Clawing up at the ceiling furiously, Marcus realized that he was still alive.
He felt that his head was going to split open, the warm light from a lamp nearby was making his eyes hurt and when he tried to stand up his body didn’t respond as he wanted to, like heavy-duty screws were driven into every joint of his body.
After a few tries, Marcus finally was able to sit up on what appeared to be a very comfortable couch. He tried to survey his surroundings but his eyes still hurt and he saw nothing but darkness. His headache was starting to get worse, even the sound of his own breathing was becoming annoying and when he heard a nearby door open, Marcus leapt to his feet in an effort to defend himself.
However, Marcus immediately lost balance and fell on the floor facing down as the footsteps were growing closer and louder. What was going to happen to him?
Barely able to move his right arm, Marcus tried to reach the ankles of his visitor, but grabbed nothing but air. Then heard a sound similar to china being set on a tabletop. Even if he saw nothing but blurred pictures, the glow of the crimson jewel on his ring was unmistakable, and tried to make the ring work, to have it heal him like it did that night. But no matter how he tried to draw on the ring’s power, nothing seemed to happen.
“Easy now,” said voice. “Here, let me help you.”
Marcus felt how he rose up from the cold marble floor and back into the soft, warm material of the couch that served as a makeshift bed.
He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and his tongue made of lead. “Drink this,” the figure said he pressed a cup on Marcus’ lips.
At first he was reluctant to drink, but whatever was on that cup, it had a very pleasant smell despite its bitter taste.
As Marcus began to drink the mysterious liquid, he felt his limbs loosen; his headache was subsiding and his eyesight getting stronger.
Marcus turned to the figure and with his eyesight slowly returning to normal, he was able to make out who was in the room with him. It was a man, but not any man. It was the same man dressed in black that “helped” him back while he was fighting that giant. Something snapped inside his mind.
“The giant!” Marcus blurted as he leapt to his feet again, almost dropping the teacup on the floor. But the man was able to catch it before it smashed on the floor.
“Be careful,” the man in the suit said. “These are very old and irreplaceable.”
Marcus reacted to the behavior of the man in the suit, “Why are you worried about a cup?”
“A man that doesn’t take care of his own stuff, means that he doesn’t take care of himself.” The man in the suit said as he settled the empty teacup with the rest of the teacups had the same design on the saucer.
“What happened to that giant?” Marcus snapped.
“Dunno,” the man in the suit replied. “After you passed out, I grabbed your body and bolted the hell out of there.”
Marcus couldn’t believe that someone that had such a serious and elegant demeanor behaved so immaturely.
“The name’s Ansem, by the way.” The man in the suit said with a smile as he sat on the accent chair by the side of the couch Marcus was sitting on.
“I’m Marcus.”
“I bet your head is swimming with tons of questions of what just happened in that alley, am I right?” Ansem said, the light from the nearby lamp glazing his eyeglasses masking his eyes.
A mighty roar echoed through the city, furious and untamed, a proud beast’s howl. But it was no beast, at least from the human world.
Marius, known as the “Vesper of War,” for his strength and sharp, keen mind for battle, gazed at the city lights as he tried to calm down, for his anger was such that if released it would level four city blocks in the blink of an eye. But his orders were just to retrieve the ring, as there was no need to involve the human world with the affairs that were beyond their comprehension. The sheep would face their judgment soon.
Marius waged battle against countless warriors in countless worlds. These warriors made him feel alive and kept his abilities and senses as sharp as his sword.
His sword.
It only took one glance at his shattered sword—The Ventel—a demonic sword forged in the heart of a dying star, for his anger to come rushing back like a wave crashing against a steep cliff with all its might so to tear it down.
How could a human child defeat him like that? Slashing his right arm and sword in one swoop was a skill that no human could ever achieve.
It was with the help of the Dominus, The Ring of the Morning Star, that gave him those powers. No doubt that whoever hid it in the human world thought that it would never be found. And it gave the child the strength necessary to survive, but raw strength wasn’t enough, and if wasn’t for that “man,” Marius, he would’ve ended the game and retrieved the ring.
A human wielding the Dominus, what a ridiculous idea! Marius thought as he reattached his severed right arm, but it burned like melted iron; during his countless battles Marius had his limbs severed and reattached them like if nothing happened, but this time, it was different. But what was so different this time?
“I never imagined finding you here, licking your wounds like some animal.”
Marius ignored the insult as he finished reattaching his severed arm, “don’t ignore me.”
Following the ghastly warning, a dark, ephemeral figure emerged from the rooftop and slowly approached Marius.
“That’s far enough, Rhys.” Marius snarled.
The shadow slowly began to take a physical shape, revealing a man wearing a black helmet without features and clad in a black soutane.
Rhys ignored Marius’ warning and leaned over the ledge of the rooftop to get a better look at the wrecked neighborhood, the red and blue glow that set the night aglow. “All this destruction and you still couldn’t retrieve the ring,” he said in a snarky tone.
The street where Marius confronted Marcus was a scene from a war movie, emergency services were hurrying to help those that had been caught between the rubble and tried to put out the fires from broken gas lines.
Marius grunted in response and picked up the two halves of his sword, and turned to face Rhys who continued to gaze at the chaotic scene playing out in the distance.
“Did you come here to make fun of me?” Marius asked.
Rhys turned his back on the blue and red glow and walked slowly towards Marius, “Just came to give you a quick update.” Marius slowly walked towards Rhys his massive frame made his companion even smaller, “only one house stands in our way.”
A wide, devilish grin twisted the warrior’s grin. “So, victory is growing closer for the House of Vesper.” Marius guessed that Rhys was also grinning under that smooth, black helmet.
After a brief silence, Marcus finally asked, “In what kind of mess I’ve gotten myself into?”
Ansem turned on another light and Marcus was finally able to tell where he had been all this time. It was a large circular room with bookshelves that reached to the ceiling, large and small books, some of the titles were written in English while others were written in a language that Marcus didn’t understand.
“You, my friend,” Ansem said as he rose up from his chair and reached for one of the large books behind him, “have taken your first steps into a much larger world.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ansem opened a large book with a black leather cover and flipped through its pages without reading them and suddenly stopped, and then proceeded to hand over the book to Marcus. “What do you see?” He asked.
Marcus first didn’t know what he was looking at, the pages were written in another language which made him wonder why Ansem would hand him a book that he couldn’t read, but his eyes widened at the diagram in the center of all the strange text. It featured a red jewel, the book looked like several centuries old, but the red paint hadn’t faded at all and then he gazed at the jewel incrusted in the silver ring. They couldn’t be the same, could they?
“What the hell is this?” Marcus asked his eyes centered on the crimson jewel.
“That ring that you have in your finger is known as the Dominus, or the Ring of the Morning Star, Crimson Destiny.” Ansem replied taking the book away from Marcus, and then added, “Whoever possesses the ring has the right to rule over Golgotha.”
Marcus couldn’t believe it, “What on earth is Golgotha?”
“Hell,” Ansem replied with a serious look in his eyes. “That’s right kid,” he continued watching how Marcus’ face drained of color, “as of now you are the ruler of Hell.”
Marcus looked like he was going to be sick and had to sit down. He kept staring at the ring that shone brighter than ever, an unholy light that dimmed all others in the world.
Realizing that the ring was dangerous, Marcus tried to take it off as hard as he could, however, the only thing that he was doing was breaking his own finger. “What’s with this thing?” He growled.
“It’s no use,” Ansem said with the intention to calm the young man before he broke his own finger. “You’re bound to the ring.”
Marcus now was starting to worry. If he couldn’t take off the ring, did it mean that he was going to be attacked again? When he realized what he was capable of, Marcus thought that he was going to have a carefree life, anything he wanted to have, granted by just wishing.
Now it was different.
Marcus now was part of a “larger world” as Ansem had said.
But what was he supposed to do? He would’ve died from internal bleeding that night he found the ring. The ring saved his life.
“Can you help me take this thing off?” Marcus asked. It was a childish question, but that man who sat so comfortably on that accent chair at the side of the couch might know some answers. Answers he desperately needed.
“That’s out of my reach,” Ansem answered without emotion, and Marcus shivered when he gazed into Ansem’s cold eyes. “But if you’re worried about being constantly under siege, there is something that would help you.”
“Really?” Marcus’ eyes lit up with hope.
Ansem slowly rose from the chair, “but I warn you, it’s not much.”
Marcus wanted to respond that he didn’t care, he just wanted a way to keep himself–and those he care about–out of harm’s way, no matter how small. Instead, he just kept his mouth shut.
Ansem reached for different colored book this time, it had the same color of blood, but instead of grabbing it from the shelf pressed his hand against it. There was a clicking noise and the bookshelf slowly began to descend into the floor, revealing a secret passage.
“Follow me,” Ansem ordered as he went into the secret passage.
Marcus followed closely behind his host down a narrow, half-lit passage that seemed to last forever, or it seemed so to Marcus who was growing impatient and wanted to know what Ansem had concocted to keep him safe.
Peering over his host’s shoulder, Marcus saw a heavy wooden door with no keyhole or handle. “We’re here,” Ansem said as he pressed his right hand on the door. A whooshing sound echoed inside the passage followed by a blue flash of light that lasted about a second, then Marcus saw how the heavy door opened with a loud creaking noise.
Behind the door lay a larger room, a half-lit dungeon with hundreds of vials filled to the brim with peculiar tinged aqueous material, strange instruments as varied as the potions that lay scattered throughout the dungeon; some resembled measuring instruments while others Marcus had no idea what they were for.
“What is this place?” Marcus asked when his eyes gazed upon a small, strange creature with goat-like horns on its head floating in formalin inside a giant flask.
Ansem walked over to the end of the dungeon to a large mahogany table littered with hundreds of scrolls and books and bathed in a golden light. “My workshop,” His host replied as he laid that odd-looking silver gun on the tabletop. “And please, avoid touching anything. It’s for your safety. Also, some of the objects here are pretty old and irreplaceable.”
Marcus decided it was best to follow Ansem’s advice. Some of those creatures inside the flasks looked like they were sleeping.
Ansem proceeded to rummage inside some of the chests near the far end stonewall of the dungeon while Marcus waited in the middle of the dungeon, a certain uneasiness creeping up on him with all those strange creatures in flasks, odd-looking instruments and machines.
“Here it is,” Ansem said drawing out a small wooden box from one of the larger chests. “Will you come over here?” He asked to Marcus to walk closer to the large desk.
Upon reaching the desk, Marcus saw the small box; it was bound with black leather straps and strange symbols etched into the wood. However, the box wasn’t the only object that caught his attention. Beneath the ancient looking scrolls with esoteric looking symbols and written in a language that Marcus didn’t understand, much like that book Ansem had showed him, lay the rusty sword he had given to him to defend himself against the giant’s onslaught.
“What’s this doing here?” Marcus asked reaching for the sword’s rusty scabbard.
While Ansem clipped the black leather straps of the small box that was no bigger than a ring case, he said without looking back at Marcus, “I just couldn’t leave it there. It belongs to you now.”
“This old thing?” Marcus examined the rusty sword. What would he do with a sword? It did help him survive, but he had no idea how to properly use it and if that giant decided to attack again, he wouldn’t be so lucky.
“It’s more useful than you think,” Ansem replied opening the lid of the little wooden box. “Here you go,” and handed Marcus a small medal, no bigger than a quarter.
The moment the medal touched Marcus’ hand, a strange feeling began to crawl all over his body.
“From the look in your in your face, I think you already known that silver medal is not ordinary.” Ansem’s grin was like a mischievous demon ready to claim a soul.
“Wait, what is this?” Marcus said as he examined the medal under the warm golden light. Etched in the center of the medal was a strange symbol encircled by the same letters on the scrolls that Ansem had on his desk. “What do these letters mean?”
“It’s Enochian,” Ansem replied. “It reads: From the High-Heavens protection from Evil we surrender to you.”
Ansem proceeded to take the medal from Marcus’ hand and made him look at the symbol more closely, “what you see in the middle is a ‘sigil’ or a magic symbol that was granted by one of the Four Celestial Guardians to ward off even the most powerful of demons.” Ansem handed the medal back to Marcus, “however, a powerful curse envelops the Dominus and that’s what allowed that giant to find you.”
“The ring has a curse?”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Ansem snapped, “if you wear this medal, the curse of the Dominus won’t be as strong and they won’t find you so easily.”
Comments (0)
See all