Prologue - He Who Came From The Beyond

'Cold.'

Within the vastness of the void, there he was. Amidst the pure chaos and incarnation of rage, he drifted. Without purpose or ambition, he laid down his soul into the unknown. 

'It's cold..'

His consciousness flickered in darkness. Struggling to regain any semblance of sanity, for all he possessed was his time and mind. But soon, the latter would prove to be nonexistent should no one ever call his name again. 

However, he would not think of any of this. He no longer thinks. He feels. This hollow within him was just like any other day in this place. Yet, the word 'day' is a vague concept to him, for where he belongs was a space without the concept of time. 

Oh, how he missed the smell of madness and carnage. The rush of fear as the orchestra of heartbeats played in his wake. When he was the source of nightmare and hope, fright and bravery, hatred and fanaticism. 

Still, the crowd would soon forget his existence. Those who seek for him deemed as madmen. The only fate that befell his followers would be a death sentence. 

His name.. would be forever gone. 

'Live.' 

At the end of his time, a fragment of his consciousness grabs hold into the last feeling he felt. The same feeling he always saw in the eyes of those who seek him. He didn't want to admit it to the others but he thought he deserved better than this place. He condemned his kin, who were no different than him. Drifting onto the void while they spend the eternity in their slumber. 

No, he didn't want this… He wants to be alive. 

Immortality was something he despised, righteousness was something he mocked, foolishness was something he adored, while ruins shall be his home and footsteps at the moment any little tiny souls to chant that sentence. 

"Zhinathur..." 

In the faint whisper within this void, he heard the voice. Someone tried to reach out into where the embodiment of wickedness and sins had materialized. Where the things that should not be awakened come into being. To spark the false hope of the masses and search for a false truth. 

"With this sacrifice, I call thy name." 

The feeble sound almost dissipated amidst the vacuum and nothingness. However, though it was so faint, he had listened to it. He could not help but smile upon it. Someone had remembered him and he wanted to grace the figure with death and salvation. 

'More..' 

Give him more.. This was too weak of a pull to take him out of his misery. No matter what, the voice needs to be louder or his form would flicker at the moment he stepped onto the boundary of dimensions. The line between where the reality and imagination would come across and named as the divine intersection to some. 

'I want more!!!' 

He shouted, he demanded, he ordered. With the last of his strength, he would push himself to the other side should the circumstances require it to be. His terms would be fulfilled and his desire would be satisfied. 

"I condemn God, and seek for thee help! May eternal damnation summon my soul to the beyond if my pledge would fail thy terms!" 

Out of nowhere, a whirlpool of enigmatic energy surrounded his existence and soul. Wrapping him into a vortex of ominous bearings and insanity. 

'This is it!' 

His time has come! For millennia, decades, years he waited for this moment. This would come in a price, a price he gladly took and fulfilled. But of course, nothing in life was ever so easy. Perhaps, he would prepare some spices of lies to his oncoming bearer. 

As he followed the guidance of the ethereal power, flowing through the vortex and moved in accordance to the will of his summoner, his existence began to fade away. Right before the eyes of his fellow and under the scrutinizing sight of the watchers of this place. 

'Here I come.' 

In a flash, his vision blinded by the light that engulfed him to the other side of this void. Warmness, pains, and other myriads of senses he long had forgotten started resurfaced again while his form reconstructed into that of flesh and bones. 

After the passing time which seemed to be a long-lasting second, he appeared. Atop of the so-familiar circle beneath his feet, created by blood of the revengeful and the damned, there he stood. Watching the scenery unfold before him in glee and satisfaction. 

Among the mountains of corpses and stench of the rotten, there was a boy. With one of his arms mangled to an unnatural angle and one of his eyes was dripping with fresh blood. Sign of being ripped apart from its eye socket. The boy's appearance was ragged, the boy's breath was uneven and rough, yet the boy's face was wrapped in agony and rage.  

A pure rage and he could notice it immediately the moment his sight was cast upon it. 

"O, my dear summoner," He said, it has been a while since his hoarse voice came out of his artificial throat. He longed for this feeling, to feel the wrath of those who found him and those little things that were the proof of him to be alive, "For what thou hath summoned me?"

Unflinching to the manifestation of evil in front of him, the boy parted his dry lips. His stare was still that of a beast who was in search of revenge or more. 

"I want death."

…..

For those who seek death 

The devils will awaken 

For those who condemned the pleads 

The contract shall be renewed 

Choir of madness will flow 

Curtain of new era will unfold

         -Page 3, Chapter 6. Poem of the summon by George J. Northtooth.