Rise Of The Infinite Sovereign



Perched on a skeletal throne with skulls for armrests was Crea projecting her transformed visage.

Her skin pale, her hair darker and longer, the red in her eyes deeper, her nails gleamed with the same colour.

Garbed in a baggy robe with tattered edges, the frame of body was masked, but the others discerned that she had grown in size as well.

As for how much stronger she'd gotten, none would rather find out.

And before this entity… 

"We greet the leader" 

From Goceron to Golzan, the others bowed. 

A month had passed since her meeting with the demon lord, the day that marked her as the newest emissary.

Regardless of how the rest felt about it, emissaries were chosen by the demon lord, to go against it would be defying their own faith.

She spoke, her voice silent yet booming across at the same time. "Are all things in order?"

A light of ambition stayed lit in her gaze, screaming of plans and purpose.

Goceron bobbed up. "Yes, leader"

Refining the materials into items for the expansion of the passageway was to take months.

Instead, with whatever new power she gained, Crea had accelerated the process extensively, creating what should have taken them months in only thirty days.

With the most vital piece of their plans secured, the future had never looked brighter.

But with the convergence of enemies at their doorstep, it also never looked bleaker.

"Numer, Goceron, I leave you the task of extending the passageway"

"With haste" Goceron replied.

Her tone rose as she turned her gaze to the others. "As for the rest of you"

"Go" she ordered. "Join them and create havoc, slaughter the enemy and bask in their blood"

They nod, their gazes hardened.   

"Our leader sacrificed himself for the sake of the mission. We must not let his death be in vain"

A strong silence permeated, and then, "Disperse"

The worshippers sped off, leaving Crea alone with her thoughts.

Things were about to get hectic.

--------------

"Now now, that's no way to treat a guest"

"Leave!" Ezra growled. 

"You're the one keeping me here" 

Ezra let loose a blast of ice, but it simply passed through Ziltris and landed on the cell wall.

Ziltris smiled, his voice echoing. "Why do you keep fighting what you've become?"

Ezra stared.

"Being a demon isn't as bad as they say"

"And yet here you are"

"I'm a special case"

"I never doubted that"

"Why are you resisting my inheritance? It'll grant you the power you've always wanted"

Ezra stared him down, his disdain unhidden. "Was that what you told the rest"

He'd lived through Orion's worst encounters with demons, he had more than enough reason to hate them, and no one could change that.  

"I felt this from the moment we met" Ziltris said. "Your hatred against our race transcends all others…Why?" 

"Because I know exactly what you are"

A silence pervaded, before… 

"Hehehehe" Ziltris let out a sickening giggle. "Don't you understand. You'll never have a chance of escaping this place if you become a demon"

Like smoke, Ziltris' body diffused.

His ears echoed with a whisper right after.

"It's the only way you'll ever see your mother again"

Ezra clenched his fist, mana around him turned crimson. 

"Why were you in my head?"

It could only be so, because none but Ezra knew about how much he cared for his mother.

"Do you not understand?" Ziltris whispered. "I live within you, I'm but a manifestation of the demonic essence you refuse to absorb" the base of his tone went up a notch. "What you see and hear of me is simply an image projected into your mind"

(A/N: Talk about living in someone's head rent free)

Ezra let not a reaction slip, taking a stoic posture.

"And if you want me to leave so badly, all you have to do is expunge or absorb the demonic essence…Hehehehe, become a permanent cripple or a demon, wonderful odds"

'A remnant, a remnant, a remnant…' 

Ezra spoke. "So you have Ziltris' memories?"

"I don't have anything-you do. The essence is flowing through your veins. The memories are within you, and like opening a door, you can access them at will"

Ezra stared. "You're uncomfortably forthcoming"

"Oh, am I?"

Ezra rather not follow him, but…

'There's something I need to find out'

With a deep breath, Ezra delved into meditation, diving into his interiors. 

A murky crimson energy enveloped his awareness, forcing a deep gasp as Ezra found himself losing awareness, only to come alive.

Only,

'Where am I?' 

Contrasting the cold cell he knew, he lay in a bed made of hay encased with walls of grey stone. 

'Huh?'

Trying to get up, he falls over listlessly like a leaf.

A raise of his palm and an arm as thick as a tree's youngest branch came into view.

Slowly, Ezra's heart quickened, tension and anxiety spiralling from all corners of his mind. 

"Wha-wha-what is this?" he asked. No, he tried to, but his mouth refused to move.

 Instead, against his will, his body rose, eyes darting all over when…*Grr*

If things weren't confusing enough already, a deep hunger came forth, disrupting his thought process as his stomach rumbled.

Again, the body moved without his consent, eyes darting, only to stop at the sight of a wooden bowl roughly twice his fist lying right at the front of a block of nailed splinters.

Noticing a hinge, he realized that it was actually a door.  

By now, Ezra had calmed enough to realize that he wasn't in his own body anymore and that wasn't in control of it either.

That didn't make the situation less alarming though, because while it wasn't his body, he felt like it was. 

Worse.

'How did I end up here?'

Upon experimentation, he finds that his nearest memories are unable to be called upon.

'Why can't I remember?'

He couldn't recollect the last bits of his memory.

His body dug into the wooden bowl, it's worth to say Ezra's taste buds had never been violated so badly.

With him out of control, he couldn't even vomit, instead, he gobbled it up without a change in expression.

But…

*Grr*

It was nowhere near enough to fill him up.

Sitting, he grabbed the second bowl, one with liquid.

Ezra had his taste buds violated a second time as he downed it in one go.

Apparently, the coloured liquid was water, well…was supposed to be.

Soon after, he crawled to the bed of hay and fell asleep. 

Unfortunately, Ezra was forced into sleep as well.

-----------

*Huup*

Yanked up like a piece of cloth, Ezra was in for a rude awakening, literally.

Snapping to reality, he finds himself held up by a man in a brown sleeveless leather, stomach poking pudgy but with enough muscles to be threatening.

Bald he was, hosting a long moustache, carefully caressed it was.

If nothing else, his gaze was anything but welcoming. You'd think he'd discovered the largest piece of trash, no, he might look at that with a softer gaze.

His eyes radiated a deep digust. 

The boy's attitude indicated he was familiar with the man, but till dazed to give a response, he stared like a limp.

The man didn't like that.

"You dare oversleep!"

It was language Ezra didn't know, but he instinctively understood.

Before he could think any further…

*Pah!*

A slap had his head snapping to the side, his neck straining.

*Pah*Pah*Pah*Pah*

A flurry of slaps later, the man let go of his clothes, leaving him to fall to the ground.

"Kuh!"

Gasping on impact, blood dripped out of his mouth.

But he lay there, still limp.

A minute passed, boy and man staring at each other, and then.

*Gak!*

A kick from the man saw Ezra slammed into the wall, before falling on the floor.

"Ah!"

Ezra let out a cry of pain. The impact had broken his arm. 

But the boy didn't, he lay there, not letting out a squeak. 

Then…

"Tch" the man clicked his tongue in distaste. 

"Better be on your feet before I come back" he remarked, walking away.

Only after half a minute elapsed did the boy raise himself to a sitting, clutching the broken arm.

Another minute passed, seeing the boy stare out the open door as tears fell in drops.

Letting out a broken whelp of pain, he wiped his eyes with his clothes, which was a tattered grey long shirt.

Taking a short scan of his broken arm. 

*Crack!*

He shut his eyes, bit down on his lips and snapped it back into place.

Pain hit him like a thunderclap.

"Ah!"

It was the first time he'd make a clear sound.

The pain had him limp.

Shortly after, he forced himself on his feet and staggered out the door.

Lays rays pierced into his sorry gaze, striking away whatever dazedness remained in him.

Only then were his clothes illuminated.

A faded grey robe with patches all over. Worse, his skin colour was barely distinguishable. 

Within him, Ezra was furious, yet calm at the same time.

After sunlight fried his eyes, the scenery came into view.

A wall of pegged wood held a wall for what would be a village-it was too small to be anything else.

It would take him less than twenty feet to cover the distance.

Ezra wanted to see how his residence looked, but the body didn't. Instead, he marched while dirty, barefoot, and burned by the sun.  

But compared to the slaps and aching arm, it was nothing.

With limbs feeling like lead, staggering turned to wobbling as the throat dried up.

Yet with all that had happened, Ezra was not an inch closer to comprehending his situation.