Chương 153: Capacity For Malice
The sound of a bustling city around me almost distracts me from a pair of footsteps getting close to me. Close enough for the man to touch me. Reflexively, I whip around and draw my dagger, but I stay my hand when I see it's an old man standing with a cane.
The old man chuckles at my reaction and puts his hands up non-threateningly.
"Ohoho, easy there, child. What brings you here to the Heights? You fall in a hole or something?"
I shake my head. He must think that I am here by accident somehow. My age betrays my experience in the world of Sigils.
"No, I'm looking for someone, and I came here to find them, I guess."
The old man takes a step closer to me as I notice the fires in his eye and their unique color. Gray flames burn quietly within his eye sockets, giving me a bit of comfort as I fight away the surprise of being sent here so abruptly.
"Ah, I see. Why don't we take a look at the Heights, eh? What's their name?"
I look back at the pillar on the left, my eyes scanning for Edmund's name, but I can't seem to find it. What does that mean?
"Edmund Dudley. I can't seem to find him here, however."
The old man walks a bit closer to the pillar as he creaks his head to look up.
"He might not be dead yet, child. As long as their names are not yet on these two pillars, they remain alive in some fashion, no matter how fragile. Only when the soul is completely lost does Her Majesty put them on these memorials."
I nod to his words and take a glance at the other pillar, the Depths Of Depravity, where the seemingly worst of mankind goes. And I feel a pit in my stomach as I notice just how much larger this pillar is than the Heights. It's thicker, with more names stacked up, only the first name has its own row as the names grow smaller all the way up, and it seems to go even higher than the Heights.
Without even meaning to, I mumble under my breath, and the old man seems to catch it.
"Why are there so many more?"
I can hear the old man sigh as he steps toward me and puts his hand on my shoulder; the lack of threat prevents me from reacting like I would to most.
"Ah… You see, child, humans are very special creatures in our world. We are born weak and stay weak for many years, yet we remain. Do you know why that is?"
I nod my head slowly, thinking of the First's words. We survive because we are determined, resilient, and united.
"Because we are tough, indomitable, and united, right?"
The old man chuckles, the wrinkles on his undead face pulling apart as the gray flames in his eyes grow warmer for a brief moment.
"Ahaha, no. We survive because we are the best in two areas, and they give us the edge. Innovation and malice. No other race is as good as we are at creating new technologies and techniques to help us progress. From black powder to Colts, that is all us. And no other race has the depths of malice as we do. We have been bullied, attacked, and taken advantage of for all our history. It gives us power, and it gives us strength, even if it may hurt us in other ways."
His words make my eyes roam the Depths Of Depravity again. Even if I may not fully agree, it's a hard thing to deny. Our malice is obvious. Even among the nicer people I've met, it can't be argued deep in them is malice. Even if it's not against other people. The only question is why.
"Why? Why are we that way?"
The old man can only shake his head.
"I do not know, I've lived a long time, but I've never found the answer to that one. One may either choose the power of malice or the weakness of kindness. There is a line in the center where you can skirt, but it is risky. Should you fail, none will be behind you."
I look at the seemingly kind old man that ventured to speak to me for no other reason than to talk and ask him what he chose.
"Well, what did you choose? Malice or kindness? Or the line in between?"
He looks up at the two pillars right in front of us, his fires flickering in his eyes, indicating he's scanning the endless names.
"I chose… to not choose. Sometimes a balance is more important than letting either side dominate."
I go quiet at his answer for a few moments, pondering it. He chose none of the options given… hmm… How can a balance ever be more important? Would kindness winning not be the best option? And why are there so many names on the Depths? Are the kind that few?
I ask one last question before wanting to go and look for Edmund. This old man has been kind, but I don't want to take up any more of his time. The Undead still have their own lives to live. Or Undeaths to live, I suppose.
"Why are there so many on the Depths compared to the Heights? Are the kind really that few?"
The old man shakes his head sadly as if the answer is something he is not quite willing to face.
"We are eternally on the weak side of the world. Sure, some of us may shine bright, but they are few and far between. The brighter the flame, the faster it dims. But our capacity for treachery, for betrayal, for malice, is endless. The darker the pit, the harder it is to remove. Sadly, the greatest of humanity are rarely its strongest."
His words reach me just as he pauses momentarily, his eyes gazing at the pillars once more before they flicker into the distance toward the Gate Of Death. He's right. The best people I've met are far from being the strongest, and the strongest have been some of the worst. The old man speaks once more, his words echoing against the spires of dark stone.
"I once met a man who told me something I'll never forget long ago. 'Hands drenched in blood is the only way for a man to slay a God.' How true that is, I don't know. But I know one thing for sure. Before he disappeared from this world, there was one less God to trouble mankind."
I turn to him to ask the name of the man, feeling that he sounds oddly familiar, but before I can, the old man is gone. Nothing but the stale wind of the Underworld and the undead people roaming around this city square to meet my gaze.
I begin to wonder if I imagined him, my sight blending with imagination and the multitude of things that have infiltrated my mind. No one around seemed to notice my conversation, and they kind of just seemed to ignore me, going about their business as if I didn't exist. But the conversation was so odd. A man killing a God? That's what he alluded to, right? Is that possible? No way. The gap is just far too large. And which God? There are about three dozen or so known Gods, but I can't think of any that died in such an unknown way. Many died against the Mother Below when her corruption spread among the other Gods, just as many killed themselves to save their minds from defilement and believers from damnation.
Shaking my head without an answer, I just start to walk away from the pillars. I need to find Edmund. That's why I'm here.
With no one paying attention to me and without any directions, I just kind of wander throughout the city and take in "Heights." Apparently, it is one of the few cities in the Underworld, along with the Depths and Apathy. The whole city is dark and unlike anything I've ever seen.
All my life, I've only ever been to small towns with at most a thousand people, but Heights? There are so many more here, even if they are all already dead. Most buildings are made of brick and commonly are missing their roofs. I guess they aren't needed when it doesn't rain below the world's surface. All that really exists for the top of buildings are wide canvas sheets that hang atop the buildings and go over a bit to cover some of the streets.
The lights on the side of the streets are also unreal. Made out of the removed eyes of undead, pale fires burn on the top of poles within small lanterns, illuminating that which needs light. So many Undead are here that I bump into several people, but they just give me an odd look before continuing forward.
Sound also inundates me as I walk, but it's with such intensity that I can't make out a single conversation as I stumble my way through Heights. I see hawkers peddling weapons, armor, and even some things that look like bottles of alcohol as I walk past. It seems as though even in such a bleak place, alcohol exists with just as much importance as the tools to keep us alive.
I even spot a man in an alley talking to himself crazily as I walk past. He's someone I definitely ignore because it makes me think he's nearing his final death and going mad.
"Rats? There are no rats. Ah! But there are! They are everywhere! You! No. Me!"
I just keep walking even as he points at other passersby. The crazy man in the alley is fully ignored as I grow curious about what he's thinking and seeing. Then, my feet abruptly stop in the middle of the street, and I almost facepalm. Again, I forgot the ability of my eyes. I CAN see through their perspectives.
Without even looking at him, I close my eyes for a second and push Ether into my eyes, activating the full potential of Insight, the new Chain Eyes, while thinking of him. Instantly, my vision is split, almost like having eyes on the back of my head, giving me another perspective as I see things from the madman in the alley's eyes.
The whole world looks almost exactly the same to me, except for two things. In his eyes, there is a child next to him speaking to him and rats darting in and out of the shadows left by the lantern's fires. The difference is surprising as I also can feel the instability of this man's mind. It is fragmented, broken, and permanently altered. Parts are missing, and others are rearranged.
The small child in front of him seems to be his son, and I can only get this vague feeling of protection and love toward the young one. The madman then looks up, and I see the frame change rapidly as he looks at a sky filled with teeth and tongues biting and lapping at the world below.
Instantly, I cut the Ether and open my eyes, heeding the warning of The Cabin, and as I look at the madman, he is gone. My heart jumps in shock as I walk over to the alley where I just saw from his perspective. When I turn the corner, all I see in his place is a broken tooth on the ground where he used to be standing. My split sight of imagination and vision shows me that the tooth has a single link of chain wrapped around it.
Kneeling, I pick up the tooth and look at it, feeling a rapidly decaying Sigil inside of it. The same singular Sigil that was inside the madman's undead body. What the hell just happened to him? I move the tooth between my fingers for a few seconds trying to inspect it further, but without someone to take and make the Sigil their own, it fades to the oblivion above.
Shaking my head in confusion, I walk out of the alley and glance up. The sky looks normal at first, but a single instance has the horizon of the Underworld fragmenting before my very eyes, imagination overlapping reality.
The horizon is a twisted maw, a gaping abyss of jagged teeth and razor-sharp fangs stretching endlessly before me. The sky above is a seething mass of writhing tongues, slick with blood and oozing viscera. The air is thick with the stench of decay and the sickly-sweet odor of freshly spilled blood.
In the distance, I can hear the churning of an endless sea, its waves crashing against the shore with a thunderous roar. The ground beneath my feet turns slick with slime and blood, and the air is alive with the sound of wet, slapping tentacles. I almost trip during the single step taken, but I recover as my body goes stock still from the horizon's edge.
I am standing at the threshold of a world beyond comprehension, a realm of unspeakable horror and madness that lies just beyond the veil of reality.
Quickly, I look back down as I feel a warmth come down from my eyes and a chill running up my spine. I touch my face and realize the warmth is blood leaking from my eyes. The sight is so incomprehensible that it physically hurts me. The chill up my spine reminds me of when Iva looked at me, only far, far worse. The feeling of danger from just a split-second glance makes all the hair on my body stand up, my heart and lungs accelerate to their maximums, and my Ether instinctively moves, going so far as to activate Release once more, along with my other skills. I also notice that whatever prevented me from using it before is gone. Maybe after use, there is a period where it cannot be activated again? I guess it makes sense with the metaphor of Captive about being unchained for a moment. Have to wait until I'm recaptured fully to escape, right?
And so, only with all my skills and Ether protecting me, Rapturous running through my body with almost maleficent intent, do I begin to calm my overactive lungs.
Is that a God?
I keep my head down as I keep walking throughout the city. It doesn't matter if it is or not. Just looking at it almost killed me. Another second of viewing it, and I probably would have blinded myself. Two or three more, and it would have been over. I wipe the blood off of my eyes and face with my sleeve as I think of the madman.
Is that why Undead go insane as their souls fracture? Or is it just another reason? Or is there insanity merely a call to the God? Gods rarely intervene on the surface, but they do still fuck us over here and there. I know of the Horrendous Horror and Mikhail's Massacre as two events where a God did something. The first caused an entire city of people to rip out their eyeballs and eat them, with most dying before help could arrive. The latter was when a previous Pillar, Mikhail the Masterful, killed over a thousand Hunters that went with him on a mission. It's said both were done by Izabui, the once God of civilization and progress, who went mad along with all the others long ago. Now, he goes by Coyote, the Hungering Design, the Burning Nail.
My eyes don't leave the floor as I walk, and after several minutes of wandering, I bump into someone, my eyes blurry from the recent split-second gaze at a possible God. Not that I know what God it was. Maybe I shouldn't have chosen for my eyes to Metamorphosize.
The man gives me a squinted glance before asking if I'm alright.
"You okay, laddie? What are you doing all the way out here?"
I look up at him as I push a bit of Ether into Insight just so I can see clearly through my bloody eyes that only grow more painful, though I am ready to pull the plug at any moment should what I see not be appropriate. The man in front of me has light green chains that encompass his form, with his Sigil being placed at the core of his heart. A Priest base, likely then. I also get a feel of sweaty palms from my sight, not that I know what that means instantly, though. Over time I'll have to learn what each of these feelings means and what Sigils they lean to.
Before I can say anything, the man speaks, his voice calm yet full of worry.
"You alright, boy? Did something happen to you? Open your eyes for me; let me see your fires."
I can only shake my head as my eyes now refuse to open; the pain of moving them at all keeps that from being an option. The only thing I can really do is ask for directions as I doubt there is much this man can do to help me. Birdie could probably heal my eyes a bit, but I need to wait for them to arrive. I attempt to be respectful even as pain runs throughout my soul.
"I'm fine, sir. I'm looking for someone, though do you think you could help me? His name is Edmund. Edmund Dudley. I was told he was around here somewhere."
The man puts his hands on my shoulder, at first not listening to my request at all and focusing on my injury.
"Nonono, boy. There is something seriously wrong with your eyes. Tell me, who did this to you? Was it one of those Depraved? I swear to Death that if it was, I'll help you get revenge. Wait, did you say Edmund? As in—"
I speak alongside him and copy his next two words to answer his incoming question.
"The Bloodhound? Yes, that's the one. I need to speak to him."
I see the man's face constructed of chains shift in an odd way. I can't quite tell facial expressions all that well yet from Insight, though, so I just ignore it. He must have just realized I'm a living person. It's probably hard to tell with how dirty I am and my closed eyes.
"Can you take me to him?"
The man is silent for a moment, looking back and forth around the now mostly barren street before looking back at me.
"Yeah, I can, boy, but I'm not sure what you're looking for. And after we do, we're getting your eyes checked out. You know, if your fires go out, you're gone for good."
I shake my head again, trying to emphasize that I don't need help. I just need to find Edmund. I need to figure out where he is and get the location of the key to the vault from him. Then, if we can, try and revive him, but if we can't, we go back to the surface. From there, I can speak to Aniwye again and get the truth about my childhood.
"No, I'm fine. Truly. I know someone who can take care of this. Just take me to Edmund, please."
The man looks me up and down several times before sighing and acquiescing to my demand.
"Fine. Follow me. He's in a barracks close by. Old man saved my life several times, and most of the others' 'round here on the edge. Don't get your hopes up, though."
I follow him as he turns around and walks through the street. I am forced to take a few seconds to gather my bearings before I can ask him why I shouldn't get my hopes up. That vision of a God or whatever the hell it was got me bad. Even now, I'm still stumbling. Again and again, I have to wipe the blood from my eyes until I eventually just give up. The bloody tears will just have to be a permanent fixture until Birdie can heal me or until I recover on my own.
But eventually, I get myself together and ask him the question. My heart sinks just as I do because I finally realize the implications of his words down here in the Underworld.
"Why shouldn't I get my hopes up? Is there something wrong?"
The man turns a corner before reaching a shabby door to a relatively small building with a sign atop it that is unreadable from wear. We've been walking for almost a full two minutes now, and he looks at me before answering. I can see his chest shiver as he speaks in emotional pain.
"He… he is on his last death. And… very little remains of who he was."
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