Chapter 9: Era of Obscurum

Feros Obscurum's bare feet strode the invisible road of the Path Between Worlds. Stars and galaxies streaked past him, but he did not once stop to admire his surroundings. He could see Earth before him, seeming nothing but a cowering prey. 

Feros continued walking, the distance between him and Earth unmeasurable, for time and space were distorted within the Path. As he walked, cracks appeared in the space around him with sounds like icicles shattering.

His heart was utterly focused on his duty. What chaos could the world have fallen into during his long exile? There was no use pondering it. He would see soon enough. It had been far too long.

With a crash, everything around Feros shattered.

***

Cold, with scents of dew and wind. Blinding blue lights, artificial, a pale imitation of starlight. He had stepped into the air, within a vast hall. Spread about before him were an army of white-cloaked figures, who fell to their knees in awe. Perfect.

As Feros began to descend, the figures began to chant his name. As his white hair flowed around him, he slowly floated down towards the central platform. He felt his feet touch cold marble, and he observed the throng before him.

When he spoke, it reverberated throughout the hall as if it were loud enough to shatter mountains, even though it was barely a whisper. Feros needed little else to command respect. 

"Rise." 

As one, the robed figures stood up, though their heads still were bowed. Feros noticed the two who were closest to the podium's stairs, two men who seemed polar opposites. One was a muscular young man who wore his robe open to expose his chest. In contrast, his companion was an obtuse white-bearded old man in an ostentatious black robe. He looked as if he was about to throw up.

Feros did not believe he'd be much use.

"Who leads this legion?" Feros spoke, waving his hand. The shadows at the corners of the hall came together behind him to form a throne, which he sat down on and rested his head upon his fist. "Approach and swear fealty."

The red-haired man ascended the steps. Feros reached out with his power, touching the minds of the two to uncover basic details about their identity. 

Thuriun brushed off the people restraining him with an angry grunt, "Who do you think you are!"

"You dare ask me who I think I am? You should know my name, for I am your god." Feros said.

"My god? Are you mocking me, boy? I worship no one except myself!" Thuriun said, his temper reaching its limit. "If you don't believe me I shall beat you in a duel!" He chuckled, a smug smirk growing on his face.

"I shall never lower myself to your level," Feros said, an arrogant glint in his eyes. 

"Rubbish!!" Thuriun screamed, stomping his feet.

"Kneel to me." Feros said, his quiet voice echoing through the huge temple.

Thuriun stomped up to Feros, his bushy eyebrows quivering in anger. "I am not kneeling to a little whippersnapper like you! I am much more of a god than you'll ever be!" 

"I shall show you the difference between us in words you will understand." Feros said, holding his hand up so that a large glowing dark aura appeared in his palm.

"Wh…what is this pressure!" Thuriun gasped, beginning to choke. "This… is more power than I have ever felt…"

Feros threw the large orb of pure energy at Thuriun while whispering the words, "Hyacintho Inspiratione." 

Thuriun screamed and tried to run away, but the blast was far too fast. Thuriun was brought to his knees as the blast drove a hole through his rather large stomach. He coughed up blood as his eyes bulged, glazed over in awe at Feros' power. 

"Lord…lord Feros...I shall worship you, you are the rightful leader!!! Thuriun screamed. 

Feros glanced at the chubby man and scoffed. "Begone."

Thuriun's head fell off as if a sword had cut through it, although there wasn't a sword in sight.

"Is there anyone else who wishes to oppose me?" Feros said.

Utter silence fell throughout the room. Feros opened his mouth to begin a speech to his new followers, when Cyrix Metallik cleared his throat and stepped forward with a wild grin on his face. He strode over to Feros and clapped him on the back. "Enough fancy speeches, we don't care about that here. All right everyone, bring out the ale! Let's make it a good one." 

The crowds of people let out a wild cheer, and Feros could see cloaked individuals bringing out barrels of ale beginning what he was sure would be a long and crazy party. Metallik leaned in to Feros's ear and whispered so only he could hear, "To be honest, I don't actually believe in this whole cult thing. It's been a great excuse for wild parties and good ale. But if you're really a god, let's fight later." Metallik winked good naturedly and then strode to the edge of the podium.

  Feros lingered back, interested that this man could act so naturally around him, especially after his display of power. 

  "The god of death has arrived!" Metallik's deep voice rang through the temple. "Raise your glass and toast to the new era!" 

With a cheer, Metallik raised a frothing glass of ale. The cheers in the temple were practically deafening, and Feros couldn't help but recall a day in the far past when he had been triumphantly crowned king with his closest friend by his side. Feros smiled a dark wicked smile. His enemies had cast him out, but now he had returned. He had been gifted the power to crush everything in his path and he would not let anyone stand in his way. Feros walked to the edge of the podium and looked out over the crowds of people, laughing, drinking, and cheering.

The god of death had come to the world.