Road to Divinity

Marionettist. The Sequence 5 of the Fool Pathway. It had the curious acting method of orchestrating events through marionettes and watching on the sidelines, controlling everything in the shadows. It was a sequence that worked especially well with spectators, for the feedback was especially prominent; with the events unfolding following a similar scheme to that of a play on a stage.

That was made even more clear in the ascension ritual to the next sequence, which needed for the beyonder to orchestrate the killing of a demigod level creature in front of a large audience of spectators.

Winston appeared in a darkened room and popped his neck. He had expected the Jahad's forces to not take him too seriously and send in someone of a lower stature. That was the reason he had set up the stream. Partly to digest the potion and partly to prepare for the ritual. However, just in case, the spell had also been marked beforehand, just in case the Jahad Forces decided to send in someone above his current level.

And lo and behold, they had done exactly that, which made Winston prepare for the ritual of the Door pathway's sequence 4, which required him to seal a hostile creature at the level of a demigod. The lesser the outside help, the better the effects.

Winston smiled, feeling the potion completely digested and the Sequence 4 potion all around him.

He turned back to take a look at his latest marionette. The ranker that was going to cast the spell of immobilization on him. 

He observed him with his spirit vision for a few moments before he sealed the entire space, both with his door abilities and with pure spirituality.

The preparations are complete.

He thought. Then, something appeared in the air before him. He extended his hand and caught the potion bottle without trouble.

The potion bottle contained a bright blue liquid that looked not unlike water. Bubbles extended from the bottom to the top, but there was nothing else to it. For a potion that facilitated the ascension to a demigod, it seemed surprisingly ordinary.

Winston reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a coin. Then, keeping it on his hand, he flicked it up and grabbed it mid air.

Moderate danger... He nodded, feeling the level of hazard acceptable.

Then, sitting down onto the bed nearby, he downed the entire potion in one go.

~~~

~~~

77th Floor, Headquarters of Wolhaiksong.

A gigantic sprawling array of mega structures littered the ground. Large coalitions of metal and concrete coming together to form interconnected buildings that pierced into the sky up above.

Within such a building, in the room of the highest floor, sat two people opposite each other. The only thing between them was a table and adjacent to the table lied a large floating screen.

"I am the Beacon of Destiny." A chilling voice came from the screen.

One of the figures chuckled.

"What do you think? Pretty good right?"

"He's acceptable for an irregular. If it were any worse than this, I would have doubts of him being from the outside." The albino man grinned. Atop his head was a cap and his upper body was entirely naked.

"But isn't this too extravagant, even for an irregular? Were you also this strong?"

"I am the Uncontrollable Cosmic Error." The voice from the television rang again.

"Not to that extent no. At most, I would have been able to take on a ranker." The albino shook his head.

"Then should we extend an invitation?"

The albino laughed. "Sure. Send someone in. I'll be glad to hear the type of stories he has in store for us."

The man nodded in agreement.

Just then, the television spoke again.

"I am the Traveller of the Endless Worlds."

The air in the room froze for a moment as the red eyes of the albino met the screen. On the screen, Winston was bowing to the observer with a grin on his face.

"And that concludes the performance."

The silence persisted, for but a moment.

"Y'know what. Scratch that." The albino laughed and stood up from the chair.

"I'll go and invite this baby myself." As he got up, his back became visible. On his back, a large tattoo was made. It was a collection of wings atop various symbols and words were engraved. Yet the most prominent were the ones that lied in a horizontal line from the left part of his back to the right.

MAZINO, it spelled out.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." The albino smiled, showcasing his sharp canines.

The other man sighed for a moment. "Be sure not to overdo it."

The albino began to walk out of the room and waved behind him.

"Sure sure. I'll be back in a bit, yeah?"

As he slammed the door behind him, silence overtook the room.

The man looked at the screen, where a paused image of the new irregular, Winston Heath was showcased.

"Insteresting."

~~~

Winston felt as if he were floating. Higher and higher and higher until he ended up someplace... different. His mind was in the clouds and soul was up above in the heavens while the body remained still.

He saw visions of the spirit world; hundreds of thousands of colours blended together to form a single mesh of a monotonous blur that came alive to carry his power up and above.

Unbelievable power, he felt. Unbelievable power was flowing into him, arising from the watery liquid that he had drank and then was assimilating with.

He felt... free.

And then, everything was gone. Enveloped by a grey fog beyond which nothing could be seen or heard, travelling beyond even seemed an impossible dream the likes of which were dreamt not by the humans, but the gods that wished to have themselves elevated to the beyond.

Grey Fog.

More.

And even more grey fog.

It felt as if he had ventured into a strange corner of the world, which he was not yet meant to see. His mind kept drifting off as he wandered further and further, not at all caring for getting lost.

Eventually, silhouettes of strange sceneries began to appear. Silhouettes that felt familiar, but he was unable to put his hand on it.

As he approached them, they disappeared and drifted away into the same fog that had birthed them.

An unknown amount of time passed.

And then, the fog cleared out.

And what appeared in front of him was a barren land, some distance from which lied a large woodland beyond the initial Boundary of which lied the howls of wolves and the laughter of foxes.

The barren farmland had a strange cottage built atop it. Extending further in, was another smaller room that was connected to it.

Winston stopped for a second.

Then, he clenched his fist and walked ahead.

Taking a hold of the door handle, he pushed it open.

The inside was dark and dilapidated. The windows were broken in a lot of places, but the somewhat preserved furniture told of a time when the cottage resembled a traditional house.

The floor creaked under his weight, something that was not supposed to be possible because of his ability to move perfectly.

What.... is.. this? His drifting thoughts came together to form a coherent sentence.

Just then, he heard a loud smack from the one rooms.

Bam!

Thud!

Something fell. Winston walked over to the door and entered.

There, he saw a normal kitchen, save for the entirely dilapidated counters and furniture. There was a sink at the opposite corner and a table at the middle. On the table sat a large, yet emaciated man who seemed to be in his forties.

He held a broken bottle in his hand from which some blood dripped out from.

"Bloody flith." He scowled, looking at a sorry figure that laid on the ground.

There on the ground was a small boy, not more than 10 years of age.

His clothes, if they could be called that, resembled the rags of a street rat and his arms were thin. His face was gaunt from malnutrition and his eyes were small beads in his hallow sockets from which tears flooded out from.

He held the right side of his forehead in pain from which blood dripped out from yet not a single expression of pain escaped his lips. Right beside him lay a few broken pieces of glass.

"Ya should have died instead of your mother. Look where you've doomed us to be. Filth!" The man spat out with a disgusted look and got up from the seat. Then, pulling his leg back, he hit the back of the boy hard!

The boy crashed again into the ground. This time, he didn't try to get back up.

"Bloody mutt. You truly are a curse." He said and walked out of the room, passing Winston by on the door.

Winston stayed still, unmoving. He stared at the boy and extended his hand up to his head. Then, he grazed the upper right corner of his forehead, right where the hairline started.

The silence was obvious in the room. Just then, Winston turned to leave.

"Sniff! Where are you going?" A hoarse voice came from behind him. The voice of a child.

"What does it have to do with you?" He said.

"You're just a vision I'm having. Probably the result of the divinity attempting to consume my psyche."

"Then... why don't you wake up?"

The question lingered in the air, prompting Winston to stay silent.

"Does this... feel familiar?"

"Hardly." Winston turned to the boy and spoke. "I don't even remember this place. Neither the event."

"And yet, the first thing you erased when you became a faceless was the mark."

The boy let go of his hand on his forehead, revealing a bloody wound inside which a single shard of glass was embedded.

"His father was not gentle to him when he was little. And just as so, he was not gentle to me either."

"But he's gone now right?"

"Yes. Just like his own father. But what did they leave behind...? I don't know... but definitely not happy memories."

Hearing these words, Winston walked closer to the boy.

Then, getting a chair for himself, he sat down.

"You're walking the path of divinity. Why?" The child asked, in the same hoarse yet innocent voice.

"Why did you never cry?" Winston asked, completely unrelated to the question.

"I don't know... if I cried, father would only hit me harder." The boy looked to the window, where the stars were beginning to appear atop a canvas of black.

"Everyone survives one day at a time and then fades away... I guess I wanted to do the same. I didn't have a thought of living a long life. Just surviving one day would have been enough."

"...It was hard. That was why I ran away from home. I don't want to run away anymore. Now... I have the strength I need." Winston closed his eyes.

"...Then why aren't you waking up?"

Winston looked at him with a questioning gaze.

"Why don't you return?"

He continued to stare at the young boy, who only returned the same blank look.

"...I wonder why."

And then, everything faded into gray fog.

~~~~

As he came to, slight pain flooded his mind, returning the clarity to his thoughts.

Winston observed himself.

And there he saw a strange change.

Worms. That was the only thing he could describe his spirit body as. Countless worms, some transparent, some white, some resplendent like the stars.

He knew what they were. His mythical creature form.

~~~

A/N: Leave a Review and Throw some stones.

Also, I just had a thought about reading a clash of clans story. But there's just no good ones man. Someone make a clash fic.

I would make one myself, but being an author is just a completely different experience than being a reader.

Cheers~~~