This world is blighted by the greed of man and the search for power. We have collectively reached out to forces beyond our control or comprehension in order to cause even more pain and strife than we as humans are capable of alone. We have presented to the Devils a playground on which they can wreak havoc wild and free.
Is there an end to this? No. Someone somewhere has made the decision for us, the decision to plunge the innocents and the damned alike into a never-ending chaos.
Don't be sad, my child. Pain is but the world's reminder to us of our mortality - and the power that it holds. The immortal hold no candle to us, for the flames of youth and burning embers of old age sear their forms. Although we fear their power, trust in the potential that you hold, without them, and released to you is a world beyond your imagination. Grab a hold of the spear in your heart, take heed my teachings, and we may walk together as equals across the planes of hardship that is to come. One day, I will lay down my pen and my fists and we may drink together, and I will follow your lead.
- Teachings of Ahmood, verse 15:1
Eihm watched as the flickering light disappeared into the depths of the stony halls. His vision still blurred, head spinning, he flopped painfully onto his side, wincing at the scratching of his broken ri b on flesh.
Slowly he led his hand over his bare torso, following the contours of each well-defined muscle, scratching over the burning etchings he now found in his skin.
The more he felt them, the harder he scratched, nails scraping the surface. He traced his entire body in this manner until he was feverishly clawing at his skin, drawing blood as he ripped it from him as though it was burning. The markings still remained, however.
Eihm writhed on the floor like a madman, slipping in the blood that now coated the cobbled floor. What started as a whimper and a whine quickly escalated to manic screams. Although he shut his eyelids as tightly as he could, the visions still plagued him. The man he trusted, his master, standing over him, glaring in absolute concentration at Eihm's exposed body as he, with a glowing metal poker steaming from the heat, carved the cursed runes into the pride that he had held.
Tears streamed the young monk's face, mixing with the deep red. He had enough. The pain and drugs had worn off, now was the time to fight back. 725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwGDRulZxfJ
"How?" asked his inner voice. "Why, when, where?" He shook his head wildly, crushing it between his palms, sobbing wildly as he slipped and slid, struggling to his feet.725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyFUBYliZ3q
He would ask such questions when he felt that man's dying breath struggle out of his crushed throat.
Clenching his teeth, having finally gained his footing, Eihm lashed out unthinkingly at the iron bars of his cage, hearing the cracking of his fingers when bone collided with metal. An exercise in futility.
It wasn't going to work. Heaving heavily, he dropped his battered fist to his sides, staring through the dim light at the floor which showed his broken reflection. He could not recognise the face in the blood.
The sculpted jawline looked broken and twisted now, having had it bashed in by some brute. His nose lay flat against his face, and the bald head was covered in numerous deep scratches. Where there was once two tattooed dots on it, there was now six in symmetry, each one comprised of intricate symbols. 725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfOPFQkyh4I
He had always wanted those dots, but not like this...
He let out a wild roar, releasing the anger, grief and pain that he felt so deeply, clawing inside him like a monster.
He flailed wildly in frustration, scraping his knuckles against the rough walls and rusted bars, until his fist connected to a thin glass, shattering it with an echoing screech that filled the lonely halls. The fire that it held surrendered to his rage, and retreated.
It was suddenly pitch black, no confirmation that he had hands or a body. The dark had never bothered Eihm, but suddenly it felt overwhelmingly suffocating. Shapes started to form in the void. Devilish faces, wild smiles and glowing eyes, floating through his vision like a thick smoke. Eihm howled and wept at his madness. He was now trapped in this blighted body for which he had cared for so long, imprisoned in this mind that had taken so long to still and hone.
His battered fist clenched harder and harder, cracking even more of the bones in his fingers, trying to distract him from the monsters oppressing him. 725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUqhSX7Cbzd
Eihm's frenzy calmed, however, when a reassuring green light penetrated the dark, lighting the damp grey cell, making it feel no longer like a prison but like a forest. Tears still making lines through the dirt on his face, Eihm stilled for a moment, enthralled by its source.
His arm shone a brilliant deep green. The runes that were etched into it, twirling around and around like snakes in a dance, let off this dazzling light in streaming rays.
A quiet tinkling caught his ear. Turning his head warily, the young monk was shocked as the green light played off of shards of glass, creeping up the wall, forming into a shape where the lamp once was. It was a slow, intricate process, but the shards danced around each other, gravitating in a sparkling cloud around the lamp's metal base, each piece slotting into place. Moments later, the bulbous lamp was reformed, and the green light on Eihm's right arm dissipated.
Puzzled, yet calmed, the young monk stared through the darkness at his arm that he had trained for all of his life. It was now alien to him. In the unforgiving black, he fell to the floor and scrambled backwards until his back was pressed firmly against the wall. With a final exhale, he curled into himself, and whimpered alongside his tears.
He felt... alone. Empty. As a monk, he strove every day for mental and physical enlightenment, overseen and guided by the one man he trusted, devout follower of the ways of Ahmood, Ohm the Master.
Now, all of that was gone. His master was no longer, now a cruel and demented madman that Eihm could not recognise as the kind father figure that he knew. His body was no longer his own, having been tied down and mutilated while Eihm lay powerless. His mind now betrayed him, exuding the anger, hurt and sorrow that he had crafted into discipline and structure, clouded by fear and self-interest that had painstakingly moulded into love and care for fellow man and nature.
"Stop your snivelling, kid." A gruff voice interrupted Eihm's self-pity. "The Master is ready for you now. Got it all out your system?"725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPcm15HH9YH
Looking up hesitantly, the young man recognised the face before him and the humongous barrel-chested figure of Grout, the Gatekeeper.
Grout's arms and legs were buried in the flowing depths of his over-sized white robe, but the markings on the exposed part of the neck revealed what was hidden. He had been cursed by the Devil Runes, marking his entire body except the face.
Eihm's hatred returned. This thing.... Master had made him one of them. The Gatekeepers were the only ones who possessed the burden of the Devil Runes, and now that one of them had killed themselves, Eihm surmised he would be the next replacement. No. He refused to be like them.
The Gatekeepers always had a strange place in monastery society. Protecting their little sanctuary from the forces of the outside world, they were largely avoided as freaks and as the cursed, but respected for their strength and devotion.
It was clear that the young monk was a monster like them now, but aside from the little trick he managed earlier by complete accident, he could not tell what his abilities were. Neither did he know Grout's. Gatekeeper powers hadn't been used in over thirty years.
Struggling wearily to his feet, Eihm followed the burly man's commands as the scraping of the key inside the old lock filled the cell.
"Come here, boy. Don't try anything, you might hurt yourself."725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ50l0fA6mcd
"Why don't you come over here, old man? I'm not some animal," managed Eihm, pressing out every syllable from his broken, meagre voice. Although he tried to sound tough, the shakiness in his speech gave away his weakness and fear.725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb4Iv5DGsua
Grout snorted, letting out a sharp, throaty chuckle.725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDSRFadBFTo
"Have it your way, but I hope you don't prize your bones too much."
Leaning against the wall, Eihm clenched his right fist as hard as he could, clamping his teeth together, hoping for something, anything, to happen.725Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXU9z5vpXaH
But the brute arrived uninterrupted, striding slowly, casually, menacingly.
As a last-ditch effort, Eihm attempted to throw a sloppy punch towards his oppressor's thick jaw, but it was caught mid-air with ease.
"I warned you," growled the monstrous man.
Squeezing Eihm's forearm with an unbreakable grip, the young monk let out a cry of pain as he felt his radius crack. As much as he resisted, however, the beastly clasp could not be shaken. Feeling powerlessness return, the younger man screamed and flailed his legs and free arm, but each limb was caught by his jailer's. Flashbacks returned of the leather ties, restraining Eihm against a chilled steel operating table.
Rage welled up inside of the young monk like scorching steam with nowhere to escape.
Through the dim, candle-lit light, a red glow began to shine through the gaps of Grout's fingers as it snaked down the runes of Eihm's arm, lighting each figure one by one until the entire scripture glowed an ominous crimson.
Eyes widening, noticing the activation of the Devil runes, Grout tried to move quickly to knock Eihm into unconsciousness, but it was too late.
A high-pitched shatter sounded from across the room, and the bulky man was pelted by long, sharp shards of piercing glass. With his foe clawing at his eyes, blood flowing down his massive muscles, Eihm saw his opportunity and bolted.
As his bare feet echoed against the stone floor, he gazed in horror at the diminishing red glow of his arms, taking clear notice, in the well-lit hallway, of the alien symbols now carved into his body.
He could use this. This new power was his ticket to revenge, and to freedom.
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