Evolution: Harbinger of Chaos

The fog. My home.

It was a cocoon, a comforting haze that shielded me from the horrors of the past and the uncertainties of the future. Here, there was no pain. No fear. Just an endless white void where I could drift, unbothered and untouched.

But the fog wasn't impenetrable. Pain had found me.

It started as a prickling sensation, like the sting of a needle. Then it grew, burning and relentless, as if an executioner were hammering at my skull with a bloodied mace.

The agony ripped through me. I gasped and writhed, trying to escape it, but it clung to me like a shadow. My body screamed for release, but there was none. My joints ached, my insides burned, and a feverish shiver coursed through me. The world spun as I struggled to breathe, to move.

I grimaced and forced my eyelids open, fighting through the misery the piercing influx of light brought to my eyes.

Slowly, the colors scattered around began to converge, settling into a large, black blurred silhouette in motion.

'What is... is that?'

I asked myself.

'...A bird? A black bird?'

The creature before my eyes continuously blurred in and out of focus, making the outline difficult to understand. Yet, perhaps inspired by my famished state, I recognized its actions.

'It is eating...'

I found all my attention drawn to what it held between what appeared to be its black beak.

'It is eating...'

It raised its head as it struggled to swallow, and ultimately failed to since the target object had some sort of cord still attaching it to the helmeted head it was pulled out of.

And then, a voice whispered:

[You survived.]

The fog began to clear.

I found myself surrounded by death.

Corpses sprawled across a battlefield that stretched beyond sight. Some were disemboweled, others decapitated, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. Scavengers feasted on the remains, their caws and screeches cutting through eerie silence.

I couldn't move. My body was battered, my limbs heavy, as if weighed down by chains. I clutched at the cold, hard ground beneath me, my fingers brushing against the hilt of a sword embedded in the earth.

"Where...am I?" I whispered hoarsely.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay, the wind singing a doleful wail as it blew over. The setting sun cast the sky in shades of purple and red, painting a haunting picture of desolation.

And then I saw him.

Clad in a pristine white robe, the figure walked toward me, his steps unmarked by the blood and filth.

His face was hidden beneath a hood, only his eyes were visible to me, and they were the most unearthly things I had ever seen.

He had golden-colored irises that glowed so bright they burned like twin Suns. In those micaceous irises, were two black arrows: one shorter than the other, connected at the center of his eyes.

These arrows were in a constant rotational motion in his eyes...

He stopped a few places away and spoke, his voice ancient and all-encompassing.

[Remember your purpose here. The reason you are the only one still alive.]

His words were like tobacco. They burned into my body and mind, stripping me of every sentiment that may have posed a hindrance or distraction toward this purpose.

Purpose. Yes, I had one, didn't I? Something so vital, so important.

I reached for the sword. Its hilt bore the insignia of an eight-pointed star, a symbol of something I had long forgotten. My grip tightened as I rose to my feet, the weight of the weapon grounding me amidst the chaos.

The figure's gaze lingered on me, unyielding and expectant.

[This is your path. Walk it.]

I began walking with huge strides through hundreds of thousands of corpses, stretching on for as far as my heavy eyes could see, finally coming to a halt in front of a cluster of heavily armored corpses, each belonging to huge men with intimidating builds.

The rotting corpses of such men.

I could not help the weak smile that tugged at the corner of my lip.

I could feel it in my very being that I had reached the end of my journey.

Perhaps it was all worth it.

Now, I was at the moment of truth. I opened the bag to reveal a multicolored glow,

[...]

Warm light pierced my eyes. I would have hissed in pain and irritation if I was not immediately stunned by the magnificence of the object at the center of the iridescent luminance.

"H...how beautiful..."

I said in my hoarse voice full of awe, but then "his voice reached me, startling me out of my entranced state.

[Do not gaze upon it for more than an instant.]

I fumbled with my grip on the sack at the sudden warning, turning the bag upside down and dumping the head-sized "rock" on the grimy floor in the process.

The Sapphaix. That was what he called it.

It looked like it was roughly carved out of a rainbow-colored bedrock. Even if I ignored the fact that a solid of that size weighed next to nothing, each of its innumerable, uneven facets glowed of a different color.

'How can something like this even exist?' I wondered to myself.

I watched the light pulsate slowly as if imitating a beating heart, then muttered uncertainly to the "person".

"W... what now?"

His clock eyes shifted from the meteorite to focus on me for a few seconds, I watched his golden irises expand and contrast repeatedly in that moment.

I could have sworn I saw a hint of vulnerability in those eyes... Then he gave a flat reply:

[Destroy it.]

Two simple words, yet I felt my heartbeat quicken. This was it, the moment I had gone through all the agony for. The day I changed the world with my own hands!

I tightened my grip on the sword I held, before raising it high above my head with both hands.

[Wait.]

My body froze at the sudden order and I threw a tense glance back at the robed figure. His multicolored eyes were once again focused on the multicolored rock—

'Huh?'

My thoughts halted, a strong feeling of incongruity momentarily washing over me.

He suddenly raised his hand and pointed to my sword.

What happened next could only be described as incogitable, in all honesty, my mind failed to accurately comprehend it. What I did know, was that afterward, the blade of the broadsword in my hand was abruptly engulfed in strange white flames.

My parched lips parted into a wide menacing grin, and all I needed was a simple nod of approval from him.

My sword came down with such speed it traced a beautiful sliver arc as it sliced through the air, and with a deafening sound, clashed with the Sapphaix.

Time seemingly froze the moment my sword made impact. The shrill sound of iron rebounding off a hard surface echoed eerily in the corpse field that had gone completely still.

And then, all at once, every single scavenger within the vicinity took to the skies in a roaring tide of beating wings, feathers... and terrified caws. I could even see insects and rodents hastily fleeing frantically.

But I had no time to ponder their intense reactions... almost as suddenly, an explosion of bright white light flooded the whole area.

"Ack! Wh–what is this?! What is happening?!!"

I screamed as the sword in my hand was instantly vapourised in its entirety. It was so bright and hot, for a moment I had the illusion of being right in front of the sun.

[With this step, the nightmare will soon come to an end...]

The usually apathetic voice of the "person" reached my ears with a tone so full of heavy melancholy that I felt my heart tighten.

But I could not focus on those words. After the sword, the skin and flesh on my fingers disintegrated next, leaving only bones... those too became dust the next moment.

The process continued forward, eating me away quickly, and excruciatingly.

"IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! HELP ME!! RAAAAHHH!!!!—"

~~~

In a dimly lit bedroom, a boy who looked no more than fifteen years of age could be seen struggling under his blanket, writhing in apparent pain.

"WAAAHHHH!!!!"

An abrupt scream escaped his throat, sounding oddly muffled to him, however, before his brain could process what was happening, he found himself transitioning from hurting, to slowly suffocating, unable to breathe or even open his eyes.

Daniel woke with a startle, his heart pounding in his chest.

He hurriedly rolled on his side, sat up, then clutched onto the chest area of his sweat-drenched pajamas, shivering at the scorching feeling of death still wrenching his heart as goosebumps spread all over his skin.

The stench of corpses still lingered in his nostrils, the phantom pain of disintegrating flesh wracking his body. For a moment, he couldn't breathe.

"Again," he muttered, voice trembling. "That damn nightmare again."

"Yes~!"

The boy paled at the voice that suddenly erupted from the speakers of his laptop computer.

"Ahn~ Ah~ yes! Harder!"

Springing from the bed, he hurried straight to his laptop and slammed it shut. He winced at the forcefulness of his action, then stiffened as silence descended within the room.

The boy remained still, breathing quietly as he listened for any sounds coming from outside the room— approaching footsteps in particular.

There were none.

"Too close..."

He released his hold over his breath, and collapsed into the chair in front of the table with a weary sigh, staring up at the ash ceiling of the bedroom.

After taking a moment to rub off whatever traces of sleep still lingered in his eyes, he pushed himself off the chair and dragged his feet towards the bedroom window.

Parting the curtains slightly, he stared up at the dark gray sky, then looked down at the barely-lit street and watched a stray cat run by.

Frowning, he turned around and stared at the digital alarm clock on his desk.

4.07 am, it read.

He groaned, then dragged himself back to his bed and simply fell into the soft embrace of the sheets. His arms felt around for his pillow, and then he recalled smacking it away and groaned even louder.

Cursing under his breath, he rolled lazily and switched on the bedside lamp. The fluorescent light from the lamp instantly illuminated a substantial portion of the room, nonetheless, the boy only had his eyes on a calendar pinned on the wall in a corner.

Six numbers representing the days of the month had "x" crosses on them... this very day would be joining them too, once he felt energetic enough to get up again.

He crossed his right hand over his face.

The day was Wednesday, the seventh of Soltveir, the eighth month of the year.

Daniel had that nightmare again.