Chapter 37—Command

Turmoil brewed outside the Spear of Hell. Rashawn and the others didn’t know when it happened, but swarms of grays collected around the dark base, reaching up for what looked like a burning orange gem beneath its tip. This might have been alarming enough, but the snarls and growls of his spotted dogs had his attention elsewhere. For the first time since he got this power, it didn’t quite feel like his own, and it took a great effort to keep his beasts at bay. He held them back as if the currents of lightning between them were leashes, and turned to Fiona, who didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned.

“What the hell’s goin on up there?” He barked.

“The battle that’s going to decide the world’s future.” She answered smoothly.

Peter turned to his sister. “What does that mean exactly? And if it’s that big, shouldn’t we be up there too?”

“It means that one of the most dangerous demons has returned to this world. Worst, it is just a harbinger. If it survives that battle, what comes next is going to be something nearly unstoppable. We can’t be up there because we’re the contingency plan.” Fiona smiled suddenly. “Though I wonder if we’ll have a chance if the people up there fail.”

“What I’m hearin is that you know who’s all up there." Rashawn tried to laugh, but even that seemed like it would set his dogs free. Considering her words, he came to a realization. The dogs might know who was up there too.

“I can only make a few guesses.” Fiona replied. She counted them on her fingers. “Based on the way the light moves, Corrosion is there, but that’s no surprise. Celine is also there, which is interesting for Cerulean. If she survives I wonder what she’ll tell the castle. There are at least two others, an orange light and a blue one.”

“King and his buddy? Then Micaela and Khalaf are probably there too!”

“Which I guess means that Dark girl is there as well.” Peter offered.

Fiona nodded. “Eight then. Nine if you count their foe.”

“Eight? But we only counted seven.”

“The eighth would be Corrosion’s ally. If everything went according to plan, he should be up there too.”

“That sounds like a good reason to ask what Corrosion wanted out of you, Fi.”

“There is a lot I still have to teach you two, but I can put the short version like this. I helped him summon a Reaper—An avatar of Death.”

⁘⁛⁘

“Judge?” Fang almost whispered the question, forgetting where she was for a moment.

He did not look like the dark-skinned man she always knew, not with a shadow body lit with green light. Not when the massive muscles of his arms glowed with phosphorescence. Not when his chest was more of a burning shape, and not with the wooden mask with leafy branches sprouting above his ears. He did not look like Judge, but the way he punched and the way he stood confirmed Corrosion’s hissed words.

Not-Judge didn’t answer, for while it may have only been a few hours for her, he had not been Judge for at least a thousand years. Not since an arrow pierced a dark sky and landed in a field. Not since the slaughter of an army, and the royal bloodline that sent them. Not since a whole world saw him as the face of bloodshed. Not since he accepted that role and slaughtered worlds to come. It was less than five-hundred years later when he realized he was a judge no more. He was an executioner and had become good at his job. Gods seemed to always let their guard down, sure that death could no longer find them. And yet, he appeared, changing as he learned to move through the darkness himself. He never knew it would bring him back to this world, but then he heard the calling, and a question ringing like an afternoon bell.

Who lurks in the dark?

He didn't know until he rose from the shadows and knocked the light from this God's face. He hadn't even thought of his answer until Corrosion offered one itself.

“Do you have a plan?” Slasher asked of Fang. She froze for a moment but swallowed her shock and muted pain. She nodded, and Slasher turned to God. "What are you calling yourself?" He asked, and God brandished the Seraphim sword.

“I am the King of Kings. Even a wretch like thee should know my visage.”

“Ah, right? You’re the man upstairs? Well it’s time you opened the door. Death’s come knockin.”

Slasher charged, his bulky form no slower despite the mass. He leaped and an ax led him down, meeting the seraphim sword as God caught the swing. The blade song and Slasher's other ax flew and flayed a piece from God’s side. Shock filled the divine eyes, but he tried his sword’s song again. It seemed to do even less this time as an ax smashed into his chest. A storm of stars whirled around him, an especially large sun catching Slasher’s side. The man simply split it, barely affected, and cleaved God’s jaw from his face. A punch knocked the light out the moment after that, and another sent God flying as static ran up Slasher’s arm. He didn’t give him a chance to rest, however, leaping after, digging wounds as if to dig trenches.

Fang took hold of the discarded jawbone, weaving its power into her scepter. The room seemed to shake for a moment, and God’s eyes found her despite Slasher’s assault.

“Who lurks in the dark?” She said, free to act either way.

“Vadorhi the cobra.” Came the shadow, muscular body topping a long snake tail. Vadorhi slithered with whip-crack snaps, dragging up a lance as it sprung into the air. Each thrust came on a sling, bouncing in and out, biting before God could react. It plunged through his chest. Vadorhi slithered around and plunged it through his back. Slasher dug out his eyes, and Vadorhi’s lance rammed through his neck. Slasher completed the decapitation, and punched God’s body into the cobra’s tail. The serpent wrapped him tight, squeezing so hard the bones’ wail could be heard through flesh. All the while Fang collected what was discarded.

One of God's eyes healed in time to see her, right before his ragged body was dropped to the ground. There Vadorhi still stabbed and Slasher still hacked, viciously feeding an animal desire. Still, his eye lingered on her and the look in her eyes. No reverence, no hesitation, no acceptance of her faults. A hideous bellow poured from his mouth and a beam erupted from his body. It caught Vadorhi mid-stab and reduced him to shreds. Slasher pulled back with one arm missing, pushing the stump into his shadow to grow it anew.

God rose to his feet, body popping back together, furred, clawed, and fanged. What was once flowing hair now looked more like a mane, and his already sizable frame now heaved and bulged. He bellowed again and pounced, ripping orange down Slasher's chest. Pain stunned the man and God swung again, cracking his jaw beneath his knuckles. He struck the other side and knocked the paralysis free. Slasher hacked and his ax was caught. Light spilled like blood, but God yanked it and headbutt his offender. The man reeled back and the God rushed in, blows flying, denting that strange shadow body. Slasher's fist came up and returned the favor, knocking light free but not slowing God down. Their fist flew and storms brewed. Each hit was thunder and each miss was wind, swirling into another crash. They clashed so hard that the once orange room dimly flashed with spots of green. The dimness spoke volumes though. Slasher could not win. This bestial being was stronger.

Suddenly, fangs sunk into God’s neck.

He reached up and yanked flesh away with Corrosion, dashing the demon to the floor. A crimson ooze moved through his neck like worms beneath the skin. For this insult, he brought down lightning that fell like iron. Through its flash, Slasher punched, and the ick sank deeper as orange light slipped away. With a burning fist, God struck back, cracking his mask, and sending him teetering. Corrosion bit into the hand, and for that its head was ripped away. God clawed where the ick now squirmed and howled as a rapier ran him through. The ick froze, splitting the flesh, and he threw a backhand at Celine’s head. It bounced off her light, however, amplified by a silver crest upon her chest. God snarled and looked at Micaela, who shrank beneath the gaze but still stood defiant. He turned back to the princess, howled and whaled, rapid blows flying, shaking her light. Each one frosted his fingers, and when they split against it, mouths opened in his palms. From them came a hymn that splashed out fire. Distantly, God heard blasphemy.

“A sung of praise cut short by a dire reality.” Came Khalaf as King fell, glaive tearing down God’s back. A festering feeling followed, claws and talons, tearing at the wound as if to tear up from the ground.

God’s hymn turned into a beam, and Khalaf took it instead of King. He wrote it into glyphs before the light overwhelmed him, and tossed them to Corrosion and Slasher. It put the two back together, and the man snickered.

“Gentlemen, how about a brief reunion.” He said as both of them rose. Corrosion howled and Slasher chuckled, running in as Khalaf wrote more glyphs.

Slasher got there first, ax ripping into a raised arm. God pulled it back and smashed his chest, making his light blink out. The man held on to that fist tight, as Corrosion ran up his back. It spat spikes and they tore through God’s head. He wrenched Slasher over him, slamming him head-first into the floor as he grabbed Corrosion's leg. Suddenly, ice was in his arm and it broke apart, falling from his body as the crimson beast scooped it up and scurried around him. God tossed Slasher up and turned his palm outward. As Corrosion ate, the hymn hit it, only to cut short as an ax split his head. He teetered forward and Corrosion stabbed claws into his chest. Turning after it as it leaped away, he found his joint straining, ice now in them too. This kept him perfectly still as an arrow of glyphs sunk into his chest. It made his body glow, rip apart and smash back together, writing a blue ring around a deep black hole. The ring pulsed, and he was flicked high into the air.

There, God could see them all. The Researcher and the Princess. The Demon and the Reaper. The Boy and his Ghost and the Girl in the Dark. The girl in the dark who did not stand alone. A shadow was beside her, thin and tall with wings wrapped around it like a robe. A long bone-thin arm was all he could see of its body, offered to Fang as if to offer her something. A raven face glowed with his light and fear filled him almost as much as fury. What was this one’s name? What did she pull out of the darkness this time? Had he heard it distantly? Had he heard a whisper in between blows? Who lurked in the dark?

“Kavansal. The consultant." And what he offered was an end to the battle.

But before God let that be, he would end it first. He had suffered this insult long enough; had humored the facade for longer than he should ever have to. All these rebel children did was delay him, and play a poor man’s version of the games dark forces played before. He had struck those dark forces down with ease, and this matter would be no different. There would not be another fight. There would not be more desperate struggles. He would kill them now, and then return properly to the world. Seizing upon that mindset he reached out to every drop of power he had dancing in this room. His mind stitched through them, making him fill the room himself. With this control he churned, whipping them into a frenzy of violent winds and tides. They could not fight it. They could not remain on their feet. He churned and the world became him, disgust in every refusal to let them have ground. Within it all a part of him took form, dropping into the storm as it went on the hunt.

It found Micaela first—the most helpless of the bunch. While the others fought in one way or another she was tossed and turned. He moved like a shark and sunk his palm teeth into her soul. She let out a whimper as he ripped her light away, letting the tides sweep her gray body away. Above him, the silver crest fell from Celine's chest. She tried to follow the winds on her wings, and with his own, he twisted into a corkscrew, Her light shattered like glass and he pulled it into him. Khalaf wrote fleeting glyphs as he tried to keep King stable. God assisted him, writing a ball around them, crushing them down as he clenched his fist. Corrosion tried to eat every bit of power that hit it, shooting God’s way with its body burning. He welcomed it, as if he wasn’t the storm himself, and filled it with so much power it exploded as it got close enough to swing. Slasher did well fighting the wind, swinging his axes to stop it, throwing cannon punches as he fell toward the tides. God summoned his seraphim sword anew and slashed, ripping a razor gale through him, swinging again to dice his pieces. Only Fang remained, her dark magic forming the eye of the storm. He drew all of the power into this body, letting her drop where he wrapped his fingers around her throat.

"You stand alone now. There are none to hide behind; none that will come to your aid. Even the false light you beckoned has been extinguished, and there is naught but you to blame. Who will come to your side now, vile girl? Whose light can you call? Who lurks in the dark?" He hissed and only loosened his grasp to hear her dying words.

“You.” She said in a harsh whisper, as she stabbed her scepter into the black hole in his chest.

There was a pull and then black, as darkness stretched around him. Even the girl was gone, her neck no longer at his fingertips. God stood in everlasting darkness, and the fury that once consumed him warred with the fear it lost to before. This was not where he was supposed to be, so deep in the abyss he was but another lie of a bastion. How could he get back? How could he get free? Why was this fear so overwhelming?

“Who lurks in the dark?” Came Fang’s voice, echoing from the abyss.

"Vaadu the Architect." Came an answer, as the darkness heaved and carved, building a platform and high-walled room. Tall panes filled them and light breathed in, multicolored and hideous with faces pushing against the glass. Vaadu stood in their rays, a womanly figure with six arms holding hammers and nails. They all glowed different colors, lighting malice in her hollow eyes.

“Who lurks in the dark?” Fang echoed again, and the tinks of metal on metal answered first.

“The Grief-smith, Brulogg.” A giant worked the kiln behind God, each pound of his fist spraying sparks across the room, that became wicked and cruel instruments of death.

“Who lurks in the dark?” Fang came once more.

"The Great Tamer, Dathy." A child manifested, barefooted with baggy clothes. He brought a pipe to the lips of a mask, that could not decide between bug, beast, or fish. He played a shrill haunting tune, and the multicolored faces poured through the glass. Demons armed themselves, and God roared against their hunger and coming assault.

What followed was more chaos than battle. Dathy played another tune and the masses came; leaping, dashing, jogging, crawling, rushing the platform and walls. They fell like a tidal wave and God met them, pushing away the pain of their weapons in his flesh. His sword lopped off limbs and head, passing through the demons even as others leaped around it. When they fell on him and he lost the blade, his fist did just as well, striking so hard parts of their bodies were blown away. Still, they came and he used his teeth too, biting into skulls, ripping out necks. He snarled and fear gave way to frenzy. He was a beast again, a monster even demons feared. Light stained him like blood, and he became more savage as he grew more arms and serpentine-bladed tails. Horns sprouted, and bodies became a crown as he impaled them. Dathy played his tune and it was a symphony to God's carnage. He burst from the platform and split the piper with a paw. He ripped away the demons that stabbed him and launched their weapons through Vaadu. Brulogg forged more and God grabbed a spear, throwing it so hard thunder crashed. It turned Brulogg into a thick dark stain, and the demons fled back into the darkness. Darkness fell again, but fear did not return. God's chest heaved as he salivated in anticipation.

“Who lurks in the dark?” Fang asked almost defiantly.

The darkness seemed to move for a moment, and a lupine jaw of lightning flashed to life.

“Okoropos, The Wolf in the Shadows.” A lycanthrope pounced, pushing God into a dark sea as fangs snapped at his neck. Claws tore into Okoropos, pulling him apart and the wolf was the tide, mouth opening like a whirlpool around God.

Great sharp canines broke flesh as if he was tossed against coral or underwater mountains. God slung lightning and the tides twisted back into a smaller wolf and bit into his side, tearing flesh away. God bit back and Okoropos howled. Becoming a werewolf again he punctured God's eyes and raked down his face. The skin came away but the bone glowed underneath. God's bladed tails whipped the wolf but sheered flesh did not slow him down. They kept at each other as if there was just this moment—this echo of a moment, long forgotten but always destined to return. Two beasts battled in a sea and over mountains. Light was blood on fangs and darkness strips of flesh under claws. It was all blind violence until God felt the trick of it all. The strips of flesh were alive, a pack of wolves were upon him like bees in a hive. As sense came back, he pulled away from those parts of himself, diving back into the darkness to find his way back. A light glowed in the distance and he swam toward it. It brought him into a radiant hall, where Fang’s question came again.

“Who lurks in the dark?”

But there was no darkness around him.

"The Poisonous Rose, Lileyaha." A golden woman appeared before him, more demon or god than shadow he had ever seen. Her smile was beautiful, beguiling, and it might have meant a thing if she had not introduced herself first. God recalled his sword and approached her. She held up her hand, then pointed at a door to their side. "You could try to kill me, but you’re so close to getting back.”

“I can kill you and make my return.”

“But is that wise? Are you sure you want to be lost in the dark again?”

“You are no more capable of guiding me to the light than it.”

“Then I suppose I must be stabbed then?”

With a flash, he made it so. "I have long grown sick of pretenders."

The radiant hall came apart. As did Lileyaha, as her laughter trickled off.

“You really should have taken the door. Killing me is its own path, and you won’t like where that leads.”

“Who lurks in the dark?” Fang asked, and God heard chanting.

A staircase climbed up in front of him, with ethereal trees flanking it on either side. A figure descended it in a galactic dress, abysmally black except for the twinkles of stars that filled it. Long locs—no—tendrils fell from her head, disappearing into the stairs as she grew closer. She stopped a few paces away, and it was only then that God understood the chanting.

“Ma Roo’di, Ma Roo’di. The Mother of Nightmares. Ma Roo’di, Ma Roo’di. The Fear of Gods.”

“Ma Roo'di." He hissed as the buried fear found its name. She smiled but waved the look in his eyes off.

“You’re still calling yourself God, aren't you? You have flesh. You have form. But you've yet to understand the value of a name. You should not fear me, God, for my work is already done. What you should fear is that you're nothing but light, and I've already handed over three keys." She must have seen his confusion because her smile became more motherly. "The power to control the dark. The power to grasp the light. The power to give it a command. But you're asking the wrong questions, God. What you should be asking is, who lurks in the light?”

“Corrosion the Crimson God of Salvation." Answered Fang, as the red stains upon God moved. Corrosion grew out from his body and wrapped its arms around him. "Crimson: Corrode." She commanded, and God lost control of himself as crimson light became to burn away the orange.

He came apart and flung that light into the darkness.

“Who lurks in the light?” Ma Roo’di asked again.

“Princess Celine, God’s Lapis Justiciar.” Rapiers grew from the blue, standing on God’s skin like pins in a cushion. Ice spread out, holding him together even as he tried to break apart. “Lapis Lazuli: Sentence.” They pushed in and his body was encased. Every attempt to move his particles seemed to let the ice go deeper. He would not die but he could be sealed and that seemed even worse.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Came Khalaf’s voice and God saw him. King and Micaela were there too. Did they lurk in the light as well or was this a different kind of trick? “We have better plans than to just freeze you over. If you’ll just give King a moment here, you’ll be all squared up.”

King held a staff up, and Micaela moved the light into it.

“Frankly, I can’t do what Celine does yet, and King and Khalaf never would. But that was what that glyph arrow was about. It gave us a place to go, we just needed you to go blue.” Micaela was grinning, and with a snap, she was done.

"Luminance: Diffuse." The ice blew away from God, but so did his whole body. He was losing himself as if the glue that held him together had been erased. What was this?

“Still asking the wrong questions?” Ma Roo’di said. “Let me remind you: Who lurks in the light?”

"The Forest Green Slasher," Fang answered, and before God's fragmented body, he saw the reaper, axes in hand, mask unmoving.

“What do you think it is that I kill?” Slasher started toward him. “You didn’t notice because light doesn’t mean a thing to you. It’s all just color right? All just apart of yourself​? But you forgot something, you got a whole lot of memories in you, and when those die, gods die too. If I can’t kill you directly, all I have to do is cut away the pieces that believe in you.”

“Forest Green: Reap.” Fang commanded, and Slasher went to work. God couldn’t fight it. With his body in pieces, he was just a victim as the reaper’s axes moved. Pieces of him were truly scooped away, breaking against the edges, taking away every chance he’d ever have of coming back together. How had these circumstances turned so sharply? Was it when Kavansal consulted? Or when Waas came with his joy?

“One more time. You’re asking the wrong questions.” Ma Roo’di said.

With fury pieces of him seethed. He could still feel them distantly, but could not feel whatever else that girl would pull. Who lurked in the light? Who else but him? Who could shine greater than he did? He was the light. And he lurked within himself. He did not need prayer or the memories of them. He was God, and he was greater than this thing these awful heretics could ever destroy. He was bigger than they could ever know, and he could push back the darkness himself.

A beam lanced through the darkness, hitting him and casting all of it back. Ma Roo’di disappeared. Slasher disappeared. The echoes of Celine, and King’s trio faded. And all of the abyss was back to being a drop within him. The beam did not break, however, remaining connected to him as it held his body together. He was alone with Fang again, and her darkness was just a shadow against him.

“All of that for naught." He was himself, a king. Not a beast or something scared of things in the dark. He was ready to return to the world. He had his sword in hand and did not waste words before he ran it through her chest. "Was this thy plan? Was this thy final gambit?"

“No." She said, without a hint of pain. "This was a distraction. If I die, the spear breaks, but so long as I live it is still functional." He drew his sword back and went for her neck. It connected—passed through—but still, she spoke. "I just need you to help us. I needed you to want the others out of you so that only orange remained. It would re-establish your connection to your luster, and then this battle would end for good.”

“What have you done?” He bellowed as he slashed and slashed.

“I asked a question.” Fang remained unharmed. “Who lurks in the dark?”

God felt it rise from that drop of darkness within him. It was something moving up his fragmented pieces, using the light that held him together to go beyond this arena and the shrouded New York altogether. It was something he had forgotten, something that had no space in his memory. Even as his particles tried to slow it down it moved beyond them, dodging atoms as it had once dodged swords as if to dodge rain. It was the combatant he hadn't seen. The one that was always out of his line of sight. The one who lurked in the dark and the light.

“Ace, the Dark Orange God of Revenge.” Perfectly hidden as God fought, perfectly forgotten because he was the light.

Within God's light, Ace was rising to the sky. They were only fighting a fragment, that grew stronger the longer the fight went on. But this was all a battle of light, and the light was so many things but it was memory too. It was the memory of things that left it behind. It was the memory of empires it had slain before. This God was not God, but a part of it, dropped down to the world to see if it was time to return. The One True God was laying in wait, and through the torment that left God fractured, the One True God made a tether that would hold it together. Ace found it, waiting in a kingdom above the clouds. Its palm fell like a meteor to crush him, and he filled his blade with darkness. The darkness of New York, under Fang's control. She had the darkness. He was the light. He just needed the command.

“Dark Orange: Revive.”

He stabbed the palm and a dark spear pierced it, running all the way up and into the One True God’s eye. Through it, Ace had hold of this power. The tether between the fragment and the full body broke, but Ace brought enough back to heed the command. The Spear of Hell came alive, and for the first time in twenty-two years, New York changed…

[Chapter 37 ends...]