and multiple-colored cubes compose its shape. Argus slowly reaches down to grab it, but it is unwieldy in his hand.
Frustrated and impatient, the Crafter takes the sword, “Here.” He places it firmly in Argus’ hands, and then forces his hand to shut around it. “Ea-Katei!” He shouts. Argus’ hand appears to meld at the end, eventually turning into a cube. He panics, but eventually realizes that this makes gripping the sword no chore at all. In fact: it is essentially glued to his hand.
“Say In-Katei when you need your hand back.” He says casually. Argus nods. “Now, you know what we have to do.”
Argus begins to panic, realizing that he wants them to go out there to fight the Destroyers. He peeks his head around the corner, observing seven of them still slaughtering Tribesmen. His fear is overcome by the rage he feels towards the Destroyers, though, and nods to the Crafter.
“Go!” The Crafter shouts. Argus and the Crafter rush out the front door towards the Destroyers. Luckily for them, they are already preoccupied with killing the Tribesmen, who are putting up enough resistance to keep their weapons busy.
The Crafter rushes towards one of the Destroyers. He winds up a swing and, catching him off-guard, performs a full spin, slicing the Destroyer’s cubed-arm clean from his body. The Destroyer then immediately vaporizes into black dust. The Crafter finishes his three-sixty degree spin, and a Destroyer’s waist is sliced in half as he finishes the spin. Back to a normal stance, he and another Destroyer exchange sword swings at each other, each blocking the other.
Argus grips his sword like a bat and swings it as hard as possible into the Destroyer’s skull. It explodes into black dust as well.
“Well done!” The Crafter shouts to him. They continue to fight with the four remaining Destroyers. Now though, they see Argus and the Crafter as a threat and begin attacking them.
The crowd of panicked Tribesmen finally manages to disperse as the Destroyers continue to fight Argus and the Crafter.
Their fighting seems to rally a few Tribesmen, and they mindlessly lunge at the Destroyers with makeshift spears and swords. One Destroyer, wearing a red head mask as opposed to the traditional black, easily fends off six Tribesmen.
Enraged, Argus swings his sword at a Destroyer, who blocks the attack and counters by kicking him fiercely with its leg. The blow sends Argus back five blocks into a pile of wooden crates. He feels as though he has had one too many blows to the back as his spine crushes against the unyielding, solid crates.
The Crafter begins attacking the Destroyer that had kicked Argus, but they are locked in what seems like an equal match. A second and third Destroyer join in, and the Crafter is soon overpowered and retreats back towards Argus. “Get up, I can’t kill them myself!” He shouts to Argus. Argus uses every muscle in his body to come back to a standing position as he lunges back at the Destroyers. He catches one off-guard on its side and slices its arm off, causing it to vaporize into black dust.
The two other Destroyers are fighting the Crafter a few blocks away. Argus attempts to make a swing at one of them, but a colossal, pitch black sword with red runic markings blocks his attack. It is the Destroyer with the red mask.
The Crafter continues fighting the Destroyers, managing to push back one of them so that momentarily he is left fighting only one Destroyer. He manages to disarm that Destroyer, sending its sword flying into the flames of a burning building. It almost immediately unsheathes a pair of daggers in response. The Crafter attempts to make one final swing at the Destroyer, but it steps to the side and sends a dagger plunging through his chest. It attempts to send another one through the Crafter’s skull, but its windup is interrupted by an arrow plunging through the Destroyer’s chest. The Destroyer vaporizes in to dust as the Crafter falls to the ground. It dies as white smoke covers its body before removing it from the fiery battlefield.
Locked in combat with the red-masked Destroyer, Argus and it keep exchanging swings. The Destroyer’s hulking sword, Argus is sure, cannot be blocked safely, and so he tries to avoid it as best as possible. Missing one opportunity to kill it, Argus is countered as the red-masked Destroyer knocks him back with the butt-edge of its sword. Argus lay on the ground, exhausted from the fight. The red-masked Destroyer beckons over the last remaining regular, instructing it apparently to finish the job and kill him. Argus closes his eyes, knowing that he is defeated, but just as it is about to swing into his chest, an arrow shatters its body and it vaporizes to dust. Argus looks in the direction of where the arrow was shot: Kerovon is perched atop the cliff, picking off his enemies. He continues to fire at the red-masked Destroyer, but the shots aren’t harming it.
It sets down its massive sword, at least twice the size of Argus, and raises its arms. It appears to be motioning at the roof of a nearby structure. Argus looks over to see it shaking and wobbling furiously. He sees the cubes one by one becoming loose from the grounded structure. He rolls over immediately to one side just quickly enough to avoid numerous cubes from crushing his body.
The Destroyer continues to manipulate blocks like this, sometimes toying with Argus, blocking off his escape routes. Eventually though, its mystic powers come to a halt.
A low rumbling is heard. The village is desolate, piles of dust littering the grounds. The Destroyer appears to be looking, expecting something to approach. The rumbling grows louder until one can hear the foundations of the buildings beginning to shake.
A pure blue smoke rolls down from the crater cliffs in to the crater. It completely covers the ground. The Destroyer begins to panic and attempts to run, but in any direction it tries to turn, the ground erects a wall, keeping it locked in one place.
The blue smoke collects ten blocks or so from the Destroyer, Argus on the side watching the entire event play out. It manifests itself into the shape of a Crafter. The blue smoke fades, and left in its place is a Crafter drabbed in pure blue robes lined with glowing white patterns. It levitates a half of a block or so above the ground, staring menacingly at the Destroyer. Its eyes glow a bright white while its face features numerous brilliant blue markings. This isn’t anything like the white-eyed menace from Argus’ dreams: it is something much different.
With its back against the wall, the Destroyer sends a dirt cube from a nearby house at the blue entity. It effortlessly deflects the attack, sending the cube gently to its side. The Destroyer attempts this a few more times, each time with a similar result.
Finally, the blue entity raises its arms to the sky before lunging forward, landing on the ground, seeming to punch the ground between it and the Destroyer.
The ground between them erupts in a massive shockwave that makes its way toward the Destroyer. It attempts to run, but it is too late. The shockwave catches it and blasts it into a nearby wall. It attempts to stand back up to face the blue entity as it approaches, but the Destroyer cannot find the strength to stand. The entity raises its arms towards the Destroyer, which forces it to a stand. Continuing to walk towards it, the entity makes a grand clapping motion with its hands, which knocks the Destroyer again into the wall. The blast is strong enough that it blows the Destroyer through the wall into the building.
Still walking towards the Destroyer, it makes another gesture with its arms and pulls the Destroyer back directly in front of the entity. It stands there with a look of terror on its face. The entity touches the Destroyer’s chest with one arm, which summons chains that surround it.
The chains gradually strangle the Destroyer tighter until eventually, it disappears, leaving no black dust, no chains. It and its sword that lay on the ground a few blocks away disappear completely. Argus grins, amused that the Destroyer was easily obliterated by this thing.
The entity quickly glances over, staring directly at Argus. It has an angered expression, but doesn’t seem to be directing it towards Argus. It raises its arms and converts back into an expanse of blue smoke, travelling back up the crater walls and out into the jungle.
Argus isn’t sure what to think. He stands where he is and tries to comprehend what had happened. Whatever these destroyers were, they were killable. He has finally found something that he is capable of killing, which provides its own sense of security for him.
With the moon crawling ever-so-slowly up to the peak of the heavens, Argus iterates the words,
“In-Katei.” And the sword drops to the ground, his hand returning to normal.
Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun working with this chapter.
Chapter 3
His vision is cloudy. There is a loud ringing noise in his ears which makes him completely deaf. Breathing is an intricacy that his lungs seem incapable of mastering. He struggles to push himself up into a sitting position, his legs and arms both badly mangled. He wipes the blood from his face and summons the strength to stand upright.
The trees around him are collapsed, completely obliterated. Just beneath the debris of the fallen giants are what appear to be totally undisturbed lines of red ash. Though the trees and leaves make viewing this anomaly nearly impossible, Argus is certain that whatever it is has not been bothered one bit.
He looks up from the ash slowly to see a white-eyed, sinister looking apparition spying on him in clear view in the nearby foliage.
“Hey!” He screams after it. It slowly turns around and begins walking almost nonchalantly further into the forest. Its cubed shoulders disappear into the thickets of the leaves and branches.
With a peculiar sense of anger, Argus begins chasing after the phantom. He struggles to maintain sight with it; though he is running after it, every time he catches view of it walking away, it vanishes further into the forest.
Lungs and mind exhausted, he feels almost prepared to end his chase, but believing that this creature has something that he needs, the pursuit continues.
He finally comes to a stop as the entity he had been chasing escapes from his view entirely. He scans every alley, every possible path of the nearby jungle, but he finds nothing. As he begins to head back the way he came from, he begins to feel the jungle floor rumble. The trees and branches begin to shake, the birds all fleeing to the sanctuary of the skies. The air becomes cooler, the sky darker as a deep, bass-like shake penetrates the jungle. Argus panics, realizing that he had experienced this feeling before. But what he also understands is that this time, the events are much more extreme.
Argus regains control of his breathing. He begins to tear up in frustration, horrified and unsure of what to do.
The trees part abruptly to either side, leaving a clear path of about five blocks between Argus and the white-eyed figure he had been chasing.
“What do you want!?” He shouts out to it, expecting an answer.
The creature doesn’t respond.
“You can kill me right now! It’s obvious you run the show here, just do it!” Argus seems almost desperate, begging for death.
The creature’s white eyes begin to glow. He starts his way towards Argus, each step producing a powerful tremble heard surely throughout the entire jungle. Argus slowly tries to back up, but the creature is now within arm’s reach of him. He had never realized how disturbing this entity truly was, but now he can see everything. Its face wears an entirely blank expression. The eyes appear to be the only thing in it that lives.
It grabs a hold of Argus by his shirt. As it makes contact with him, its arm begins to turn to that of a man’s. Its fingertips are freezing cold. Argus is certain that if it were to touch him, his skin would turn black.
“You…” it utters under its breath. “Your gift…”
“What? What gift? Who are you?” Argus forgets that he is talking to the most disturbing creature he has seen thus far.
“It is because of you…” it continues. Argus shudders as its icy breath chills his body. “You bring it here.”
“I don’t know what I’ve brought.” He forces out. He is petrified; any words that he says are little more than comprehensible mumbling. “But I’m sorry.”
The creature releases its grip on him, but it remains before him. It quietly says to itself, “Hirodus.”
Immediately, a pillar of flame is summoned, running through the creature’s body. It channels it at Argus, and he begins to catch fire. He swats at his clothes violently, desperately trying to extinguish the flames.
He is kicking his arms and legs as his terrified scream is heard throughout the jungle. He remains on the ground for a moment, shaken. He slowly turns his head until he is sure that his surroundings are a jungle and that he is still alive. His eyes shoot down every alley of the jungle: the clearing in the trees he had spotted earlier, the solid, dark jungle behind him, and gentle transitions into open land on either side. But no white-eyed phantom. He figures that is a good start.
“I really shouldn’t go to sleep.” Argus comments. As those spiteful words escape his lips, he realizes that he in fact does need to sleep, and so he may very well experience the same horrific dream, or worse, the coming night. He assumes those baleful thoughts will be haunting him for the entirety of the night, but for now, he feels eager to advance. He approaches the edge of the tree-line; the sky is becoming visible, the ground far ahead now perceptible.
Almost immediately, his eyes close shut as they attempt to adjust to the light. The pain is so intense it forces him a few steps back into the tree-line where he can regain his sight. He rubs his eyes for a few moments, but is interrupted as he hears a branch crack.
Following this is a violent shuffling within a bush. Curious, Argus moves closer to investigate.
A cube-man similar to the one nights before, slightly similar to the one in his dreams, lunges at him from the bush. Argus barely has time to react before the man swings a mighty wooden club at his legs. The blow knocks him instantly to the ground as he lets out a fierce roar in pain. He looks back at the man to see a second appear from the bush. They both appear to be dark-tan with strange, faded blue markings across their bodies. They wear rugged leather pants, and one of them also wears an aged vestment with blue symbols adorning its entirety. That is the last thing he notices before he is knocked unconscious.
He awakens momentarily. Disoriented, he barely makes out the two beings that attacked him now carrying him, he being tied to a wooden pole. The jungle is forty cubes or so behind him now, and they are heading in the opposite direction.
He awakens again. He is being carried on a steep angle up a rocky, desolate cliff. A heavy mist coats his surroundings. The humidity and temperature both offer him no comfort as the two beings continue to carry him silently.
He awakens yet again. A dense mist still shrouds his world as they approach a thick tree-line. He notices, though, that they are hauling him towards what seems to be a wooden palisade, sharp wooden spikes projecting outward. In the center lies a makeshift gate composed of what he recognizes as bamboo laced with some sort of vine. They carry him towards the gate when a similar dark-tan cubed man with very few blue markings blocks their way.
“Hnn-Gota etei.” The presumed gate guardian states demandingly.
“Un-Sheyn e’wara.” The front carrier replies. Argus doesn’t recognize the language; it appears to be different than from the archer from nights before.
“E-Tono un-seva. Des’otei itai.” The back one adds. His tone seems nervous.
“Nei-Gota! He’n tonei I seva!” The gate guard shouts back. He points to the back carrier’s feet as he says this, and back carrier almost immediately lets his eyes fall to the ground in fear. “Enyo netei.” It continues.
“Un-tyo. Neya-nubi.” The front carrier responds. The guard takes a moment to nod, then opens the gate and signals them through. Argus watches as the cubed face of the guard shifts from an emotionless stare to that of sincere concern. The carriers begin to haul Argus down a narrow gravel pathway.
After some uneventful minutes, Argus begins to make out the sound of yelling. As they continue to carry him down the path, the originally faint yelling noise is replaced by a blaring, agitated crowd. The trees above Argus disappear as they reach the break in the tree-line. The gravel path is replaced by a steep downward staircase hugging the side of the cliff. Where Argus has been transported to completely amazes him. It is a massive crater, but more astounding to him is that there seem to be dirt buildings, artificial structures, in this crater. More distracting to his attention is the booming yells of what seems to be a collective of at least fifty of these dark-tan creatures. They are beating their chests and raising their arms in triumph as Argus continues to be hauled closer towards them.
The carriers clear a path through the crowd, the noisy beings kicking and beating him as he passes. One in particular throws a stone that smashes his nose just before the carriers haul him up the wooden steps on to a small stage. The crowd erupts in to even louder yelling as the carriers cut the bands holding him to his wooden pole. Argus is amazed that a tool composed entirely of cubes could even function, but he finds it best not to dwell on these things.
The bands are broken and he falls to the ground of the stage. He sits knelt over on one of his arms and knees as he observes the barbaric audience making hostile gestures at him.
A solitary footstep is heard before the entire group falls silent. Argus remains hunched over as he witnesses a peculiar group of cube creatures making their way towards him.
On either side behind the center man are two creatures draped in dark navy blue robes that completely cover their bodies other than a small sliver across the face that allows them to see. The robes are covered with countless white and golden idols and markings. The totems and idols shake noisily as they move closer towards Argus. They appear to be guarding the center creature, whose appearance disturbs Argus.
It wears a heavily torn black tunic with totems and other objects almost reaching the ground. It has the same sort leather pants as the two carriers that attacked him initially, but just as with his tunic, countless peculiar objects nearly cover his pants completely. Its head appears to be divided in half: one side being that of a blonde-haired cube-man’s, the other being the completely burnt, searing remains of its face. The flesh on that side appears to be rotting away, the eye being almost completely disintegrated.
What is more disturbing is what he wields in his hands. In his left, a pitch black short-blade that has a cool blue flame emitting from it. In his left, a bright white short-blade of equal length, a volcanic red flame emitting from it. He holds these out to either side as he approaches Argus. As he climbs the steps to finally reach him, Argus attempts to back off, but his two carriers hold him back and lift him to his feet.
The audience attempts to begin its yelling once again, but the two-faced creature raises the blades to his shoulders, which causes them to silence themselves.
“In-Tosa nu. In-Tosa, E’Veidei!” The being yells to the crowd. They remain silent.
“Unei u-vadrei, no-linte’itei. E’Veidei!”
“E’VEIDEI!” The crowd shouts back, which causes the cheering to begin once more before the being quiets them with a wave of his swords.
“O-kei’la un-Tosa… di-Veido.” It points to Argus with the black blade as it says this.
“O-kei’la ye-Tosa… di-Vaidos.” It points to him now with the white blade. Without any further response from the crowd, it hands the white blade to one of its guards that points it to the skies.
It takes the black blade and grips it tightly, causing the blue flames to erupt into a quicker, brighter burn. The carriers hold Argus pinned in a standing position as the creature winds up with the black blade.
Argus lets out a desperate “Noooo!” before the black blade pierces straight through his chest. He lets out a violent exhale before he chokes up, expecting death.
But death doesn’t come. The blade sits in his chest, not causing any pain and barely any discomfort. His eyes widen at this, but the creature appears to be expecting this.
After a few moments, it slowly pulls the black blade out from his body which allows him time to catch his breath, amazed that it had caused him no harm. As it exits his chest, though, the blue flames appear to be sucked out from his body, escaping his mouth, eyes, and chest. He feels slightly weaker and more fatigued as the two-faced creature observes the blade with his one functional eye. It hands the black blade to one of his guards, exchanging it for the white blade.
The same process happens again as Argus retracts in terror, still expecting death from the blade that pierces his chest, but not feeling even the slightest pain. It retracts the blade from his chest, the red flames leeching out from the body just as the blue flames had. It hands the white blade to the other guard, and both of them simultaneously carry them over behind Argus.
He turns to see them place the black blade on the left side of a balance, and the white blade on the right. They lay on their scale plates motionless, the cool blue and red flames emitting from either one calmly.
The two-faced creature then steps onto a solid, dark purple platform. It lowers its hands to either side before pulling a vigorous surge of energy up from the purple cubes. It appears to channel this force directly at the balance, which brings the two blades to life. They stand pointing perfectly straight up, levitating a few inches above their balance plates. The creature as well as Argus continue to observe this carefully as the balance begins to sway either way.
It sways for what seems like an eternity before it finally comes to a still. It has balanced in the absolute center. Awestruck, the creature slowly approaches the balances. It mumbles something to itself before a furious expression crosses its face. It kicks over the balances, the blades returning to their lifeless state on the ground. Argus is taken aback by this and begins to step backwards. The creature’s guards, however, grab a hold of him. One of the carriers hands the two-faced creature what seems to be a standard sword as it rushes towards Argus. The crowd once again erupts into a booming uproar as the creature prepares to stab Argus.
“Ein-Gladiem!” A nearly heroic call is heard from up upon the staircase leading up the crater walls. The creature almost immediately stops his backswing as he looks to the staircase in amazement and fear. The audience shares its expression, but Argus just stares curiously at what had called out to them.
“Jun-Ados ekenei ba’karum.” Says the figure. It walks down the staircase and begins towards the two-faced creature and Argus, the crowd clearing a wide area for it to get through.
“Und Iken no-shadaros.” Its voice, its speaking appears more sophisticated to Argus.
“Und Iken jey-atet.” It finishes. It now stands before Argus and the creature. The blue-robed guards release Argus and stand behind him, who stands curiously behind the two-faced creature.
The thing that had interrupted the killing of Argus wears garments unlike anything he had seen thus far.
It wears an exorbitant amount of leaves and foliage that completely drape its backside as well as most of his front side. He wears green, leaf pants that blend perfectly with his massive cloak of leaves. It has a woodsman’s beard as well as a blank facial expression. What gives it life, though, is the calm red eyes that stare at the two-faced creature with anger.
“Und Iken nera-atet!” It shouts, pointing at the two-faced creature. It turns to it and finishes, “Du-kotei I’makse.” The two-faced creature nods, and he and his guards retreat into the crowd, proceeding to walk towards some of the dirt buildings out of sight. “Du-jos’ne Ima-vera!” It shouts back at the crowd. Almost immediately, the entire populace disperses into the dirt village.
Completely alone with this leaf-coated man, Argus comments, “Thanks for whatever you did.” It looks back at him with a solemn stare.
“Yeah, you have no idea what I’m saying. But thanks anyway. You things are just absolutely-“
“We’re not things.” It replies to him in almost perfect English. Argus forgets to breathe as he hears the words exit its mouth. Its eyes light up as is recognizes Argus’ astonishment. “We live. We are not things.”
“R-Right, I’m sorry.” Argus says, now feeling guilty for his choice of words.
“I need you to come with me.” The man continues. “Let us go now please.” It begins to start pulling him off of the stage up towards the staircase.
“Woah wait, hold on. Who are you? What the hell is this place?”
It pauses for a few moments. “Your people – they give us no name. I am not anything to you. But my people – they know me as Kerovon.”
Argus’ mouth drops. He suddenly realizes that these things are in fact people: people with names, just like they would be in his world. Feeling eager to have more questions answered, he badgers, “And who was the man who nearly killed me? What were those blades? Why does he have such a disfigured face?” The questions seems to be pouring out faster than Argus can iterate them.
“Our people know him as Cogohst.” Kerovon seems annoyed with the questions. “Now we must go. I can answer any question you may have, but for now, you need to follow me.”
“Why? Where are we going?”
“We are leaving this place. We must go as far away as possible.”
“What for?”
“Something is coming, and we do not want to be here to meet it.”
Fully convinced, Argus nods and follows closely behind Kerovon. They make their way up the steps, proceeding back up the gravel path.
A few minutes of brisk, anxious walking lead them close to the gatehouse. Kerovon stops. Assuming that that is where they are headed, Argus begins walking towards the gatehouse, but Kerovon stops him, his solid cube arm providing no yield to Argus’ shoves.
“That is not the way.” Kerovon corrects him. He points down an even narrower, incredibly dark dirt trail. “That is where we are going.”
Argus appears shocked. “Down there? Why? What’s down there?”
“Like I said before: this is not the time for questions. Please, just follow me.” Kerovon begins to motion Argus to join him on the dirt trail, but Argus backs off.
“No way. You just want me dead.”
“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have saved you.”
The sentence is nearly rhetorical, but Argus knows it’s true. He then proceeds to follow Kerovon down the dirt trail, and the two of them venture further into the dark shroud of the dense jungle.
On multiple occasions, Argus loses sight of Kerovon through the dense shrubs, though he is still only feet ahead of him. To make things more difficult is that his leafy cloak makes him nearly impossible to follow in the first place.
At last, the dense wooden wall that is this jungle finally lets up in a very small area; perhaps five cubes wide is a small opening free of trees, but still covered overhead by the canopies of the other trees.
“We should wait here now.” Kerovon says. He eyes through the canopies of the trees. “It is almost nightfall.”
Argus takes a deep swallow. He realizes that eventually, he may very well be asleep, and he may yet again come face to face with his white-eyed tormentor. “Uhh, Kerovon?” He looks at Argus, expecting a question. “I don’t have very good experiences with sleep.”
“Sleep.” He says expressionlessly.
“Yes, in my dreams, I keep seeing this-“
“Dreams.” He says again, interrupting him.
“Right, and in them I find-“
“So, you are a human then.”
“Of course I am. Aren’t we all?”
“No. Our people – we aren’t the same. We are created of what humans know as cubes.”
“I can tell.” Argus replies sarcastically. “But you have eyes, a mouth, arms, legs. Kerovon: You are a human.”
“Your people, you live amongst other beings besides humans.”
“Yes, yes we do.”
“They, too, have eyes, mouths, legs. But they aren’t human. Neither are we.”
“Then what are you?”
Kerovon pauses for a moment, awaiting Argus’ impatience to settle. “We are known as Crafters.”
“All of you. You are Crafters?”
“Yes.”
“So, what would your people call Crafters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Cogohst and the others – they speak some weird language, I have no idea what they are saying.”
“You mean you cannot understand them?”
Argus is frustrated at Kerovon’s unknowingness. “Yes… I don’t know anything about what they’re saying.”
“Strange: humans before you seemed to speak with us quite easily.”
“Wait wait. There were other humans here?”
“Many. There have been many amongst us that didn’t belong. Humans were of the most common.”
Argus takes a moment to digest what he is hearing. Before he can ask another question, Kerovon continues, “Cogohst is the chieftain of our people.”
“So he leads you guys?”
“No. He is our chieftain. He is not our leader?”
“Well what’s the difference?”
Kerovon seems to ignore the question. “What he said to you, wielding those blades: ‘O-kei’la un-Tosa.’ The closest translation for you would be: ‘This blade, of malice and hatred, judges his soul.’”
Argus is absolutely awestruck. The black blade, he assumes Kerovon speaks of, had some supernatural purpose to it.
Kerovon continues, “’O-kei’la ye-Tosa… di-Vaidos.’ ‘This blade, of love and peace, judges his spirit.’”
Argus is mesmerized by the strange meanings of the blades. “So this black blade is pure evil, the white blade pure good?”
“No. They are both alike.”
“That doesn’t sound right, Kerovon. They seem to be opposite to me.”
“You are wrong.” He says blankly. Argus stands back and reflects on the conversation, amazed at how intricate this cube world truly is. He prepares to ask yet another question, but is interrupted.
A loud boom is heard, followed by a torrent of screams and further blasts. They seem to be explosions. Argus is agitated. “What the heck was that?”
“That is what we are hiding from.”
“It sounds like people are dying!”
“They are.”
Argus is now furious. “Well why are we sitting here doing nothing?”
“Because there is nothing we can do to save them.”
“Aren’t you going to try, or are you going to sit here until God-knows-how many people-“
“Crafters.” Kerovon calmly interrupts.
“CRAFTERS – Die!” Argus corrects himself.
“We must wait for it to pass.”
Argus has had enough. “No, not me, I’m going to do something about it.” Argus begins to take off towards the sound. An expression of fear crosses Kerovon’s face. As Argus bolts off into the jungle, Kerovon keeps close behind. He does not seem to be trying to stop Argus, though, and merely follows behind him.
Eventually, Argus can almost make out the crater. A torrential downpour opens up with complimentary, deafening bolts of lightning piercing through the forest. Over this, he can still hear the floods of screaming coming from within the crater. Argus finally clears the tree-line that opens up to the crater. Even through the rain, fire and explosions persist down below. He leans over the edge of the cliff formed by the crater, observing the burning structures of dirt and wood. The stage is also alit, the scales still in their fallen position, persisting through the flames. He can make out masses of Crafter tribesmen running haphazardly in fear and panic.
“It is them.” Kerovon says, now standing directly beside him. He directs Argus’ attention to the town square near the stage. Crafters are trying desperately to fight against what seems to be other Crafters covered in black robes. The black robed-Crafters are armed with spears and swords, all also clad with a metal breastplate. They viciously slaughter the tribesmen and begin placing explosives inside the buildings.
“Woah woah! What the heck are they doing with that!?” Argus says, concerned.
“They are annihilating the village.”
“Why? Who are they?”
“In your language, you would call them the Destroyers.”
Argus takes a deep swallow, intimidated by the name.
“They are indiscriminate: they kill and destroy whatever they find. Sometimes they will take a few blocks of dirt, other times they will completely level villages like ours.”
“And so you’re just going to watch your village burn to the ground?”
“There are not many other options.”
Argus pauses for a moment. He eyes a deep pool of water down below. For a moment, he remembers his terrifying experience, attempting to outrun spiders in the pitch black cavern. Finally he responds, “Well I’ve got one.” He dives off of the edge of the cliff, plummeting towards the pool of water. It is situated behind a wooden structure that has yet to be destroyed, so he is sure he will not be drawing much attention to himself.
He lands in the pool of water, perfectly fine. He looks back up, laughing humorously, expecting to see Kerovon, but he doesn’t find him there. A strange feeling of aloneness runs over him as he climbs out of the pool of pristine water. Now that he is within twenty blocks, but securely hidden from the Destroyers, he isn’t quite sure what to do. He decides to enter the wooden building he had been hiding behind.
A door near the pool leads him in to the building. It appears to be one of the Tribesmen’s houses. In the center of his view is presumably the main room. It has a wooden platform standing upon a pole which he perceives to be a table, while a chair on either side complete the set. A wide window behind this table opens up to the town square, which gives Argus a full view of the Destroys gradually chopping their way through the Tribesmen. Afraid that one may spot him, he begins to crawl through the house just to be safe. On the floor, he can only make out the skies from the window. What he sees though is not an ordinary sky, rather a downpour falling upon a destroyed village which does little to extinguish the powerful red flames that engulf it.
He crawls behind a wall where he can safely stand again, the door leading to the back on his right. From his left, he hears a quiet voice.
“Hey!” It shouts out to him. He looks over and sees a hunched over Crafter, trying to signal him to stay quiet.
“You can speak English?” Argus quietly asks him.
“Yes! No time to talk though, take this!” The Crafter slides across the ground what appears to be a sword. It is flat and multiple-colored cubes compose its shape. Argus slowly reaches down to grab it, but it is unwieldy in his hand.
Frustrated and impatient, the Crafter takes the sword, “Here.” He places it firmly in Argus’ hands, and then forces his hand to shut around it. “Ea-Katei!” He shouts. Argus’ hand appears to meld at the end, eventually turning into a cube. He panics, but eventually realizes that this makes gripping the sword no chore at all. In fact: it is essentially glued to his hand.
“Say In-Katei when you need your hand back.” He says casually. Argus nods. “Now, you know what we have to do.”
Argus begins to panic, realizing that he wants them to go out there to fight the Destroyers. He peeks his head around the corner, observing seven of them still slaughtering Tribesmen. His fear is overcome by the rage he feels towards the Destroyers, though, and nods to the Crafter.
“Go!” The Crafter shouts. Argus and the Crafter rush out the front door towards the Destroyers. Luckily for them, they are already preoccupied with killing the Tribesmen, who are putting up enough resistance to keep their weapons busy.
The Crafter rushes towards one of the Destroyers. He winds up a swing and, catching him off-guard, performs a full spin, slicing the Destroyer’s cubed-arm clean from his body. The Destroyer then immediately vaporizes into black dust. The Crafter finishes his three-sixty degree spin, and a Destroyer’s waist is sliced in half as he finishes the spin. Back to a normal stance, he and another Destroyer exchange sword swings at each other, each blocking the other.
Argus grips his sword like a bat and swings it as hard as possible into the Destroyer’s skull. It explodes into black dust as well.
“Well done!” The Crafter shouts to him. They continue to fight with the four remaining Destroyers. Now though, they see Argus and the Crafter as a threat and begin attacking them.
The crowd of panicked Tribesmen finally manages to disperse as the Destroyers continue to fight Argus and the Crafter.
Their fighting seems to rally a few Tribesmen, and they mindlessly lunge at the Destroyers with makeshift spears and swords. One Destroyer, wearing a red head mask as opposed to the traditional black, easily fends off six Tribesmen.
Enraged, Argus swings his sword at a Destroyer, who blocks the attack and counters by kicking him fiercely with its leg. The blow sends Argus back five blocks into a pile of wooden crates. He feels as though he has had one too many blows to the back as his spine crushes against the unyielding, solid crates.
The Crafter begins attacking the Destroyer that had kicked Argus, but they are locked in what seems like an equal match. A second and third Destroyer join in, and the Crafter is soon overpowered and retreats back towards Argus. “Get up, I can’t kill them myself!” He shouts to Argus. Argus uses every muscle in his body to come back to a standing position as he lunges back at the Destroyers. He catches one off-guard on its side and slices its arm off, causing it to vaporize into black dust.
The two other Destroyers are fighting the Crafter a few blocks away. Argus attempts to make a swing at one of them, but a colossal, pitch black sword with red runic markings blocks his attack. It is the Destroyer with the red mask.
The Crafter continues fighting the Destroyers, managing to push back one of them so that momentarily he is left fighting only one Destroyer. He manages to disarm that Destroyer, sending its sword flying into the flames of a burning building. It almost immediately unsheathes a pair of daggers in response. The Crafter attempts to make one final swing at the Destroyer, but it steps to the side and sends a dagger plunging through his chest. It attempts to send another one through the Crafter’s skull, but its windup is interrupted by an arrow plunging through the Destroyer’s chest. The Destroyer vaporizes in to dust as the Crafter falls to the ground. It dies as white smoke covers its body before removing it from the fiery battlefield.
Locked in combat with the red-masked Destroyer, Argus and it keep exchanging swings. The Destroyer’s hulking sword, Argus is sure, cannot be blocked safely, and so he tries to avoid it as best as possible. Missing one opportunity to kill it, Argus is countered as the red-masked Destroyer knocks him back with the butt-edge of its sword. Argus lay on the ground, exhausted from the fight. The red-masked Destroyer beckons over the last remaining regular, instructing it apparently to finish the job and kill him. Argus closes his eyes, knowing that he is defeated, but just as it is about to swing into his chest, an arrow shatters its body and it vaporizes to dust. Argus looks in the direction of where the arrow was shot: Kerovon is perched atop the cliff, picking off his enemies. He continues to fire at the red-masked Destroyer, but the shots aren’t harming it.
It sets down its massive sword, at least twice the size of Argus, and raises its arms. It appears to be motioning at the roof of a nearby structure. Argus looks over to see it shaking and wobbling furiously. He sees the cubes one by one becoming loose from the grounded structure. He rolls over immediately to one side just quickly enough to avoid numerous cubes from crushing his body.
The Destroyer continues to manipulate blocks like this, sometimes toying with Argus, blocking off his escape routes. Eventually though, its mystic powers come to a halt.
A low rumbling is heard. The village is desolate, piles of dust littering the grounds. The Destroyer appears to be looking, expecting something to approach. The rumbling grows louder until one can hear the foundations of the buildings beginning to shake.
A pure blue smoke rolls down from the crater cliffs in to the crater. It completely covers the ground. The Destroyer begins to panic and attempts to run, but in any direction it tries to turn, the ground erects a wall, keeping it locked in one place.
The blue smoke collects ten blocks or so from the Destroyer, Argus on the side watching the entire event play out. It manifests itself into the shape of a Crafter. The blue smoke fades, and left in its place is a Crafter drabbed in pure blue robes lined with glowing white patterns. It levitates a half of a block or so above the ground, staring menacingly at the Destroyer. Its eyes glow a bright white while its face features numerous brilliant blue markings. This isn’t anything like the white-eyed menace from Argus’ dreams: it is something much different.
With its back against the wall, the Destroyer sends a dirt cube from a nearby house at the blue entity. It effortlessly deflects the attack, sending the cube gently to its side. The Destroyer attempts this a few more times, each time with a similar result.
Finally, the blue entity raises its arms to the sky before lunging forward, landing on the ground, seeming to punch the ground between it and the Destroyer.
The ground between them erupts in a massive shockwave that makes its way toward the Destroyer. It attempts to run, but it is too late. The shockwave catches it and blasts it into a nearby wall. It attempts to stand back up to face the blue entity as it approaches, but the Destroyer cannot find the strength to stand. The entity raises its arms towards the Destroyer, which forces it to a stand. Continuing to walk towards it, the entity makes a grand clapping motion with its hands, which knocks the Destroyer again into the wall. The blast is strong enough that it blows the Destroyer through the wall into the building.
Still walking towards the Destroyer, it makes another gesture with its arms and pulls the Destroyer back directly in front of the entity. It stands there with a look of terror on its face. The entity touches the Destroyer’s chest with one arm, which summons chains that surround it.
The chains gradually strangle the Destroyer tighter until eventually, it disappears, leaving no black dust, no chains. It and its sword that lay on the ground a few blocks away disappear completely. Argus grins, amused that the Destroyer was easily obliterated by this thing.
The entity quickly glances over, staring directly at Argus. It has an angered expression, but doesn’t seem to be directing it towards Argus. It raises its arms and converts back into an expanse of blue smoke, travelling back up the crater walls and out into the jungle.
Argus isn’t sure what to think. He stands where he is and tries to comprehend what had happened. Whatever these destroyers were, they were killable. He has finally found something that he is capable of killing, which provides its own sense of security for him.
With the moon crawling ever-so-slowly up to the peak of the heavens, Argus iterates the words,
“In-Katei.” And the sword drops to the ground, his hand returning to normal.
