1 - I Think; therefore I am

He hadn't moved for weeks. Despite the intense cramp that must have built up, his serene gaze remained as he stared out towards the horizon from his spot above a waterfall. He spoke to no one. He moved only to reach for water, and small bites.

A child was running towards him. As it did so a slight frown appeared on his face for the first time in years. Quickly replaced a look of shock that soon evolved into glee.

The reason for his surprise was that he had placed a barrier that no one on earth should have been able to pass. Swiftly returning to his serene gaze, he made some peculiar hand gestures that seemed to draw in light.

Now engulfed in it. He disappeared.

After a few minutes, a flash of light appeared above the child's head only to disappear seconds later.

No one knew him. He had no living connections. No one knew who or where or why he was.

It was as if he didn't exist.

-----

20 years later

Sunday. It was quite a simple Sunday, even by Tristan's standards. He was sat in his usual spot; in his favourite, worn, lived-in leather chair in the corner. As always, he was reading a somewhat exhausting-looking book. In anyone else's hands, it would have looked pretentious... as though he might want to be seen reading it.

Despite there cryptic titles, and obscure intent, he seemed compelled to sit and browse through old philosophical works every weekend. An escape, of sorts. To relax and think. To think about anything.

Sometimes his mind would part from the words on the page; and he'd daydream the mundane (what he was going to do with his birthday windfall)... Or, he could be absorbed in the search for answers. Answers of being, reasoning and, why? "Discourse on a method", was a fabulously convoluted diatribe.

Tristan himself wasn't a philosophical man (he's a programmer).

Being the simple day it was, he made the decision to stay in the library until dark. Typically, working to a consistent pattern of time blocks, he would usually go home at 6pm, to prepare for work on Monday. He'd then spend a good 30-60 minutes navigating the culinary delights of his sparse kitchen cupboards. Tinned Spaghetti Bolognaise would typically triumph, underpinned by cheap brown bread, with a supporting act of pickle. Cooking, eating and washing up would occupy 30 minutes, in silence. Then teeth brushed and toiletted, he would strip and get into bed. Sleep was typically a confusing trip, as his brain made sense of the books.

So today would be described as no different all other Sundays aside from the near unnoticeable pain that was slowly creeping across his skull. He dismissed this as a headache from reading too much without moving again (he is aware that it is unhealthy) so instead of doing anything about it, the usual routine was followed;

1. Slowly stand as bones and muscles remember how to work after not changing position for about 6 hours.

2. Waddle towards the bathroom with now somewhat functional legs.

3. Hold head under cold tap until pain goes. preferably without falling over.

But this time, even after an abnormally large amount of time of holding his head under the water, the throbbing in his skull had only worsened, now to the point of being comparable to stubbing his toe on a door. In light of this, Tristan decided that he probably needed to do some exercise to fix it. He wasn't a particularly sporty person but a good run does always make you feel better.

So, after saying goodbye to the librarian, he started off on his jog towards home. Hough. Sadly, the many heavy books that had been stored in his backpack hindered his pace significantly as he quickly became out of breath with his flannel T-shirt securing itself closely to every exposed piece of his sweaty skin. Swiftly coming to regret his decision to take all the books home to binge on. his pace was slowed. Walking.

-----

A deafening explosion sounded out through an enormous, granite castle as two orbs of light viciously collided outside of the gate, causing most bystanders to collapse and bleed from their ears.

"You unfilial son!"

"How dare you go against my ruling, in my Empire! I don't care if we are related by blood. Io, as you have dared to release the unclean Eldritch from the dungeons and rival my judgement, you shall be judged and punished by death itself!"

While the regal looking man that emanated a divine aura ranted, a young man, appearing to be no older than 25 watched on with a nonchalant expression. Radiating a miasmic ether of death, these two seemed like polar opposites. Dread. That is all that you would feel if this demon were to look at you. The threat of death loomed in his glare, ready to take a life at a moments notice. You would not be able to tell that they are related just by looking at them, one gives off an divine, regal aura and the other radiates a hellish one.

"I'm afraid you don't have the ability to do so, father," spoke the young man with his still calm demeanour.

"Everyone who has said something like to me has been to meet Ereshkigal themselves."

A sneer worked it's way across his face as he threw the head of what seemed to be his twin to the man.

"My brother has already had a meeting with Thanatos, if you try and kill me, you'll be next."

"While Apophis may be your slave, don't be so confident in defeating us"

Just as he finished speaking, an intense light shone from his sword to form an ethereal figure. The sneer on Io's face was quickly replaced with a look of shock as the being unhurriedly advanced on him, each step increasing the pressure by two fold. Aether and Herebane suddenly struck.

Io had one thought as he was obliterated leaving nothing but an undetectable streak of red.

Well, Fuck.

-----

Meanwhile, on the other side of the universe, remember Tristan? He was having extremely intense pains in his skull now. At least he wasn't far from home. Aspirin. He needed aspirin. luckily, he had such a drug in his immensely heavy bag.

He was so relieved, it even caused him to let out a small fist pump and jump only to instantly regret as it felt like his brain was being smashed by a hammer every time he made a movement. The pills were chucked down his throat soon after along with what was left of his water. But when he reached the familiar ally-way near his home the pain came back, this time much worse than before. it seemed like pain in his very soul. No human could endure this pain with blood coming out of their eyes and a brain that felt like it was no longer a solid thing. He slowly descended into a loop of thought. No one could know why he thought that thing...

but...

he did.

A repeat of René Descartes most famous quote, probably due to it being what he last read, his obsession with philosophy and his strangely strong will to live.

Cogito, ergo sum.

-----

At the same time, a ball of red light was constantly colliding with a rift in what appeared to space itself. After an unknown amount of time, the ball finally stopped and appeared to retreat back to rest. But no, it actually started condensing an even smaller orb that began to spin. This continued until it finally built up enough momentum to break through.

-----

The pain stopped.

Unbeknown to Tristan, a red, corporeal figure was staring down at him with an extremely exaggerated frown.

Only at this point did he collapse. Only now did his almost insane repetition of Cogito, ergo sum fade.

He slept.