A disorienting haze clung to John's mind, a sensation both fuzzy and floaty, as if his very being had been uprooted from reality. His senses struggled to anchor themselves in the stark, surreal landscape around him: a canvas of pure white ground beneath an infinite black sky, punctuated by trees that were an unsettling blend of both, their forms softened by a lazy drift of grey mist. He coughed, the sound feeling alien in the vast silence and pushed himself upright.
"Now where the hell am I?" he muttered, scanning the bizarre horizon. "Saya wouldn't do something to harm or kill me. If she meant ill, she'd have done it long ago, not given me a heartfelt talk and asked for my trust. So, this must be her way of helping, but how?" His brow furrowed in concentration, piecing together the fragments of his last memory. He remembered a sensation of falling, a gentle mental nudge and then this strange, monochrome void.
"You always bring us to the most interesting places, John," a deep voice rumbled to his left, laced with a familiar, mocking undertone.
"Indeed," a gravelly voice echoed from his right, a touch more thoughtful. "And it seems this particular venture has brought us, yet none of the others. Do you hypothesize this occurred due to the enduring strength of our bond, established from our very first interactions, unlike the connections with the others that solidified later?"
John turned, a small, weary smile breaking through his confusion as he recognized his companions. To his left stood Lesh, impeccably clean-cut and strikingly handsome. His pale skin and piercing silver eyes contrasted sharply with his striking attire: a crimson suit with crisp white accents, seamlessly integrated with finely wrought iron arm guards. Around his neck, a simple chain choker rested, a subtle counterpoint to the small, jagged sword he held, using it casually as a walking stick.
To his right, Braedon, draped in shadows and mystery. A deep black robe, trimmed with a stark white edge, concealed most of his form, save for the intense, glowing purple eyes that peered from beneath his hood. His arms were encased in darker black arm guards, decorated with intricate white skeletal figures. One bony hand, depicted on the guard, clutched a gnarled staff topped with a piece of amber, within which a peculiar, preserved squid-like creature was encased, its tendrils frozen in time.
"Goin for a dark mage now look over an assassin? Well at least I'm not alone in an unfamiliar la—" John began, a flicker of relief crossing his face, but his words were cut short. A sudden, sharp pain flared in his stomach as Lesh, with surprising speed, buried a fist deep into his gut. John doubled over, gasping, the surreal landscape spinning around him.
Lesh pulled back, his silver eyes alight with a controlled fury. "You very much deserved that, John. If those girls hadn't given you a talking to, I promise we would have found a way to drag you into your mind and beat some sense into you in the most painful ways possible. We tied ourselves to you to ensure your survival, remember? Not for you to wallow in self-pity and live a hollow existence. What happened to that burning anger directed at those who took everything from you? Tsk, you even allowed a parasite to take root. The bastard hasn't gotten far, but it's there. I suppose I can blame your recent lack of anger and hatred on it funnelling away your resolve, but still, you've been acting worse than a moping emo bitch."
Braedon let out a low, guttural chuckle, the sound like stones grinding together. "Just like what boney said," he added, his purple eyes glowing brighter. "Consider that punch the first up-front payment for causing me to see you act like a whiny bitch on her period." His humour, however, quickly dissolved into a growl. "But as much as I'd like to blame you for it, I would much rather rip the fucker responsible a new asshole. The parasite can also be dealt with at a later date; for now, this shit is far more important."
Finally catching his breath, John straightened, rubbing his aching abdomen. "So, it was someone who did that to me? Not my subconscious or guilt? And what parasite are you talking about?" His voice was raspy, laced with genuine confusion.
"Oh, those definitely played a part in it," Lesh clarified, raising a skeletal hand from his robed sleeve, which seemed to shimmer as he physically gripped a handful of the grey mist. "But no, someone meticulously orchestrated it all, using your own vulnerabilities against you to try and kill you—or rather, to have you die from it. No doubt they intended to repeat the cycle over and over, whenever possible, until you were driven to end your own life." The mist warped and swirled in his grasp, a visual representation of the insidious manipulation.
"We could all feel things weighing on you," growled, the chain around his neck and down his chest and arms beginning to glow an angry, pulsating red. He pressed his jagged blade into the white ground, leaving a faint crimson mark. "But we planned to talk to you about it when you inevitably got dragged into your mind again, or just let the girls handle it and help you through it. But then this fucker came and fucked it all up royally." His irritation was practically radiating, a palpable force in the surreal space.
"Do you think we'll need to pull in some others?" John asked, sensing the gravity of the situation. "The lich, the dragons, maybe Yami and the others?"
"I do not think so, well admittedly it would make things easier it isn't an easy feat to do," Lesh explained, his gaze sharp. "We managed last time due to the mental bridge that was created and while one exists here as well, it is not as strong and is extremely fragile. What that silly girl Saya has done is send us into the mind of the one who attacked us. Unlike last time, it is us who are the invaders now, rather than the defenders." He paused, a flicker of grim determination in his silver eyes. "It would be better if it's just you, me and over here."
"But didn't they attack first, making this a retaliation?" John pressed, trying to logically untangle the situation.
"Nah, well they did hit first it was sloppy," scoffed, practically radiating irritation. "We could bring in some more, but if the fuckers cut the link somehow, it would cause a backlash for all of us, not to mention it would be like using a nuke on a fly. This little bitch who's attacked us is far from what you and the others faced that time, not even a tenth as strong. It's an annoyance, a persistent gnat, not a titan."
"Indeed," Lesh affirmed. "Last time, it was truly a battle of forces, a clash on the spiritual plains. While you emerged victorious, it also created a direct entry – a profound, resonant connection. What he owned became yours; so too, everything you have moulded and cherished, everything you built and created, would have become his, including those who, in this life and many past ones, pledged loyalty to you. The stakes were absolute."
Before John could fully process or try to understand the implications of what Lesh had said, his companion continued, gesturing with a sweep of his hand. "This situation, though, has us as the attackers. While it is retaliation, its scope is confined to their mind and only faintly linked to their spirit, no doubt due to their particular class or inherent magical aptitude." He pulled the swirling fog aside, causing it to ripple and tear like delicate fabric, revealing a pulsating, glowing crystal hovering before them. Black, twisted thorns circled ominously around its base, digging into the white ground. The crystal vibrated with a faint, malevolent hum.
"Haha, the little bastard doesn't even have proper defences!" cackled, a cruel edge to his voice. "Those thorns are clearly from external aid, a meagre barrier at best. Now all we gotta do is reach into that crystal, pull the fucker here and cut the threads that will form between the two of you. Then it's done and they will suffer a severe backlash, unable to bother you any further."
John frowned, a sense of unease creeping in. "It seems too easy."
"Because it is," Lesh replied, a wry twist to his lips. "What our blunt friend has failed to mention is that after cutting the bond, we would then need to shatter the crystal itself. This is where the true complication lies. The god who blessed the person responsible would be able to interfere, as this place is a slight gap between realities, a precarious nexus linking the two of you through the power of their divine patron."
"But since we're the attackers, wouldn't it be home-field advantage here?" John asked, piecing the rest together as best he could. "Are you sure we can't call others in, even just a few?"
"No, not without risking great harm to them or worse, giving a trackable line to where they exist on the plains, along with everyone else," Lesh stated firmly. "We have only just begun to settle in a way, like you have done in reality; we have begun to do the same on the small piece of the plains we now reside on. To expose them now would be to invite catastrophe."
John's eyes widened slightly as the full implication of Lesh's words sank in. "So, not in my head anymore?" he asked, a touch of wonder in his voice. "I wondered why it was so quiet and I wasn't hearing voices anymore." Then, with a dramatic flair, he gripped his chest and swooned, a playful glint in his eye. "But not even a goodbye? After all these years, how could you all do that to me? I miss my friends!" The absurdity of his situation, coupled with the genuine relief of not having constant voices in his head, brought a much-needed moment of levity to the monochrome world.
A knowing smile played on 's lips, a familiar glint in his eyes as he looked at John. "Hahaha, nah, Johnny boy, you're still stuck with a bunch of us. Mainly those of us who, well, gave a part of ourselves to you. The others, you know, the wanderers, the ones who fought for you that time? They're the ones making place there. And they absolutely love it. No faction fighting, no divides, angels mixing with fallen and other supposed evil guys without prejudice. The snake mingling with the dragons. No real light or dark, none of that nonsense." chuckled, shaking his head. "Heck, there was a couple of skellies planting trees and actually letting slimes ride them like mounts. Can you believe it?"
John felt a familiar warmth spread through him at 's words – a rare comfort in their chaotic existence. It was good to know their sacrifices hadn't been in vain, that a sanctuary existed for those who deserved peace. But the moment of respite was fleeting. His brow furrowed, the lines of worry etched deeply on his face. "Good, on both points," John conceded, his voice losing its brief lightness. "But now, let's focus on the task at hand. How much of a chance do we really have against the god when he comes here? Could it be the bastard from last time, perhaps using a chosen or something similar?" The question hung heavy in the air, laden with the ghosts of past battles and the grim uncertainty of the future. John gripped the hilt of his unseen blade, a subconscious gesture of readiness.
's smile faded, replaced by a more serious, calculating expression. "It largely depends on their strength and the extent of their involvement. But typically, they'll only send a tiny fraction of themselves, like an echo or a piece of their vast essence, to manifest in our plane. This would be a pawn, a mere whisper of their true power. We should be able to take them down, yes, it's definitely within our capabilities. However," he paused, his gaze thoughtful, "there exists an almost infinite number of such beings. To assume this is the same entity as last time without concrete proof could prove to be a foolish and potentially fatal mistake." His words were a cool splash of caution against John's simmering impatience.
John's eyes narrowed, processing the information. "So, not like the last time?" he pressed, needing absolute clarity. The memory of their last divine encounter was still a raw wound, a battle that had pushed them to their absolute limits and beyond. He couldn't afford to miscalculate.
"Nope, definitely not," confirmed, a grim edge to his voice. "Last time, we believe he was using a medium fraction of itself and they were damn old, ancient in power. They also managed to bridge a bit of his main essence, which enabled him to do what he did and manifest such overwhelming strength. This one, however, can't do that. This one would need to take its chosen into the equation and it can't use too much without running the very real risk of killing its chosen. That's the crucial difference. Heh, if we're lucky, I'm sure Skelly here could trap him for ya. Could make for a good barter tool for that orc buddy you made, remember?" finished with a mischievous wink, causing John to turn his intense gaze towards Lesh, the ancient skeletal being who had been listening silently.
Lesh, referred to affectionately as 'Skelly,' shifted slightly, his bone-white fingers flexing. His voice, a dry, rustling sound, carried a weight of ancient wisdom. "It would be possible, yes. Not easy, mind you, but possible. However, John, you should be fully aware of the consequences. It would undeniably mark you. That god would no doubt consider you a sworn enemy, to the point of not allowing you to live well it lives. It would seek to do anything within its considerable power to see you killed and utterly destroyed." The warning was stark, devoid of 's light-heartedness, painting a horrifying picture of divine wrath.
A slow grin spread across John's face, a dangerous glint in his eyes that Lesh knew all too well. Then, his features hardened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Hmm, well, I already have that greasy one who had his host pretend to be a little girl and no doubt the Keeper on my tail. So, what's one more to the list?" He paused, the grin briefly returning before the growl intensified. "Not to mention, its chosen started this. All I'm doing is returning the favor, to a higher degree." The final words were delivered with a chilling conviction, leaving no room for argument.
"Very well," Lesh relented, a quiet acknowledgement of John's unyielding resolve. From within the folds of his threadbare robe, he pulled a gnarled staff, its wood dark and twisted like ancient roots. He tapped it once, lightly, onto the barren ground in front of them. With a soft hum, a shimmering circle of arcane light formed on the earth, expanding rapidly. From its center, a dull, grey gem slowly rose, pulsating with a faint, inner light as it floated suspended before Lesh. "Once they show up," he instructed, his voice firm, "slam this onto their chest and their essence will be sucked into it."
John raised an eyebrow, a flicker of his characteristic sarcasm dancing in his eyes. "Great. So now I just need to get to the crystal, drag out the bastard responsible for all this and then trap their god's fragment, which will probably show up to defend its chosen, with that gem. Easy." His tone was laced with a weary humour, a testament to the outlandish nature of their endeavours.
"Actually, yes," Lesh replied, unperturbed by John's sarcasm. He gestured decisively. "So, let's start. John, you will stay here and get ready, so go rip the god's chosen through the crystal for us and be ready to cut the bond thread when I tell you. If we're doing it this way, then John's only goal is to subdue the god fragment."
He let out a small, eager whoop of excitement, a feral grin splitting his face as he vanished in a blur, clearly relishing the prospect of immediate action. John, left alone with Lesh and the hovering gem, took a deep breath. The sarcasm faded, replaced by a steely resolve. The plan was audacious, dangerous and utterly insane. But then, wasn't that just another Tuesday for them?