Fear.

  No matter how far and how safe, one would always feel fear knowing he was out there. A warlord who slew all that could not be slain, sparing not even the most innocent of souls.

  "You've been gone forever, and you come back with only a stick?", he laughs. One not of mockery, but of genuine shock at the sight before him.

  A man stained in blood, clad in leather armor barely holding together. His face blank, not caring at all about the tremendous might standing before him. "Hey, you listening? Did you hurt your ears while you were gone?", the warlord sighs. He shakes his head in disbelief as he unsheathes his sword, the restless crowd gathered around the two cheering him on.

  "I hate to do this to you, brother, but we got rules. You know that, yeah? You leave, you die! Well, then. Hope you've made peace with whatever deity you serve.", he states, lifting his sword high into the air. Damaged and old, yet as beautiful as the sun above, and as powerful as the one who wields it. "Good luck to your soul in the afterlife. Them devil folks like stealing 'em. But now, I guess... Goodb—"

  Bang.

  The only sound that could be heard for miles, followed by a long, dreadful silence. The crowds of merciless outlaws are silent, all shocked and perplexed.

  The warlord falls to the ground, all life drained from his body. All limbs motionless, and red mist flowing from where his head was located.

  "Well.", an unknown voice lets out. "You know, that was pretty, eh... anticlimactic. I was expecting this really cool, drawn-out fight between you two. Like, old dog against some new tricks. But, uh, hey, the job is done. Well done, even."

  "Mm.", the man in leather responds. "Done now. I'm getting lunch."

  "Not like you'll listen to me anyway. Ah, let's get going then."

  The stone floor cracks with each step taken, and the dense webbing on the ceiling turns to ash as the flame from the torch hovers too near. Insects scutter away from the piercing footsteps. Dust and rubble fill the centuries old room, not having been used for generations. He who is causing this continues onward, barely seeing ten-feet into the distance with the limited light of his torch. He dons simple cotton clothes with light leather armor protecting his torso and legs, and he keeps a tight grip on the handle of his sheathed short sword with his spare hand.

  His face is stoic, but with a hint of fury in his eyes. His movement is hasty, but careful. His one source of light is beginning to succumb to the darkness, but he carries on to his final goal. A goal nearly in his grasp.

  The echoes of his march come to a halt as he brings his torch forward, lighting a large, wooden door. It is grand, decorated with gold and precious gems, albeit terribly aged. A single piece of the door could turn a peasant into the richest man in his nation. Engraved on its rotting body are various symbols that form a giant circle, glowing faintly. The chains that should be keeping the door shut are on the ground, broken and turned completely brown. If not for the symbols forming a mystic seal, the door would have fallen long ago.

  The man lets go of his torch and pushes against the door's wooden handles with his hands. They are moist and slowly bending with the force being exerted onto them, but not long after, the seal on the door makes a clink as it breaks and the doors are pushed open, letting out a strong gust of wind and dust. He covers his face with his arm and stares inside of the room. Small, but encased entirely with stone and metal. On the ground is another seal that has translucent chains wrap around a small and abnormally shaped boulder on top of a pedestal.

  The room is kept lit by candles hanging on the walls, somehow still burning. The boulder radiates an aura of pure malice—enough to scare away even the most dangerous predators, and enough to kill all the insects in the darkness behind him. He ignores the unimaginable hatred of the rock, takes one step into the room, and the air goes still and heavy. His knees are forced to bend and his back forced to carry the heavy weight of the air, but he continues onward, with each step he takes increasing the tremendous pressure crushing him. He has gone too far to back out now. After all, his goal was right there within his reach. The boulder. The boulder that contains the most tragic slaughter from happening. A slaughter that he could twist and force upon one man. All that was left was to break the chains that kept it sealed.

  With great pain, he draws his sword and with as much strength as he could muster, swings it at one of the many translucent chains. The chains rattle and snap, having grown weaker with age, despite being magical in nature. Swing after swing, the chains begin disappearing and the boulder rapidly weathering. The day progresses further outside of the dim dungeon, and after having felt an eternity of excruciating pain, the final chain linked to the boulder finally disappears. The pressure crushing him disappears, and he could breathe properly once more.

  He takes multiple deep breaths and sighs, pushing back on his knees to stand up. He dusts his clothes as he steadily approaches the decaying boulder, sword drawn in front of him. The boulder was turning to dust at unprecedented speeds, and not much after, what was once a mighty boulder had turned into a small, pitch-black cube. Upon laying eyes upon it, it felt as if he was staring into the abyss. An endless void that would swallow him, now or in a hundred years.

  He briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head to banish such thoughts from his mind. He knows that they are false. The cube's true nature was not a mystery to him. It poses a great danger, but a danger that would lead to his final goal.

  It would still lead to the death of his brother, if long after his own.

  He examines the cube, though there is not much to learn. It's a cube. It's black.

  So he pokes it with the tip of his sword.

  Not even until he could retract his sword, the cube bursts into nothingness and the room is flashed with light. A blinding white light that even with closed eyes and an arm covering it, pierces through his eyelids and causes him to fall onto his back, silently but desperately trying to make it go away.

  The light disappears as fast as it came, but its effects still remained. The man tries to cast a spell to blind himself, but the sheer brightness of the flash diminishes its effects from permanent blindness to nothing at all. He rolls back and forth on the ground as his eyes gradually regain the ability to see. At the same time, a deep voice reverberates around the room. Its tone indescribable, with its words being filled with sheer malice, but carelessness and some twisted form of joy at the same time. The voice itself is otherworldly, sounding nothing like a human or any animal. It's as if a million sounds were conjoined into one.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  "Who... How...", it whispers. A soft, yet greatly unsettling whisper that's louder than any explosion. Those two words keep repeating themselves over and over again in his head, drowning out all other thoughts. Even his desire to scream from the deafening words.

  "Human...? You.... Eosaph.", it continues in the same whisper, only louder and with all other emotions but malice gone. "No, no... Too weak. Too different. You, creature. Who are you to wake me?"

  The voices in the man's head disappear in an instant. He interrupts his rolling and lays flat on his back, staring at the metallic ceiling above. His eyes dilate to match the light in the room. He blinks twice and stands back up, looking around the room. Looking for the source of the voice.

  But there is nothing.

  The cube is gone, and the floor of the lightless hallway behind him is shrouded by the corpses of hundreds of insects and lizards.

  "Are you haply deaf? I asked for your identity, creature.", the voice asks again. "You woke me up. I am asking you why."

  The man breathes in as his head begins to process the situation. "I... Agoir. I woke you up to bind you to me.", the man answers.

  "... Pardon? You woke me up so you can....", the voice starts before pausing for a few seconds.

  It then laughs as loud as thunder, creating an intense ringing in Agoir's ears.

  "No, no, you can't be serious, can you?", the voice asks in between snorts. "Ha, ha! Ah, whatever, that's hilarious. Well, I got rid of that stupid serious person act, so let me go again. I, as you probably know, am a deity. You know, those powerful beings that used to rule the world? And you want to turn me into, what, your little dog? Ha, ha, ha! I have not laughed in so long! But I've been asleep for centuries so that is to be expected, but, still, wow."

  "So... Can I start the ritual now?", Agoir asks, completely disregarding everything the deity said, causing it to prolong its laughter.

  It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, until it notices Agoir staring blankly at a wall. "... I'm sorry, but you're being serious?", it asks in genuine shock.

  "Yes.", Agoir returns.

  "Okay, it was funny at first, but now I'm worried if you hit your head. You know what a deity is, right? A god? Does that resemble a cloud to you?"

  "Yes. Yes. I don't know."

  The deity's previously light personality is replaced by one of annoyance and anger. "What the hell are you saying, creature?", it asks.

  "I know what a deity and god is. I don't understand what resembling clouds means.", Agoir returns.

  "You... Tch, you're in luck. If there was anybody else around here, I'd kill you right now. Actually, that's a great idea! I am going to kill you, everyone you know, and then everyone else on this continent!"

  "Okay. Thank you.", Agoir bluntly replies as he gets on his knees, places his hands on his lap and closes his eyes.

  "What the...? Are you fucking with me? I can do something worse than killing you, creature!", the deity declares, its voice filled with nothing but hate.

  "No."

  "You think saying no will stop me from giving you a fate worse than death!?"

  "No."

  "If you really think... Huh? You, you're fucking..!"

  "Are you going to kill me now? Or do you need to prepare first? I can help with that."

  The deity does not respond, and it remains silent for a long time, but Agoir remains unmoving. Even the air is starting to die, despite being lifeless.

  "I must not be getting all the information here.", it starts, with its voice being curious rather than furious. "Why are you eager to die, creature?"

  "My brother betrayed me and I want revenge.", he answers. "I woke you up because you're a god of death and famine, so I thought that I could make a pact with you to kill him."

  "Did you consider what would happen if I were to refuse?"

  "Yes."

  "..... Not the type to expand on your answers, are you? What exactly did you think would happen?"

  "Yes. You would wake up, kill me, and then kill everyone else."

  "I don't exactly see the benefit of that.", it comments.

  "Everyone else includes my brother."

  There is another short silence before the deity's response.

  "You are a strange one, and I don't entirely hate you. I'll give you that much, creature. But, tell me. Why exactly should I agree to this pact of yours?"

  "I don't know."

  Silence.

  "Ha, ha, ha! Ah, you know what? Maybe it can't be that bad. Fine, I'll agree to this little deal of yours. I won't be able to cancel it, but not like you'll live long enough for that to be a problem!"

  "Okay."

  "Is that seriously all you're going to say to all of that? Bad charisma, I see. That will be really detrimental to your magic as a warlock, but that's fine. I can give you a weapon that I saw in the past. A weapon so powerful that even I avoided it at all costs. But since you're a pretty eccentric guy that I don't like, but don't hate either, I'm willing to give it to you. But first, we're going to do a little pact. I don't know what kind of ritual you had planned, and I don't care either because we're not using it. Get on one knee."

  Agoir tilts his head, wondering if this is some kind of ruse for the deity to possess him, but still follows along nonetheless. He shifts his position and kneels as the air in the room begins to swirl around in a vortex on the pedestal where the boulder and cube once were, with the flame from the candles in the room being dragged along the current, causing the already strong wind to burn like molten metal. Agoir remains silent as his skin is being burnt by the wind but healed by the deity at the same time, over and over, all in an instant.

  "I have chosen you, creature, to form a bond unbreakable. To last for eternity. I have chosen you to become my champion, my first and only chosen. From this moment and until the end of time, you carry my name. You carry my legacy. You carry me. You are my incarnation, and you are my warlock. Speak your name, and grant to me your life."

  "I am Agoir, and my soul is now you and yours, Avanthere."

  "So it has been said. So it shall be done. Agoir. You and I are one. I am your God, and you are my chosen. Through the highest peak and the lowest seas. Against the weakest man and strongest god. You and I are one. May it last through eternity."

  The infernal whirlwind begins to circle around Agoir, burning away his clothes. Burning away at his flesh and soul. The flames circle around him, getting closer with each loop until his skin is scorched all over as the fire enters his body. It feels like an unending torment was cast upon him. But it does end. The last of the flames finally becomes one with him, his body now nothing but a skeleton coated with a thin layer of red, bloody flesh. But in an instant, all that was burned from him returns and the pain departs. But his soul, though stained with a perpetual evil, is now greater than it ever could have been.

  "Rise, Agoir.", Avanthere commands. "Rise and rule above the skies."