Prologue
He was standing there, over the body of the adversary that he had worked so hard to defeat. He had won; something he never expected to do. He turned and walked back towards the way he had come, reminiscing on everything that had led to this. He was sitting on the street, begging for change, for a meal to eat, anything at all. When people threw their scraps at him, he greedily ate it even if it was on the ground.
Slob, beggar, freak, monster. These were all the titles he was awarded for being the way he was. Then something speaking brought him back to reality. There before him beyond the gates, was a group of people armed to the teeth with guns, bats, and all manner of weaponry; and they didn’t look too happy.
‘How am I going to go about this?’ He asked himself. He didn’t want to fight them after all he had done to protect them. But there was the mob, staring him down with that horrible look of pain, and horror in their eyes. They dared not set one foot beyond the gate, fearful of what lay beyond.
‘Well they're too scared to come get me,’ He thought ‘So maybe we can talk this through.’ However as he approached the mob, they began to bombard him with their ‘Titles’ and their accusations.
“Hey, Freak why don’t you come out from behind that gate and face us?” One man yelled. He sighed; so much for a peaceful talk. He took a deep breath, and flames gathered in his hands as he prepared to slaughter them with his abilities, when another voice spoke out from the mob.
“Lampâ, wait please don’t.” The female voice jolted him.
He was visited by an unwanted memory. One he had tried so hard to bury. It was a bright sunny day in New York City, and there was a girl that was alone in the park. She was sitting on the bench crying.
‘Why is she alone?’ He wondered ‘A pretty girl like that must have someone who loves her.’ As he was contemplating this, he decided to walk closer to get a better look. When he got closer he realized that she was far more beautiful than he had thought. She had short cut auburn hair, very high rosy cheekbones, and very dark green eyes. However there was one aspect that struck him the most, there was a single bruise on the right side of her face.
The bruise was a blemish on her, otherwise, beautiful face. As he approached her, he could not help but feel jealous. This woman was so pretty. He wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't for he feared how she might react when she saw him. He decided to walk out of the bushes, to at least try to help her. A scream pierced the air, and he instantly regretted his decision, but when he looked around she was not running away from him, but away from a figure in the distance.
“GET BACK HERE NOW, YOU BITCH. I TOLD YOU NOT TO RUN.” He could instantly see what was going on, and he knew what he had to do. He had to defend the woman, even at the cost of his life, but he was in no shape for any kind of combat, as he was half-starved and had no strength of any kind. However the woman’s abusive boyfriend was obviously hitting the gym. Bulging biceps and a large chest deterred him; but he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try, for he knew what it was like being abused.
“Leave her alone.” Simply standing there in front of this muscular hulk took all of his self courage. He couldn’t do anything, and there would be no shame in backing down. But something held him in place, he didn’t know what, but something had snapped within him.
“Hey bitch who’s this, your new friend?” The man was talking in an ‘I am superior to you’ tone and he didn’t like it.
“I am not going to let you hurt this woman anymore. I would rather die than see her hurt.”
“HAH, that’s pretty righteous of you little man. What are you going to do, ugly me do death?” He shoved him down and kicked him, and something cracked within his chest. He fell to the ground coughing up blood.
“CHAD STOP, please you are hurting him!” Cried the girl with a very large amount of concern in her voice. It touched him how much a stranger cared for an ugly freak like him. Chad simply pushed her away, and continued to talk to the man lying there broken on the ground.
“You follow us or call the police and I will hunt you down.” Grabbing his girlfriends wrist, he yanked her away and walked off.
He lied there on the ground, for a few minutes. There was no sound, no noise, save for a few birds chirping. The sun was going down, and it was getting cold. Without any provocation, the ground started rumbling, as it slowly split open beneath him, and when he looked down, instead of seeing blackness or even magma, he saw solid, red ground. Fires were alight everywhere, and there were things crawling around everywhere. Then he heard the screaming, that horrible screaming noise. It didn’t sound like a crowded movie theater when a new scary movie came out or a haunted maze during Halloween, it was a continuous screaming of pain. The screams of the damned.
By this time he was in too much pain to move and he let the opening earth swallow him. He expected to fall down into the giant fire pit of hell and be punished eternally, but before he hit the ground, he stopped. There was something holding him. When he looked around there was a giant demon holding his coat with disgust. He screamed, after all he couldn’t help himself; there was a DEMON in front of him.
It grunted in disgust and carried him along the tortured red ground and through screaming mobs of souls trying to escape. The demon dropped him on his chest and he yelped in pain. He just lied there, not caring about the pain. He just wanted to die, to make his misery stop.
“Now, there is no reason to be rude.” Said a strangely charismatic voice. “Now get up so I can look at you.” He lied there on the hot ground, not moving. This new man wouldn’t care about him more than any others. He was just an ugly freak that everyone hated.
“I SAID GET UP!” The voice thundered immediately. He decided to comply; it wouldn’t help the situation that he was angering a person who wanted to talk to him. As he looked up there was a man there, he had a soul patch, a chiseled chin, and deep blue eyes. He was wearing a friendly looking name tag, that said ‘Hello my name is: Lucifer’. He was stunned; the devil wouldn’t wear a name tag.
“It's about time. Wow, you are an ugly one aren’t you? Well no sense in delaying things, what is your name?”
He couldn’t remember ever having a name so he just shook his head and replied, “I can’t remember if I ever had one.”
“Well that complicates things a bit. Well for now you may use the name... " He stopped and pondered for a moment. "Pentru Moartea. Now, straight to business. How would you like to get revenge on those nasty people that treated you like dirt?”
"Yes." Moartea replied without thinking. It was the thing he had dreamed of for years after all.
“A-hah! Well that makes things simple again. I will grant you the power to destroy those who hurt you and give you looks enough to charm a goddess, but in return, you answer to me. You will do my will, and become my servant.” The devil wore a smirk on his face, sure that he had won this pathetic mortal over.
“Yes” Said Moartea again. He relished the chance to get back at everyone who had ever hurt him. All those who had spit, kicked, beat, and insulted him.
“Then go, and worry no longer about your injuries, don’t worry about contacting me, I will summon you when needed.”
“Wait!” He was confused “What did you give me?” The Devil smirked again. “Goodbye Pentru Moartea” He said.
Then he woke up.
He was lying in the park, where he had been attacked by that man.
‘It was all a dream.’ He thought. ‘I am not beautiful. I don’t have the power to fight back.’ He moved. Wait, his ribs weren't broken. He was no longer in pain. He walked over to the nearby pond and looked at his reflection, and he gasped. He was not a deformed freak anymore. He looked more like a male version of the woman he saw earlier. Short brown hair, deep green eyes, and a pointed chin. He wasn’t particularly buff, but he had extra muscle and wasn't starved anymore.
“I wonder what he did to me?” He wondered aloud.
“Hey! Who’s there?” A familiar voice sounded out from behind a nearby tree. When the owner of the voice emerged, Moartea remembered. It was a cop, who had frequently seen him and decided to beat the deformed freak down.
“I do hope you can remember me. But after all I guess you beat homeless deformed freaks every day. Why would I be an exception?” He shot back at the cop.
“What do you care what I do?” Asked the cop snarkily, pulling out a nightstick and tapping his palm with it.
“I care because when you beat homeless people just trying to survive they might hold a grudge." He still had no idea what powers he had but, he figured he could screw with him at the least. "They might want revenge.
“I don’t think so.” Came a second voice, and a second cop emerged from behind another tree, pointing a gun at Moartea's head.
“You can’t beat me.” He said, confidence brimming in his voice. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the first cop was on him swinging his nightstick into Moartea's gut, making him double over and the second cop ran over, drawing his nightstick and hitting him upon the back making him fall over.
Lashing out blindly in desperation, there was a slight swoosh noise and two intense cries of pain. He looked around in a daze. Had he somehow hit both of them? Moartea spared a look at both of them and they were curled on the ground screaming their heads off, with hands over their faces. Grabbing a tazer that was lying on the ground, (it had probably fell out of one of their pockets) he jabbed both of them, and after they stopped crying and stopped moving he relented. Pulling their hands away from their faces, he saw that they were burnt black, with red patches of burnt flesh covering them.
He lashed out with his hand again and saw what had happened. An arc of fire spread from his fingertips in a slash pattern just like how he moved his hand. He smiled maliciously to himself. Kicking the cops till they woke up, he glared down at them and they looked into his eyes. His eyes, which they contained so much hurt, so much pain. Their life was ended with a painless slice to the neck.
Breaking out of his revere, he looked up to the mob, standing at the gates before him, and the girl. That girl from the park, from not too long ago.
Chapter I
He stood looking out of the gates, into the eyes of the girl that he had seen so long ago. She hadn’t changed much aside from the fact that she was wearing some sort of post apocalyptic apparel. They all were; an unnecessary reminder of the destruction he had caused. As he looked beyond them, Lampâ saw what resembled a forest from hell. Trees were burning, bushes burning, everything just burning. The ground was cracked and fire gushed out like a liquid.
“We hoped you were coming out soon.” She said with a melodious voice.
“Well your friends there don’t look too happy to see me. Maybe I should go back and resurrect angry back there and let him deal with you.” He said grimly. The mob was getting angry, and voices of unrest and dissent spread through the crowd.
‘I better wrap this up.’ He thought
“Well I am glad you defeated him, now if could you please step beyond those forsaken gates, we could talk this out like civilized beings.” It suddenly occurred to him that he never learned her name, having only seen her a few times
“Well your friends don’t look too ‘civilized’ to me..." There was a pause. "I don't believe I ever learned your name.” ‘After all we have been through I should have learned it.’ He thought, mentally slapping himself.
“I am surprised you haven't learned it by now. It’s Felicia, and you have my word that we will not harm you.” She said. He studied her; she had gotten good at concealing her emotions, he couldn’t even peer into her soul, for he found an impenetrable barrier surrounding her thoughts. ‘This has to be a trap.’ He thought ‘They wouldn’t risk bringing her to meet me, too many hellspawn around.'
“Well, thank you but no thank you Felicia. You see I actually want to talk civilly, and to do that I have to stay here or your friends would tear me to shreds.” He saw a flash of surprise in her eyes. His suspicions were correct, it had been a trap.
“What do you plan to do with me? After all, I saved your asses from destruction.” He asked, glaring at the mob.
“After being the one that caused it in the first place, I say we have every right to ‘tear you to shreds’ as you put it.”
“Hmm well, Felicia, I have seen what I've done. I see now that it was wrong. I no longer wish destruction upon the world, despite being the one to bring it to it's breaking point in the past. I wish to redeem myself. Perhaps we could, strike a deal?”
“What kind of deal?” She asked with suspicion, inspecting him in a new light.
“The kind where you get your revenge and I get to redeem myself.” He said matter-of-factually. “You let me live in order to help with clean up detail, and I will face your new justice laws once you establish them.”
“That sounds fair,” She said “But how do we know you aren’t lying? What’s to stop you from running off when we let you through?”
“Good question,” He chuckled and procured a small piece of crystal from a formation on the ground, snapping it away with immense heat. “I will bind a part of my soul into this stone. Take great care to protect it, for if you destroy it I will not die and I will be able to leave. But so long as you hold it, I am subject to your will.”
A moment of silence, as Felicia considered the deal.
“Fine do it; then you will face justice.” She snapped, and the mob reluctantly backed down.
“The spell takes several hours, as it is physically separating part of my soul from me. I will need protection from any hellspawn that attack me, and you need to not kill me when I step from the gate.”
“Fine," She snapped again, "Just get it over with.” He quickly stepped forward, and the mob parted before him, like water from Moses. Sitting down into a kneeling position, he held the stone tight with two hands and began to pray in Latin, a long and complex prayer. Slowly, after several minutes, the stone began to glow a unearthly green; slowly at first, then brighter. It had been several hours before he slumped over, and let the stone drop to the ground.
Panting heavy breaths, he gently sat up and handed Felicia the stone. She took it.
"So you have to do what I say now?" She asked.
"Y-yes..." He was panting heavily, having trouble speaking. "I... Do..."
“What happens if it is not within your physical abilities to do it?”
“Well..." He took a deep gulp of air, "I would have to do it even if it,” He stopped for a breath again “Was not within my energy. It would kill me, if I didn't know how to do it; I would have to try my best.” He was on one knee again; the world spinning around him.
“Mind you... I will need at least a day to recover, severing ones soul is no easy feat.” He slurred out.
“Noted. Now you will march back to base, with no water or food until tomorrow morn.” He looked up at her with an incredulous expression, and she returned it with one of firm anger. She wouldn't stand for anything. Quickly nodding, he got up and took a few steps forward.
‘I refuse to fall over in front of them. I won’t give up.' He thought drearily, and managed to make it to their base, where he passed out before walking another step.
He awoke in the morning in a cell, a tray of skewered and burnt rats, with a filthy water glass sitting before him. There was a note; it read:
Eat up ye freak, you don’t know when the next meal is coming.
He briefly considered purifying the water and hunting his own food when he left their presence, but he decided to eat it; showing that he could still defy them to some degree might enrage some of the citizens, and that would only end badly. Downing the water and munching on the bland rats, he thought about how things would fare for him from there. Getting up and stretching, he found the door to his cell open slightly. Pushing it open and walking out, he was greeted by glares and a few titles. He ignored them, as he had before.
Walking to the base's gates, he found Felicia standing on guard with a rifle, and a group of hunters surrounded her. She nodded to him; it was time to go hunting.
A few months passed, and eventually they moved from their small village into the city of New York, it being the closest to them. After a well thought out attack, they took the majority of the city with minimal casualties. Stretching his muscles, he looked at the sky, which was once the nice light shade of cyan blue, was now stained red, as if the blood of those who had died had seeped into the sky. He sighed once and then got back to work.
Another few months later, Felecia declared the city free of the hellspawn, and she kept the name New York, but instead raised a new flag. It depicted a flame, golden in color, surrounded by Latin writing. The phrase said: Quamquam flammas, portabantur on; Despite the flames, we carried on. She named the city the first to be freed, and the start of a new nation. It was time for him to go. Felicia declared him a threat to their new society and had to be killed.
Waking up a few days later, he blinked several times before getting up and going about his daily morning routine. Get dressed, head outside, go to his favorite part in the park before it was destroyed, and sat there for many minutes. Eventually, he felt the presence of another. Looking behind him, he saw Felicia looking at him with a neutral expression.
He chuckled slightly and gave a small smile.
"It's time already?"
She kept a passive expression. "Yes."
Standing without another word, she led him through the city towards an old football stadium. Inside was a well perfected gallows platform, with a single noose.
"Seems a little old fashioned, don't you think?" He asked dryly. She didn't respond.
He sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past few days and walked up to the gallows. The noose hanging from the beam above him was fit around his neck, nice and snug.
“Do the Condemned have any last words?” Said the executioner.
Lampâ said nothing.
‘Don’t give them the satisfaction of struggling.’
The lever was pulled and a black blanket was pulled over his eyes. Letting out his last breath, which he inadvertently been holding, he fell slack as the rope prevented him from breathing.
He awoke, struggling against the veil that was blocking him from his body. Squirming through the small cracks of light he say in the black void, his whole field of vision was suddenly flooded with a blinding light, and he instinctively slammed his eyes shut again. Peeking out through his eyelids again, the light didn't seem as blinding, so he slowly fluttered them open and found staring at a blue sky. Blinking once, he shook his head and slowly pushed himself up , groaning as he did so.
His heart began to pump faster, supplying his brain with oxygen, and he slowly looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small clearing in a dense, dark green forest. There looked a lot like a jungle, except that the trees were one you would find in a forest. Bringing a fist to his mouth, he coughed several times and got up, smacking his lips.
'What the hell happened?' Was his first real thought, as his mental faculties slowly began to return. He remembered, ... Something...
Groaning and rubbing his face drearily, he set off with no real goal in mind, but something drove him that way. The half asleep human simply followed his urges till he came upon a small stream. Slowly shuffling into it, a blast of cold hit his legs and he tripped, falling face first into the water and he finally snapped out of his trance and let loose a brief scream, accompanied with a flounder of his limbs before he caught himself, and stood up in the chest deep stream. Grabbing hold of a nearby root of some kind, he pulled himself out of the freezing water.
Looking at his surroundings with real clarity, his calm expression changed to one of confusion.
"What...?" He asked, looking around. "I died." He said, grabbing his head with a grimace as a headache slowly worked its way into his head, as it tried to make sense of the logical paradox. Then again, most things he wouldn't have even thought of before all of this were true; but this was quite possibly the weirdest.
Another particular of the area around him struck him as odd. Nothing was burning. Looking up, he confirmed this again. Everything on Earth was burning right now, yet here was this little patch of paradise.
"Oh man, this definitely tops the list." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Doing a quick inspection of his body, he found he was whole, and one-hundred percent alive. He coughed again. Getting up again, he set off in the same direction he was going before, and walked for several minutes before realizing he was getting nowhere. The forest around him looked the same as it did ten minutes ago.
A branch rustled. Quickly turning around and bringing his arms up, he fell into a fighting position. The bushes rustled again, but nothing emerged. Cautiously approaching the bush, he pushed it back slowly and it revealed... Something. What he was looking at was quite possible one of the weirdest things he had ever seen. It was something that looked like a horrible mishmash of a chicken, a bat, and a lizard. It was slowly slithering around, and paid him no attention before disappearing from his view behind another bush.
Scratching his head quizzically, he turned around slowly, before coming face to face with the thing, and it was staring right at him with blood red eyes, a hostile expression on it's face.
