Tales of the Old World Demon Lord

Chapter 6 – Remnants, Ruins and Apparitions of the Old World

[Eternum Calendar 1971]

A low tranquil hum reverberated off the pure white walls of the compact metal box that was the marvel of technology. An elevator; the interiors, impossibly clean beyond its definition, were cast a lit by the humbling glow of the magnetic lights above. It moved quickly and soundlessly as it descended deep into the depths of the world itself to dig out the graves of the Old World.

It was a gloriously humbling experience for the single child that rode upon this incredible feat of old human ingenuity. Such contraptions did not exist in Eternis, or rather, moving platforms through the employment of magic did exist, but they were neither as graceful nor seamless. With just this small but significant elevator trip alone, Morgant could feel the vast disparity between the abilities of the two worlds.

He took a moment to absorb in everything that had happened in the entire span of seven years he had lived. This one experience was enough to blow away everything in which he knew; monsters, magic, knights and demons, none of these pitifully ordinary mundanity could even come close to the exhilaration he felt now.

It was the kind of experience that he would’ve loved to share with his friends, yet unfortunately they were unable to come along. As Ingrid had confusing explained it to him, they were unable to pass through the ‘DNA lock repulsion field’ that existed at the entrance of ‘Gladsheim’. The children and Astaroth could not accept that and were ready to head out before Morgant was dragged into further madness. However, due to his adamant desperation to find out the truth they were left with no other choice but to let him go.

‘Be careful and don’t trust her words so willingly,’ Astaroth gave a word of advice as she saw him board the bright white elevator.

“[Director, we are almost there.]”

A small voice echoed from within the elevator; they were Ingrid’s voice, yet she was not physically present. In fact, from what had been disclosed to him through hard to understand exposition was that she was never anywhere near the surface to begin with. That she was ‘projecting’ herself through the use of a technique called ‘holography’. It was also the same reason why Astaroth could not physically damage her, because she was never there to begin with.

She had also used this hologram form to fool the adventurers that entered the dungeon. She would play the role of the low level boss and pretend to be defeated to avert any suspicions of this dungeon’s true purpose.

“[What exactly are you?]”

Since the elevator ride was unnaturally long, Morgant took the opportunity to ask a few more questions before he reached the main lab. With now a proper ability to fully recognize her words, the name ‘Munitions Lab’ felt many times more ominous than before. Thus to prepare himself he wanted to formulate his own predictions of what the actual lab would be like. To do that he needed more information.

“[In essence I am the Super Artificial Intelligence created for the purposes of maintaining all functionality of this facility; an ‘operating system’ if you will. As much of my core database has been damaged over the many years of decay I am currently unable to give you an exact detail of what I am. I apologize, but any information that I do have access to I will fully disclose it to you, director.]”

Perhaps some may have thought this development to be suspicious. However Morgant had foreseen this outcome; of the memories that flashed before him as he was given the ability to speak the old world tongue, were things about that world. The fact that he knew nothing of such a spectacular world before today was proof that it either didn’t exist or was from an absurdly long time ago. Granted, he was still a seven year old and was oblivious to many things about even his current world, but if even the self proclaimed Demon Lord knew nothing of it then perhaps there was some credit to its forgotten existence.

At the very least, he was entirely willing to believe that the ‘Old World’ was more than just a hallucinogenic trip. This single elevator ride was enough to prove that beyond a reasonable doubt.

“[You keep referring to me as ‘director’, what does that mean? You also said that I was ‘Sovereign’ are they related?]”

Morgant asked.

“[‘Director’ was your title of occupation and ‘Sovereign’ was your title of authority. That is what you told me, long ago.]”

“[Long ago… is that something like my previous life? It’s a little hard to believe.]”

“[It is understandable that you are not willing to believe in such an occurrence as that is only natural. Do not worry, in due time you will come to understand everything about who you were and what the Old World was like. I am here to help facilitate that process.]”

“[… If you say so…]”

As the gravity subtly shifted, Morgant could feel the elevator slowly come to a halt.

It was the moment of truth; all the answers in regard to his strange vision of the Old World lied here.

The elevator stopped; gravity returned to normal and he could feel the impact of his own weight. It was heavy, his stomach churned and his breathing haggard but determined.

The doors slowly pried itself open; light from the outside entered with amalgamated fury from the light within. It temporarily blinded him with too much brightness, giving him both a temporary moment to prepare himself one last time and obstructing the truth that lied just before.

Before his sight, his sense of smell returned to functioning order; the smell of the Old World, antique but powerful and cold. The smell of rusted metal, like blood, combined with the scent of dust, perpetuating the imagery of an aged and crumbled empire. ‘Such a powerful entity, how could it come to an end?’ Morgant asked himself as he basked in the air that had lain dormant for many undocumented ages.

“[Welcome Director, to B741 Munitions Lab, Codename: Gladsheim].”

Once more Ingrid welcomed him to his rightful and beloved Old World.

An ornate city of science and technological might; a place war was perpetuated but also where impossible victories were forged. Its aged and decadent walls eaten by time and the elements revealed to Morgant the beauty and marvel that was the power of the Old World. A supercomplex of buildings and facilities that were more of a city than a single simple laboratory, they continued to endure the through decay; aged but standing.

“[This… this is… the Old World… ‘his’ world…]”

Lost for words Morgant’s mind froze up trying to even comprehend what he was looking at. Where the lab begun and where it ended, it stretched on, almost infinitely into the abyss. It wasn’t perfect, most if not all of the buildings and facilities were lost to time and could almost crumble under their own weight. Broken pieces of glass and rubble strewn all across the floor as a flickering humming of light came illuminating from the floors below. It revealed the ancient dusts that were trapped within the ages of this frozen culture.

Plant life and other such greenery had started the process of overtaking back what was once theirs. Yet the unnaturalness of technology kept the harsh nature back for as long as they could. A silent and near ideological battle dragged on beneath his very feet.

Morgant took his first step forward as he formally admitted himself into this frozen domain of his former self. Touched for the very first time in an unknown span of ages, Gladsheim’s internal workings began to slowly come back online. The silent but still audible whizzing of machinery deep below could be felt from the soles of his shoes as he moved towards the center of the facility.

There were colored guiding lines and name plates on every inch of the facility, so it was not hard to reach the command center. However Morgant decided to take his time to truly absorb the culture of this place.

Propping his head upwards, Morgant couldn’t even see the ceiling anymore as they were smothered by the abyssal darkness of distance. Easily several times larger than the small town he had known all his life, this place was just one of many that the being known as ‘Sovereign’ had at his disposal. Morgant thought he understood at least the base of its reach but seeing this impossible marvel he didn’t know what to think anymore.

“[This is Gladsheim… the ‘house of light’. This is… the Old World…?]”

This place was a reminder that the Old World truly existed and stood as a monument to its bygone glory. Yet at the same time, its flickering lights and the machines that tried to reactive itself served as an apparition that could not accept its decayed and desolate fate. It was sad, Morgant could almost see it as clear as day, the wonder works of this place; he could see the hundreds and thousands of scientists busily going about their day as they worked, the hundreds of machinery that operated infinitely without rest, the development of new projects that could pave way for the future, the soldiers that patrolled the areas with an iron guard.

Yet all of those were just illusions; they no longer existed anywhere else but in one child’s imaginations anymore.

“[Director, I apologize for the interruption but there are only a few facilities still capable of operation. I shall guide you to the Main Operations Command Center.]”

Ingrid’s computerized voice spoke through the still barely functional speaker systems installed throughout the lab. He followed Ingrid’s directions as she told him to go left or right, along the way gazing at the ancient history that was the supreme authority of this entire planet. He asked himself once more, ‘How could it all have come to an end?’

He was curious, ‘this place must’ve been indestructible’. Unbeknownst the small, curious child, the fall of the great Sovereign came from within. Yet knowing this would not have alleviated the boy from the sadness he felt as he walked through the nostalgic halls of a place he’s never seen. Tears silently ran down himself, not even Morgant himself realized this.

…

It took over ten minutes to reach the Main Operations Command Center; a large domed structure whose walls were more cable and technology than they were rubble. Yet despite its grandiose appearance, it too was no exception to the great decay of nature. Some of the walls caved in to reveal the outside light and even a bit of nature’s greenery had eaten through the innards of Gladsheim’s brain.

Some of the lights were not even in functioning order but Morgant didn’t mind it and continued on. He walked into the deepest depth of the brain of this entire facility. A large holographic monitor was displayed, not requiring any physical screen it was saved from the elements. Ingrid had turned it on prior to his arrival to show him a small video that was saved specifically for him.

On it was a man, wearing a white coat, a scientist’s lab coat. Yet beneath it was a black businessman’s suit. Was it some sort of fashion choice or was it a physical representation of symbolism? It didn’t really matter, what mattered was the man’s face. Morgant knew him; he had seen him so many times in the past few weeks. His face was obscured by thin, slick, metal framed glasses. His well-toned body leaked from even the double or triple layers of clothing. His hair was combed back to reveal the persona of a very intelligent but ruthless man; a kind of aura that could only be possessed by people who absolutely had a goal they needed to achieve.

In his dreams, in his migraines, in his every waking moment.

“[Sovereign.]”

Morgant blurted out the identity of the man on the screen.

The man on the screen did not answer back. He couldn’t for this wasn’t a meeting but a recording left behind. ‘Was he a soothsayer too?’ Morgant thought to himself as he watched the recording that was left behind for his eyes only.

“[Welcome… My successor, if you are viewing this then that means you’ve found out or have come close to finding out the truth about this world. Should that be the case, then I assume that world is quite different to the world that is my ‘now’. I do not know if my… if our goals would be accomplished, perhaps it may have been a foolish and impossible endeavor from the beginning, but if you have come to me now it must mean that you and I have some kind of connection. Just that alone is enough for me to entrust to you the future of whatever was left of the Old World. I give you to you the full authority of ‘Sovereign’.]”

Without a single word Morgant stood in the darkness as the only source of light came from the holographic projectors on the ceiling. The dimly lit atmosphere accentuated the contemplative and thoughtful expression on his face as he tried to understand Sovereign’s words. He took a single deep breath as he took in the Old World; he clenched his fists with renewed determination. He hadn’t known what he truly wanted to do in this life, most orphans don’t and even now he still had no clue.

Yet there was a welling desire from within him; a nostalgic pride trying to burst out as he heard Sovereign’s voice through the speakers. He was told he was sovereign, of course that was not easy to accept, but he did want to understand. About the man that brought the entire word to its knees and acted as a malicious guide towards a secured future.

A small holographic screen appeared just before his view. Waving his hand around the interface Morgant explored through the options on the saved recordings. There wasn’t just one, but many; hundreds even, all of them addressed to him specifically. However, as much as he wanted to stay here and listen to them all he folded his desire to do so at the current moment. For now his only mission was to take a small gander at the main laboratory of Gladsheim and return to his friends who were still waiting with bated breath top side.

Out of curiosity Morgant decided to take one last look at the files saved on Gladsheim’s mainframe, though most of them were inaccessible due to the damage on the physical database hardware. However one thing did catch his eye.

A folder dubbed...

[Kinesis Enhancement Project]