OLD FRIENDS

CHAPTER ONE: OLD FRIENDS

 

"There is a limit to how far friendship can give us forgiveness."

 

Everyone hopes his child will surpass him in good deeds. Even to be a role model. But that's not always the case. It hadn't been more than nineteen years by Zegandarian reckoning when someone fully realized what was actually happening. Many children could not wake from their cybernetic slumber. They didn't even want to. "Save the children!" were the calls, but it wasn’t enough. The damage had already been done long ago, and the damage would not be repaired so easily. It was too hard to believe that these subjects, perfectly raised by their parents, would go down this path. Somewhere in their own warped minds, they were not reflecting reality correctly. Many of them didn't even want to grow up. The war for Au Kaktir and the Second Wave of Migration from Sebur Nag to the surviving adventurers were just like a drop in the ocean. Too fleeting an event, which incidentally could not help but be noted in the chronicles and annals of the planet.

The population remained, in spite of everything, too small. Less than a tenth of what it had been in the past.

Everything was passed over as if lightly. Everything was too quickly forgotten.

The cybernetic quiosis had been put in place as a preventative measure, but Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn was aware of many too cute ways to manipulate the minds of the new generation of adolescents. The important thing was to impress the adults. But that was just a lie the kids were entangling themselves in. They were also somewhat falling victim to their own parents' desire for vanity.

Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, who was the chief physician of the planet Zegandaria, made heaps of money and gained immortal fame in his lifetime. He was simply an overly well trained and prepared master of deception and a terribly talented medic capable of unheard of results.

Whereas nineteen years ago it had all come down to some simple implantation of memories, now things were set on a completely different plane. Now the doctor was cunningly depriving adolescents from the so-called fourth level of consciousness - the universal or cosmic mind. They would never be able to enter the timeless realm. The Doctor undertook these deeds somewhat under the influence of impure forces guided by the famous magician and preacher Kazuk Mon - a mysterious man who came from who knows where! Eventually the two of them together committed this terrible crime against the population of Imgradon or Ensarian, who were now united and acting in an alliance under the name of the Zegandarian Confederation.

He was as if hypnotized and definitely impressed by his display of strength and power.

Sasia was now approaching fifty years of age. She was a settled woman and the mother of two sons. She definitely knew what she wanted out of life. She didn't fail to show them what they had to avoid at all costs.

Mark had also made a name for himself by scouring the environs of Ubunder, which had been attacked by a band of rampaging mutant samionts.[1] These creatures were not dangerous like the guarron of the past because they were under six feet tall and were too weak against a large and strong humanoid, especially if he was ex-military. He just swept them away and left them no chance.

Zorin was now at the venerable age of sixty-seven and looking forward to his retirement. And he had reason to be glad - they were going to award him a pension for special services to peacekeeping. That was going to be decidedly interesting. But he hadn't become an old and useless curmudgeon, and he continued to do his duty conscientiously. Somewhere deep down he felt that the path he had been on up to now was definitely the right one, but he hadn't the faintest idea what the future held for him. The new children were not like those of his time. They had their own habits and understandings. They had developed an entirely different world view. He needed to adjust to the new reality, lest he be declared a bit old-fashioned.

Zorin liked to hole up in his office at the Military Academy, which even bore his name. Inwardly he believed and felt that it was perhaps his only refuge. Why serve other people's interests anymore? Where was he in the whole picture? It was all coming to him a little too much. His whole life had been spent in war and training. He didn't know many other aspects of life.

He went to look after his sick mother, who was approaching ninety at the time. But no one let him into the ultramodern hospital because they didn't recognize him at first. This made a particular impression on him.

- "I am Major General Zorin, Meritorious Peacekeeper of Zegandaria.," he hastened to introduce himself.

They let him go. He walked carefully down the corridor that was to lead him to the cherished room.

- "I only pray that he recognizes me!," he almost cried, sitting down on a seat in the corner. Thoughts raced through his head like furious horses.

It was getting dawn, and he had not blinked. He knew he had to sleep for the next portion of lectures.

- "Something's really wrong," he continued with his musings.

Ser Mac Zon was the head doctor of the ward where the guarrons tended to the sick humans. After the cessation of hostilities, it was the most successful and honorable way to get involved in the new civilian life. They had undergone special cybernetic mind processing, which gave many advantages and increased their IQ. Contrary to the bloodthirsty nature of his race, the Doctor smiled sweetly and tried to comfort the bereaved, but the words seemed to reach his ears as if from another universe.

- In fact, Comrade General, she has breathed her last and there is nothing more to be done. That is all I know. But you will have the honor of personally burying her without having to go through the nanocremation procedure. I am truly sorry for your tremendous loss.

Zorin smiled wearily.

- You're not to blame, Doctor! You did what you could. It might as well have been her time. But everyone wants to see their parent one last time, right?

The doctor agreed silently. Zorin shook hands politely with the medic, turned, and entered the exanaran isolation capsule in which each patient was placed. The deceased's face looked very peaceful and she was illuminated by a pale light.

- "I could not tell you so much in my lifetime," a peculiar determination was written on his stern face, "that you may be better in the next world. But who knows!"

His hand stroked her brow. It was ice-cold. He was just caressing a sheath.

Then a strange thought ran through his mind. Why didn't the doctor want a nanocremation. That was by far the simpler option. Maybe under different circumstances he would have objected, but this time he just kept his mouth shut.

After he finished his visit to his hospital, he stopped by the cemetery where Grandpa Jack and the Rat were buried. He tried to pay his last respects to them.

Each mortal was laid under a special glossy lid and placed in a container of liquefied nitrogen to preserve their body forever. He could observe them like dead flowers that would never awaken from their eternal sleep.

- "How much we have actually been through!," the sigh fell from his lips. "You are a part of my former self!"

All was forgiven and forgotten. Faith in the morrow had triumphed. Where in jest, where truly.

- "Loneliness really can kill you!," thought Zorin as he slowly walked down the emolgarian slope towards the entrance of the cemetery.

It was early morning and the dew on the beautiful emery blossoms was still visible. He walked the entire distance slowly and carefully, but somewhere far ahead he noticed something suspicious. A small group that was digging too thoroughly through the corpses, or rather placing them in the aforementioned burial chambers of glossyandre. They were doing this with such awe that it would be downright irritating if they weren’t in such a place.

- "Sir, are you coming for the nanocremation?," a mennered voice behind him addressed.

- "Yes, I am," Zorin whispered softly, almost inaudibly.

- Then bring your mother's corpse. According to her electronic hospital record, her personal registration number is 0245215548FVGF.

- "I know that," murmured Zorin. "She'll be here in a moment."

- "Oh, and lest I forget, have you prepared enough credits?," the voice croaked, a little hurriedly.

- "Of course and more!," cut in Zorin. "I have even more. It is not convenient to ask such questions especially on such occasions."

And she turned her back on the annoying female android orderly who kept order in the cemetery park. This was just in time, for the corpse was approaching, carried on a tall nanoplatform with a geodesic anti-gravity cushion. It looked something like a coffin, yet it wasn't exactly that.

The son reached down to kiss his mother, but his lips could only touch the glossy lid. He slammed his fists down on it, which made his knuckles come out in comblike swells. Grief erupted from his chest and his eyes went black. From then on, everything was like a dream to him. The nano-screaming probe that was inserted into the inside of the corpse and burned him from the inside out, turning him into some sort of spindly thing before burning him away for good. It sucked, but it was extremely practical and cheap. And Zorin didn't know why he was doing this and unwittingly followed the doctor's order. After a few minutes, all that was left of his mother was a handful of dust. They placed it in an urn and put it in the appropriate parcel.

At the gate he stopped because the scrutiny was very intense. Everything had to be strictly observed and he idEntified himself with his narenzianan chip. Then he walked away with slow steps. He felt overwhelmed. That day was downright lost. But there was no way!

Far away from Ubunder, dense mesantioran forests swirled and were definitely a good place to rest and relax. A really nice place. But Zorin wasn't up for a rest. He had more important things to do and today's little visits only convinced him of his rightness.

The forests gave air to the planet and filled it with life. There were many settlers back, come just to see them. They were so majestic and even intimidating. Somewhere higher rose the consciousness of someone who went to this place. It was said, however, that only those who could not fit into the New Reality again disappeared there.

Though our adventurers had traveled vast territories and seen all sorts of things, they could never find the mythical Ninth Zone. It remained mysterious and inaccessible. Not even the crypt Andrew Dislan had reached could rival the hidden secrets of the military site. Zorin had of course been privy to some of Mark's story, which had even made it into the history books, but he vaguely suspected that there was something much bigger than him that was simply preventing them from seeing the truth.

A strange road wound its way to Tarash Duk, a special place of worship. Too many soldiers had died there, and it started directly after the Elandon field. The atmosphere of the place itself was amplified by a special aura that was said to have healing powers. Somewhere around here came the rouge 'g zon who could draw energy and charge from its power. But they were not looked upon with a kind eye by the public. Even many feared them and openly shunned them. And there was no other way.

The interior of the first circle of the pedestal was peculiar because it included the "Asuk Tos" reanim. Each of them carried a mystical power and it was very frightening for an inexperienced hand to unlock them. On the last such occasion, one of the wayward fools had simply vanished and no one ever heard from him again. Since then all sorts of rumors had started. But Kazuk Mon, the High Priest who had received approval from the Arch Priest of the Autonomous Zone of Synthros, which was not that far to the East, had other plans.

Zorin had decided to go scouting since the students were now on vacation and he had plenty of free time. He wanted to make sure with his own eyes that the "cybernetic dream" in question wasn't being caused somewhere out there that could easily rip you away from reality and slowly kill you. But then again, maybe the military's confidence was changing too many things. He felt that society was slowly dying and there was definitely no hope.

After taking one last goodbye to Grandpa Jack and the Rat, he decided to take a circuitous route to his final destination, lest he be spotted by the Serkipoids who had been lured from who knows what distant planet. Those nasty things had spread like a plague in a failed attempt to develop more advanced space farming. Some might have said that once they brought down the dictatorial regime of Gordon Elmbaum something would have changed, but that would have been a big mistake. Yes, technically people were free and even happy, but many new movements emerged that could easily brainwash them. Well, it wasn't total slobody, as they say, but things weren’t as they should be either.

Suddenly Zorin slapped himself on the forehead - what if it was just the nanoscreaming that was protecting the mind from outside interferеnce. But how could he be sure they hadn't messed with his mother's brain, too. Yes Ser Mac Zon was a doctor in the elderly ward, and he'd heard similar rumors of interferеnce with children's minds by Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, but the investigation had never been stopped and the whole thing had sunk into oblivion.

Zorin was in a heavily armored nirangaiter, as those transports were still in vogue. He knew that he would be entering the Autonomous Zone of Synthros relatively soon, and it brought back memories of the strange voice he had heard around these parts.

"These places have become even more sinister," he thought. "I'm walking down some unbeaten paths."

The sad feeling had come over him after burying his parent. Now he was all alone. He only maintained some sort of relationship with Sasia, but she was a mother and had taken a completely different path. And Zorin hadn't even gotten married.

The nirangaiter was just flying ahead because Zorin was pushing him hard.

TARASH DUK

CHAPTER TWO: TARASH DUK

 

Tarash Duk was the epochal discovery of the New Age. A fountain of energy for every lost soul longing for purification from their past transgressions. Some even called it "The Black Road." Not everyone of course could be invited and called to such a high honor. But the chosen few knew that a higher calling lay ahead. They had a chance to become personal novices of the Archist and be responsible for the initiation of other fools in the future. What happened to them later was unknown.

A few of them, however, became targets of abuse during their novitiate.

Access to Purgatory was strictly limited, and Archpriest Kazuk Mon was first and foremost a champion of a brand new future. When things got too personal, he simply resorted to the well-known methods of the past to settle scores - the most common HHermonad’s poison from the distant planet Ufur Gan was more than enough to eliminate those who knew too much and talked out of place.

Tarash Duk stretched into a rather backwater area, and the generally embossed tents that framed the settlement were rather colourful. Not that they were much of anything, but no one suspected what actually went on in the purgatory. It was a sort of seven-story ziggurat with distinctly religious functions. A real "holy" abode.

Kazuk Mon wore his ceremonial and rather ornate robe, made of epoxyarnx, which was much sturdier than the kevlar and quizon used in the past. It was able to protect its owner from plasma splinters and even asteron incisors.

The Archivist had so many enemies, it was almost sickening. Many would give anything just to skin him alive, as he was the one who took away (or so they thought!) their power over so many souls. So far, however, the Tarashdukian sect was of very modest proportions. But according to some it numbered at least ten thousand active members. Others were raising the number to a staggering one hundred thousand!

Considering that Zegandaria's population of several million was down to only about four hundred thousand - and that was counting those who had migrated from Cebur Nag, as well as some who had come from Ossonia in search of a livelihood, it was highly unlikely.

Kazuk Mon loved women. He loved to take advantage of their bodies and had even possessed many of them in his purgatory. But to his lecherous mind, that was a trifle. He loved to hear their moans and revel in his filthy power, which he believed rightfully belonged to him from the powers that had raised him. The Archpriest relied on something else that lurked deep beneath the ziggurat. For, not least of all, the saviour heroes laid to rest in Er So Man Cemetery Park were to be quickly forgotten and even vilified to a degree that would allow him to win the souls of the populace. They had played their part long ago anyway. They weren’t needed by anyone. Or maybe not!

The Emborian Zontul he was preparing to be a novice was a young man living in his fictional world where only one person was allowed to peek in. And that was the archivist. This boy had great deeds to do. Such was his destiny. And he was trying to do anything to jeopardize his development and his transformation into the consummate Mag Tu[2] - the only full-fledged leader of the Tarashdukians. The boy, for his part, was too promising. He had learned to read the star charts and to know the Great Philosophers early on. All this took him only four years. In the next four, he was introduced to the basic applications of Quantum Physics and crystal divination. The last four years were devoted in learning the Universal Language that had replaced the old forms of communication. But Kazuk Mon was still not satisfied and extended his studies for another four years, during which time he specialized in neuropsycholinguistics, a science that few were proficient in, as much of the old knowledge had been lost, in the previous destruction of the planet.

His apprentice used it all too successfully. Even excessively so. With which he had astounded his teacher more than once. Surely the seed, dropped into fertile soil, could yield a good harvest!

However, deep in his soul, Kazuk Mon didn't want to share his power with anyone . He was both achingly in love with his protégé, and at the same time, so enthralled with the idea of giving him the chance to succeed. He had to do it and become Mag Tu!

After the ceremony, he came back and made it clear that his novice would not be allowed to take advantage of his women until he became a full-fledged Mag Tu, or else he was bad! The elder's other prohibition was stealing secret knowledge and sharing it with outsiders. This was simply unacceptable. If only he found out that the little one had squealed, he would cut off his testicles and deprive him of his manhood!

But to his relief, he was greeted by the serEne face of the novice.

- "I sort of crawled into my tasks. I performed everything quite, quite accurately," he stammered slightly.

- "That's good," the elder voiced his concerns. "Very good," he continued, but his gaze remained as stern and impenetrable as ever."

The messenger remained silent, because he simply did not know what to say.

The whole hall they were in was weighed down by the heavy furnishings and they both felt in their own waters.

Kazuk Mon's brutal nature had him possessing some of the lay women right on the floor. He had no inhibitions!

The novice knew that some things were going wrong, but he was also aware of how much he had risen thanks to his master. That was why he was turning a blind eye!

The more he looked at him, Kazuk Mon was convinced that he hadn't made a mistake. By tonight, he would be leading the ceremony. This young and full-blooded stallion!

He would not be fooled, but would put his hand over the entire congregation. It would happen naturally with his approval as he would pass in the shadows. How convenient it would be for him to do all his business undisturbed.

- "Negotiate the magic formula," he instructed him.

- "Everato Mondus Ellisaris Kez For Tu Dons," he muttered as if the novice were slaughtering him.

- "Yeah, give it a little more tact," ordered his mentor, "bring in some mystery. People are thirsty for just that. They give a soul for some kind of miracle. And we will give it to them."

- "Reuso Vion Do," he murmured in such a mournful crescent that even Cazuk Mon hesitated to take his hat off - there just wasn't one at the moment.

- "That's better, but don't overplay it. And never forget that nonsense about collective consciousness I taught you. Never!," he grunted sternly.

- "Yes, your Archie Magical Majesty," his novice replied quietly.

Various other haplings came in, milling about the preparations for the ceremony. There was much to be finished. Everything had to be ready in the next five or six hours, and they were nowhere yet.

The ceremony was to declare the independence of the Tarash Duk sect from the central government in Sintros. It was simply a matter of prestige. Even the survival of their society. Deep down, he had to admit that he enjoyed being a part of something so big and important. Something so impressive.

The duty of a cleric who had to show others the right way was not to be mixed with worldly activities.

It was a living hell in the boy's soul. It could not fathom what it was like to bear such a huge responsibility for so many lives. And it had to. His teacher nudged him.

- "It's time, let's go," he told him.

The two of them walked across the hall to change out of their formal robes and into the formal ceremonial robes. They also made the sign of Erduk, a special pentagram with a crescent moon carved into it and a Seburnagian tyrfan holding a gorgeous emeryridium flower in its mouth. It was assembled from several pieces, like a jigsaw puzzle, because it was too big.

THE QUARTON'S HIDING PLACE

 

CHAPTER THREE: THE QUARTON'S HIDING PLACE

 

Mark was somewhat on his old laurels. And there wasn't much he could accomplish. Too many clung to certain notions that the current order must be preserved. And so they fell back into the previous trap. What a pity!

Someone had chosen a new deity, Erduk, to personify it. This was of course a formality. Nowhere was it said why the New Order should have one. It just popped up seemingly out of nowhere.

The Quarton Hideout[3] had been the brainchild of Mark, who had come across Hans Auslander's work on space warps and class three wormholes. Deeply impressed by the genius's achievements, he decided that different minds could be grouped into three distinct classes - sociable, unsociable and hopelessly antisocial.

The crazy idea came to him to do something about it that would provide maximum security for the individual for a long period if his mind was not ready to fit into the new reality. It sounded childishly simple and even elementary, but many people were all too grateful to him. It was a small back gate that his kind hand was opening for the common good. They had to survive!

Unlike the previous capitalist system, for Mark it was the person that mattered above all. Money was second.

To build a quarto hideout was not easy at all, as there were many other problems. Part of society did not agree with being anallyzed in this way. All in all, the whole thing sounded absurd.

But Mark had failed to address the issue of what happens to the mind when it is locked in such a hiding place for a long period of time. Could it grow up? That was a hell of a calculation. Just a complete wilderness!

A team of scientists was commissioned to test the veracity of the hypotheses from Poincare[4] onwards. Understandings of space-time were very advanced, but basically they liked to stick to the so-famous classics.

In plain language this could be translated as, people with a lower level of consciousness just didn't have to notice people with a higher one. But this had to be scientifically sound and in no way built on a chaotic principle. Material values remained too much in the background.

In no time at all, Mark created an elitist society that simply wanted to remain hidden from the rest of the commoners for as long as possible. His friends included scientists, poets, artists, antisocial types, and all sorts of other vague acquaintances.

One of his friends had told him „You can't hide forever, even if they don't know exactly where you are!“

"It's not everyone's job to see everything," someone else had told him.

Mark Lenner was also assisted by his friend Durnyam, who had become particularly close to him. As personalities, however, the two were complete opposites. Somewhere in there he began to understand why Durnyam had mastered Ultrasithian so well - he had retained his Universal or Cosmic consciousness. Durnyam was the man to build the moral foundations of his model and make it a compelling means of conscious escape against reality.

- "But why such a thing was necessary," he puzzled himself. "It seems to me rather harmful. It's not even a virtual reality that has outlived its usefulness," he said rather critically.

- "You're right there," Mark added, "but that's what some people want. And we can save this elite."

- "Save it from what?," continued Durnyam. "That seems more like postponing the inevitable end to me."

Mark gazed thoughtfully at the beautiful sunset, and the semi-darkness that lay around them enveloped him.

- There are so many lost souls out there somewhere. We will give them the time they need to come to their senses. We owe it to them.

Durnyam did not object further.

The Quartonians were meeting on a strange schedule in a particular dungeon not far from Midriel's formerly collapsed monument. This dungeon looked a bit like a student auditorium, but was well furnished by its gracious hosts in utterly Spartan style. It was perhaps the right formula of success. After all, the experiments were being done in a very different place, known only to Mark, who had no desire to share the glory with anyone and wanted to go down in history as an innovator who had pushed the planet in a completely new direction of scientific development.

But why did Durnyam have misgivings that this direction was utterly wrong.

THE DREAM MARKET

 CHAPTER FOUR: THE DREAM MARKET

 

The new population of Imgradon lived in a strange and well-isolated city that was barely a third of its former size. This was due primarily to the fact that the people had become much closer and each of them felt a real need to connect with the others. There was a place called "The Marketplace of Dreams" - it was set up to bring together everyone looking for a spiritual partner. It was a small alleyway from which underground passageways began and each led to a different drinking establishment.

Imgradon was a relatively bureaucratic town that didn't offer much in the way of entertainment. But Barry's was one of the few places where your soul could relax.

It was located not too far from the former St. Joseph's Clinic in the asylum in question. It was also the most revolving. Maybe there was some hidden meaning, but no passerby had figured it out except that the owner's name was Barry. That was the only one.

This pub gathered a lot of interesting people, willing to play the Orimo for example.

Great friendships were made there, which not infrequently turned into marriage proposals.

It was where Zorin, Sasia, Mark, Russell and Durnyam held their get-togethers.

No one got mad if a member was late or some other foul happened. There was, however, a distinct hierarchy. All present had to follow the procedure for accepting a new member.

The owner, Barry Ecclestone, had long since died of incurable sefelirium amodense, which had made his flesh go white. This was sad in the extreme, but deep down he was pleased that he had at least created a gathering place for so many like-minded people.

In the bowels of the establishment, which stretched a full twenty stories underground and could hold more than ten thousand people, all sorts of plans were being hatched to take over the planet, from political ideologies to very strange new fashions. More than one or two of the planet's showbiz personalities had started their journey from here.

Mark also liked to show off his marksmanship skills, and they sometimes arranged tournaments with General Zorin, the result being even. Well, sometimes there was a slight edge for one side or the other, but it didn't affect their friendship in any way. On the contrary - it made it even stronger.

In front of the restaurant on the first floor of the underground, there was a small memorial quantum plaque that read "Ecclestone, Barry" (born 293475- died 293505), pureblooded seburnag, great warrior, great party man“. But almost none of the visitors would have noticed the little symbol of the Tarashdukians, which was hidden in a dark corner not far away.

Mark hadn't paid any attention to it either. They had a meeting with Zorin arranged for five o'clock. But Zorin was stalling. Mark was definitely wondering what to do. You could tell things were getting out of hand. There was no doubt in his mind. The place thundered with music a mix of country motifs from the deep backwoods of Ceburnag, blues motifs that came perhaps from Ossonia, and strange drones reminiscent of the war drums of the Ras Nadal warriors. Altogether it was a complete cacophony. The dancers stopped now and then and bellowed like cattle about to be slaughtered. All in all it was a complete cacaphony. The dancers stopped from time to time and roared like cattle before slaughter. A complete kef! At one point, Nabuk Mor So, the most famous Erzonian singer, appeared on the stage, which was a virtual elevator between floors, and simply blew the crowd away. People screamed his name at the top of their lungs and begged him with tears in their eyes to repeat some of his biggest hits, including "Semuk Ran" and "Eyes Eyes". Both with playful undertones about the naughty ways of the planet. Well, the moral could wait.

"You see me coming in late night,

There's no one to meet me,

I run, run, but I can't,

Nothing can startle me.

Chorus:

Ow-ow-ow!"

 

Once the singer tired himself out, everything fell into place. The mood seemed to subside and the situation calmed down. Visitors scattered into the seating areas. But Zorin kept coming. All around, people started playing Orrimo and raising the stakes. Everyone wanted to be among the winners.

The fever was growing. And passions were rising. Clearly something was about to happen.

Mark found it more than he liked and decided to look for Zorin. He decided to take a look and went up to the first subterranean floor, since he had been on the third subterranean floor so far. He ended up near the memorial plaque. Then someone bumped into him unexpectedly. Perhaps by chance, his gaze fell on the secret mark of the Tarashdukians, which was the size of a larger claw. He saw it as a display of rather bad taste and even looked at it contemptuously. Why were they scratching the walls over one nothing! The entire city was stained by various brats considering this some form of art and calling themselves artists! It was a living mockery! There was no other reasonable explanation!

He thought to himself that he was obviously quite old already. The once brash youth was now approaching fifty. Well, almost, but he still had the figure of an athlete, ready for any adventures.

Pale memories of a bygone time flitted through the recesses of his mind. Something that might never return and never, ever change. An ocean of emotions - pale ghosts of a non-existence.

The morality of the new time was clearly having its say. But there were many others like him, seeking, craving the true life - that which was beyond, the hidden and the vast. This could bring them together again.

Mark took the last sip of his drink, a ginsomane syrup decorated with emery blossoms, a symbol of nostalgia.

Someone gently touched his shoulder. It was Sasia. And she was so impressive. As always. She fit in so well, even in a place like this.

- "Where are you lost, mate?," she jokingly threw at him. "This is nothing more than a damn shithole where everyone gathers, but we're presented as a place for the elite."

Mark stared and somewhat agreed. Clearly in the quest for a quick profit the place was clearly declining. And that wasn't supposed to be happening. It was also a sneaky way to keep certain sections of the population under control, as their habits became quite predictable in situations like this.

The former hero realized a particular irony - perhaps only in a place like this, on the battlefield and in anyone's military academy really cared who he was and what he was like, and could pass for anyone, and that gave him certain advantages.

Sasia looked at him puzzled obviously understanding his train of thought.

- When a man loses himself, he needs to go somewhere. That's first and foremost. The depth of his feelings didn't matter. Friends don't either - they're just companions in this world, and sometimes in the next.

- "You need to stop thinking about shit," she encouraged him. "It's bigger than you. Don't mow. You won't change. Just accept it and that's it. Look you've come this far."

- "So I'm a dead man alive," Mark muttered, "if I have to hide in a place like this, we've become so few close friends. That's the truth."

- "Look, I'm not going to leave you," Sasia rubbed her shoulders somewhat lightly, and in her gaze he met friendly concern. "You're like a brother to me. What we've been through together makes us stronger, doesn't it? Don't you ever forget it. Never! Why do you have to carry someone else's pain on your shoulders? Doesn't that bring relief! The road to Calvary is a strange one, but we must each walk it in our own strength.," she shook his shoulders.

- "You're right," the former hero encouraged himself.

- "Zorin is lost somewhere, but I have no idea where he might be," Mark voiced his concerns. "We need to find him. I've called Durnyam as well. He'll be along in a moment."

CONSCIOUSNESS

CHAPTER FIVE: CONSCIOUSNESS

 

"The deep neurophysiological scars of consciousness are not yet fully known."

Unknown author

 

Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, however, did not quite agree with this statement. In his lectures on anthropology and General neuroscience, he had a very different perspective on the matter. A very special and almost irrefutable one. He had figured out that with certain processing in his special lab, Zegandarian children could summon terrible monsters into our world. This of course was done by the thalamus, which was responsible for conscious reactions. In a dream state they could contact the afterlife and transcend certain forbidden places. Since sleep, as we well know, is a special form of semi-consciousness this was not impossible. The "Gate of Dreams" was not closed as many thought with the elementary reasoning of disinterested bums accustomed to the new well-regulated and secure social system that provided their livelihood.

In so-called cybernetic sleep, unsuspected brain functions were being unleashed that under normal circumstances remained dormant. People could go on a rampage or go straight into a waking coma, but they retained particular activity in certain parts of their brain. And that was what the ingenious doctor was counting on.

He had graduated from Nal Rhys Moon, a special high-security lyceum in Embodzan, a new small suburb of Imgradon where the most impressive medics in this part of the Galaxy were trained. The selection to enter there was downright murderous, but he succeeded and became the most celebrated neurologist doctor in the entire Star System. His knowledge was vast. His deep drive was to cross the forbidden boundaries of consciousness and unlock unsuspected powers that could also be disastrous. This was what attracted him and drove his feet towards the Otherworld. That was the name given to all that lay beyond the edge of the explored universe. But what lurked there no one knew! Some called it the Voice, others the Most High, and still others simply the Thing. But this absolute indeterminacy inspired only fear. Fear primal and inexplicable. Fear that could have grown into murderous terror.

Death can take many forms, but few had faced its true face. Few had dared to read the incantations of Sacklin, a great and not-so-loved mad genius who had died not of old age or madness, but killed by this same Thing.

Gad ‘Di Enn had been doing neuroscience for most of his conscious life, and felt no particular form of satisfaction when he had to answer questions like how to get at this Thing. How does a planet keep its morale high and struggling to survive in a state of economic crisis. Somewhere in there, deep down, he knew that this same Thing was looking for a way to connect with the souls of the people of this world, and it would be an honor for him to make such a scientific "breakthrough". The Doctor, however, suffered from a small complex - underappreciated by his colleagues as a plagiarist and pseudo-scientist with insufficient originality, he was classified as a technocrat. In his own mind, darkness had crept into one part of his brain and he clearly understood that he would succumb. This was his only chance to be noticed and become a Thing. Maybe he was supposed to become its servant.

Hans' teachings, as his writings were known, were nothing more than an initial guide to help him in his research. He knew he had to tread carefully. He wanted to be a true innovator for once - even at the cost of his life. Where, pray tell, was he going to get a second chance like that? The various ravings of various post-modern doctrines came to him in excess, he felt nauseous even at the thought of them. His conscious chance for advancement was just that. But he didn't want to take such a huge risk all alone - he needed the help of Kazuk Mon, a powerful psychic who had developed his abilities to unsuspected heights. He was going to do something significant - to face his fears and erase so many shameful stains from his existence.

He had personally been involved in two murders of high-ranking doctors who wanted to perform autopsies on several of the children who served as subjects for his dirty experiments. That was his first major crime. The second was luring the Archmistress of Synthros to his side. Although he had concentrated a vast and impressive amount of power in his hands, it was impossible to pass over lightly his strength and deep confidence that he would become his indispEnsable assistant. Yes it was also through him that he exerted pressure on Kazuk Mon and his sect that threatened to overwhelm the planet.

- Hans, dear Hans, you have opened my eyes. Something tells me you're not dead - just because you're gone from Our World doesn't mean you're gone at all. Not in the least. You've just passed into another form and consciousness. Your notes may prove invaluable,“ he uttered, locked in his filthy hospital ward. There, there was no doubt, he felt in his own waters. So aware was he that death lurked around every corner. So sure was he of the rightness of his path that he just seemed to lose patiEnce at times.

- "Doctor, they're calling you in for surgery," one of the nurses bellowed on a frenetic note. "You have no time to waste. You must come immediately!"

It was a case that could not be delayed. A particular form of biopsy[5] that required experienced hands. The causes of the insanity of one of his specially treated children had to be discovered. Something in his neurons had malfunctioned and his brain had given out 'short'.

- "Looks like a simple reimplantation of memories," he had said.

- "Why don't you just engage some of the available assistants in the ward? I can't waste my time with these cases," but he suddenly softened his tone and realised he had to be careful.

- "Where are they?," he asked impatiently. "I want to see them at once!"

For a little he might have brought suspicion upon himself, and that was not desirable.

He went to the operating-room and looked round at the dying. It was obvious that someone's inexperienced hand had touched their narenzianan chips and damaged them so that they would not be so easy to idеntify. The embedded Peosian integrated circuits in their brains also looked strange.

"That's the first time I've seen anything like that!," the doctor blurted out to himself. "Chills crawl up my back even thinking about what exactly they were looking for. The serial numbers on the circuit boards appear to be from our manufacturing facility in Embodzan. Just awful."

Then he remembered a Schiller’s poem:

"Who would wish for shadows to enjoy, With which the essence of strangeness receives an appearance. And cheat thee hope with false power? To behold the truth naked I will!"[6]

In these words he seemed to find much more meaning just now. It was something new. An unfamiliar sense of clarity and insight.

He performed all the routine procedures and somehow found himself in a peculiar situation, as he could not tell the exact cause of death. The case bore the marks of several different illnesses and even frankly resembled schizophrenia. This was rather trivial, as the peos integrated circuits were anything but causative of this kind of illness. Apparently things were getting quite peculiar.

Archibald Peos was the original discoverer of the chips in question - they'd even engraved his name somewhere around the outskirts of Emus Nor, the new district of the rich in Imgradon.

"Why is there an unsolvable mystery before my eyes, and I can clearly sense that the answer is somewhere close!"

The doctor's assistant Ursula von der Lan was always by her boss's side. Many could not pronounce her strange name, which seemed to have some noble tinge. But no nobility ever flourished in front of people like the doctor! That was the law! Somewhere deep in the nothingness, the fates of all his subordinates were intertwined - they had one mission, namely, a breakthrough in the name of science. So many different people had stopped and poked their heads in the very place where they had already paved the way for other inquiring minds. But now the problem at hand was to see who was behind the grisly murders. The summoned ghost warrior survivors weren’t specialized in exactly this sort of activity - they were trained in sabotage and instant enemy defeat, as well as counterintelligence - but that had to be done here by a specialist in exactly those matters - a medic and a detective at the same time.

They couldn't find anyone for a long time, but finally, settled on Edward Boss, a dirty and arrogant bastard hailing from the suburbs. A small and evil man who knew well what it meant to get the job done on time.

Boss was up to his ears in credits due to his excessive greed and insolence. He was a hell of a bastard, as if he had come out of hell. You just couldn't blame him, but he was definitely a great professional.

After the autopsy was performed, Gad ‘Di Enn invited him into her office and offered him a seat.

He naturally accepted and looked somewhat quizzically at the doctor from under his ruddy eyebrows. He thought any new order was utter nonsense and didn't hang around the wreckage of Imgradon's former quarters like Enzok Ra, for example. He despised parvenues, and the Doctor seemed to belong to that caste. But there was a common interest between them - and that was to catch the killer, or at least some clue.

The real reason, though, was that he vaguely suspected that this assassin had been sent for him personally, because the dark forces feared he wouldn't mentally resist and would break the agreement.

Kazuk Mon acted deftly, but the Archmistress' plans were a complete blur. Formally, the secret triumvirate was cautious enough, keeping the necessary distance. But sooner or later something was going to happen. And everyone knew it.

- "Let's agree on the fee first," Boss began without preamble.

- It must be something that grabs my attention. Soon I'll be kicked out and homeless. My daughter doesn't even want to see me. And I haven’t had a readable order myself in a long time.

- "I'm told you're the best, but I still want to check out your skills. They may have let me down," Gad ‘Di Enn countered without batting an eye. "This case is too delicate."

- Look, Doc, there's no such thing as a delicate case. There are solved ones and ones that remain unsolved for years because of someone's wishes. I've encountered all sorts of nerds and geeks in my long career. Not one got away in the end. Many just expected to go to "Shore Tuk", but professionals of my caliber just send them to "The Frying Pan".

- "This isn't Hell, is it?," the doctor ventured to ask.

- "I wouldn't call it that. But to the uninitiated, "The Frying Pan" almost sounds like a marketing ploy," he finished through a laugh.

- "And what's the logic of sending them there again when they can come back," the Doctor asked him bluntly.

- "This job isn't that elementary," the detective muttered. "The Dream Gate was closed for other reasons that ordinary people, outside our profession, should not know. That's just between me and them."

"And that means there are more!," the doctor ventured, remembering that many of Hans's notes were full of innuendo, especially about how to open the Gate again.

- I think I'll make you a decent offer - two million Zegandarian credits in cash the other five afterwards.

- "I don't work that way," Boss grinned, baring his canine teeth, "to prove my worth to you, let me give you a little teaser. Ecclestone's murder wasn't an accident either."

The Doctor felt himself sweat. Apparently the detective was doing his job quite well. But there were still big gaps. Why did they have to remove him so early if they needed him, or did they?

- Look, Doc, you make up your own mind. I'm at your disposal, but on my terms. I don't want to cast even the faintest stain on my professional reputation. I'll give you a second last hint - something smells fishy about the Tarashdukians. This sect has begun to grow too fast, and all sorts of religious savagery is coming my way.

After his last words, the Doctor was convinced that he had picked the right man. But again he was in no hurry to accept his offer - instead he decided to dribble the ball a bit. Why did it all have to End like this? No, he had bigger plans.

- "I'll give you the fee you ask for, but on one condition," he seemed to relent. "I don't want my name involved in the investigation in any way."

- "Be calm, I know how to observe professional ethics," the detective replied grimly. "But apart from the fee you asked for, you must provide me with other things."

The doctor was puzzled, but decided not to give in. He had picked this man to watch his back and investigate how they were going to clear him. Why shouldn't he live at least a little longer? What were all those diplomas and beautiful accolades for? Who cared after most of his colleagues graduated and got married? The Doctor was altogether too strange a bird, and even the subordinates in his department could not accept him. But he knew that with such dark powers he should not joke.

- "You see, for a task like this, I won't be able to do it alone," Boss admitted frankly. "I'll have to get a team together, and that will require a lot of money. Much more than the seven million credits mentioned. I know you're a wealthy man, the richest implant of memories, but I'd need a lot of money indeed."

- "How much?," groaned Gad ‘Di Enn, beginning to realize that something really big was afoot.

- "At least fifty million in down payment and that much more after we're done," the detective snapped indifferently.

- "But even I don't have that much," the medic almost squealed. - "Such a sum is within the power of only the Archmistress of Synthros and the High Om Gur Nal of Zegandaria. No one else can give them!," he finished on a frenetic note.

- "I know that well," the detective snapped confidentially. "But the price is hard. And I won't budge a cent!"

Gad ‘Di Enn sank into unhappy thoughts. Where-where was he going to ask the Archist for such a thing? He tried to remain impenetrable, but it wasn't easy to hide the sweat beating beneath.

- "I take it you accept?," the detective drawled again.

- "Yes," the doctor surrendered. "I'll find a way to pay you. The two shook hands."

The ultramodern skyscraper where the Emvor Na Hospital was located had at least a thousand floors. The only building that was nearly that tall was the Citadel of the Archmistress, the governor of Synthros.

The detective tried to take the quantum elevator that would take him to the base of the hulking structure. Then, suddenly, he turned and dared to ask the medic something that was clearly piquing his curiosity.

With the planet's population being so small, why had anyone erected such a structure in the first place after the Second Migration Wave? I don't see any sense or logic.

They very simply wanted to unite people into something common. Each floor housed different things. And many of the floors are completely empty, waiting for a new life or better times.

- "Your model of development seems doomed to me, Doctor. You'll forgive me, but we never step over the Embozan line. Other people live here," the detective lowered his voice.

The doctor silently turned and entered his office. He held his breath.

CYBERNETIC MIND

CHAPTER SIX: CYBERNETIC MIND

 

Deep down, some sensed the changing new reality. It's not just an illusion. Many couldn't fit into it and were perishing, but there was a methodology that was known as the cybernetic mind. By influencing certain details, probabilistic calculations could be altered for countless many new realities to micron accuracy. There was one problem, however - the mind was being weakened for psychic attacks by creatures from beyond. This had not yet been resolved by many of the scientists on the planet Zegandaria, Cebur Nag, or Ossonia. But something had to happen, and all of this had to stop sooner or later. Gad ‘Di Enn was also invited to participate in the project and that was basically his main occupation. He couldn't easily swallow the humiliation of not being first in everything. It would of course play him a bad joke.

The team had begun all developments in complete secrecy two Zegandarian years ago, trying to guess the channels of communication used by such consciousnesses. They scratched their heads for a long time only to realize that the deeper they dug, the more complicated it became. But one thing was certain. They were a little closer now than before. Time would tell.

The cybernetic consciousness, unlike the ordinary one we mentioned that had four different levels, had only two

- Life and God. God consciousness allowed cybernetic consciousness to basically do whatever it wanted and go wherever it wanted. But it always stood locked up and scientists didn't know how to get at it.

The peossian integrated circuits in question were literally implanted in the brain amidst the initial implantation of memories, and sometimes later in the reimplantation process, and connected to the narenzian chips.

There had to be an easier way. Simple solutions usually came out ingenious.

Gad ‘Di Enn wondered otherwise why Mark was so weirded out by it. They used to frequent the establishment in question together and raise a cheer to hits like "Eyes Eyes", but that was more of a professional gathering than anything. They had a fascination with this sort of science, but the wily doctor suspected that Mark was separately developing something very interesting and was reluctant to have him involved as well.

After the team of scientists disassembled the narenzianan chip of one of the children, who had miraculously survived, Gad ‘Di Enn e looked at it and realized that whatever had touched it knew exactly what it was doing.

- "The few scratches on the chip testified that it hadn't been touched by human hands," he muttered.

- "But it's obvious, Doctor," another member of the team tried to challenge him.

- "That's not exactly right," stammered Gad ‘Di Enn. "The depth of the cut is not accidental."

- That's what I'm trying to tell you, colleague.

The two were in one of the dungeons of the famous Emvor Na Tower, named for the twinning of Zegandaria and its distant neighbor. It was, as we said, a thousand stories high, the Doctor having failed to inform his private detective that some activity was nevertheless developing on some of the floors and strange paranormal phenomena were being observed. But that didn't interest the detective for the moment, who was totally absorbed in his occupation of assembling a team to tackle the task at hand.

- "I think we're just wasting our time," said Jack Di Mons, who was one of the most eminent specialists in narenzianan implantology, somewhat strangely, "and banging our heads we won't find out exactly what caused it, remember we've never had any similar case before."

He angrily threw back the apron. Well, he just had to go and take a shower. Honestly, he couldn't think of a better idea.

Transplantology was downstairs and that's where all the manipulations were done. But they had to abide by certain quarantine rules that applied to objects of unknown origin and go through a special scanner.

- "What a dump you've just made!," said Ursula indignantly. "Someone has to clean it up, and it won't be me!"

Somewhere, light seeped through the synth hatches of the magnificent and enormous building. It was a clear and eloquent sign of the approaching morning.

The city was asleep, and they were banging their heads over a seemingly unsolvable mystery.

- "See," Von Meilovich voiced his fears, "this seems to be it. Maybe those Things can just switch modes of consciousness like a button."

- "You may be right - it makes our job too much easier, but it's possible that your hypothesis is completely wrong," Gad ‘Di Enn spoke up, "But, whatever the case, we'll check that option as well. It's all worth a try."

- "The question is, will we make it in time?," interjected Ursula. "This is the thirteenth victim. I don't think it's an accident. I'm just convinced. But..."

She didn't get a chance to finish because there was a crash behind them. A particular scraping.

It turned out to just be a small plate rolling on the floor. They all laughed.

- "It's time to go home," said one of the colleagues, "we haven’t blinked for so long. And staying won't solve this problem. By tonight, I hope we'll have tested Meilovich's hypothesis."

Meilovichh was a health nut and a party pooper, but he had a unique anallytical mind. He wasn't exactly the typical scientist, but rather a special breed of intellectual cowboy.

- "It would be interesting to see what exactly our colleague Ser Mac Zon is looking for," interjected Jack Di Mons.

THE DETECTIVE

 

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE DETECTIVE

 

Having emerged from his meeting with the doctor, Detective Boss's first job was to recruit a special ops team of the highest rank. The credits were transferred so he could spend at will, but he was no fool. First he had to get a bit of a feel for the situation and see which of the old team members were present. He dialed up the ultraphone that had long been considered a demode:

- "Hey, Nils Armborn, you smirking bastard, I think I have a great offer for you. I know you've been unemployed and just slacking for at least six months. That might get your attention," he began panderingly.

- "Tell me quicker," he called half-asleep, and it occurred to Boss that maybe he wasn't alone in the bedroom.

- "Well, there's not much to say, we'll fish from those Things again," he hinted.

- "Ah, that's not for the ultraphone," he snapped. "I need to get dressed. Let's meet at the old place. I'll find you."

After that, most of Boss's day involved ringing so-and-so, a bunch of negotiations, no small amount of swearing to motivate his teammates. But he had a well-established working style. It took him a few days to connect with most. Some were no longer among the living. He painstakingly scribbled their names in his digital organizer. He must have been the only one with that kind of savagery. No one had used such a device in at least two hundred and fifty years.

Then the team had to assemble along their respective routes and begin the investigation right from Barney's huge drinking establishment. Well, they didn't have to beat around the bush naturally!

- "I deeply doubt that things will еnd well," Boss voiced his concerns. "But we're caught and we'll have to see the job through. It's not the first time we've dealt with this."

We had to buy them new special combat suits that would resemble the clothing of an ordinary civilian, and then we had to provide them with the appropriate weaponry. As much as he wanted them to go after this Thing an hour sooner, he wasn't going to do it with his bare hands.

- "I'm glad we're gathered, boys," he said to the adventurers gathered around him. "Before we begin, I want us to understand each other once more. Trust no one. Don't use the ultraphones for communication. I will give you more detailed instructions later. For now, let's disperse and get a good rest."

It took too long for things to go the way Boss wanted them to. But somehow it worked out. Someone needed to recall the secret communication symbols between the squad, another wasn't in condition yet. But they all did their best to come and get back together. And to be one team.

They had slept at various addresses around the vast Embodzan just to avoid drawing attention. Barry's place was definitely their top priority. And they were going to discreetly investigate it. There were quite a few things to take note of. But there was no way.

Boss didn't fully reveal his intentions to them, because he suspected that if they were as aware as he was, they'd give up, and he had nowhere else to find others. Only one thing was certain - they were going to pick up a clue, and they weren’t going to blow it.

As they passed through Embodzan they looked around. The beautiful crimson glare reflected off the almost mirrored surface of the buildings suggested melancholy. Although this district was considered to be one of the wealthy parts of the city, if it were not for the medical fraternity that inhabited it, it would surely be a complete affliction.

Advanced civilization was marked with moral decay. So trite, yet so completely true.

- "How much you make depEnds on you," Boss tried to encourage them. "You could say there will be extra bonuses for good performance."

- "It's all too clear to us that it's something big this time," called Charlie Tennow.

- You already paid us less one time and pocketed some of the money for yourself, smartass. We don't have that kind. The thing is clear. We want a piece of the pie and a big one.

- "All right, all right," Boss scolded them. "I'll pay you one part upfront."

Then everyone calmed down. And walked more briskly.

- "This place really looks like some kind of snobby toilet. Some eyeglasses live in their own fictional and well insulated world. They just don't want to get into real life," Rento called.

- "Boys, enough talk, be careful," added Imaya, who had slowly joined the group and caught up with them. Boss's group was just the three of them, but he had distributed the tasks very precisely. That was generally doing exactly twenty-five million fee per person. Quite an appetizing morsel!

Depth of feeling doesn't matter folks! Not in a place like this! Don't be fooled by the look of Ecclestone's place. We'll still gather valuable information.

No matter how hard you've worked there's always someone who can achieve more, which of course there's nothing wrong with.

- "It's a pity Nils isn't with us. Still," corrected Imaya.

- "He'll be coming to watch our backs soon, too," called Boss.

As they were about to enter, Nils Armborn appeared from around the corner.

- Where to without me, lads. Always together.

His cowboy demeanor was more than memorable. The tough guy had anti-grav boots, a kevlarite electroshock baton, and was spouting flowery profanities.

- "Let's sweep them away so they remember us," he said in his gangster style.

- Relax, cowboy, this isn't my planet CFRG 1583 here, is it? Give it at least a little more meekly.

- Actually, I personally, along with Rento, fucked Ennio. We strangled the bastard. But that's not all. Deep down, he knew someone was breathing down his neck. And in the end, he just couldn't slip away. What a pity for his holy majesty!

- "Let's go in without giving him too much thought. Now is the time to act as a team and take them out," Imaya muttered, "I know what I'm talking about. The party will be over soon."

When the massive hydron doors opened, they were greeted by half a dozen ghost warriors, as the establishment had a special status of neutral territory. All the foreigners felt they were in their own waters for that very reason, especially when they didn't have the necessary identification cards or perhaps narenzianan chips. As long as they were on the territory of this drinking establishment, they could stay indefinitely. But there was one small "if." In street parlance, that meant "to scotch."

Somewhere from the recesses of the establishment crawled two or three automatics.

- "Excuse me," they explained, "you have to go through the mandatory quarantine procedure. - There is no other way."

- "We are coming to a party. No problems, do your job," Boss called humbly, while the others stood by him neither eating onions nor smelling onions.

The ghost warriors shuffled them for concealed weapons, and the automatons were quite bristling. But after finding absolutely nothing, everyone calmed down. They even laughed.

- "I hope the night is long enough for you, my friends," they sympathised. "You may come in. You are clean."

Once past the first guard post they had to get off in the virtual elevator in question. It was simply a marvel of engineering. It really was impressive and not everyone could ride on it. They had to purchase special temporary residence permits to stay on the grounds of the polis as they couldn't provide any identification cards or to narenzianan chips for obvious reasons.

The elevator's high energy field grabbed their attention and they could see concentrated beams of pure energy and they began to descend.

THE SACRIFICE

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE SACRIFICE

 

"Any sacrifice is meaningless unless it is made for some higher purpose."

Unknown author

 

The ceremony was about to begin. The whole vast crowd of Tarashdukians was in anxious anticipation. People had come from all over the planet. Everyone in anticipation of seeing the miracle. The elevation of the new novice to the rank of Mag Tu, the highest spiritual rank known to mere mortals. It was no wonder that deep down, many wondered why the great mage and archivist Kazuk Mon had chosen a young boy like Emborian. Previous novices had failed just before the finals, why would this time be any different?

Many even waited for hours at the foot of the ziggurat for everything to begin. The ceremony was something hellishly complicated, and not everyone could handle such a tiring and boring wait.

First the novice had to put on the robe of Mas Gan - that was one degree below Mag Tu, and then a whole retinue of Emphorils had to lay it on the Altar of Mar Zon - the last prophet of the mystic god Arthusson. Later, he would take a solemn oath of asceticism[7] to guarantee his detachment from the material world. Finally, he had to sacrifice part of his body and pay with his own blood. The last part of the sacrament was the passage into the other world for a short time under the blessing of Archpriest Kazuk Mon, symbolically lifting the burden from his shoulders and transferring it to his protégé's shoulders.

Even as they appeared on the platform the crowd erupted into a wild and frenzied roar. There were groans and cries for rescue. It was as if the whole multitude resembled a huge dragon, whose tail was lost far into infinity and swept over the horizon.

- "Touch our souls, oh, great Mag Tu," a voice rang out into the night.

There were groans and calls for rescue. It was as if the whole multitude resembled a huge dragon, whose tail was lost far away in the infinity and was overflowing beyond the horizon.

- "Touch our souls, O great Mag Tu," a voice rang out in the night, "cleanse us of all our transgressions. Show us the right path. And we will follow you."

Kazuk Mon played his part just wonderfully. So well did he understand that he now possessed real power over the minds of the simple-minded idiot-worshippers. How they would give sweetly and dearly to have their souls cleansed by his Mag Tu. But the darkness that seeped into his soul frightened him, replacing his initial fascination with the supernatural forces behind him with genuine terror. He had honestly sensed someone's presence behind his own back, but instead of friendly, it seemed to be neutral. Or so it seemed to him. He could not decipher his intentions in any way. He could just feel his whole invisible aura. The pendant of Arthusson that he wore around his neck was still some protection, and so was the ring of Bon Ra, but he didn't want to Ennoy these higher powers with his own presence. He was far from the idea that they would bestow him with greater powers than the current ones, which was why he had such high hopes for his novice. It always had to be known that the new and fresh blood bound to the afterlife weighed far more than his old priestly one.

- "Where will my sick ambitions take me?," he whispered to himself. "I can feel the higher powers beginning to be displeased already. And I grow weaker every day. There is no time to lose. Zontul has already charted his own destiny. The responsibility will now be his, and I will pull the strings from the darkness of the shadows."

The initial stages of the ceremony had passed, and the Emphoriles had clustered around their future lord. These ethereal creatures, full of sweetness but also of divine humility, were like the Vestal Virgins of old[8]. They provided the face of his holiness and power.

- "Place him on the altar," the eldest ordered. "The blood of Mas Gan must bind our souls to Arthusson. An hour sooner."

Kazuk Mon was the only one aware of the so-called 'Unholy Dimensions' because he had been there himself. But he had shared absolutely nothing to anyone. That was the way it was supposed to be. They would have thought him crazy. And the mystery would be lost, and with it his own head. What a pity!

Zontul's blood stained the hard obsidian on which he was laid. The piece of rock must have weighed more than a ton and a half. He could feel that he was going to die, his blood was draining. They had cut off his right hand and he would now be known as the marked "Mag Tu". The power had to be paid with a part of himself!

- "He's still a child, but it's about time he entered the adult world," the archivist whispered. "The ritual should be completed tonight."

The pilgrims even crawled up the endless steps of the ziggurat. The human tide would have nearly swamped it all, but the Emforiles, who were raw warriors, raised hercuxes[9]and killed many. Blood dripped down the steps. Everything went straight under. But the battle scene made no impression on anyone. Everyone just kept coming.

Kazuk Mon went near his novice.

- Hang on, I'm with you, let the reans of the order be your guiding light.

Barely a word was spoken and they turned a lazy shade of green that caressed the dark purple horizon. They were exactly twelve.

- Praise be to Arthusson!

The fiends were already ruling over the people. The ecstasy caused a real melee, and someone roared:

- Judgment Day has come, repent, sinners! There will be no mercy for your transgressions! It is not too late! Otherwise your souls will be lost forever! You will find no rest!

Kazuk Mon hurriedly led his protégé out of all this carnage. This could even roughen and cause the death of the new Mag Tu. The Emphorils couldn't keep them away forever, so Kazuk Mon was using mercEnaries as well. There were two or three platoons of ghost warriors that had remained deposed since Governor Elmbaum's reign. Some of them had simply agreed to Kazuk Mon's terms out of nowhere and were guarding him discreetly. But even so, the archivist was not at ease. He knew that as long as he held the religious power in Tarash Duk, the Archistratus would hesitate to remove him, but if his legs wobbled-who knew?

THE ARCHISTRATUS

CHAPTER NINE: THE ARCHISTRATUS

 

If there was any semblance of paradise on the planet Zegandaria, it was definitely the district of Synthros, the richest in interon fuel deposits. It was so beautiful and intoxicating. That was why it had fallen prey to greedy interests. After Governor Elmbaum fell there was a real need for someone to take over the leadership, as Imgradon was not that force of the past.

The Archmage was mostly a fat gourmand and a maniac, but with the seeming decorum of a genleman. He took all the contraband in memory of the late Gordon and handled his duties brilliantly. There would be no question that he had become perhaps the most well-to-do Zegandarian alive, with a fortune in excess of a billion credits. But he had also made many, many enemies on his way up. And that was not to be underestimated.

The Archpriest was a man in his fifties. Physically robust and a glutton for carnal pleasures. He was also Kazuk Mon's only competition. But the two never crossed swords. The truth was, despite his immense power, he used the Archigist to disguise his own personality. There was no point in justifying that life brought him no pleasures. Only a few threads connected him to reality, and if they broke, that would simply be the end of him. Deep down he knew that things sooner or would eventually lead to the so-called "Last Gate". It was anyone's guess exactly what was behind it, but the Archist's secret goal was nothing short of finding out just that. He was deliberately misleading Kazuk Mon and keeping him in fear, but somewhere deep down he knew that his own survival depended on the answer to this question. Otherwise he was finished!

The Archistratus had deftly taken advantage of all the turmoil when so many people were trying to retain power in the most unfortunate way possible, but he was swimming in his own waters and trying to get out, even though he knew he was doomed from the moment he was born.

He owed his enormous wealth to secret speculation, but above all to his extraordinary intellect, which, in certain situations and under very certain conditions, rivalled even acknowledged geniuses.

Wherever the Archistratus lost ground under his feet, there was always someone else to feather his cap. Thus he always remained hidden! This he did with particular virtuosity, but sooner or later he knew that once the pawns were exhausted he would be the only one left on the chessboard. And then all the infirmities of his soul would be revealed. "Well, maybe the others are the same rubbish!" he thought, not as an excuse, but as a statement."

His art consisted of secretly prolonging the life of his pawns, but that couldn't last too long. Sooner or later he would step on a crooked foot. And perish!

He had won more than one or two trade wars thanks to his agility.

Kazuk Mon had no suspicion of the Archist's weaknesses, for to him he was an inscrutable ideal and a very strong personality, but sooner or later he would have to call him to account in turn. But, he dared not even think it for fear of the Archistratus eavesdropping on even his own thoughts, though the latter was more than a little ludicrous.

The Archistratus stood completely alone in a huge hall, eating and drinking to his heart's content. He liked to ponder over seemingly obvious things and come to some rather crazy and even ridiculous conclusions. He lived in his own perfectly ordered and super-closed world where his every move was calculated to the hundredth. Yes, such a man he was.

His friends were quite numerous, but one had only to look into their relationships to discover peculiar dependencies sustained by a bond thinner even than a horsehair.

But now the Archist didn't care. He had simply procured vast quantities of "The Sunset of the Guarrons", and also the finest roast of Seburnagian tyrfan, which went for at least ten thousand credits a kilo on the black market, and was munching willingly.

- "People like Acustro are a real rarity," he liked to philosophize. "They definitely won't exist soon. Too bad he died like a dog. He was the creator, not of a Hell, but of a new evolutionary thought. And they declared him a pathetic consumer. It was just bad luck. That's it!"

The hall was absolutely empty, and there weren’t even any servants, since the Archistratus liked to serve himself. Thus the whole discussion was conducted with some imaginary interlocutor. He was especially careful to arrange the various dishes and rare drinks brought home from different parts of the universe.

- "What's life worth to us if we can't eat a little," he sighed. "And to drink as well."

THE EMBORIAN ZONTUL

CHAPTER TEN: THE EMBORIAN ZONTUL

 

Being a novice is very different from being a full-fledged Magus Tu. Everything changes before your eyes - even your perceptions. You are now a kind of higher being. Or at least that's how you should appear to others.

Emborian went back to his bedroom. He felt rejuvenated. So he was still a kid who needed someone to wipe his snot. Yes, it was true that he gave himself importance around his superior, but that was just pro forma - he didn't want to lose his trust. He wasn't sure he could survive on his own.

- "Being Mag Tu isn't as cool as I thought," the boy cried. "But I gave my word and I sealed it with my blood!"

He suddenly felt quite lonely. He remembered what his mentor had told him, and now he clearly realized that he could have any one of his emphorils. But Kazuk Mon had explicitly advised him that it was in the interest of his own safety to keep them away as much as possible. The Archpriest had recommended that if he were so inclined to carnal pleasures he should use the common laywomen, and only in a pinch the noblewomen.

Kazuk Mon himself would have been in big trouble when he found out that one of the Archpriest's nieces was actually among his favorites. Fortunately the girl wasn't experienced enough and kept her mouth shut. And Kazuk Mon was much younger and stronger, while the Archistratus was just getting into politics.

The Archivist had since adopted an iron rule. He didn't go anywhere so-and-so, and he didn't do anything so-and-so. He shrouded himself in mystery and secrecy. What else could he do? He began to watch his enemies closely. And they were not few.

The Duchess of Learnia, who was the Archist's first cousin and had his back. Elsmere Nack, the servant's first mate. And more and more. The list was almost endless.

Emborian Zontul hadn't had the chance to win so many suitors yet. But it would happen sooner or later for the simple reason that he wielded immense power, far exceeding that of Kazuk Mon. Or so it seemed. In fact, the archivist wanted to divert attention away from himself and onto the young man until he could figure out his ally's plans.

The Archmage looked like a smug fool, but he knew full well that it was just a mask and nothing more.

Emborian Zontul undressed and went to bed. He fell asleep almost immediately. At first his sleep was pleasant and quite peaceful. He was reminded of playing in a field of gorenai hiras and elendorans when he was a child. Suddenly beautiful emfori began to step towards him. Each wanted to cry out their pains to him, but somewhere inside he felt that something was wrong. He could feel it with his heart. They looked fine and smiled sweetly at him. He had no one in the field but them and him. He looked even a little more aged and confident and played his role as Mag Tu perfectly. They were as if impressed by his aura. He was intoxicated by his power. But there was a chill coming from them. And a rather strange smell. As if they hadn't bathed in weeks. Then he remembered a saying from his childhood - "When the devil is near, you only have to look closer, and you'll see his tail!"

Suddenly they pointed their erruxes at him. Then he caught a glimpse of their fearful faces. Instead of handsome kind faces, a flock of succubi stood before him, ready to tear his flesh to pieces. He blinked for a second. Across from him stood the beautiful Emphorils again, staring at him with their cold, bulging eyes.

- "You have seen our true selves," they squeaked their inarticulate words.

He shuddered at their hoarse squeaky voices coming from Hell itself.

- Don't pretend you don't understand anything, as we keep an eye on Kazuk Mon, but he's old and can't see, only sense that something is wrong. That's why he chose you. Your senses are different. To shake him from his sins. But for him, there's been no forgiveness for a long time. There are rules in the other world too, and he broke them all. He has very little left, but he doesn't know it yet. In fact, he's pretending and hoping to prolong his not-quite-realized agony.

At those words they turned their backs on him and he caught a glimpse of their devilish wings and in the blink of an eye they were gone. In his dream he caught sight of a frightful sign which read, "There are two roads, but whichever one you choose, you will still go to the wrong place!"

Beyond the vast field followed a dense mesantior forest. Its beautiful greenish-purple blossoms caressed the eye and rustled caressingly with a coaxing whisper. The young Emborian dared not venture into it, but then said to himself, "Don't turn back!" He felt that the unseen power wanted him to enter the forest, and there he would find the answer to his questions. He stood for a few seconds as he took a deep breath, then slowly stepped forward. The forest was no more than twenty yards in front of him and the wind ruffled his hair gently. The dreary night sang its melancholy and sad song.

The boy entered the forest. He stepped on the grass, soft as a carpet, and continued towards the cherished goal. On and on he went, but something kept preventing him from reaching it. The forest had begun to get scary, for it was dusky there as the field was bathed in the light of Zegandaria's full moon.

- "Where am I going?," the boy wondered.

- "You're going the way of truth," a voice whispered to him, distant and sly.

The boy kept walking through the dense undergrowth. He was surprised to find that there were no animals around. Not even birds could be heard.

Slowly, as if by magic, his feet led him swiftly forward toward the unknown goal.

After walking for about a quarter of an hour, he spotted a small, almost imperceptible light.

Perhaps in the middle of nowhere there was a small house or even a yurt. He was caught as in fairy tales. He could not believe it. But he found it in himself to go on.

The feet kept moving silently in the grass. Before long he stopped in front of the house. There didn't seem to be a door, or even the most ordinary window.

- "How strange," the boy whispered softly and began to look around, but try as he might he could find absolutely nothing. Its surface was perfectly smooth.

Then he heard a quiet whisper behind him.

- Here it came at last.

The boy had given his word not to turn around. But this time it was directly his will that did it. Then he saw the image of his mother looking at him with a loving gaze. She was so ethereal and beautiful. Suddenly the beautiful sight was replaced with an old man riding a crocodile.

- "Who are you?," the boy dared to ask.

- "I'm Agares," the old man sneered grimly, "and I'm in charge of several dozen demon legions. But for other things too."

- "You, you're a demon," the boy squealed.

- "Well, I'm no ordinary one," the old man grumbled indignantly. "I've been sent from a much higher level to have a chat, because I sense hesitation in your soul."

- "What do you mean?," the boy sighed, "Isn't there any way to get inside this house?"

- I was sent by Valak personally. But that's another story, and now-for the present-it's none of your business. All I'm here for is just to see if you have any doubts and to make sure that the forces of Hell can count on you.

- "A Magus Tu serves good," the boy refuted him.

- "Tell them to my hat, which I don't have," the demon growled.

- But you're right, you live in the future and you've been brainwashed. You've hardly ever heard that word. Look, basically everyone serves their own master and even I am no exception.

- "And Kazuk Mon?," the boy added.

- That old cunning fellow has never been with us for real, and is not aware of many things, though he feels them. Perhaps the succubi have told you this or that. Remember, from now on you serve me, but on no account spoil your relationship with your protector. He hasn't done his job yet, he's just trying to get out of responsibility.

- "And what's in the house?," the boy insisted again.

Here the old man's face became rather sly, and he added cheerfully:

- Why don't you just check for yourself?

- "There's no door and no windows," the young man contradicted him again.

- "It's just that your mind is closed, that's why," Agares looked at him pityingly. "You'll learn in time. A Mag Tu is much more than a simple priest or mage. He's a representative of your world and a link to ours, not some simple effigy for every angry member of the congregation to throw stones at."

The boy stared at him transfixed. For the first time he realized clearly exactly what was happening.

- I am part of your dream. Right now, it's the only normal way to communicate. When your mind opens up, we'll talk in a completely different way, because this one is quite primitive and it makes me tired - the demon lamented.

But the boy had turned his back on him because his attention was absorbed by the strange house.

- "Before you go in, you should know that this house is a repository for memories. There you will find out what kind of person your mentor Kazuk Mon is," the demon shrugged. "I think everyone should draw their own conclusions," the old man coughed. "Come inside to see the truth."

The boy put his hand on the wall and suddenly the house swallowed him. It was dark as a horn inside. A particular buzzing reached his ears, like a swarm of bees gone wild. He remembered that this could indicate the presence of other demons. But it was hellishly quiet all around.

IN THE INFERNAL HIVE

CHAPTER ELEVEN: IN THE INFERNAL HIVE

 

The buzzing grew louder and more unbearable. But strange why the boy did not feel up to date with the dangerous insects. Suddenly the noise stopped and there appeared a hand. It was severed. The boy was horrified. It was his own. Damn it! What was she looking for here! Beside her was a ritual erbuzon[10] that had a handle made of pure obsidian and a blade polished to a shine. It may not have looked very futuristic, but it sure as hell was beautiful. A lock of Kazuk Mon's hair was waving right next to the blade. The boy was slowly beginning to realize that the infernal plot was much deeper. Kazuk Mon didn't cooperate with the demonic forces of his own volition because he could clearly sense that their intentions were changing and there was almost no room for him in them anymore, but the power of the contract was holding him back and he was trying to destroy it, but he couldn't do it alone. It needed an experienced mouse like Zontul who didn't ask too many questions and didn't claim too much.

A picture became clear before his eyes as Kazuk Mon prepared him for the ceremony. He also asked him for a lock of his hair. And Emborian's hair was like golden wheat. He had reluctantly agreed to it. The path to becoming Mag Tu involved sacrifices.

After that, he heard Kazuk Mon retreating to the "purgatory" and uttering the forbidden words. They burned his ears like coals.

- "Azus No Istro Kamus Donaro Wu Yirt Am Hon," the sorcerer was pouring an incomprehensible magic formula, a devilish smile spread across his face.

The novice had gone numb. And had held his breath, lest he miss something of the terrible secret.

- "Breaking the contract won't be that simple, but I'll gain at least two more months that way," Kazuk Mon spoke in a huff, "And anything can happen during those months."

Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

- "But of course, novice, you're an important part of my plan," he murmured.

Then the vision gradually blurred until it disappeared completely. Nowhere had Emborian seen these things before. And he probably wouldn't see them anywhere again.

Then it was the turn of another vision, which was perhaps a little more chilling.

He was at school. His school. And all the things he'd remembered floated into his mind.

The massive building had a sort of technocratic charm and bore the sonorous name of "Artuk". This was where the children of most of the snobbery of the planet Zegandaria were educated. Many of them had chosen this place for the simple reason that they wouldn't take their children anywhere else, even if they paid the necessary fees.

- "So distant and strange," the boy murmured. "Somewhere out there, my soul remained."

The vision shifted and he saw several of the school bullies hurling threats at another defеnceless boy. He was curled up like a little kitten just waiting for his last class.

- "Give me the money, you sly bastard," they bellowed. "Your soul is long lost and will soon be gone," chuckled Namuro. "Don't fool us! Yours have money in sacks, and you don't pay your weekly instalment. That's just an insult."

The other school bullies nodded in agreement. They fully approved of their boss's act. They just weren’t in a hurry to intervEne yet.

- "Hey, leave it," Emborian bellowed.

- "Oh, you little brat," Namuro muttered with ill-concealed dislike. "Why are you messing with us? Don't you love life, eh? That little fellow is a traveller, and without us a total loser in life."

- "Leave him alone," squeaked the little one, clenching his fists.

- "Well, all right," said Namuro, seemingly resigned, "after he's finished, life will tell him the game, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't pay us - not for protection, but for simply tolerating his presence."

The boys walked away laughing. They hadn't even touched him.

- "They're running away from me like the plague," he vеntured to say. "That's right - I'm doomed!"

- "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and pull yourself together and show them that you can," Emborian encouraged him. "It's the only way to shut them up!"

The boy bowed his head and said nothing.

- "They may be right," he sighed.

The two headed back to the classroom. The school was empty as a grave.

Then the vision dimmed again. Emborian could clearly see that the boy was leaning over the railing of the high school. It was a full six stories high. If you looked down, your vision went blurry-it was that high. The standard height for a floor was more than six meters. A strong wind was blowing and the sky was gloomy. The boy looked down - he didn't want to jump.

- "Do it! What are you waiting for! Just do it and it'll be over forever!," came a hoarse voice. The boy hesitated. All the memories passed before his eyes one by one.

- "You haven’t the courage even for that, you little cunning fellow," he heard a mocking voice behind him. "But, you have no other way out - only this can wash the shame from your face. And then you'll have some respect from me."

It was Namuro. He laughed maliciously and rather artificially. He was alone. Apparently his gang was hanging around the city somewhere, lounging in drinking establishments.

- We finish in about a year and then everyone will know what you are! I've been trying to reveal your true self to them for so long! But they believe you! You manage to fool them!

Namuro was slowly approaching and trying to look rather amused. The boy was on edge. So alone and so pathetic. At least in his own eyes. When he got a little closer, he added scathingly:

- At least your father's money doesn't mean anything now! Well, you never showed it, but you were never on the players' team either. And you won't be!

He was already within arm's reach. And the boy grabbed him by the collar. Totally unexpected.

- "Let go of me, you little crafty boy!," Namuro gasped and began to splash saliva like a garden watering can.

But the boy did not loosen his grip. He squeezed it very tight. Then he saw his eyes full of sadness. And he was stunned. He saw before him a man with nothing to lose. His teeth chattered with fear. And in that instant they both flew into the abyss.

The vision dimmed again. And the darkness spread around the boy for quite a long time. Too long passed and suddenly he saw another rather unpleasant moment.

- "Where have they fallen?," cried the headmistress.

- "Here, here," cried quite a number of voices.

- "They've scattered like cockroaches," came one voice.

Zontul didn't have the courage to look at the blur - it was downright disgusting. His gaze only fell on Namuro, who wore disproportionately large anti-grav boots.

After a moment, that vision vanished as well. There was an unusual silence in the hive, and a thick and sickening darkness descended. Zontul was left as if flooded with terror. The visions seemed to have flooded him with a bucket of ice water. Suddenly the hive spat it out like a candy that was too unpleasant to taste.

In front of him stood the demon duke, laughing. It was really disgusting. And the mounted crocodile was grinning stupidly.

AGARES

CHAPTER TWELVE: AGARES

 

- "You saw the truth, didn't you?," Agares was slapping his knees like a little child. "It's not pleasant like in fairy tales! And knowing it is often of no use! But you are different!"

- "So, Kazuk Mon chose me because I survived among all those children in that scary place?," asked Emborian uncomprehendingly.

- "Yes and no," hissed the demon, obviously slightly annoyed by his answer.

- "Kazuk Mon wanted to see death in another's eyes, and himself to survive. Don't you understand, the old man is a sung song?," the demon raged.

The demonic duke just became frightening. He was known for turning back fugitives. And Emborian was about to become just that.

- "You're going to have to run, Aren’t you?," the demon growled.

- "I'm going to stay here because you pointed out the truth to me," the boy said quietly. "After seeing it, I have nothing to lose."

- "That's how I want you," the demon cheered. "There's nothing more frightening in this world than a man with nothing to lose. And remember, I am only your guide and mentor, an ally if you will, but not your nEnny. You'll have to make a lot of the decisions yourself. But don't worry, the old tree-hugger won't lay a finger on you. I can guarantee you that. Hierarchy in Hell is a strange thing, my boy, but you're lucky your mentor isn't at the bottom of it!“ he chuckled."

- "What will you command then?," Emborian asked him. "I can't hide forever, as he'll find out one day."

- "Well, frankly, that's quite unnecessary," the infernal lord became completely serious. "You should have your basket tangled from earlier."

- "Op... what?," the novice snapped.

- Oh yes, I keep forgetting that you don't have things like that in the future. But you still have to prepare.

- "See the hook on my arm?," he looked at it. "When they cut off your hand, it linked us forever."

- "But how?," puzzled Emborian.

Under other circumstances the demon would have instantly destroyed it and found someone else. He had done this many times with his previous novices. This was the easiest. But now the stakes were huge. He knew that Kazuk Mon could bond with another hellmaster, and that would be quite unpleasant for himself. Every demon was bound to keep their reputation intact though.

- "Look, the Infernal Hive is a trial for many, including you. But you resisted the nightmares. That's how you'll get your first mission," the old man spoke anxiously. "You have to kill Kazuk Mon."

- "But, I don't know how to end someone else's life," the boy was horrified. "That's a crime."

- "I saw with my own eyes how you watched all the carnage during your ascension to Mag Tu," the demon looked at him seriously. "And he did not murmur, nor did he run away. Ah, now you're being asked to do something too simple! One step and you'll be bound to me alone!"

- "Now he must plunge into the noisy world; Weary with his insignificance, He will break, he will thirst, he will fight... In vain he will wait for peace. And I have not even time to sell my soul, it must fail itself[11]," the novice recites.

- "Your mentor really is a fool," the demon looked at him pityingly. "To quote Faust is rather, how shall I say, retrograde, and even strange."

The apprentice was silent. And the demon wasn't even gloating, just looking at him questioningly.

- "Well, what do you decide," he finally, groaned. "Do you agree?"

- "I accept," Zontul bowed his eyes.

- "Well, good," Agares seemed to rejoice. "Who knows? You seem sincere. Let's not waste any more time. Your real training starts right now."

- Before we begin, you should know at least one important thing. I am not the supreme demon. There are those of higher ranks. But you don't need to come into contact with them because they don't know you and someone might destroy you. Take this ring - it has my symbols on it - so if you get into trouble, they will know you are my person.

The minion fixed his gaze on a massive ring made of white gold on which the demon's initials were engraved. In the center was a massive pentagram, and around it were drawn some symbols.

- "I'm not finished," the demon laughed. "I think you're going to need that, too. This is the medallion of Marbas[12]. Guard it well, for it may prove too useful. Something might stop me from helping you. For now, that's enough."

The messenger hastened to thank him.

- "And finally," the demon muttered. "You will soon learn that someone very special is headed your way who will be of use to you. But I'm not allowed to give you his name, because those are the rules."

Suddenly the boy woke up. His forehead was drenched in cold sweat, but he was under no illusions about anything. He rubbed his eyes to make sure it was all true. Then he felt around his neck, but there was absolutely nothing there. He looked at his hands too - no sign of the demon's gift.

The room was dim and he could just hear the sound of his own breathing. All around was dead silence.

He thought about the encounter with the demon. Maybe it had happened just in time, or maybe his inner fears of taking on this new huge responsibility had overwhelmed him - it was hard to say. He rose from the ornate erdoman anti-grav capsule. He looked around and listened. There was absolutely nothing. Then he sensed something was wrong.

He went to open the powerful hydron door that isolated the underground crypt from the outer antechambers. There were absolutely no emphorils on post.

"I've got to run," the boy thought, and readied himself, but suddenly found himself thinking, "Maybe I'd better investigate what's going on after all!"

The outside of the antechamber was impressive with its futuristic design, overflowing with ornamentation. Emborian was transfixed by the richness of the forms and the power of its symbolism. Numerous scenes associated with Arthusson were depicted.

The boy continued his tour, wearing only a hyon robe, lined with kevlarite tiles and an erzanar helm that guarded his head. In his hand he held an erux he had found from behind one of the massive columns. He passed through the four main anterooms of the crypt, but nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.

Suddenly he realized. They had sealed the crypt. He was buried alive! That meant this was the fate of Mag Tu!

He began to walk around in a trance, spitting curses he had never imagined he could utter. Then he fainted. He was lying on the cold floor, made of solid HHermonad’s granite brought some fifteen years ago from the planet Ufur Gan, which was famous as a hotbed of evil.

- "I have left you enough food," came the demon's slightly nervous but seemingly calm voice. "I thought you were stronger, but apparently I was mistaken. Go and eat!," he uttered in a commanding tone."

With the last of his strength, the boy dragged himself to where the demon had pointed. He saw an emforilla killed, and her body had begun to decompose.

- "This will be your feast!," the demon gloated. "I'm not eating that!“ the boy grumbled."

- "Starve to death if you will. That I can offer you for the moment!“ the demon laughed at him, then apparently coming to his senses, added, "Succubus meat isn't so bad! It's just a little off at first..."

The boy felt his stomach turn, and without looking at what he was eating, used the erux to tear a juicy steak from the dead succubus. He snapped at it like a hungry dog, tearing small chunks with his teeth. All smeared with sticky blood.

The demon had obviously left him alone for a while.

After he fed, he slowly began to realize what was happening. Apparently this was the first part, of his battle baptism!

THE CHILDREN OF KASDEYA

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE CHILDREN OF KASDEYA

 

"This is thy grave now, Cleanse it with silent reverence, That may tomorrow at once, To call thee to account!"

Unknown author

 

Few would doubt that there was a secret nucleus within the sect of the Tarashdukians that was hard at work trying to undermine the leader and remove him - it was „The Children of Kasdeya“[13]. But things, even with the sectarians, were not that simple. Nor could the removal of the leader be so easy. Not at all! Many more would

Would happen before Kazuk Mon was gone from this world, for better or worse. "The Children of Kasdeya" had been preparing the assassination attempt against him for far too long, but something kept happening - either the archer's hand would falter or the poison couldn't reach its final target. They were beginning to despair, but suddenly one suggested an extravagant idea that would once and for all make things fall into place and restore balance. But it was extremely risky and dangerous. And it wouldn't go without blood.

"The Children of Kasdeya" were rejected even by the sectarians - brutal and psychedelic, with no clear direction or purpose in life. They knew that they could only exist on the backs of the sect, which threw them the morsels of their pitiful rations.

It was unclear in one of the many brutal intergalactic raids who had brought home from the distant planet Earth this battered ancient statue of the cruel demonic poison goddess, but it was known that as soon as they caught a glimpse of her face they all felt respect and fell on their eyes in reverence. She gave them comfort to serve her. Soon their services became known far beyond the colony, and many districts and autonomous territories put a huge bounty on the head of any of the gang members. They numbered perhaps thirty or so, but were orphans to a man. No one had ever loved them except their stone mother-goddess. None of them remembered their real mother, either, because of the aforementioned memory retransplant procedure.

As for how they had gotten to them, that would be known late enough that they could at least touch the high priest's life one last time.

- "All right, we accept," they said in unison. "If that is your will."

- "Oh, it is quite possible that you may refuse," the voice pronounced.

- "We will carry out the order in due time," they roared like wild beasts.

- "HHermonad’s's poison should be strong enough, after all, he still has magical powers reserved to counteract. His young novice must be removed while the old man meditates on the rock. He will be much more vulnerable that way. The pilgrims usually sleep far enough away to hear what's going on," Er Mo Za continued his lengthy instructions, a short and stocky Zegandarian with scars on his face from his battle with the guarrons nineteen years ago.

Now he was also passing forty, but he was not thinking of retiring, but was assisting in the subversive activities of the group.

- "We've got to sort out the archivist or our heads will roll very easily," Er Mo Za remarked.

The other members of the group nodded approvingly. Here were Euron Wak and Jessica Wak, two prominent members of the secret movement. They also joined in the support. But no one knew that they were Durnyam's connection to the entire subversive group. Durnyam Shetstone - Mark's friend - was the man who was going to bring down the cult one way or another. He wasn't against religious beliefs, but he was clearly aware that the last Great War had done no good for Au Kaktir. Moreover, the population of the entire planet, and for that matter its entire morale, was deteriorating by the day. Apparently all the events so far were just a prelude to the real and total war. Why did they have to make one Armageddon to get to the new one. Durnyam clearly remembered the huge sacrifices of close friends, and very young boys like Hissu for example fell victim to Elmbaum's sick ambitions. Now, however, the religious cult was eating away at everyone's souls like leprosy.

"The Children of Kasdeya"  was a secretly funded entity from the personal wealth of the Supreme Om Gur Nal, and Durnyam, Sasia, Zorin and Mark, had become his first aides. He had made it clear that he would never allow another split and total annihilation, but this time there were clearly impure forces involved.

The other members of the formation were children who wanted to break away from their pathetic existence and shine as heroes to save others from falling into their own situation. But there was something scary - they were marked to the core with the mark of Arthusson, and it would be for life, as part of their soul went to the demon lord forever.

The truth was, while Durnyam was an expert on ultrasithian language and ancient cultures, he didn't know much about demons. In fact, not even the recruited sect members themselves suspected their infernal design. They had come here because they were hungry and no one else offered them help. They knew very well that the sect would also feed them until time ran out, and it was already running out. They needed to find a solution to their problem or else they were badly off.

One of their duties was to clean the graves of the dead novices. They were really many. Too many. Maybe to few hundred or even a thousand, which was more than a tenth of the total number of all the cultists of Tarash Duk. This should have been done before noon. It was a very tedious occupation. They used special Enzanium sickles for the purpose. Swearing, they tried their best to finish it an hour sooner. And it was like that every time!

Just then, specially trained agents would sneak out from among the novices to attack Kazuk Mon while he was still up high on the cliff, performing the rouge 'g zon meditation. They would secretly tie him up with zeretian strings and drag him off in an unknown direction before he came to his senses and used his magical powers.

One thing in their plan was lame, however - how to catch the novice Zontul. He might slip away rather unexpectedly, and that meant certain death for those who dared to rebel against the evil god's cult. Then Durnyam had consulted with Liroith, and he had advised them to use a very simple resonator box in a hyon fiber sheath to mimic a demonic voice that would enter into communication with the enchanter.

- "He had hardly heard of such a technique," Learout had said ironically, for the cultists were renowned for their technical backwardness.

Extraordinary luck they would strike if the novice they had been watching closely appeared.

The Ufurgans had given them the poison with the understanding that they would remove the restrictions on the Trade Alliance between the two planets - something they accepted gladly.

The enchanter's time was running out. Once in his system, the poison would cause a fatal arrhythmia and an agonizing death. Then it would slowly slither towards the victim's testicles, rеndering them impotent. It was the one they had chosen to punish the evil seducer and maniac.

The old man's brain would be drowned in a flood of fire that would finish him off for good.

ZORIN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ZORIN

 

"People disappear because of their isolation."

Unknown author

 

The former commando's long, grueling journey was coming to an end. He could just see how the beautiful mesantioran forests seemed to be 'closing in' on him. The weather was pleasant - slightly cool. He was wearing something like a raincoat, which was called an ertosar[14]. He had a laser cutter hidden in one of his anti-grav boots and an Ansar box. It could knock out even your molars with one punch. Zorin was in a hurry, and he could clearly feel that if he dropped the thread now, he'd never be able to catch up and the truth would simply escape before his eyes.

Mark and Sasia are probably waiting for me, but I have more important things to do right now

- He whispered softly.

Suddenly the nirangaiter stopped. Perhaps there was some kind of malfunction, or maybe the interon fuel had run out. Zorin began to curse and even became angry. Still he went down to inspect the damage.

- "It doesn't seem that serious after all," he concluded after the brief thorough examination of his ride. "I'll continue on foot."

Zorin had a reputation for being a hard bastard and a complete maniac, but this time he was also turning into the dark forest. A plasma blaster would have been far more convincing if anything jumped out at him. The erthosar in question, was constructed of nano-based hyon fibers and covered in tiles of kevlarite. Zorin walked flamboyantly, knowing full well that he was far from his golden years when he could take down even a small Seburnagian tyrfan with a single fist.

A line from the song flashed through his mind, "Honestly I wish the trail would never end, but there's no way I'm not turning around..."

The thick debris was flowing past him and it was getting scarier. But he had learned his lesson well, and felt that he must not trust his senses. Anything could jump out at him. And that might be the end of him!

- "Where was the good old time?," he growled. "It's getting boring. You're about to burst. But we still have time to go to the other world too, don't we?," he wondered rhetorically, gritting his teeth.

Luckily there was no one around to hear and understand his confused reasoning. But it was a fact that Zorin had been passing between the drops all his life. Well, even luck wasn't a forever thing, but something told him that this wouldn't be his last hunt. He had many summers ahead of him. His killer instinct was awakening. He was ready again.

He tried to walk carefully, as the mesantioran forests were thicker than even a jungle and one could easily twist their ankles, or worse. There were liana-like plants called xarax that could wrap themselves around your neck and choke you to death - if only you let them get close. Somewhere far ahead, Zorin's keen sense of smell picked up that something was wrong.

Incidentally, Zorin had left his Nirangaiter somewhere far back and had hidden it well, but he might as well not have gone back as it was unclear what awaited him in the sectarian village.

- "This archivist has taken himself rather seriously," Zorin groaned, "and I have a feeling he had a hand in my mother's death."

The forest was thinning, and far ahead he made out the vague outline of something. Something he didn't like at all. It looked like the village, but there was something unusual about it. Zorin didn't have infrared binoculars to get a better look at it. He decided to get closer. At least a little. And overheard the following conversation.

- "Who would have expected another Mag Tu coronation ceremony to go so bloody," one of the sectarians complained. "Look, even the vicinity of the ziggurat is splattered with blood!"

- "And how did Kazuk Mon's coronation go more than fifteen years ago?," another contradicted him. "The same amount of violence and senseless cruelty!"

- "Be careful that no one hears that they might put us directly into the ziggurat," the first one sniffed at him. "Ah, that would be downright disgusting!"

Zorin didn't have time to listen to their idle ramblings all day. He grasped, however broadly, that something too massive was afoot, and might soon threaten the entire peace of the planet. And it wasn't just war, but perhaps even Armageddon.

- "How could I have been blind. That's why they offered me that general's post!," he muttered.

Suddenly, however, there was a stir in the sectarian camp that could only have been caused by a very important event. Evidently they were expecting something extraordinary.

Zorin was beginning to sweat profusely. He was going mad. This could have cost him his life. And he knew it. He wasn't fighting crazed guarrons or mutants here, he was fighting devil knows what!

He got just a little closer and the settlement in question was revealed before his eyes. It seemed to be quite extensive and quite a few new parts had been added just recently - apparently the sectarians were thriving. The sky seemed to become angry and thick clouds appeared on the horizon. Clearly something was about to happen.

The sectarians seemed to be pretty hyped up. Suddenly they gathered together as if on command, trying to summon their fictional god, to whom their in

Zorin didn't have time to listen to their idle ramblings all day. He grasped, albeit in a general way, that something too large was afoot, and could soon threaten the entire peace of the planet. And it wasn't just war, but perhaps even Armageddon.

- "How could I have been blind. That's why they offered me that general's post!," he muttered.

Suddenly, however, there was a stir in the sectarian camp that could only have been caused by a very important event. Evidently they were expecting something extraordinary.

Zorin was beginning to sweat profusely. He was going mad. This could have cost him his life. And he knew it. He wasn't fighting crazed guarrons or mutants here, he was fighting devil knows what!

He got just a little closer and the settlement in question was revealed before his eyes. It seemed to be quite extensive and quite a few new parts had been added just recently - apparently the sectarians were thriving. The sky seemed to become angry and thick clouds appeared on the horizon. Clearly something was about to happen.

The sectarians seemed to be pretty hyped up. Suddenly they gathered as if on command, trying to summon their fictional god they imagined they served. They twisted their arms in strange gestures, clawing the air like fish on dry land, and inarticulate magic words came from their mouths. Their mouths whispered of things their hearts longed for - complete merging with the deity Arthusson. Finally, they fell with a clatter to the clay soils of Tarash Duk and pounded their heads with their fists. This was the ritual of atonement altogether.

The Archpriest was not to be seen about. Something important must have been holding him back and was about to happen. The fact that there were absolutely no children around also stood out.

- "Where could it be?," wondered Zorin. "Let me look around some more first before I go in through the back gate. This strange religious cult looks rather interesting."

Then someone suddenly punched him in the back of the head and his skull was drenched in blood.

- "Are you spying on us, you mangy dog?," someone roared in a powerful bass voice.

- You'll be sorry! And a lot!

They dragged him like a dog, and his head hit the stones. One of them nearly blinded him. He remembered no further.

- "Next stop, the temple of Arthusson," someone bellowed nearby.

- "I thought that ziggurat was the temple," Zorin recalled half-consciously, starting to come to his senses but trying not to give himself away.

They started moving, and he could feel a beastly pain in his wrists - it was downright unbearable. He was tied tightly - too tightly, even.

They kept walking, and Zorin hadn't the slightest idea where they were going. But he sensed something very bad.

- I am part of the force that always wishes evil and always does good.

- He heard a strange voice.[15]

This infidel would soon serve his punishment. We will at least mention him in our prayers out of coward's shame, but, frankly, he deserves nothing more. We just need to end it faster.

- "He will have the honor of becoming a witness for the Council. No mere mortal infidel has ever had such an honor before," he heard another voice say.

- "Enough talk, lead the way," the first voice ordered again.

They were in a sort of crypt, and behind them were strange creatures watching them. Too strange even.

Zorin was pretty good with languages, and he could make out names like "Abagor", "Abaddon", "Agares", probably written in a language that had to be Hebrew. He had majored in ancient history at the university and hence it was his passion for languages. "But how had such names ended up in a place like this?" he wondered. He remembered that the Hebrew abjad[16] had its peculiarities, and the hand that had too carelessly scribbled the symbols was hardly very aware of that - but it was still readable.

It was obvious that the crypt had a peculiar design and there were several tunnels branching off from it - apparently it was carved too deep into the rock, but hardly so deep that air could not reach the chamber in which they laid Zorin.

- "We must be at least fifteen, even twenty meters  below the surface," Zorin muttered.

The sectarians, however, did not hear him. There was no way to report that they'd caught him, because Mark and Sasia weren’t wearing transmitters. It was more than fucking shit!

- "You'll rot here, General," he snarled.

After a moment, the archivist approached. His crimson cloak touched the floor and he was more than dignified, but when the pale light of a half-broken irene lamp illuminated him, Zorin sensed that he was old and sick. There was something else, too. Zorin may have been rude and a little short-tempered, but he was by no means a fool. If he just wanted to show his power, the old man would have just killed him or tortured him to get information. And so far, neither. Maybe he was too valuable to do any work. But the old man was in no hurry to start with the preface. He was so concentrated, and there was some mystery emanating from his pale brow. But Zorin sought his eyes, and they were hidden behind thick, whitened, ruddy brows

- "You'll rot here, General," he snarled.

After a moment the archivist approached. His crimson cloak touched the floor and he was more than dignified, but when the pale light of a half-broken irene lamp illuminated him, Zorin sensed that he was old and sick. There was something else, too. Zorin may have been rude and a little short-tempered, but he was by no means a fool. If he just wanted to show his power, the old man would have just killed him or tortured him to get information. And so far, neither. Maybe he was too valuable to do any work. But the old man was in no hurry to start with the preface. He was so concentrated, and there was some mystery emanating from his pale brow. But Zorin searched his eyes, and they were hidden behind bushy, graying, ruddy brows.

- "Do you know why you are still alive?," the wizard's weakened voice boomed.

- "You can lift the veil from my eyes, holy father," Zorin tried to show respect.

- It was not your general's patch that saved you, nor your religious motives, but a small amulet-talisman you wear around your neck. Where did you get it?

Those words were like a hammer that landed on the general's head. Torturing him, killing him, or even interrogating him was normal, but what had this pendant done to attract their attention. Zorin didn't even remember how long he had it, but he had received it from his late mother.

Kazuk Mon didn't miss his obvious confusion at asking that question, though Zorin did his best to cover himself.

- You'll soon learn what your role is in this whole thing. For now, just rest. I'll come again tonight. And the members of my flock won't even touch you.

Zorin spent the rest of the late afternoon lying on his back, bandaged like a salami. No one even came to see how he was. He was as thirsty as a barking dog.

He couldn't even wriggle sideways. And while he wondered which swear word was best suited for the filthy sectarians who had chosen this way to harass him, someone pushed him by the shoulder. The hand was gentle, and it was definitely female. It startled him. He hadn't seen too many young women among the sectarians.

- "I'm Kibera," the woman whispered softly. "I'll bring you food if you want."

Zorin realized what a pathetic curser he was at the moment, but he was still suspicious. What if there was some poison in the food!

KIBERA

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: KIBERA

 

The woman smiled coaxingly.

- "Don't be a fool," she hissed, but he detected an undisguised threat, "they'll cut your balls off and turn you into a eunuch. It's the only way you'll survive, and then you'll learn the rest."

Zorin looked at her. Why on earth would she lie to him? Her smile was super ingratiating.

- Obviously, you don't understand. Somewhere deep here lies the true entrance to the ziggurat, not the false ziggurat erected for fools who are willing to kill even for the sake of a lie.

Zorin decided not to ask further. What more was there to lose? Being stripped of his manhood was hardly something that would EngEnder pride for an elite commando of his caliber. Kibera was thinking the same thing.

He opened his mouth and she slipped a special nano ampoule inside.

- "Chew it quickly," she snapped at him. "There's no time."

Zorin did so instantly and the darkness swallowed him very soon. Kibera waited for the drug to have its proper effect. Then he stepped quietly and went to a special small device.

- We need to hide you well - at least until the full moon, or we're both dead.

Kibera became a concern himself. He tried all sorts of things to keep his charge alive. He had to be careful not to lose his own head. What were her motives? Her face was drunk and completely focused as she tried not to miss even the smallest details. Kazuk Mon was out of the settlement on assignments, but he would be back sooner or later, and there were novices hanging around not too far from here who could become too dangerous and aggressive, especially if they saw what was going on. It is right to admit that the dropouts novices were by no means thrown out of the community, but given a sort of second chance and Entrusted with ceremonial and security functions, but they could never hope for more than that.

Kibera knew she couldn't do it all completely on her own. She needed help. At least a little.

- Hey, Elsamore, the archivist would love to see our captive get a little better service and be cleaned and washed before the ritual.

The novice approached in awe. At first he had intended to look at her haughtily and disobey, but on reflection he realised that this was a great chance for himself to shine. Otherwise, they might not need his services soon to guard the approaches to the true ziggurat.

- "What was to be done?," he asked rather cautiously.

- "Nothing much,"' Kibera replied quite calmly. "Just help me carry him from here to the nearest alcove where we keep the dead first. Then we'll wipe him down just a bit."

Without asking any more questions the novice set about helping her. He tried even a little harder to get her to. She let him know in no uncertain terms that his favor would be remembered.

"Who would have thought such a stiff man would need a nEnny," the novice thought.

Kibera disposed and the two of them locked him in one of the central alcoves near the floor.

Zorin seemed to have outright died. The minion wondered if they should just put him in a bEnzonium sack and give him a quick burial.

- "I'll take care of it from now on," Kibera said to him corruptly.

Her charming smile was unforgettable. Simply an amazing woman. She took off Zorin's clothes. And then he noticed the pendant. He couldn't tear his eyes away from that enchanting piece of metal that was obviously hiding some great secret. A secret that was not to be seen by other eyes.

Then she glimpsed a shadow behind her. Not too big, but still tangible.

Kibera wasn't who she thought she was and she wasn't scared. She knew nothing was happening just like that.

- "Ah, it is you, Marquis Forneus[17]," she pronounced imperturbably, "I thought the job wasn't that serious."

- "In fact, I come to inform you that I can no longer defend you this time," he exclaimed sadly.

- "Why?," she wondered.

- You have incurred the wrath of powers far greater than mine by your action. It is only a matter of time before you are held to account. But, this alien possesses something extremely valuable. Don't let it fall into the wrong hands. Otherwise, you are both lost.

It didn't escape Kibera's gaze that despite his cunning, the infernal Marquis looked worried, something highly unusual for any demon. By the time Kibera turned around, he was gone.

- "What are we going to rely on ourselves for so much," she sighed. "The Legions of Darkness will destroy us or we'll manage to get away somehow!"

The darkness of the crypt seemed to have begun to descend, and the light from the irEnic lamps that were still in use brought a slight melancholy note.

The woman had fallen into a reverie, but she kept moving towards her goal, which was to get rid of the General at any cost.

- It became very quiet, but one could clearly sense that something was wrong.

Elsamore was absolutely nowhere to be seen. But she wasn't that worried about him right now.

Again she noticed the scary shadow following her more insistently. It was obvious that she was concEntrating around it.

Kibera continued her attempts to deal with the situation. But a sudden slight hissing sound distracted her. Was it possible that she was losing her mind?

After looking more closely, she saw that it was Elsamore's corpse only two or three paces away from her. How was it possible? She had not noticed the shifting of the shadow, nor the novice. Was it possible that she had been possessed, even briefly!

Then with quick steps she rushed to the medallion, remembering Forneus' words. And felt palpably that something was preventing her from reaching it. She strained her strength, knowing it was a matter of life and death.

The invisible force was downright implacable, and it did not yield.

- "Ermolao Di Ermelo," she recited boldly.

The invisible force seemed to hesitate and loosened its grip. Elmora had been waiting for this and quickly jumped into the alcove where Zorin was. She emptied the sack with a small laser cutter. She snipped at his clothes. Managed to find the medallion. The beautiful gold inlay was a very intricate tangle of symbols of some god or demon unknown to her. As soon as she touched the locket it suddenly dimmed and the shadow turned white and took on a clearer outline. Then she realized what was actually behind her back. But she didn't lose her composure, and gripped the locket even tighter. Then she clearly heard a voice:

- Your resistance is pointless, woman. Stop and look around!

A brutal whistling reached her ears. It was unbearable. Where the hell had she gotten to. The crypt could become her grave very soon!

THE SHADOW

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE SHADOW

 

"Everyone chooses the illusion of his life."

Unknown author

 

The choices we make define us as people, but there also comes a time sooner or later when souls are brought to justice for their transgressions. The shadow that haunted Kibera was that of a poor poet killed by the dreaded demon Azazel, also known as the "hairy demon".

- "When you touched the medallion, I felt my soul would disappear forever," the shadow screeched. "You can only see me thanks to the medallion."

- "But how is it possible that you are haunting me," Kibera roared.

- "I'm not chasing you, I'm trying to get the locket," the shadow apologised.

- "It's all the same," she stammered.

- "Listen to my story!," the shadow began to growl.

Kibera decided she didn't have much to lose, and she could learn a valuable lesson about how to deal with demonic forces.

- "Go ahead, but keep it short," she prompted him.

- It all started quite a while ago. I had decided to see what was behind the cult of Tarash Duk, but I found out a terrible truth - Kazuk Mon wasn't exactly human.

Kibera was going to bite his tongue here. She had expected anything but a beginning like this.

- "If he's not human, then what is he, a demon or Satan?," she hissed.

- "No," was the answer across the room.

- "And then?," Kibera felt she was about to hear something extremely frightening.

Kazuk Mon was just an empty material shell, but he didn't know it. He had tried to steal from Astaroth, who was Hell's treasurer. This he did unknowingly, as too many sins had piled up on his shoulders, so he summoned unknown powers to help him enter Hell itself. And he succeeded.

- "And who helped him?," inquired Kibera.

- "I don't know that anymore," replied the soul sadly. "I can only tell you something else. If you want to see his true face, point the medallion right at him and you will see the torn energy aura around his soul. He's so eaten, they won't even accept him in Hell. His soul will remain wedged between Heaven and earth. And he knows it very well. He's just trying to buy a little more time until he finds salvation."

- "So he's hopelessly doomed?," shook Kibera's head sadly.

- "And who killed you?," she inquired.

- "Well, actually, I was one of the worshippers who started to string this story together," the ghost said quietly.

- "And why did he need Aum's gold?," the woman puzzled. He thought he had to bribe the Archist of Synthros.

- "Ah," she gasped, beginning to understand everything.

- There was a trial for Kazuk Mon, of course, but then they decided to take only half his soul and he would be forced to experience unbearable pain every day and night. That was why he chose his new novice. His goal was simply to redirect the demonic hatred towards him.

- "This is all very sad," Kibera concluded. "And what is this pendant?"

- "I don't know it," said the ghost a little timidly, "but it obviously has great power, because it is only thanks to it that I have told you what I know."

Kibera wondered what to answer. She felt that part of the picture was still slipping away from her.

- "Then why did you attack me?," she turned on him angrily.

- "I felt you wanted to destroy me," the voice replied, seemingly calm.

- "You lie, demon, even when you tell the truth," she roared, clutching the medallion with both hands. "I command you to disappear!"

There was a great rumbling and the ziggurat shook. Kibera stayed by Zorin's side. When everything calmed down, she went to look at him. He was dead.

She felt his pulse-there was no doubt.

"Has the medallion drained his powers?," she wondered, "That would be a pity indeed! There's too much death floating around!," Zorin's stiff corpse was not a particularly pleasant sight.

His pupils were bulging and looked like grey greenish glass, as if reflecting the insidious glare of another universe, of a hellish world - harsh and merciless! His mouth was half open and frozen in a dead sigh. He had glimpsed something before he gasped in hellish agony. The bloody commando!

Kibera didn't waste time thinking very much. He decided to act quickly and with absolute determination. She had already learned some things about the demonic hierarchy. It could be said that she had caught the thread. How little was left for her to feel the whole picture! She was almost at the gates of Hell!

She could feel the hot breeze! How hot it was!

But Kibera realized something terrible - she had spent her entire conscious life like this - unloved and pitiful, remembering only the filthy sectarians. She'd been trying to get away from the pathetic semblance of a life she'd led, and now she was involved in fighting demons. It seemed grotesque, but she wasn't doing it for love of justice, but to find the inner strength within herself to carry on. To convince her soul that she was getting up and that she would survive, even if she had to drag her guts along.

Zorin fell the first victim. It was pointless, and she could feel how scary it was going to get very soon. Kazuk Mon might be a little cranky and quirky, but if he died, or if they killed him, the whole colony would go to hell. And many lost souls trying to escape their curse of being losers in real life had found hypocritical solace here. Because, frankly, they were walking corpses, good for nothing. And here in the colony, they were getting their daily rations for just a hypocritical show of respect for religion.

There was something even more disingEnuous. Kazuk Mon realized that without his role as leader, which he had fought for for years, and without the wavering support of the Higher Powers, he would be nothing but a bitter and rejected old man begging for a piece of bread. So prosaic was it that you could almost guess.

Before she left the underground room full of so many novice corpses, she hung the locket around her neck just in case. The hydron door closed behind her.

KAZUK MON

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: KAZUK MON

 

Kazuk Mon felt that his end was all too near. Death was stalking him and it was just hopeless to play hide and seek with it. There had already been several assassination attempts on him, but unsuccessful. So far - but he could almost feel the blade of the laser cutter around his neck. Soon he would be left alone and abandoned on his hill, like a hapless king who was not capable or shrewd enough to save his own skin. And this time the demonic forces would gloat! And rightly so! He'd fucked them up plenty of times! Too many times!

The Archivist had to choose between Ending his own life, or straining to prolong his agony just a little longer. Even by a few days!

He was so exhausted and knew he would be consigned to the darkest recesses of Hell.

There was still no word or bone from his novice Emborian Zontul, but Kazuk Mon knew the boy would need at least two weeks of complete seclusion to step into his role as Mag Tu. No less! That was why she didn't harbor any suspicions towards him!

The novice would be wherever he wished, but still, Kazuk Mon was worried.

The demonic forces were playing with him like a small and ridiculous rag doll. He was trying so many different things. But in vain! It was just that his power was weakEning, and soon all his enemies would be aware of it! And they were going to take advantage!

- "When your whole life has been nothing but a string of evils and turning circumstances," Kazuk Mon spoke to himself, "this is the most logical ending."

- "Ah, do you at least repent?," a cold but hypocritically friendly voice asked him.

- "For what?," the enchanter whimpered.

- "For your deeds!," the voice pronounced somewhat commandingly.

Kazuk Mon thought and clearly realised that he had only dealt with trash. With horrible criminals and brutal psychopaths. He had confessed and accepted them into his sect to gain their loyalty, but he had to pay the price with his own soul. Many of them were even sentenced to death by the supreme Om Gur Nal of Zegandaria.

- "Where are they now?," the voice asked him snidely. "Will they come to deliver you from the infernal pyre they are preparing in your honour?"

- "Who or what are you?," the archivist turned to nothing, shivering.

- It's early for you to know that yet. All I can tell you is that I have already visited your old and not very loyal friend the Archivist, but he did not even acknowledge my presence. He preferred to greedily finish his dinner. You at least detect the whiff of my voice. Perhaps there is still some hope for you, however much you may not like to believe it!

Kazuk Mon looked down before him with bitterness:

- It seems like it was yesterday when we were jumping like boys on the roofs of buildings. It was all childish and full of romance.

The voice was in no hurry to interrupt him. Kazuk Mon had sat down on a very high boulder by the ziggurat and was secluded. There was plenty of time until the new Mag Tu displaced him for good. Say, two whole weeks.

It had been an old ritual to slowly circle the enormous ertal[18], which was a giant piece of obsidian inscribed with intricate symbols to soak up all of Mag Tu's remaining powers as they were traditionally supposed to flow into the new one, which would in turn circle the stone.

- "The Archmistress," the voice began again, quizzically, "has a more miserable fate in store for him than yours as well, if that can comfort you at all, of course."

Kazuk Mon nodded dejectedly. He had almost stopped caring, but it was only apparent. His soul burned in the flames of helpless hatred for his enemies. He would die without being able to strike a blow at those of them who had stood in his way all his life.

- "Look, I know what your last wish is," the voice began again, "but Hell has very different plans for you. You might even feel flattered," he finished with a mischievous giggle.

At that moment footsteps were heard. Kazuk Mon turned around. Behind him was Emborian.

At first, the archivist had even thought of snarling at him, but he soon guessed that this boy now formally had his life, even though the final two weeks had not expired. He had to be at least a little friendlier. At least until he felt where the wind was blowing from!

The boy bowed politely to him:

- Master, here I am.

Dignity exuded from the boy's posture, and Kazuk Mon was initially taken aback. He could feel his voice whispering, "The key to solving the riddle is the boy!"

THE SUPREME OM GUR NAL

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE SUPREME OM GUR NAL

 

The politics of the planet Zegandaria was determined by none other than the Supreme Om Gur Nal, who was above absolutely everyone. Such a leader, had to possess extreme moral purity and devotion to the idea of being a universal father. Om Gur Nal could not be any religious leader or business tycoon, but the most perfect inhabitant of the planet. Of course, perfection was too relative a concept, so there was a long list of requirements built up for the potential candidate. Elections for Om Gur Nal were made once every twenty-five years, making the period of his reign an excessively long and drawn-out process.

This was only the second Om Gur Nal who had performed too successfully and satisfied everyone. It was not easy to handle such a huge responsibility. Moreover, the leader was fully aware that assassinations against him would be a daily occurrEnce. This did not surprise anyone.

Om Gur Nal's richly-arranged chertos were filled with the skins of Seburnag tyrphans and impressive hunting trophies brought home from both Seburnag and Ossonia. No one held it against him that this was absolutely against the law, for he was the highest embodiment of morality. In the very etymology of the word Om Gur Nal lay the key to the dominion of the sovereign: he was not a mandated governor, but had, as we have already said, more than twenty-five years at his disposal for ruling, like some king of the remote past.

One of the first things that Om Gur Nal restored was the cult of Midriel, and also Ertuk, his son. Like any ruler, he had imagined that it was all too well to have some sort of continuity.

Durnyam Shetstone had contributed immensely to the imposition of the new gods among the laity. He made a doctrine which gave privileges to those of them who worshipped both gods at the same time - so the power of the new Om Gur Nal was more than secure. But there was some danger of his being killed by a follower of Arthusson, for the sectarians were more than fanatical.

Somewhere in there the situation was beginning to heat up.

- "How do you know Ultrasithian?," he asked Durnyam the first chance he got.

- "Someone asked me exactly the same question once," he replied quietly.

- "I'd like you to work with that someone," said the High Sovereign, who seemed interested in the development.

- "Mark has always supported me, even when I haven’t been up to it," Durnyam smirked.

- "Well, everyone had their bad days too," Om Gur Nal encouraged him, "That's perfectly normal. So what?"

- "Do you know how few people I can really trust?," the sovereign turned to him. "I count them on the fingers of half my hand. But maybe that's the way it should be! Someone needs to help me a little, honestly. Someone like you!"

- "You know, Om Gur Nal, I don't believe there are any true friends in this world," snarled Durnyam. "I've been alone as a dog all my life. Before Mark and I went on that Great Journey across the desert, I was a researcher at an institute on the planet Ufur Gan - where I learned too much about human nature."

- "I don't mean to be indelicate," Om Gur Nal began gently, "but I'm interested in what you learned."

- "That I would like to keep to myself," Om Gur Nal said sadly. "You know that each of us has a limited time on this world. It would be better to use it to complete our mission to serve others."

Om Gur Nal looked at him questioningly:

- Well, in that case consider yourself appointed. I will not be a hindrance to you. But let me tell you something, dear Durnyam, the cult of Arthusson is something too different from your guarron battles. It's not like twirling a laser cutter or running wildly through the desert. Something serious tells me that certain forces are trying to sweep us away, and if we're not careful, we will be irrevocably destroyed.

- I know this well, Om Gur Nal, and I appreciate your confidence, but I will say it again. Our time is limited, and I will use mine to the best of my ability to serve you. Be in no doubt.

Durnyam bowed his head and shed a tear. Om Gur Nal turned and walked out, leaving him alone with his grief.

The young man clearly realized something very important. It was not Om Gur Nal who was to blame, but he. And sooner or later he would be condemned by the higher powers so at least now he formally wanted to win and would do so. For the moment! He was just procrastinating to see the terrible truth with his own eyes! And it was so simple!

SER MAC ZON

CHAPTER NINETEEN: SER MAC ZON

 

Ser Mac Zon was trying to re-educate the people to see the guarrons as their full brothers, but that was unlikely to ever was ever going to happen. There were three reasons. First were the various hostile races. Second there were still some oddities in the behavior of humanoid lizards that didn't appeal to humans at all. The truth was that some of them still called them „green-skinned“, however derogatory such a name was. The guarron were forced to swallow such insults because of their guilty consciences of the past. But the truth was that deep down they had anger and anguish that was slowly simmering. They tried to atone for their guilt every day. They were trying! But they were still failing. They had studied medicine so thoroughly that they had surpassed humans to some extent. And all in the name of the immanent goal of being accepted as normal and equal beings - something that was never going to happen. There was another reason that only they knew - they had been dmogosed at birth. A famous song of theirs said:

 

"Where we tread, hope lies,

and the way you take is far ahead,

Take courage, thou stranger, do not pass us by!

For a wall awaits thee!"

Few, however, realized the hidden meaning of the message. But that would become clear a little later.

The hospital wards were filled with grief. Even the most advanced equipment could not, and should not, take the focus away from this abode of grief and hope at the same time. Guards, wearing white aprons, paced back and forth.

Ser Mac Zon knew all of the above. He even knew much much more. But he swallowed. Otherwise, their own survival depended on their work. If they lost it, they died. It was that simple.

No one wanted members of this race to be miners or anything else. Not that they couldn't. The guarrons were too intelligent for that. They could be scientists or warriors, but nothing else, and that was their whole life.

Ser Mac Zohn was thoroughly reading the many pages of his electronic textbooks on nano microbiology, anatomy and internal surgery. He knew that no matter how great their talents the guarrons, they were demented at birth and nothing good could be expected from them. The only salvation was the path of humility, but that was temporary.

Ser Mac Zon had been working here for nearly nineteen years. That was how long it had taken to establish the whole rich practice and get everything in place. He was a true luminary in the medical field and had saved more than one or two lives. But he knew he was demented. And it was only a matter of time before it came to its natural end.

"Why is our race perishing?," he asked himself, questions full of desperate hopelessness, "Who is to blame for this?"

The patients thanked him and gave him gifts. He had become super famous. They even Entrusted him with reimplanting memories. It was a great honor for him. Now, many human children from birth would enjoy his care and be shaped in the best way.

Om Gur Nal even made him the doctor of the year. This was an even greater recognition.

Even the crusty Ser Mac Zon broke into tears. He had taken a human name so many years ago. He had no right to shirk from his destined path, no matter how difficult and painful his existence was. He had everything. Almost on a platter, from delicious food to good treatment because of the elite profession he belonged to. But he was well aware that it was all just a facade. Sooner or later he would be brought to justice because of his origins. But he tried hard to help and do his duty. Still, sooner or later the decisive hour would strike, no doubt.

It was necessary to say, too, that the doctor had a hidden grief. He could have no children, not for biological reasons, but because of an unwillingness to continue his cursed lineage.

The professor's numerous assistants were like reflections of him - he had taken their minds with his immense talent and skill. They didn't even let him operate alone, but only consulted them.

It wasn't long before Ser Mac Zon became rather bored.

He didn't know too much about the history of his ancestors. He didn't care that much either. He knew they had done something very evil and vile, and that stain would weigh on him as well.

Time passed, and Ser Mac Zon grew further and further removed from real life, for better or worse.

But no one suspected it.

The Doctor wasn't particularly religious and wasn't in the habit of praying to either Midriel or Erduk.

But this time he wondered if he should. He had a feeling things were going to get worse.

- "Professor Ser Mac Zon, we really need you," someone called out. "They brought in a dying man. In fact, he's straight up dead."

"How does a drowning man swim?," the professor wondered sadly, then quickly jumped to his feet.

- Get him to the operating theatre.

The professor walked with quick and measured steps. He was so happy and wanted to help. He lived for this one, brief and so elusive moment. When he walked into the operating room, he gaped and was downright speechless.

- So this is General Zorin! What had happened?

IN HELL

 

"For some, Hell is a state of the soul."

Unknown author

 

CHAPTER TWENTY: IN HELL

 

- "I managed to kill the bearer of the medallion, but I didn't have the time I needed to get it," the demon rasped in a guttural wheeze. "The woman was particularly strong, she bore it."

- "Where is his soul then?," roared the god Arthusson, sitting on his huge and massive throne. "Then you have done almost nothing," he roared angrily.

- "Not exactly, my lord," the lesser demon apologised.

- "A true hadal[19] should be able to possess a man at least to the extent of taking his astromancer[20]," roared the evil lord.

The infernal domain was quite strange and could not be likened to just some dark abyss. The most accurate word was emptiness, full of unbearable agony. There was an atmosphere of pseudo-punk all around, which was to Arthusson’s taste. He didn't follow fashion trends all that much, but the design of even a punk had to be up to par. Human bones, hellfires, fanged snouts and whatnot abounded all around. Sadness was the constant companion of all the inhabitants. There would not be a moment's rest for them. If a new visitor came to Hell, he would first see lush gardens and impressive waterfalls bathed in the rays of a bright sun, but then the picture would sunsequently change according to the convict's state of mind. Thus he could relive his nightmares over and over again until finally, his soul disappeared altogether. This took between two and five thousand years. Of course the infernal lords were in no hurry to wipe out the souls forever, because there was no one to lord over. Everything would fall into place. And Hell was very different for everyone. Some saw the mistakes of their past lives, while others were constantly praying for water or bread because the hellish heat was burning them. There were still others, punished with a sense of eternal emptiness - they tore their flesh and gnashed their teeth abnormally. Violent whirlwinds were swirling around.

There were also dens in which ferocious dogs were relentlessly snarling at the sinners. But the most terrible was the pit of men with empty souls. They were condemned to seek their vocation forever, and their souls were eaten by leprosy.

The depth of the perceptions of each of those condemned to eternal torment determined his stay in this hell.

There was no room for any compassion. There was no room for forgiveness. Sinners had to suffer.

- "So at least I can find the woman," the infernal creature offered his services.

- "I think you're too late," Arthusson growled. "She's long gone. Or you wouldn't stand a chance of surviving long enough to find her."

The demon's ugly and crooked teeth hissed in fear. It was more than clear that his doom was near. But the hell lord wanted to prolong his agony at least a little longer. He had done too much wrong. There was no way out!

- "Tell me just one thing," Arthusson puzzled. "How did this woman see you? Or rather, how did she manage to escape?"

- "Maybe she's a ruj 'g zon or maybe she's been practicing ancient Cyrenaic meditation[21]," the demon shrieked, trying to shed his skin, though he knew it was useless.

Arthusson grew serious. He warned that certain infernal forces had intervened to turn the scales in their favor. The Hadal weren’t superior evil spirits and their spiritual energy was weaker, but this was clearly no ordinary woman. He wondered which of the diabolical pack he claimed to know all too well was meddling where it was none of his business. Or maybe it was his!

Hell's hierarchy was hellishly complex and tangled like pig intestines, but some of the major demons like Adramelech, who was better known as the "King of Fires" or the demon king Abaddon would lift a finger for a mascot, no matter how powerful he was. He ran through his mind the names of hundreds, even thousands of demons like Marbas, Astaroth, Belfegor, Azazel, Bael and so on, but seriously doubted they were interested in such a trifle either.

As the ghoul came to his senses, Arthusson raised his mighty hand and struck it mercilessly. He didn't even have time to squeal. It all happened in seconds.

In Hell, there was a strange lore about those who were slain by a demon. They weren’t allowed to be revived again in case of betrayal. In the superior demon's eyes, this case was just like that. There was no doubt that the hadal had seen something else, but Arthusson would never know about it. What a pity!

Hadalas simply disappeared forever, but they were always needed by those who did not wish to get their hands dirty directly with some important business. They were like the cannon fodder of Hell.

Higher up in the hierarchy came the demons who commanded legions, and they usually bore various titles of nobility - kings, marquises, Dutchess, and so on.

On the top rung were the demons who were closest to Satan.

VALAK

"Conjecture always leads to war, death and doom for the conjecturer."

Unknown author

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: VALAK

 

The demon Valak[22] had thirty legions under his sway, and was at the heart of the whole plot he was hatching against Arthur to oust him from the throne of hell. Not that he couldn't use the forces of Hell's army, but it wouldn't be the same. How much more tempting was it to use the cowering demon elder Agares for his infernal plans. And the young novice was just another link in the complicated game of cat and mouse.

Valak was very cunning and sneaky, and he knew that many other demons much more powerful than he were also expressing similar ambitions, so he had to tread especially carefully or his head would explode, like that hadal he had killed a moment ago.

- "A ghoul more or less is irrelevant! Hell has long since overflowed and will soon overflow onto Zegandaria! There will be one last war! Much more violent than the war for Au Kaktir!," he thought.

If Belial, Agares, Abaddon or Azazel had heard him, they would have frozen in place, never mind that they commanded a similar number of legions to his.

- I wouldn't leave everything in the hands of Agares or Marbas, never mind that they stood extremely high in the hierarchy. The boy has to deal with Kazuk Mon, who has prevented us from acting freely for so many years. This is my one and last chance to seize the throne before that damn medallion gets misplaced.

Valak knew something extremely frightening. No one in Hell's hierarchy, regardless of position, was immune from death.

He wasn't worried about some other demon reading his mind. A special infernal substance called the emfusora surrounded the throne and prevented any intruder from gaining insight into the ruler's thoughts. He was prescient in the extreme, for a hundred thousand feet before he had been suspected of attempting to usurp power. Now they would not forgive him a second like it.

Young Zontul seemed to be going to finish the old man off. And Zorin's soul would come to me sooner or later. It's only a matter of time before I get both.

The medallion was an ancient artifact known as the Medallion of a Thousand Wishes, and it was the most powerful artifact ever, as it had many different demon souls woven into it, such as those of Belial, Azazel, Belfegor, Belfons, and many other significant demons. Whoever wore it around their neck could defeat almost any demon, and whoever bound their soul to the medallion could even shake Hell itself.

Valak distrusted his minions and knew that they sought only a moment of momentary weakness to liquidate him without a drop of mercy. They obeyed him because of the laws of Hell, because they feared for their own lives.

Valak was tall and strong, but he knew that state of mind also meant a great deal - in other words, each demon inhabited a particular realm and dominated there. Outside of it, his power diminished greatly.

Valak could have rallied his legions in one last bloody battle, but he was in no hurry to make that fatal mistake. It would make too much noise and attract too many curious looks.

He decided to do something extremely sneaky - trick the crazy old demon with his mechanical crocodile.

Valak clapped his hands. Agares appeared at the hour, and the rabid animal was gaping like a disconnected one.

- "Dear Agares," Valak began quite unintentionally. "I hope the boy has absorbed your great wisdom and will listen to you in the future."

- "So it seems," called Agares, "but this is a strange business. Too strange. The boy asked for nothing in return, which astonished me. He could have had anything, but he asked for absolutely nothing."

Valak pondered. Maybe he wasn't so fucked up yet in general and had a chance to survive at least a few more millennia before he finally, got sick of ruling this hellhole.

- "You know we demons don't die," he muttered.

- "That's not entirely true," Agares smiled, knowing that an archdemon like him was even more aware of that. "The boy could be extremely dangerous if he learned to wield the power at his disposal."

Valak bit his lip. It meant there were some kinks in his plan. As far as Agares was concerned, and she fully believed him, for he himself knew of his hadal's offshoot. Agares naturally had to be kept completely in the dark about such antics.

- "Well, did he go back to the archivist?," the demon asked him very slowly.

- "Don't worry, everything went more than smoothly," Agares addressed him with extreme politeness, but the scowl on his face made it look grotesque.

- "All right," Valak whispered softly.

- "If nothing else," Agares muttered.

- "Go on, go on, you're free," Valak hurried to send him away.

The emfusora should have hidden his secret intentions, but Agares' eyes were still cunning. The demon was strong enough to deal with many other demons inferior to him, but he would never rebel against his master as long as he had his life.

The subtle neuromatter, was so beautiful and ephemeral that an untrained eye would not have noticed it. It looked like a giant veil.

- "Zorin could have been killed much earlier! Gordon Elmbaum and his protégé Chris Zonretius screwed everything up because they measured everything by human standards. In Hell we have very different and different standards," his demonic grin stretched. "But since Zorin is dead that's another huge plus for me."

Agares had stood in a corner, away from his master's eyes. He wanted to break through the protective emfusor, but that was far from easy. To him, Valak remained an enigma, an impenetrable wall.

- "We made a big mistake when they got to the border of the two worlds," he growled. "They never realised they were at the very gates of the Beyond. They thought of some alternate universes and so on. They ignored the fact that it wasn't Gordon and the Myrian race that had brought him to power, but much higher and more terrible forces. He was cunning to work with them, but they would never have taken his orders without our support. And Princess Meeru simply wanted survival for herself at this point."

- "Zorin was the culprit who had discovered the secret of the locket bequeathed to him by his own mother, Lilith[23]. Through it he could summon powers far more powerful than mine, but he never wished to do so. But why does Lilith have a mortal son?," the demon puzzled over the nature of this enormous secret.

- "Except," he groaned, "for the human re-transplantation of memories to have imprinted a piece of her own soul in his brain. But this was madness. We demons have never been like humans, Erzonians, Meeranians, or even machines like androids."

- "Wait a minute," he slapped his enormous furry forehead in anguish, "and if that was the purpose for creating the race of guarron, who, though seemingly not all that advanced, possessed powerful spiritual and healing powers. They could have been the human race's attempt to infiltrate our world. Things got out of hand back with the goddess Marak Tulba and Gimlin Orn and that damned battle. But then again, everything seems to be stitched together with white threads. Too many accidents and blunders."

Then Agares stepped out from his cover and approached.

- "Unless we have a traitor, Your Grace," the old man ventured to say.

If it were another lesser demon, Valak would have killed him instantly, but not a demon of his rank.

- "How did you read my mind?," he growled.

- "Honestly, I didn't read yours, I read the boy's," Agares laughed. Valak was speechless. "Emborian Zontul is the son of Zorin. He had never seen him, though, or the amulet would have passed into his own hands."

- "Impossible," Valak shouted.

- And yet entirely true. Humans made Zone Nine to create a race powerful enough to bond with us. The guarrons were created strong and brutal, but something went wrong - some of them retained their humanity.

Valak had nothing to say.

- "And you knew all this before I even sent you," it moaned.

- "That and more," Agares hissed softly. "I am the demon of friendships, my lord. And contacts get you everywhere."

- "Then it appears that Zorin is one of us," the dark lord spat out the pebble.

- "Not exactly, he's just been experimented on in Area Nine," Agares replied calmly. "He'd have figured it out sooner or later, but that's how he lived for sixty-seven years with that damga in his genes. He possessed both a re-transplanted part of Lilith's consciousness and some part of the guarron genome, but he was never conscious of it."

- "Then it appears that he was the humans' secret experiment," the demon hissed. "They weren't fighting over fuel and resources, but over who would hold absolute power over everyone and everything."

- "Exactly," laughed Agares. Their eyes met.

- "Then our work only begins now," he spoke quite seriously. "Shall we tell that to the rest of the infernal lords then?' he said thoughtfully."

- "Not yet. 'Let's touch the archivist first, then we'll rip the threat to the root," Agares said carefully.

The two fearsome and ancient demons clasped their paws together. The deal was done.

BY THE SACRIFICIAL ROCK

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: BY THE SACRIFICIAL ROCK

 

Zontul looked perfectly normal. Nothing cast even a shadow of suspicion on him.

- "I have returned, Master," it said humbly.

Kazuk Mon did not ask him where he had been, but the novice seemed to read his mind.

- "I was paying my last respects to the god Arthusson," it said.

- "Last homage to what," the old man puzzled. "A last tribute?," he was slightly confused.

With a lightning movement the novice clutched him by the goose. His seemingly weak hands clung to the old man's neck. Quickly he poured out the Hermonad’sic venom down his throat. In a few seconds the old man felt his heart beating faster, and someone seemed to have caught the scars of his manhood in an iron vise. Apparently the poison was already working.

- "Praise be to Agares, my lord," Zontul cried, driving a fist into the face of his violent charge.

He tried to regain his balance, but his testicles were drowned in a flood of fire. The pain was unbearable and made his throat go silent. Very soon he would not be among the living. The various scenes of violence he had participated in and the numerous victims who had failed to quench his thirst for cosmic domination flashed through his mind.

- "Your kingdom is over, Archpriest," the boy recoiled slightly and drove a punch into the cleric's groin.

Kazuk Mon collapsed on the rock where the fight was being fought. Fortunately there were no laymen near them. No one even suspected the brutal scene.

The Archpriest was weakening, but Emborian grabbed a laser cutter he was hiding under his robes and plunged it right into his heart. The old man wheezed and fell. Convulsive convulsions gripped his body and very soon he was not among the living.

- "I did Agares' bidding," Emborian groaned. "There was no trace of the meek and humble boy left, but it lasted only a few seconds and he regained his former appearance very soon."

The old man's blood had turned the rock into a hideous place that should not even have been visible to the naked eye. Emborian turned away in disgust. Kazuk Mon seemed so insignificant now!

The bright sun would soon be hidden and its reddish glare made the rock look like it was made of dark, opaque glass.

Emborian looked around his robe. There was no sign of blood. He had a clear conscience. He had not castrated the old man, nor had he mocked his corpse. He had simply eliminated his enemy!

He looked again and realized that the archivist was only the first obstacle to his boundless power. He wanted to inflict true armageddon on this planet, and the forces of Hell could only help him. After that, he could even become the master of Hell itself!

From the height of the cliff, he could survey the entire colony, hushed in anticipation. Apparently the laity had indulged in an afternoon nap before evening mass. By then he had had enough time to think how to hide the body of the Archpriest, so that he would be found late enough and no one would doubt his innocеnce. That might well have happened! But there was one thing, and that was that his master, Agares, had told him nothing of the murder of Kazuk Mon. He had only ordered him to keep on good terms with him. The old lecher hadn't even had time to get angry with him. That thought cheered the novice up. He now set about stowing the corpse in a special benzonium sack. Then he took out a pharonic paste and smeared the blood and, with the help of special sponges, soaked it so that there were barely perceptible traces left on the rocks. He had to work harder until the rock regained its original shape and colour. Now it was the turn of the most special part, namely where to put this corpse!

After much deliberation, he decided he could hide it under the rock and set to digging with frantic vigour. He dug the hole with his bare hands in a quarter of an hour. The soil yielded easily under his long sinewy fingers. He slid the log into the long narrow hole and generously began to throw handfuls of yellowish soil onto the sack. This exhausted him and he was swimming in sweat all over. It was downright disgusting! Finally he put in a few smaller stones, which further masked his work.

He sat up and looked around at his sore hands. He had to do the most delicate part of his job, which was to hide any marks and scars from his fight with the old man.

He went unnoticed to his resting places through a secret tunnel that only he knew.

When he entered the crypt he only found the woman in tears, who with difficulty explained to him what had happened. Zontul masterfully posed as the colony's savior, but he had a feeling she wasn't telling him everything.

The woman explained to him why she had hidden Zorin. When he heard his father's name, Emborian slapped his forehead.

- "Where is he?," he asked her impatiently. "I want to see him."

She led him to the crypt and to those central recesses that proved to be the general's final abode and where perhaps his soul had found rest.

His eyes welled with tears. He tried to hide the tremor in his voice.

- Here at last I saw him in his dying hour. This is the reward I have wanted for so many years. Clearly, I have inherited my physical strength from him.

The woman was torn. She could clearly see the blood-stained robe of the novice, and his voice was so heartbreaking. She didn't doubt that he was sincere at the moment, but he still seemed extremely dangerous to her. His charm enchanted her. He had a magnetism in his voice that drew people into his ideas and views, even if they were completely wrong.

- "How did you open the crypt?," she asked him quickly.

- "Well, a bean job," the boy justified himself. The woman didn't press further. He just kept quiet.

The novice looked around at his father's clothes. He did not notice that there were signs of a struggle, for his mind was elsewhere at the moment.

- "I must get cleaned up," he told her.

- "I'll help you," she agreed.

They removed the robe and burned it in one of the altars, and the novice put on the dead Zorin's clothes. They were simple enough - they only threw out the uniform because it was garish.

The woman found a novice robe that covered Zorin's clothing.

Now Emborian could return to his flock and assert his authority. More than ten thousand people were waiting for him to lead them into a new and brighter future!

Hell's design was beginning to come true. The first great obstacle had been removed. It was the turn of the Archpriest of Synthros.

MAG TU

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: MAG TU

 

Mighty powers were to be summoned to the ceremony that night. Emborian was in no hurry to do so. Yes, he had to act, but not in this irresponsible way. There were many other important things to consider as well. Somewhere more significant was his choice for Mag Tu. The two-week period was almost up. In just twelve hours, he would be the full ruler of all. Where it was more interesting, however, was to research a little more about his background. The woman couldn't give him much useful information as she didn't know Zorin too well herself. But he had a feeling something big was going to happen soon.

His flock had welcomed him with open arms. And the poison obtained through "The Children of Kasdeya" was the thing that had solidified his power. Surely the Ufurgans would have cheered if they knew how effective their poison was.

Emborian had matured enough in those few days to realize that very soon he would concentrate a vast and almost limitless power in his hands.

That would have frightened most people, but not Emborian. He was all too aware of his abilities, but without being cocky.

The first part of it all was his re-introduction of himself to the congregation, but this one without Kazuk Mon. Incidentally, no one raised their voice and asked where exactly the archivist had gone.

The second and most significant part was the summoning ceremony near the ruins of Tarash Duk - there everyone would see the power of their Mag Tu.

The woman hurried to introduce herself:

- My name is Kibera. And I've been here a long time. This colony wasn't created in a day.

Emborian looked at her carefully. The woman seemed out of place.

- "Soon you'll have a brand new name and a new life," the boy boomed. "You kind of saved me," he added. "A Mag Tu must keep his word."

The hour of the ceremony was approaching. Everything had to be right. But there could be some problems.

Emborian had greatly increased his knowledge and powers under the demonic tutelage of his patron. He could now handle ancient languages and also read star charts much better. He had also become a much more attractive and magnetic individual.

Agares kept his promises and gave generous handfuls. The young Zontul was smart and knew he could only benefit from Hell's gifts, but they wouldn't last forever. Kazuk Mon was most likely also tricked with similar unclean practices before he crippled his manhood and ripped out his heart. One day, he too might be targeted, and that day might not be so far off.

- "How quickly it all unfolds indeed," the novice murmured.

- "How little I have known myself in reality!," The woman drew nearer and he felt her breath.

- You must know something. Unclean forces had followed on your father's heels.

Emborian was hypocritically astonished, but inwardly consumed with horror. He realized that Hell was looking for something important and Kazuk Mon and the foolish flock were just the tip of the iceberg.

But he didn't have time to ponder more, because the ceremony had to begin. It was all about becoming Mag Tu for good!

The reans in the first circle of the pedestal had begun to radiate pure energy. A magical aura had begun to spring forth and everything was bathed in light.

The sect members bowed to the ground, and supreme astonishment at the upcoming miracle was written all over their faces.

Emborian wiped his brow slightly and began to order magical words to enhance the energy concentration around the place. Soon, the power of the magic would become downright awesome. But he felt a slight hesitant twitch. Something wasn't right!

The weather wasn't exactly pleasant, and dusk was looming because it was late autumn and some days were too sunny and warm, while others were the opposite - cold and frosty.

A light drizzle began to fall, pattering on the cheeks of the new Sorcerer Supreme.

He strained his strength!

It was as if an invisible veil had descended before his eyes. The words came from his lips though correctly somewhat mechanically. And for true magic one needed a heart! Obviously someone or something was in his way. Or was he fooling himself?

IMAYA

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: IMAYA

 

Women on a team sometimes notice things that are quite possible to escape the gaze of men. Imaya was a valuable teammate anyone would want to have on their team. But something wasn't quite right and that was the mood of the visitors. They were feeling it, that the newcomers had something on their minds and didn't exactly welcome them friendly. This did not escape Boss's well-trained eye.

- "Be on your guard," he advised them. "Something might go wrong."

The bad thing was that they had no weapons. But Imaya had taken that into account and had hidden the narEnium needles, which were lethal to stab with.

- "Small consolation," Boss muttered, "but it's still something."

The place was in a daze, and they walked through all the floors, trying to blEnd into the surroundings as much as possible.

- "We're definitely going to come across a clue here," Rento muttered.

The studied features on his face showed what a formidable predator he was. A true beast, ready to kill.

- "Maybe the key to everything is hiding around somewhere," Armborn interjected.

The whole group was pacing like they were in a panic, because they realized that it could get very, very dangerous if they were attacked with some more serious weapon.

It needed to be made clear that the setting of the place itself represented a sort of history of Zegandaria. There were quite a few cyberpunk style elements. Various holographic images of people wearing giant electronic virtual reality goggles, or whacked out and almost comical worlds that could only exist in the warped imagination of some sick brain.

- "I like this place," laughed the cowboy. "It's a little too modern for my tastes, but it shows elements of decadence, which I'm genuinely pleased about."

Cyberpunk was a new cultural phenomenon on the planet, and many of the venues followed this trend of anti-utopian atmosphere and post-industrialism, which appealed greatly to the patrons.

The other members of the group especially looked it up. His comments could sometimes be quite scathing.

The decoration on each of the floors had its own charm and the bottom floor, intended for the real touts, was particularly striking. No one went there often, however, because the rules about carrying weapons did not apply there.

It was four times larger than any of the other floors and was intended for VIPs and dangerous criminals who mostly negotiated various contraband deals or just wanted to catch their breath before justice came after them again.

However, no matter how much they questioned, our adventurers did not get a single satisfactory answer to any of their questions, which was more than a little strange.

- "Anyone would have heard something at least," Boss muttered before remembering the strange Barry Ecclestone sign on the first floor.

When their group entered, Mark and Sasia had long since left the establishment. They, along with Durnyam, also headed in the direction of the cultists. They had to do the right thing and find the shambling religious cult soon. Durnyam was still lingering. They were unaware of his meeting with the supreme Om Gur Nal and the need to gain his favour.

The politics of Zegandaria had become much more ambivalent about dealing with matters of paramount importance. Not double or triple but even quintuple standards were being used to solve problems. But that was the price of peace and stability.

Durnyam got strong assurances from Om Gur Nal that he would have his support and crush the religious cult with or without the support of the Archistratum, come what may.

The Myeranians were long gone from this planet as they had made their home elsewhere, on the distant planet of Sebur Nag. The mutant Solomons had also been purged and were not causing trouble. The archaneans had shrunk their nests too far and had received official confirmation that they would never be hooked again. It was as if they had forgotten about them, something that was actually welcome. They only had to observe controlled breeding of their offspring - anything more.

"Cohabitation must be maintained somehow though!," had said Om Gur Nal, and he was right.

There were now only three major races left on the planet Zegandaria - humans, guarrons, and archaneans.

THE DUTCHESS OF LEARNIA

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: THE DUTCHESS OF LEARNIA

 

The Duchess of Learnia was a first cousin of the Archmistress and a staunch supporter of returning the old autocratic regime from before the Second Migration Wave to Zegandaria. Republican ideas didn't appeal to her very much anyway and Om Gur Nal kept ignoring them in his choice of visit. He preferred to go to Ossonia, Sebur Nag, or even planets like Kickluk Sor, but very rarely did he do them the honour of visiting. It was definitely frustrating and even Annoying, but all she could do was suck it up and swallow it. Her cousin, the Archmistress, was also proving to be a bony nut, basically standing in her domain. But there was something else that was known only to her. Nowhere and no one knew that she wanted to oust Kazuk Mon from the leadership post. That was her secret wish. Learnia was a special place, an appendage of sorts to the district of Synthros, the traces of the brutal attacks of the guarrons were still evident here, but the settlers had erected a new city, Kimur Zon, which was renowned for its strength and power. Too many wanted to surpass its splendour and appropriate the grandeur of its achievements. Many of the most prominent archaneans were welcomed in Kimur Zon, of all places, where they taught their secret knowledge, not without the patronage of the Duchess.

Her opinion of her cousin was somewhat controversial, but she was doing everything in her power to maintain good relations with him. In any case, she did not want to fall into a conflict of interest, because that would be downright unacceptable. The Archistratus, however, remained ever so distant even though the distance between Learnia and Synthros was not a hundred and fifty to two hundred miles.

- "What is my cousin up to?," she wondered, but the answer kept eluding her. "Something big, surely! It couldn't be otherwise!"

The Duchess rose and began to walk round her domain, which was not small. Learnia stretched over roughly a hundred thousand scintillae and was about ten times the size of the entirety of Labor Colony 206, say. In her lifetime of almost fifty years, she had seen, if not everything, at least almost everything - assassinations, coup attempts and usurpations of her post, betrayals, and even an armed invasion of her own territory. She'd ruled this land for almost twenty years, but she'd also taken part in the Battle of Diomedes Base earlier. She remembered old Uncle Zengar and all his shenanigans well. She hadn't forgotten Sasia and Keith's visit either. Those were the old days that were irretrievably lost. Now life offered a new reality. She definitely felt lonely, not because of scruples and stupid ideas, but because the circle around her was slowly but surely narrowing, and she knew it perfectly. Whatever her cousin was up to, sooner or later she too would reap the consequences of his decisions.

She had vaguely suspected his relationship with the archivist and their possible alliance, but had never brought the matter up with him. She pretended not to see and not to hear. So far!

Kimur Zon's population was around forty thousand, which was rather typical for a medium caliber settlement, but its economy and armed forces were highly developed.

As different as she and her cousin were, she did her best to support him and even acknowledged some of his merits - after all, he had crushed the rebels, and without batting an eye. So calmly and brutally. She didn't doubt he knew what to do. And he did it without hesitation.

The following song drifted through her domain:

 

"The Duchess for the Archist knows,

Not a word does she want to say,

That all, very soon will turn to war!"

 

She only smiled, and when asked said there was no such thing. It was rather sad, but perfectly true. Things were constantly changing. And she was trying to go between the drops, but soon things would become unbearable. "It was my fate," she would say. "But I won't give in! There's still a little, very, very little left!" But inwardly she was still worried. She did not suspect the Archivist's doom. Nor of the ascension of the new Mag Tu.

One thing was certain, she had to prepare herself for the most unexpected events that could even be fatal. And she didn't know how her subjects would react.

THE RITUAL

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THE RITUAL

 

Soon the magical ritual had its results, and all eyes were fixed on the brutal glare of the reanimans. Crackles were heard, but nothing else happened. A violent wind arose and various lonely leaves scattered around the pedestal. And that was it. It lasted only a few minutes. Then the energy gradually weakened and when everything all eyes were on Emborian. He was ashamed, for he had not expected such a development. Then everyone wondered if the higher powers had withdrawn their blessing from him. But somewhere in the bottom of his soul he knew he was wrong. This was no accident. There were many demons who must not have approved of his deed. Many, too many even. He had even transgressed his patron's recommendation. Something practically unforgivable. But why had the ritual started like the humans anyway?

The worshippers began to leave with a murmur, but little could hide the distrust they had for the new Mag Tu. Yes, they hadn't shied away from him, but if he couldn't show his abilities in the days to come, they would remove him from office for good.

Emborian spent his days circling the colony. The woman was steadfastly by his side, helping him with whatever she could. He pulled away from the other people and just started sidestepping everyone. They continued to have respect for his knowledge and the immense dignity he showed upon being crowned Mag Tu. But only so much.

Emborian did not return to the crypt, nor to the ziggurat, but shut himself in even more. He knew he had to leave this place soon. It was the right thing to do. And so it would have to be.

Around the colony there was lovely field vegetation, if sparse, and somewhere far over the horizon were fields of gorse and hiras and elendorans.

Emborian was still wearing Zorin's clothes and pacing dejectedly, and Kibera was happily trotting along beside him. She was older and more mature, but preferred to go with him to staying in the colony. That was her final decision, and Emborian respected it. The two of them moved through the fields and the weather was endlessly fine. It was apparent that they would not soon know if he had lost his abilities.

Unexpectedly, Agares came up behind him. He was smiling pleasantly, if slightly sourly.

- "You forgot our agreement very quickly, young man," he hissed. "Hurry up and get something you had to fight for, at least a little."

Kibera was far away and did not hear or see them. She was busy picking little flowers with her hands and tucking them into her hair.

Emborian was silent, but he clearly realized what the other man meant.

- "In spite of everything," Agares pronounced softly. "I am far from giving up on you. I am even inclined to forget about your transgressions."

Emborian pricked up his ears. As far as he knew, no demon forgave just like that. For anything and nothing at all.

- "But, for not listening to me, I want something in return. Just one," Agares stretched a beatific smile. "Where is your friend?"

Emborian was confused. What on earth did he need Kibera for? He gestured for her to come closer.

As soon as she saw the strange looking old man, she was startled. But Agares was a cunning demon and told her:

- My dear, I am only a traveling circus performer. I just met this nice young man who asked me something very interesting.

- "He told me about some sort of medallion," Agares began with a smile.

- "I don't remember talking about it," the boy laughed.

Kibera immediately realized who was standing in front of her. And while she suspected it was unlikely to be the shadow, there was no doubt that the creature before her had either sent her or had a hand in this whole thing.

- "Look," Agares began after seeing their reaction. "I want to play cards with you. This medallion doesn't interest me that much, but I can get something else through it - something much more important."

- "A chance to get rid of my torment," the old man chuckled. "Please just touch it to my forehead - it will ease my suffering."

Kibera reluctantly agreed.

As soon as the dagger touched his forehead, he felt its hidden power and much knowledge passed into his mind. He realized that his lord Valak had not lied about the amulet's hidden secret. He also understood why he feared it, but Agares dared not take it. If it had only been Emborian perhaps, but he realized that the woman also possessed some hidden powers. The battle wouldn't be equal if she decided to take him by force, so she said resignedly:

- "Thank you for easing my suffering," he said, and hobbled off into the crops.

The two wandered for a long time, but neither saw him again, nor did any of the demons cause them anything.

Days passed, even a few weeks. They grew quite close and realized they liked similar things. They realized they had common interests. Emborian sensed that the girl might have powers even greater than his. However, she was hiding it.

They dared not speak openly about the matter. Finally, he tried to broach the subject.

- You're not a girl with ordinary abilities, are you?

- "How did you find out?," she asked him, not trusting that he would tie the number.

- "Well, did you hide the locket?," he asked.

- "Zorin left it on me," she said quietly.

Emborian thought. This was making her an heir of sorts to him. She had no right to be angry or even to claim it. Unless!

With a flash, Kibera was flung into the air, and he took a terrific kick to the back of the head that sent him crashing to the ground. But he quickly came to his senses and turned around. She was gone. Here or there were sounds of birds.

IN THE MARSHES OF ZOGAN DRAG

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: IN THE MARSHES OF ZOGAN DRAG

 

Emborian at first thought to chase her away, though he had a feeling the two had some sort of connection. Maybe they were even related - he had sensed her power. There was no doubt that she could overpower a demon. As long as even Agares didn't dare attack them.

But Emborian wondered what her game was? She wanted nothing, nor did she seek power!

There were swamps between Synthros, Learnia, and Rodwell. It was there that she fled.

She knew Emborian wouldn't realize he lacked certain qualities. He might make a leader of a religious cult, but not a tracker.

The swamps of Zogan Drag were a frightening place, not so much because they were a place where a man could easily find his death, but because they were one of the energy centers particularly attractive to the dark forces. But until now, no one had suspected this, save a few shamans.

The whole area was rugged, and here and there were wet tuffs and small amounts of water.

Emborian didn't want to take on the role of hunter, but if she missed it, she might say something somewhere she shouldn't.

- "Your time is numbered, girl," he said, and ran after her, eager to exact his revenge.

If he had the locket, the dark forces would treat him with the utmost respect. And so it had to be.

Kibera ran with all his might, but when he entered the most swampy part, he decided he might as well prepare to meet his captor with something rather than his bare hands. He could even kill him.

He smeared his body with sticky mud and hid in anticipation of his appearance. Only her eyes were visible.

Emborian was no fool, and foresaw that such a development might occur. He decided to play his own game in turn and began to circle the moor, but suddenly his foot fell off.

A frantic struggle began to free himself from the unexpected trap. He could easily have sunk all over and died like a dog neutered by some sharp vegetation that might be at the bottom. His imagination even spoke to him that somehow perhaps the demons were trying to trap him in the afterlife. He then let out a complete fart and began to speak inarticulate magic words to cope with the situation.

- "Emanto Gozaus Siruto!," he chanted like a broken hyon recorder, sensing that death was too close and clearly realizing that he might never be able to regain the demons' favor.

It was beginning to get dark. A cool, even biting wind blew, suggesting a deceptive sense of sadness. Emborian could sense impending doom, but he realized something else. All illusion of power had evaporated very quickly, and he was acutely aware of his helplessness. Where was Kibera now?

Somehow he sensed the essence of life and realized how short his own had been. There was no moving, neither forward nor backward.

Then behind him he heard Agares' voice:

- "Young man, don't you want me to pull you out of the swamp now?," the old man had fixed a sad but serious gaze on his young protégé.

Emborian couldn't turn and see him, but he felt the calm timbre of his voice. Apparently in Hell they could show concern too.

- "Without my help you will perish very soon," the old man voiced his concerns, "so let me help you."

Emborian nodded, barely out of fear of sinking deeper into the slime. But he felt something very strange. The old man was hesitant to help him. Apparently demons had some morals too, or at least a semblance of one.

Agares simply concentrated and the novice began to crawl out of the swamp like a cork out of a wine bottle. Finally, there was a „Poof!“ and the goodness spat out our hapless advEnturer.

The demon let him cough and spit out all the water and slime he had begun to gulp in his mindless struggle in the moor.

- "I didn't save you for the medallion," the demon muttered quietly. "I do it because I saw in you a tiny bit of goodness that may very soon be lost."

Emborian scowled. He even fell silent.

- "A demon doesn't do that just like that," Agares said sincerely. "I don't do it just out of one kindness either. I want to save myself this way, too."

- "But aren’t you a high demon, a lord of legions and a duke?," the boy was embarrassed.

- "The thing is, my boy, even a demon can be killed," said the old man sadly.

- "What happens to his soul afterwards?," the boy wondered.

- "That's too complicated for your young head," said Agares, tutoringly. "It's not right, and it's not at all preferable."

- "So you have masters too," said the boy.

- "Not exactly masters, but things in Hell are a lot more connected than you think, my friend," Agares smiled sourly.

- "Pretty nasty place to die, isn't it," the boy picked up the conversation again.

- "Well, it is!," the demon confirmed. "You'll be on your own from now on!"

Emborian turned around. He was gone. There was no sign of Kibera, and no visible sign of a road or path. It was getting pretty hard to get away. Yes the demon had come to his rescue this time, but he distinctly remembered his words "Remember well young man, I'll only come three times! And if you call me a fourth time, your soul will belong to me forever!"

At this thought Emborian felt his neck with his fingers. His head was still in place. He looked around, the darkness had descended.

THE LESSON OF AGARES

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: THE LESSON OF AGARES

 

The young woman ran with all her might, like a deer pursued by some predator. But this predator was evidently not so fearsome, or so diligEnt in its efforts to overtake and catch her. So strange it was! Occasionally she glanced back, but only to feel that there was no one there.

At one time she stopped and listened. It had grown quite still and quiet. It had been a long time since she had left the swamps and had found herself in unfamiliar places.

As she looked around she saw the old sign that Sasia had seen back in the day:

"Every hope abandon,

Stepping in this hour,

to Him above pray,

He has turned from us! "

 

She had come to the old lair of the Rodwell pirates. What luck. She managed to find some very old and worn pilot clothes to keep warm and a very meager amount of interon fuel to defend herself from the wild animals.

The place hadn't changed much, just gotten a little more sad than before. Some of the pirates left their bones here forever!

The depth of Kibera's feelings was immense. Perhaps there was some blood connection to his captor! Maybe they were brother and sister!

But why had she been the one to receive the medallion! Why were the demons afraid to touch her! What was the secret!

She had clearly seen the vast elements of destruction, and clearly realized the magnitude of the last war fought between the two races.

"And what has changed so much since then?," she thought sadly, "Only the weapons have become different!"

Behind her she heard a demonic laugh and gasped. She expected hordes to come rushing in from above and tear her to pieces. But no such thing happened.

Behind her, she saw... Agares.

The old man calmly walked over and sat down beside her, undisturbed. She was stunned. And it hadn't crossed her mind to use the pendant that hung around her neck!

My dear girl, I don't want your locket or your hidden powers! Nor have I followed on your heels, I only want you to know that you are doomed to run, but I can help you.

- "What will you want in return?," she asked him fearfully.

- "Only to save my own skin!," the demon said firmly, but kindly enough so as not to frighten her.

Whatever that meant, the girl shivered.

- "I'm afraid there's no other food around," the demon tried to cheer her up. "But I'm bringing this-that. And began to whip out delicious dishes."

There was a lovely cake, a delicious roast of tyrfan, and the finest Ensarian wine.

Kibera barely swallowed her saliva. Agares was no prude by any means and invited her to the table.

After they finished the feast, he decided to play cards in the open.

- "Look, my girl, Emborian is showing signs of weakness to become a supreme Mag Tu. You seem a far better prospect. Of course, there is no perfect candidate," he paused briefly, "but let's be realistic. Emborian began his obedience with disobedience. The forces of darkness don't like that! Not for anything else, but because the delicate balance could collapse too easily, and that would cause unforeseen consequences that would not be pleasant for anyone. I won't waste your time. Your medallion, as powerful as it is, is nothing compared to the full power of Hell, so don't get all high and mighty!," his tone became a little harsher."

Kibera didn't dare object. He was hardly lying to her. He might as well stab her in the back if he wanted to take it!

- "Now let me tell you just a little more," the old man went on calmly. "I am the demon of friendships, tongues, and command thirty infernal legions. But I have not come to boast. On the contrary! I mean that you have a mission - a very important one at that! Do you accept it?"

Kibera hesitated - she had never eaten food from Hell. She thought it tasted like hell.

On the other hand, whether out of scruples or some other conviction, she had tried to save her supposed brother Emborian. Her feelings were somewhat divided! It was not easy for her to make her decision!

The demon stood quietly by her side, quite politely taking a sip of Ensarian wine, "Let the turbid ones have it-it was divine ambrosia! It hit you right on the head!"

Kibera was silent for quite a long time!

- "Tell me, actually, how strong is Hell?," she asked him.

- Well - how can I tell you, when I count the more famous demons in Hell and the forces under their command, it comes out to over a thousand legions at least.

- "A thousand!," gasped Kibera.

- There's about three thousand demons in each.

- "Wait, so that's three million," she shouted, jumping to her feet.

- But if we add in the minor units - the number of legions is over ten thousand.

- "That's impossible!," she stammered.

- That's thirty million demons!

- "Well, to be honest, they're not even that many," Agares cried, "The forces of light may outnumber us, but that's not part of my duties. And we're straying from the main point of our conversation."

- "Who do you serve?," she continued to question him.

- "I serve Lord Valak," the demon bared his teeth, though he continued to look like the most harmless old man.

Kibera finally, didn't hold back:

- "If you're so immensely powerful, wielding magic and so on and so forth, what do I have to contribute to your strength?," she cried, clenching her fists.

- "Well, you're thinking childishly, my girl," the demon spoke resignedly, "It's not a question of the powers of this and that, but of the combined strength of either camp. One small change can tip the scales!"

- "What about the amulet?," she inquired.

- "It is the Pendant of a Thousand Wishes. The most powerful demonic artifact ever created," Agares addressed her gravely.

Kibera began to grasp everything.

- "So I'm a demon too?," she sniffed the ground.

- In part - your mother, or rather grandmother, is the strongest female demon in Hell - Lilith[23].

Kibera screamed and fell on her eyes!

- "It's all right," Agares tried to console her, "Everything will fall into place. You just thought. Is it worth sacrificing your future for a brother who destroyed his only benefactor?"

Kibera listened as if spellbound, but soon came to her senses. Something still didn't add up.

- "And why did you need Emborian?," she asked.

- "Because of the concerns of one of the Infernal Lords," Agares replied, a little evasively.

- "Who, exactly?," continued Kibera, persisting.

- "Valak," was the answer.

The two of them stood and stared at each other for a while - realizing they were of the same breed.

CHILD OF HELL

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: CHILD OF HELL

 

Kibera accepted the offer even though some remorse gnawed at her. Agares agreed to reveal Hell's secrets to her, but asked to touch the medallion again.

- "It's really strong," he murmured. "But you shouldn't hope on it alone. You too have immense power. It will only magnify and channel it to some extent."

Kibera soon learned the names of most of the hell lords and their power and subordinates. Learn that you cannot call names their names whenever and however she could without affecting her own safety. She learned what was considered moral in Hell and what was not!

She learned that the power of an arbitrary demon is not related to the power it wields, but there are other factors at play.

Agares also revealed about the role of demons in the previous war.

- The great war for Au Kaktir was no accident. Neither was the emergence of the race of the guarron, the demon spoke, lowering his words skillfully.

Soon, she even had the chance to know the truth of the entire war.

- "So the man thought himself a god," she almost wept.

- "Well, roughly speaking, yes," the demon replied. "But the real tragedy lay in something else. Few people are aware of what is actually good and what is actually evil! As much as you don't want to believe it, you're one of the exceptions!"

- "But am I a demon?," she whispered.

- "Well, technically you are somewhat, but you can tell right from wrong and take sides, and that's important, it's even a matter of life and death!," the demon continued. "Look, good people go to Hell[24] too, as much as you might not like to believe her, but that's another topic again."

- "Look, sweetheart, Hell is the common grave of the human race," pronounced Agares at last.

- "Sounds rather sad," she whispered.

- "Sad or not, that's what it is," the demon confirmed. "That's why I'm the demon of friendships. Well, some say - of false friendships, but he whole life is one big lie or illusion."

Kibera started down one of Rodwell's low slopes. Many and fierce battles had been fought here. She was well aware of it all. Deep down she was convinced that she was following the path of truth. So wasn't 'demon' and 'god' the same thing. She had never heard of light creatures, and neither had anyone on the planet Zegandaria, but her mentor claimed they existed.

- "The light," he'd said, "is simply the other face of darkness. You'll find out what this whole tangled conflict is really about very soon," the demon promised her.

Rodwell was so sad and melancholy. Filled with the raw beauty of destruction. There was nothing to argue over the matter of creation. Men had long since learned to destroy and make conflict out of nothing!

- "Why is all this necessary?," asked Kibera the same question, like good old Pindor when he was wracked with remorse in his gloomy cell.

Agares decided to help her a little in finding the answer.

- Look, my girl, nothing in life in this world or the next is accidental. The laws that drive existence are similar only there are some small differences, the demon continued mentoringly.

The slope ended and they were now descending a rather gentle cliff that was perhaps not entirely safe. Agares offered his help and Kibera climbed onto the mechanical crocodile which quickly carried them to the foot.

Being a demon had some advantages though.

Agares tried to be somewhat forgiving of the woman or girl's tender age and forgive her some things - he'd still learn better from Emborian, who wanted to sink deeper anyway.

- "In the name of Shax,"[25] Agares muttered, "what do my eyes see? Rodwell had changed in one of his parts. There was a huge hole in the middle of it, but due to the nature of the topography it was still not visible from a distance."

The hole was open and continued to widen.

- "Emborian is indeed the chosen one!," the demon whispered so softly that Kibera could not hear him. "No one can open a direct portal to Hell. It is simply impossible!"

Kibera saw the enormous hole in the middle of which absolutely nothing was visible and realized that she herself was incapable of accomplishing this.

She was absolutely certain that Emborian had let her escape after seeing what he was capable of.

Turned Agares was gone. The hole was closing in on her and would soon swallow her. The ground was sliding down furiously and disappearing into the nothingness of infinity - into an open eye of death!

Something terrible was waiting for her downstairs!

Kibera clenched her fists and began ordering magic words. The hole kept getting bigger.

DEATH TRAP

CHAPTER THIRTY: DEATH TRAP

 

Archdemon like Agares was not yesterday. He was one hell of a duke, and he knew that the balance had long been broken. Many would die, and the hour had almost struck for him to summon the entire infernal host for another decisive and spectacular clash. There was no room for improvisation. Strong and capable demons would now come to the fore, eager for victory. Such were, for example, Buer[26], Astaroth[27] and Abigor, who would show the power of the infernal hosts created only to destroy everything in their path.

Hell would have been shaken to its foundations as many things would never be the same again. It even meant the downfall of Valak's plans. He had to tread carefully. Otherwise, anything could happen.

Few were clearly aware that one death was not the end of everything, and that in Hell many things would be very different from now on. The psychology of a demon was too strange for an ordinary mortal.

Many believed in reincarnations and the energy of the soul that persisted after death. Some were simply born tourists in life and were still forced to stand by the fеnce, contemplating how others lived.

Agares returned to Valak to report, but the demon was not there. In fact, even his throne was half destroyed.

- "What else had happened," the demon wondered.

He saw that the Emporium was torn asunder, and evidently the end was soon to come.

- "It can't be," the demon gasped, "this boy is almost stronger than Hell itself, something's not right, I need to find him, but when he turned around Hell already looked different and nothing like what he had seen a moment ago."

He decided to try again. He turned around again, but this time there was no change. He continued to try. And again, and again, and again. No change.

Agares couldn't believe what was happening. Everything had clearly gone to hell. But where were the other demons! Where were Pruflax, Oriax, or Nergal. He had searched the communal infernal villages far and wide - there was no sign of anyone!

Something suddenly occurred to him that made even the mechanical crocodile recoil - what if Emborian's power was to accurately read their minds regardless of the Emphusor or other infernal savagery.

Apparently the boy was a fast learner. Agares didn't remember talking to him about the Emphusor.

- "Ah, the little rascal," he quipped. - "Sneaky..."

Suddenly his head ordered the puzzle. The idea was so elementary, yet ingenious at the same time.

Emborian had feigned innocеnce as he'd imparted some of his knowledge of Hell to him, then deliberately let Kibera escape with the medallion, knowing that Agares would be too insistent and might trick him or the infernal forces themselves would press him and take it away, because he knew too much about their insidious plan. That was how he had bought time - enough time to get away. The question was, how had he gotten into Hell?

- "Emborian, my dear pupil, let us see if the student has surpassed his teacher!," quipped Agares. "I may be a demon of friendships, but you have allowed yourself too much!"

Behind him, a demon showed itself. He couldn't make out its outline. It was Ronwe[28], who was keeping order in Hell. He looked exhausted and too desperate.

- "What happened?," Agares asked him. "Who caused all this chaos?"

- "Well, I don't know," the demon admitted honestly.

Agares was really confused. Something was going on, but what?

- "Where are the rest of us? Have all the other hell realities been destroyed?," he dared to ask.

- "I don't know, Your Highness," Ronwe spoke a little stiffly when he was in front of such a superior demon. "But there is no one here in Hell!"

- "And what are you doing?," dared Agares to ask.

- "Well, frankly, I do," Ronwe muttered.

- "Well," Agares began to imitate him mockingly. "I ask you what happened! Speak at once!," anger began to seethe from under the old man's good-natured eyebrows.

Ronwe scratched his big nose and gripped the stick tightly in his hands. With it, he was imposing upon the demons and djinn who disobeyed the appropriate injunctions of infernal morality.

- "You know, some demons have been living on earth for a long time, posing as humans," Ronwe began cautiously.

- "So," Agares turned to him somewhat warningly, "onwards. Go on more lively, I haven’t got all day her!"

- "The thing is, Kibera," the demon whined.

- "What?," roared Agares, who had been with her until a moment ago.

- "She was here, but not of her own volition, Apparently someone was controlling her mind," the demon guard muttered.

- "Emborian," Agares uttered under his breath and made to leave.

A strange sound was heard somewhere in the distance. A sound similar to a growl or a metallic scraping. It was becoming more and more audible and closer. Agares started to turn around, but Ronwe gestured with his finger for him to be quiet.

SALVATION IN DARKNESS

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: SALVATION IN DARKNESS

 

It was Valak, and he had been mortally wounded by someone or something. There was a huge and cruel wound yawning on his flank, but he tried to keep his face from betraying pain. There was a peculiar sadness written on his childish face - not that Hell wasn't a sad place, but after all, an Archdemon would want to feel master, at least in his own domain.

Agares was quick not to ask him what had happened, not out of fear for his own skin, but because he did not want him to hide from him an important piece of the puzzle he had sworn to set right.

Ronwe felt awkward around such greats.

- "And where is Hans?," turned Agares to Ronwe.

- "We have quite a few here in Hell with that name. Which of all of them?," replied Ronwe hurriedly.

- "Well, his surname was Auslander, I think," Agares dragged out the strange word for him.

- "And he's one of my favourites, he's very capable, but frankly sinners should suffer more. Especially in certain parts of Hell. Even I loathe some of them. What scum," Ronwe hissed, clearly feeling both a sense of pride in the backgrounds of his charges and disgust at their deeds.

- "So this is Hell!," Agares scolded him. "What do you expect?"

- "Bring Hans, if you can, and quickly," the elder demon stroked his beard thoughtfully, "he will know the answer to the riddle."

- "How, a mere mortal," Ronwe protested, clearly disappointed that his merits would take a back seat. "Well, okay, but you'll have to wait a bit, because it's too far, all the way in the ninth circle. Come to think of it, it'll take me a few days to get all the way there."

- "We don't have that long," Agares said angrily.

- "Okay I'll try to hurry," Ronwe panted. "After all Hans isn't the easiest of Hell's denizens to find and he's heavily guarded."

- "Act," Agares ordered him, sick of listening to the ramblings and explanations.

The demon guard disappeared as if on command. He wasn't sure exactly which part of Hell Hans was in, however, but he was sure that the most logical place to be was in one of the lower circles.

He lingered and wandered for a long time, questioning a sum sum demon until he finally, reached some of the lower circles. They didn't want to let him any lower than seventh without special permission. It took almost two days. The bureaucracy of hell was murderous. You could almost guess.

But he finally, found it in the third section of the ninth circle, frozen knee-deep in the Cocytus River.[29] That's where the traitors of close friends were placed. To be honest, Hans was a tough case and they wondered which section to put him in, but in the end they decided it was best to put him in this one. That way he would be closest to Satan himself.

Hans had ended up in Hell itself after the spaceship had fallen into a black hole. At first the demons thought him to be an ordinary human, but it wasn't long before they realized that there was something special about him and even began to 'care' for him. Well, nurture wasn't the right word, but he was far from the status of an ordinary denizen of Hell.

Soon he made friends with some of Hell's major players as well. He had contacts with Eyperos and Allocer, and even with the Guardian of Hell, Haures himself. His name got around, but he had to suffer his sins in the Ninth Circle, where the lower traitors rotted.

In Hell, of course, being a traitor was almost like some kind of distinction, but here too at least some form of morality had to be observed, or the whole hierarchy would fall apart very quickly.

Hans was shrewd and straightforward and knew how to look after his interest perfectly. He had no problems with others, but they could very easily have problems with him. There were several reasons for this. First, the secret knowledge he had access to was of interest to the demons, who had deep wizarding knowledge, but had some concerns that humans could break through the walls of Hell and get in to them. The line between the two worlds was not to be blurred by any moral scruples, but by sheer pragmatism. Many demons could perish if their respective realities were lost. That was why they worshipped him - he was Hell's prized cadre.

Hans was very wrong about only one thing. Namely, he didn't suffer from vanity, but pure pragmatism. He wanted to learn some secrets that weren’t for him. Sure, the demons agreed to willingly reveal some of them to him, but at the cost of some of his soul. The deal was done and sealed with the seal of the Demon King Apollyon.

However, Hans had never made a deal with demons before, especially in their dimension. There was a difference - the walls helped here, too.

He explained to them that he could open a portal to the Upper Land, as they called Zegandaria.

Of course, this displeased some powers like Malphas and Melphom, two rather powerful demons too high up in the Hellmouth hierarchy. They had long been monitoring the growing popularity of this denizen of Hell and plotting how to use his knowledge to enhance their own power.

Hans was no fool and realized that he couldn't work with all demons for the simple reason that their interests conflicted. He had to be careful or he might get hurt.

Hell relied on the thoughts of its victims and molded reality to their worst nightmares, but in Hans' case it wasn't so easy to pinpoint his worst one. Deep down, Hans hadn't revealed it, and even if someone was peeking into his thoughts, they were inevitably hitting stone.

The infernal forces had to come to terms with this great failure of theirs for now.

THE PENDANT OF MARBAS

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: THE PENDANT OF MARBAS

 

Emborian remembered his acquisitions when he was rescued. So far he had not relied on outside magical aid. But he realized that the amulet could help him. Agares' ring still stood on his hand, and it was obvious that it would serve its master at least until the latter decided to keep it.

"How great is its power?" the boy wondered, "It must be great."

Then he remembered his guardian's words that he could only call him three times, and on the fourth, according to the contract, his soul would already belong to him. Once already he had come to his aid in the marshes.

The demon had not told him that Marbas provided answers to secrets and hidden riddles. He hadn't trusted him with exactly how many times he could use this acquisition of his, either.

Emborian didn't want to abuse his benefactor's gifts. Though now the demon was probably very angry and was looking for him under wood and stone to settle accounts with his charge.

The young novice had made his way out of the swamps and was trying to get home to Rodwell, but what was his surprise when he came to an invisible wall that he simply could not pass. It wasn't a magical spider web or some sort of advanced hyon web. He just pounded his fists together, but in vain.

No use and he soon gave up. Why did it have to be happening right now? He wasn't on well!

Emborian was trying to be nice and well-mannered, but here he started swearing like a brawler. Just to make you feel expensive! He roared like an ass and mixed memorized incantations with various curses, but that didn't help either.

He slumped slowly to the ground. Now he probably had to stay in this damned place forever!

He pulled out the pendant of Marbas that hung around his neck. And tried to challenge the demon with a thought. But nothing worked. He tried again and again. No effect.

He began to despair. Why was this happening?

He even tried to visualize the elements of the Mark of Marbas. Again to no avail.

Maybe he was expecting some kind of super miracle, and things were different!

He had to spend a rather long and difficult evening. And he didn't feel the sleep overturning him. It was cold and he was as cold as a dog.

Then someone or something touched him on the shoulder. He had reason to be concerned. But sleep continued to hold him in its strong clutches. A black veil lay before his eyes.

The minutes ticked by, and then the hours. Nothing was happening. Emborian slept like a slain man.

Suddenly a little boy with huge angel wings nudged him:

- Get up, lazy boy, what are you sleeping for - you have work to do and lots of it!

Emborian had never heard anyone speak to him in such a brutal menner. Especially since he was also Mag Tu.

- "You must address me as master," the boy managed to say.

- "But where did you come up with that?," the demon laughed, turning his pleasant childish face towards him.

- "I hold your locket," muttered the novice.

- "Technically, yes!," became serious Marbas. "But that's not nearly enough. You also need to know how to summon me in the right way! That will help you! Otherwise I'll just laugh in your face!"

- "But I am Mag Tu," Emborian turned red as a cancer.

- "Magus... but that's a complicated word," Marbas fretted. "You mortals have very difficult names."

Emborian saw that he wasn't going to go out on a limb with him. He wondered what to do - Agares hadn't told him exactly how to summon demons either. It was getting tangled. He realized how little he actually knew!

- "Look, I don't have time to wait for you to figure it out. What is your wish?," seemed to take pity on Marbas.

Emborian was astonished. Clearly things were happening differently now. The demon looked at him questioningly, waiting for some kind of answer.

- "Tell me exactly where I am!," the former Mag Tu pleaded.

- "And that's another matter," Marbas softened his tone. "I might help you this way, though on second thought you don't deserve my mercy, but come on, let it pass from me."

- "This is the purgatory of souls," the demon announced solemnly. "And you are being given a chance to purify yourself of your sins!"

- "And what must I do?," Emborian became quite serious.

- "Honestly, it's too different for everyone," respectfully turned to him Marbas. "What is your case?"

The young man told him about his patience.

- "Well, you shouldn't even be here, you should be straight in the ninth circle," he said in shock. "But you're holding my locket, Aren’t you - I'll get you out. But, remember, this is the first and last time I help you. For every one after that - I'll want something in return."

The failed charmer gritted his teeth to breaking point. She didn't want to answer to him for anything in the world.

- "Good on you," Marbas said playfully, turning to him, "but remember one more thing - luck is up to time. So - let's get started."

The demon concentrated and began to paint strange symbols in the air. His gentle voice became downright shrill and ominous, and then the setting suddenly changed.

They were in a different and completely unfamiliar place.

The young man tried to look at it, but Marbas stopped him.

- "Don't break our agreement!," he squeaked, and disappeared for a moment into the Heavens, riding his dragon.

THE MUTANT SAMIONTS

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: THE MUTANT SAMIONTS

 

They were small and tiny creatures that Mark thought he had exterminated, but that wasn't quite true. There were still a few survivors. And right now they were gathered around Emborian. They were going to attack him at any moment.

- "Ertufo Di Zilo Res," the mage shouted in desperation, striking them all with a maddening orb lightning bolt.

Their half-baked bodies flopped around like chickEns on a wing. The sorcerer was amazed at the powers at his disposal.

He turned around, and behind him was the laughing Archmistress.

- "Who are you?," he hurriedly asked Emborian.

The fat man was awash with laughter. It was obvious he was some particularly important bird. There were many bodyguards around him. Well-trained and armed to the teeth, keeping a watchful eye on their master's life. A few mutants were also seen around him. They meekly and carefully stood at the ready for some order of his.

Emborian hastened to bow. His head bent almost to the ground.

- "You are fortunate, strange one," the herald cried with dignity to the Archist, "His Excellency will be kind to you today. You have slain some of his finest warriors. And all alone."

Now he looked closely at the Archistratus and noted the jewels that hung on it. He was covered in gold!

The Archmistress ushered Emborian into his ornate chambers and he was able to enjoy an indescribable luxury he had never seen. The Archmistress lived in a way that was accessible only to the supreme Om Gur Nal. Somewhere in the long corridors of his mansion, Emborian began to sense, and later to distinctly sense, a clear demonological activity, which, however, he dared not reveal to him.

The young man allowed himself to be guided by his gracious host and listened to his all too sparing words. He realised something terrible - the Archmistress was more bound to Hell than even himself!

He pleaded with him to help him, but the lord only agreed on one specific condition - that Mag Tu's sect cease to exist once and for all, or else come under his direct control. Either of these two options was absolutely acceptable.

- "Death will come when I decide," the Archmistress snapped, "I absolutely do not want some demons telling me when I should die!"

Emborian was mortified. This was bordering on suicide.

- "Aren’t you afraid of what will happen to your soul?," he wondered.

- "Hell has given me enough proof of its existence so far," he uttered sadly.

- "I just want to ask you how deep this whole thing really is?," puzzled Emborian.

- "Too much even!," the Archist added cautiously.

- "What is Hell to you?," the novice asked.

- "Hell they say is limited and too narrow," the Archistratus began, "but I would describe it as varied, or to put it another way, too specific in its visualisation for any one of us. I mean, you can always see things you never dreamed of. I even think the demonic forces want us to think that even if we go to Hell, we'll pass the meter. That's not the case at all."

They both felt the whiff of death around them.

- "I'm sure they can hear us," Emborian slurred.

- "I don't think so," the lord challenged him, "things are different in Hell, and deep down I'm sure we're in for big trouble. And where is Kazuk Mon, your teacher?"

- The youth swallowed his tongue with fear - he did not know what to answer. He tried to divert his host's attention from this topic.

- And the mutant samionts were... bean business. If they weren’t I'd never have met you.

- "You're avoiding my question," the Archist reminded him.

- "Well, no," the novice tried to maintain his dignity, "I'm saying that to get here, I had to remove every obstacle in my path and kill Kazuk Mon."

The Archpriest froze and stood like that for some time.

- "Young man, you seem to be an excellent servant of Hell," he laughed thunderously.

The young man did not feel particularly flattered by the praise thus laid out - never mind that it was coming from the Archistratus. It was all actually going in the right direction perhaps.

UFUR GAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: UFUR GAN

 

The planet Ufur Gan was in a strange place in the galaxy. It was several hundred parsecs away from Zegandaria, which was to say next to it. The people there had long been in the business of mining various poisons that were used in coups to overthrow the government.

Bite was the most famous kind of poison, extracted from a serviid ogre, an animal resembling a striped snake with a greenish-gold color.

It provided the planet's livelihood. And so it was for years. The fact that many of Ufur Gan's children had never seen anything beyond their home planet was not to be underestimated. It was a real tragedy, because they were growing up with a brainwashed mind and a warped view of reality.

Ufur Gan was quite impressive - viewed from space it was almost three times the size of Zegandaria - but much less populated. Almost anything could be found on it, and it was a stopping point for smugglers from fairly backwater parts of the galaxy. So different! Its greenish-purple-yellow surface caught the eye of anyone who dared to approach and get to know it better.

The planet had a strange eccentricity to its orbit and was a bit oddly shaped, but one could find safe havEn there and take refuge for a while if there really was nowhere else to go. Things were getting more and more convoluted.

The bite was being obtained in an extremely interesting and even dangerous way that seemed almost insane.

Many a daredevil had found their death trying to get their hands on the cherished poison.

Later, smugglers had imported it through Usik Gun, a special trading company in the constellation of Lyra that specialized in blackguard shenanigans.

The poison was commonly used for assassinations against famous leaders and politicians from various planets across the galaxy, and was relatively little known to the general public.

In the past, well-trained assassins had attempted to take the Archist's life.

Everyone knew full well that it was only a matter of time before death caught up with him. With that same bite, or HHermonad’s’s Poison as it was also called, Kazuk Mon was removed from his protégé.

Far had the fame and influence of the planet spread, but one thing was absolutely indisputable - no one was dying to make deals with the Ufurgans, as whatever they decided remained forever.

"The Children of Kasdeya" had bonded with them, but not without the knowledge of Durnyam, who in turn knew something terribly important.

He himself had resided long enough on Ufur Gan and had come to know the local ways and customs. No one knew of it-not even Mark or Sasia.

There was something else that had not reached anyone's ears for a long time.

The Archmistress had an illegitimate child on Ufur Gan of all places, and he knew he could escape there someday if the demonic forces didn't finish him off by then.

What made a place unique was when you went to a place that never changed - and Ufur Gan was just such a place.

In the distance were beautiful light blue stars that would soon become white dwarfs once the fuel in their cores ran out. It was beautiful.

- "Is that the poison?," asked an unknown person who had been sent on a special mission to the planet.

- "It is," the Ufurgans answered him, "but don't overdo it, because too much can make the body burst, and that can be fatal to those standing nearby!"

- "What is the price?," the other inquired.

- "Well, a thousand Zegandarian credits," replied the merchants clustered around.

Smugglers also abounded, placed outside the jurisdiction of Om Gur Nal or the Archistratus. They seemed oblivious, for they had a safe hiding place - for now!

But it is hard to describe the state of mind of people who have nowhere to go and really nothing to lose. Anything that could be said would be too insufficient!

The petrified man paid calmly, thanked and carried off the precious cargo. And they never saw him again. He had done his part.

He boarded one of the transport shuttles to Izod Sin. His name was Mas Gan.

MAS GAN

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: MAS GAN

 

One of the previous Mas Gans had miraculously rid himself of the pagan demon cult and was now looking for a way to not only avenge his lost life, but also to some extent give meaning to his current one. So much was yet to happen, however.

Transport shuttles were a strange mix of abundant space and an absolute lack of the most basic comfort, but Zekaraya Vak wasn't complaining. Yes - he was the brother of Euron Vak and Jessica Vak - he had been infiltrated by them, which showed the zeal with which they were dealing with the demonic cult.

He immediately hurried to contact the other cult members and explain to them that he had done his part and would be home soon.

Mag Gan was and would remain a part of his past. He knew far more of the dark secrets of Kazuk Mon than anyone else. Emborian had received his blessing from Agares, one of the senior demons, but Zekaraya had contacted Arthusson himself once, and he had not turned down his request for help.

Zekaraya had a haggard and drunkEn face that had seen much and had long since lost its will to live. Too sad, but a fact - every moment was an anguish for him and he didn't want it to End just like that - there had to be a better way.

In the back of his mind, he felt he would do great good to all mankind, but on a personal level, it was more than clear that his days were numbered. He was like an open book to all those to whom he had revealed his heart. That was why he avoided the gaze of many. Somewhere in there was the key to everything. The secret of Mag Gan. Arthusson's secret. Everything spun before his eyes.

For once in his life, he was going to be useful, and for real.

The shuttle headed out into the vast expanse of space. And left the surface of the planet far behind.

But Mas Gan knew one thing. All was not lost - at least he could save his soul. What else was left for him but her?

Mas Gan also meant a kind of damnation, but instead of grief he felt gratitude. He was overflowing with life - it gave everything meaning.

- "There's no clear boundary," Mas Gan whispered softly, "you don't belong to yourself now, you belong to others. You have to live with this curse. Once and for all."

Beside him was one of the race of Ufurgans, determined to travel with them as they saw fit. Her name was Sib Nal, which in the Ufurgan dialect meant "beautiful morning star".

The Ufurgans were humanoid in shape, but slightly different in skin color and slightly dreamy facial expressions. Everyone wanted to get away from Ufur Gan, as too much standing could cause severe and irreversible effects to the cerebral cortex due to a certain amount of radiation on its surface. Of course, everyone was wearing spacesuits, but the fact that everything had to be done the right way was not to be underestimated.

A thought floated through his mind somewhere, but he couldn't remember where he had read it, and it went something like this "We lived as spirits before we came to earth, and our spirits will live on after we die.[30]"

The transport shuttle was already drifting through open space.

- "I feel everything is very different now," the former Mas Gan continued his quiet musings.

- "What are you thinking?," asked Jessica Vak. "You're going to be an important link in the destruction of a proven and vicious despot. A true beast in human skin!"

- "She's right," Euron expressed his solidarity.

He was slightly above average height - perhaps around one-eighty-five, a stocky man with a kind but determined expression and a soft bass voice. His keEn sense of justice had driven him to pursue such adventures.

He knew that sooner or later things would come to the breaking point, and it was far from being the death of the archivist.

The human mind at first and very, very deep, we cannot even expect that things will freeze with his death, the consequences may be unpredictable, but we must resist, Jessica called again.

They were entering an asteroid belt that definitely looked to be too dangerous. The transport shuttle didn't have reinforced shields, nor did it have many weapons in its arsEnal, and for that reason it was too vulnerable.

It was piloted by two Ufurgans who had expressed a willingness to help in exchange for a very hefty fee for their services. In truth it had to be admitted that they were doing more than admirably.

The asteroids themselves were quite dangerous and could have crashed the shuttle like anything.

Our adventurers were trying to keep their fighting spirit and make it unharmed to Zegandaria, where the last part of the operation was to take place.

An intermediate stop would be Izod Sin, a strange place in the middle of space itself, a small asteroid with an almost comical shape of two half-blinded huge chunks of rock.

They would have to refuel there, and think about exactly where to land on Zegandaria.

IZOD SIN

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: IZOD SIN

 

The planetoid Izod Sin was naturally visible to the naked eye, but what made it particularly attractive was the fact that it wasn't just being used as a fuel extraction station. It wasn't just a fossil fuel, it was a fuel source, and it wasn't just a the traces of passing comets were very beautiful and enigmatic.

The strangest thing was that one set foot on this small planet and asked oneself:

- Where am I?

The group expressed a desire to transfer to Izod Sin for two reasons. "The Children of Kasdeya" were not shortsighted - they knew that a decisive war was looming, and this time it would be far more devastating than the last. It could all be gone once and for all - it filled them with the joyful awe of pioneers and pioneer builders taking a prominent place in a very important project to save humanity.

When you are in a place like this your sense of belonging to someone or something disappears - you become a whole new person.

Somewhere back in time, Zekaraya remembered something else. His induction into the group had been led by Durnyam, but also by people like Euron Vak and Jessica Vak, who were even related to him.

He spent over ten years with the cult - he was in no hurry to become a novice. Kazuk Mon hadn't even made it to his position as High Priest - that was yet to come. Then suddenly, something absolutely strange and inexplicable happened. One night he had a dream in which he saw himself, submerged under water, drowning, yet feeling deeply at peace.

He felt some strange stirring. Someone nudged him. It was Gabriel, the daughter of Admiral Spears. She had become a different person since Andrew Dislan's death - quite different from her former self. But this time she was going on a journey again, and perhaps this would be her last. She could never outlive her great love, and she moved on, without a purpose in life.

It's hard to describe what was going on in the mind of a person used to thinking in finite magnitudes, but one thing was more than certain the road was never ending.

After descending briefly on Izod Sin they felt the malevolent atmosphere of the place.

Gabriel knew the theory of so-called "island universes" well, as any young Zegandarian was expected to be at least theoretically good at physics and mathematics - it was the bare minimum in literacy. Later came the study of the so-called Universal Language, which was generally spoken only to the hundredth quadrant.

Getting stuck on the asteroid could have been a huge hassle, not for anything else, but because some of the crew members had already begun to faint from frustration.

- "Could it be that radiation levels had become critically high?," voiced Euron, who had a PhD in quantum physics and particle theory.

- "No, everything is normal," he was told, after taking careful measurements with the Geiger counter, "the device showed no anomalies."

After some circling, it saw a symbol carved into the rocks. She had never seen one like it.

She'd studied asteroids in her junior year of high school. She was aware that they were all over the galaxy. But here she was seeing this sign for the first time.

It was the image of Uval[31], which looked like a camel and walked slightly aligned. It seemed strange to her to have such writing in such a place, but then she guessed - Apparently the demon cult had spread to other places in the Galaxy and this was the secret plan of the cultists. Such religious leprosy was almost impossible to stop, or at least contain. She set to studying the images carefully - there were some intriguing details on them, but she didn't have the necessary knowledge to understand them. Fortunately, Durnyam was around - she called him.

Gabriel was impressed by his confident, if cautious, gait as he responded and began to approach. When he caught sight of that image, he gasped.

- "Do you know who that is?," he spoke into the cyclotron synthesizer. - "It's the cross of Uval!"

- "I don't understand you," she looked at him somewhat peculiarly, slightly disappointed that he was telling her something almost obvious.

- This sign only means that there were high representatives of the cult here, and most likely sacrifices were made here as well - he voiced his hidden concerns in a somewhat grim tone.

- "Here, in open space - impossible," she was about to laugh at that almost ludicrous thought. "Why should they have come all this way, however cranky!"

- "Who said humans came here!," declared Durnyam chillingly.

Gabriel was a brave girl, but she almost snorted at such a response and began to glimpse the extent of Hell's plot. So Zegandaria wasn't so special after all, just the last stop before total Armageddon!

- "After all, apparently things have been happening past us without us even realizing it," Durnyam continued with his reasoning. "If my logic is correct, then even the War for Au Kaktir was just a prelude to the real war that would decide everything. The strange thing here is that we don't even know when it will break out, though my intuition whispers to me - very soon."

Gabriel listened to his interesting lecture in rapt attention. He could see something else too, that they hardly had any serious chance of success this time. Fighting against the Ada wasn't quite the same as doing it against hordes of guarrons, for example.

- "You know I wish we were together!," Gabriel approached him.

- At least for a little while!

Durnyam had heard some distant rumours about her immense affection for a peculiar man like Dislan, and he had a hunch. Andrew was long gone from the living - even, frankly, most of his former acquaintances didn't remember him. If he went and asked any of the few survivors who had once worked at the Urus Onx spaceport, they would just look at him questioningly and shake their heads negatively. Sad, but a fact!

He wondered something very sad though, why life went in a sort of cycle where sooner or later you got screwed in exactly the same way. He knew that whatever was meant to be would be! If only he didn't lose his soul in the end!

Comets kept flying over the asteroid and they decided to turn back when they spotted a small cave.

A cave on an asteroid sounded more than unusual - eccentric, even.

They went to check it out, but left sentries by the command bay, which was ridiculously small here, even compared to the size of the transport shuttle. It was obvious that whatever visitors were coming here, they weren’t doing it in conventional ships or huge B-class ships.

Once inside the cave, they saw a small altar, made in a very strange way. It was probably built a long time ago and was definitely not human.

It was more than four meters tall, and all sorts of demonic symbols could be seen on it - some of which looked downright absurd.

It took Durnyam far too long to look around and decipher them all.

- I can only say that this altar is all demons, but there is something extremely unusual - on the back of the pedestal, instead of demonic texts and incantations, there are Light[32] texts.

- I don't understand?

- "Somewhere in there is the key to the whole truth," Durnyam said cryptically. "I have a feeling that this is the beginning of the end and it will unleash an uncontrollable chain of events. I'll scan everything just in case so I can examine it in peace in the shuttle."

The demonic presence continued to be felt as a slight whiff of death stalked us in the darkness. This time, even Durnyam picked up on it and became even more serious:

- We'd better get out of here an hour sooner.

On his way out of the cave, he cast a glance at the pagan shrine.

- "Shall we just blow it up?," suggested Gabriel.

Durnyam hesitated. The idea didn't seem so bad - there was just one but. One very big but!

CLUES TO THE PAST

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: CLUES TO THE PAST

 

They emerged from the cave and set off breeze explosives, which should have been enough to deal with the situation. But deep down, Durnyam feared some huge demonic reaction in response to the destroyed chapel.[33] Here, on the surface, were traces of apparent outsiders - not so noticeable, but still - somewhere there was all the logic of the existence of a parallel sectarian cult. But if such a division existed at all, what was the reason for it?

Why did it exist in such an abnormal way? Somewhere out there beneath the ruins lay the answer. They had seen to it that everything was all right.

Before they boarded the transport shuttle back they clearly realized something - Jessica was not on board with them.

They went back to look for her, but in vain - they couldn't find her. They crossed the asteroid, which took them hours because they were not well secured and had to proceed very slowly. It turned out that she had disappeared into thin air.

When they went to inspect the blasted site they were horrified to discover that she was buried under the debris.

Apparently the demonic presence had kept her within range of the detonation in order to destroy her.

Her body was torn apart and it was frightening to look into the shattered visor of her spacesuit, where the pale light of passing comets reflected.

They decided they couldn't take her aboard the shuttle. Her body was so lifeless that Durnyam realized there was nothing left for them to wait and explore. They had to get out of here an hour at a time.

Durnyam even feared that the crew of the two Ufurgan pilots had blown somewhere, because that would mean certain death for them.

Euron looked at him particularly and realized what he was thinking. They stood by her corpse for a few minutes and then took a final goodbye. That asteroid was going to be her grave!

When they boarded, the two men didn't blink, clearly aware of the paradoxical nature of what was happening. The First Great War for Au Kaktir and the ensuing battle with the guarron had wiped out ninety percent of the planet's population, but at least they had hope that they were fighting their own kind.

Euron held back the tears that betrayed that he was suffering for the loss of his sister.

The hatches closed, and just as they were about to Engage the vertical quantum stabilizers to fly out, someone started banging and pounding on the shuttle's hull. The lights flickered. It was as if someone was trying to open some kind of can - and with particular ferocity.

The blows on the hull became more and more frantic and brutal. You could feel the tension of the two Ufurgans, who seemed to regret having set out on this journey at all.

Though small, the shuttle was well insulated and made of a special enodium alloy that included pure composite, quion nanofibers, kevlarite, and ceramics to protect it from extremely high temperatures.

In the shuttle, besides the two pilots, Durnyam and Euron, were also Zekaraya, Er Mo Za - as the most senior after Durnyam, and of course Ngufu - the high priest of the Church of Nergal[34]. This cult was another wild variety of the religious feudalism that reigned throughout these lands, but "The Children of Kasdeya" had captured it in their desire to learn more about the sect. Yes, every detail mattered.

The transport shuttle took the blows one after the other - they were particularly cruel, but at any moment the worst could happen. Even in such a sublime moment, Durnyam decided to look over the materials the chapter had collected. He saw the markings of many different demons, each with a corresponding hierarchy and function. Many of the things he didn't understand, but his eyes were opened to many others and he understood the infernal design. Even if it sounded crazy, he saw that the forces of Hell were by no means acting chaotically or relying on chance. Perhaps they had not taken into account his knowledge of ancient languages and cultures.

Suddenly, the shuttle shuddered and split in two and began to de-hermetize. It was getting dangerous. They hurriedly donned their spacesuits and reached some understanding on how to deal with the common enemy.

Facing them was a huge demon that had opened its maw menacingly and could easily devour them. But, they had almost no weapons. And they had to make do somehow.

- "I'm the oldest, and if anyone has to perish, let it be me!," voiced Er Mo Za his concerns.

Soon it would all be over. Durnyam disagreed, but it was all going to hell. They gave him a simple axe because they had nothing else in the transport shuttle and dumped him on the surface of the asteroid.

The demon approached with an ugly growl. Er Mo Za unmistakably recognized Kasdeya and was about to drop his axe.

- "Your weapon is useless, mere mortal!," came a sickening wheezing sound.

The demonic woman was over two meters tall and had enormous zippy wings.

- "You are known as the demon of lies," he shouted.

- "It is not from me that your death will come, believe me," the infernal creature laughed. "And the fact that you destroyed a simple cape on a small asteroid like Izod Sin means absolutely nothing," she hissed, "You only think you can stop us!"

Er Mo Za blinked - she was gone. She looked around for any sign on the snow-ice surface - there was no indication of anyone or anything being present. When she turned around, however, she saw that the shuttle was already flying away.

- "What the hell is going on, stop and pick me back up! I'm going to die here in a few hours!," he scrambled like a madman, trying to seize the slim opportunity to get spotted and turn back.

The shuttle was rising inexorably. Until a sudden explosion followed. It all happened in an instant. Pieces of kevlarite and hyon fibre used for insulation flew apart. It was all over. The demons had won.

His eyes crossed and he clearly realized that he was going to die soon. He had a few hours left when he would attempt to decompress his suit himself and struggle thirstily for a breath of air. And that would be the end of him. Utterly inglorious. He looked around, at least he had the axe left. Puck and odd as it was there was a small amount of the Hermonad’s poison. He decided to look around and then if he couldn't find another way out, even if it was temporary, just drink it and be done with it. He looked around and sniffed everything - there was no hope - there was only debris. He realized with sadness that their plan to poison Kazuk Mon might not come true. And he picked up the obsidian glass, pouring it straight into the suit's cooling system pipes. Soon he felt the droplets on his tongue and began to lose consciousness. His testicles were going to burst - as if they were being squeezed by an iron vise. He felt the heat hit his skull and that was the end...

- "Hey, wake up," Zekaraya shook him. "Apparently this place is bad for all of us. Let's get out of here."

He looked around - there was no sign of anything he had seen. The shuttle was a whole-target and they were just taking off. Everyone was in a pretty cheerful mood. The stabilizers were on. And smoothly and surely they separated from the surface and began to gain altitude.

- "What the hell was going on?," he wondered.

DEMONIC ILLUSION

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: DEMONIC ILLUSION

 

It was soon explained to him that anyone who actually wished to learn the secret of the chapel was being daggered by the demons to hear their thoughts, and the visions were false and could eventually lead one to schizophrenia and a fatal end. Er Mo Za could barely maintain his life force because he had spent almost fifteen hours in a coma. It turned out that they found him passed out and all his ramblings about demons were looked down upon. This caused him to close in on himself and not share anything with anyone. He had seen Kasdeya, and they had convinced him otherwise! He had defied her, and had only received ridicule. He also realized something else - these weren’t his friends he'd known for nearly twenty years - something seemed to have wiped the memories from their minds like magic, leaving only the comfortable ones.

He decided he wasn't going to let things go like that - he was going to fight, whatever it cost him. To grasp at straws like a drowning man and get his chance to deal with his terrible hallucinations.

The pilots saw something on the viewfinder. Er Mo Za was somewhat amused - perhaps they were well aware of what was about to happen and were doing their best to show him right. A small black dot had appeared on the device. It kept getting bigger and bigger. Suddenly his skull exploded and his brain spattered the viewfinder.

The others were shocked - Durnyam just shook his head and rushed to administer first aid, though it was useless. It took them about a minute to come to their senses.

He was hopelessly dead, and even his scrotum had burst from the effects of the poison - he'd obviously ingested too much.

The others looked on horrified.

- "What's going on?," asked Durnyam, as if coming out of his reverie.

Then he glimpsed a strange electronic card at his feet. It clearly read "Hernando Torres, Second Platoon, Fourth Army".

- "This had to be some kind of joke, right?," Euron Vak almost bellowed, his eyes glazing over.

But the fact was a fact. Somewhere the old man's explanation seemed more acceptable to them.

After their eyes met, they went to the two pilots - they had aged considerably. On their faces could be read only sorrow and annoyance.

- "What ...," Durnyam cried, the words freezing on his tongue as Euron Vak attacked him.

Durnyam was also a tall and strong elite soldier, but the difference in category still had its say. Euron was at least twenty pounds heavier, and slowly began to gain the upper hand. Whatever frenzy had possessed him, one thing was absolutely certain - it was a life or death battle.

Durnyam looked around - there wasn't much he could use, plus they were flying into open space. However, he saw Er Mo Za's axe - he grabbed it and with a lunge, cracked his comrade's skull. The axe couldn't hit him well, as the visor's scarlet softened the blow somewhat, but it still split his cerebral cerebral cortex. He collapsed to the ground in hellish agony. Pieces of brain began to come out of the suit.

The pilots sensed that there was a tight squeeze in the transport bay and started babbling in their incomprehensible Ufurgan dialect. Durnyam was spattered with the blood that, due to the lack of gravity, had flown around. He looked like a crazed infant out of his mother's womb - a complete maniac. He decided to go calm the pilots down - they would have swallowed their tongues in fear as soon as they saw him - a true angel of death.

Durnyam gripped the axe like some viking - not that anyone in the distant future had heard of such wars.

- "Change course," he ordered them without an ounce of caring, "We're going directly to Izod Sin."

- "Ezos Minaro Veck," the pilots chanted.

- "Sakaro Di Vo Tun," replied Durnyam, rather nervously, and showed them the axe with his eyes.

The pilots needed no further explanation - they immediately turned into the arranged destination. They had gotten quite far from the asteroid and it was getting a bit difficult to turn back, but the pilots were old school and did a few clever tricks.

First, they turned off any stabilizers. They could have proved too dangerous an impact especially in the asteroid belt. They also took into account the possible miscalculation of coordinates that would get them into even more trouble.

Deep down, Durnyam knew he was already headed down a path from which there was no escape. He had to meet the demons in his mind - the monsters that were trying to rape his thoughts and turn him into a psychopath.

The way back to the asteroid was more than sad - it was full of the debris from the explosion and it was such a mess that there was nowhere more to go than that. Durnyam tied the two pilots into the shuttle's transport bay so they wouldn't accidentally take off without him. Then he stepped onto solid ground and realized a huge oversight. There was no one to bring them back to the capitol - it was cluttered, and Jessica's crushed corpse just stood grotesquely and completely harmless amidst all this brutal space chaos.

Durnyam felt the demonic breeze in his neck. It was hot as a hell furnace and the creature seemed to be only inviting him to one last deadly dance.

Something else flashed through his mind as well - he remembered that Hell was actually a state of the soul, not some real place.

Kasdeya laughed at him, but when he turned he saw nothing, for there was nothing either - it was utterly empty and deaf - as brutally dead as torn autumn emery blossoms.

Durnyam swung the axe, repeated, shuddered. The weapon whistled, but nothing happened. It just fought the air.

When he came to he saw his own reflection in Jessica's broken visor, and in her dark eyes he saw his own madness. Suddenly he slipped and the axe came crashing down on his own head.

Fortunately his helmet was a newer model than Euron's and that saved him, but the weapon jammed between the layers of composite material and the suit began to decompress rapidly. Durnyam was dying. He realised how bad a man he really was - he accepted his mistake and repEnted and then the evil demon retreated from him, scorched as by frost - he felt free, he breathed and could see the truth. "The pilots too will soon perish for lack of a way out!" he sadly stated moments before his consciousness faded completely. His lifeless body thudded right next to Jessica's and he was just a corpse. A very, very lonely corpse.

ESCALATION

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: ESCALATION

 

Things hadn't gone very smoothly on Zegandaria, and Detective Boss hadn't been able to find much evidence of the cult. They'd decided it was a complete waste of time to go here and there looking for all sorts of chaotic clues - it wasn't going to get them anywhere. Rarely had Boss felt at a standstill - he felt exactly that way now, though some members of his team would have lifted his spirits, it was too little consolation.

Mark and Sasia had gotten away and now Boss had missed out on so much.

The detective decided to make a shrewd and dangerous move - he'd just change his approach a little and the results wouldn't be long in coming.

Dawn was already showing over the surreal exterior of this Imgradon neighborhood as they left the establishment. Suddenly they were attacked by Rico's gang.

- "You must be dirty cops, aren’t you?," he hissed in a corrupted Imgradon dialect, as he obviously hadn't attended school regularly.

The young man was too arrogant and obviously someone needed to teach him a pretty good lesson so he could learn to respect others. Rento set about that task.

He clenched his fists and charged at him like an enraged dog. The young man, however, turned out to be a bony nut.

- "I'll kill you, monkey," Rento, who had dealt with all sorts of trash like him, snapped back at him.

The cocky thumb dodged the blows all too deftly, and with lightning speed he drove a kick into his attacker's groin.

What was his surprise when he realized that Rento's scrotum was protected by a hyon loincloth covered in flakes of kevlarite. His leg broke and it collapsed to the ground.

- "Tell me who you work for!," ordered Boss quietly, bringing his frightened face close to his own.

- And just don't tell me you're here completely by accident. Especially right when we were leaving.

The neighborhood trash was as silent as a fish, but Imaya pulled out an embosser baton and began to beat him on the leg wherever she could find him until she made him turn to salt - he passed out.

They doused him with his own urine - Boss wasn't the most well-mannered - and started questioning him again. In the meantime they had dragged him to a nearby shed - where some of the more casual visitors usually left their Nirangaters. There was no sign of any human presence by the way.

When he came to his senses, the young brazen man confusedly began to apologize as he fiddled endlessly. There was blood on the camouflage colored spacesuit and he had a rather unhappy look about him.

- "Surrealism," he began, not very confidently. Boss's team glanced at each other. He had clearly gone mad.

- "My boy, we're not in art class, so go right ahead," the cowboy, who had a certain passion for painting, prompted him.

- "Actually, I'm telling it to you like it is," he addressed them firmly.

If he had said it even slightly differently they probably would have lapped it up, but now they listened to his voice.

- "Look, surrealism is a denial of war, isn't it?," he snapped. They decided not to interrupt him.

- "Well?," Rento looked at him.

- "Well, look at the design of this neighbourhood," he stretched out a bloody smile.

They looked around.

- We were promised that we would live in peace after all that had happened. Even before the gangs formed. But it didn't work out that way at all!

- "Wait a minute," Boss interrupted him in a very serious tone. "What you're telling us is true, but why are you bothering us with things that happened nineteen years ago?"

- Because Enzok Ra's design was to challenge all human life based on the rational. Look at what was the point of acting rationally so many years after we are going to die very soon. Better to live now! Or never!

- "This one may not have it all," Detective Boss sadly concluded. "Pity, because we could have learned more from him. But..."

The sociopath Shame's despairing and confused face only seemed to confirm his words. His strange grimaces and body movements were in perfect sync with the whole shambolic notion of realism on this planet. He was doomed. Every cell of his body was. That was why he wanted to squeeze every moment to the end! But the end was near. His life was too illusory and limited, as, by the way, were the lives of most of the inhabitants of this part of the polis.

All sorts of oddities could be seen around a neighborhood like Enzok Ra - in addition to Ecclestone's establishment, there were some cyber trees with human faces that maintained the illusion of cyberpunk, and some surreal interon fuel extraction plants completed the picture in the distance. There were also impressive helioran pumps pumping water from underground geothermal springs beneath the polis. Their enormous torsos were reminiscent of huge colossi from the distant past and suggested a sense of sadness and mystery.

Gangs ruled this particular parvenu neighborhood because this was where there was plenty to steal - more than enough.

The visitors themselves were being violated by just such individuals as Shame, who had long been persona non grata throughout most other areas of the polis, but only here for some reason the authorities still turned a blind eye and their crimes still went unpunished, although individual gang members did go to jail from time to time.

Om Gur Nal had naturally issued appropriate orders regarding some very specific crimes committed by them, but he still couldn't bring them under real control, or didn't want to.

Most had gradually begun to avoid Enzok Ra, or tried not to linger here too long for fear of their own safety.

THE GANGS OF ENZOK RA

CHAPTER FORTY: THE GANGS OF ENZOK RA

 

While they were having this rather odd conversation, various members of the Enzok Ra gang had started to cluster around - Milo Starthorn[35], Big John, Averia Downs and some other creeps who had snuck in afterwards were here. Everyone had got hold of whatever they could and they looked dangerous.

Boss decided not to get into any unnecessary conflicts - not that his trained men couldn't grind these youngsters down, but he'd miss an excellent chance to get his hands on some much needed information. He decided to play the good cop and hoped this plan would work.

The gang members were closing in on them, their faces screwed up and ready to attack at any moment.

- "Stop!," ordered Shame[36], "that was the young man's name. - They might help us."

Even Rento was moved. He hadn't expected this trash to show a bit of valor. But he was still clenching his fists, ready to respond to any possible provocation.

- "Look, we're just trying to survive and have some food," Shame apologised.

- What did you say you could be useful for?

- "Well, I can do something extremely good for you," he looked at them slyly, and his friends glanced around in concern.

- "They're worried someone might overhear, because you're not the first to be interested in that thing," he began roundly.

- "Right," the cowboy cut him off, "go on".

Boss was about to shut him up, but this time he was right.

- "Well, Mark and Sasia may have said they left a few minutes earlier, but," the young man hesitated.

- "But what?," roared Rento, ready to knock his teeth out with a fist.

- "Well, they were kidnapped," he spluttered.

- "And by whom?," wondered Imaya.

- "Om...om...om," he struggled to remember.

- "Om Gur Nal," Boss prompted him.

- "Yes," confirmed Shame. "You see, we were hiding behind one of the helioran pumps that were built next to one of the geothermal vents, which is owned by the establishment by the way, and then..."

- "Enough," Boss interrupted his ramblings. "It was useful. Just one last question?"

Just then a sniper shot silenced him for good. He fell on the teach, and a tea cup could have been safely placed in the hole at the back of his head. It was clearly visible that he had been chipped as a child - perhaps the work of Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn .

- "Don't touch him," warned Boss. "He could be a trap!"

As they approached, they saw that there were esonium wires around the boy's neck under the spacesuit, connected to a plastic army explosive - not very modern, but effective enough to blow them to pieces.

Boss pulled out small forceps and tried to remove the chip from his brain - it was Apparently firmly lodged, but had remained intact by some awesome and inexplicable miracle.

Deep down, Boss knew he was starting to pick at the thread, and those scared pallets around would help him untangle it even if he had to make them a head shorter.

Whoever the shooter was had apparently seen fit to get out while there was still time, since there was no telling who else was hanging around and whether he himself would fall victim to some unfortunate accident.

Gad ‘Di Enn  might have sent a second team or even a third along with them, and they might have been liquidated before they reached their destination. All would become clear sooner or later. Sadness enveloped them - the sadness of real life, not without cruel twists and turns.

It was evident that the beginning of the end was coming, and he seemed to feel a kind of sympathy for these men who were placed in the same position. Something had to be done - and he was certainly going to be the man to get on with things!

Whoever had had a hand in setting up the gangs was definitely profiting from the redistribution of territory, as the plots of land near Ecclestone's establishment had acquired cosmic prices - and there was no way it could be otherwise.

The shooter, in Boss's opinion, was unlikely to have been sent personally by Om Gur Nal, who would not risk his status and the loss of face in this obvious way. He had retired too professionally.

After questioning them, it appeared that there were at least four or even five other rival gangs out there somewhere - each with their own territories and specific spheres of activity. Some of them were involved in the trade of narenzianan chips, others liked to organize illegal games on Orimo, and there were not a few who sought fame in the still popular illegal fights. But no one had seen or heard anything! They even preferred not to talk about this topic!

But Boss didn't want to go into such details - it wasn't his job. He wanted to get to Shame's killer - that was the key.

He couldn't deny, though, that he was a professional - everything had been prepared slowly and carefully - the electronic collar and everything.

The plasma bullet was titanium-tipped and had taken parts of Shame's skull so that his brain was visible, pulsing and pale pink, registering the last stages of his brain activity.

The others around were probably going to puke their guts out, but no one felt quite so sorry for their former boss. So what - they'd find someone else! This one was constantly robbing them of their wages anyway, and they could never please him - at least now they had a chance for a new and interesting job, which was hard to find in a neighborhood like Enzok Ra.

A GAME OF LOGIC

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: A GAME OF LOGIC

 

Boss had a real deductive talent and made impressive and profound points. He immediately realized that either someone was trying to soak Om Gur Nal or things were even more screwed up than they appeared. Of course, he had no right to waste any more time and he had to start doing real work if he wanted to earn those fabulous millions he had agreed upon.

Ah, maybe he should have dicked around more seriously, maybe someone was still in Shore Tuk Prison and knew something about it. But Boss wanted them to at least walk around Enzok Ra some more before then and see about this kidnapping thing. He had his men round up the survivors of the Shame gang and took them to a safe place that was known only to him. There in general, at least for now, it was unlikely anyone would be looking for them.

The antispell hiding place was another quirk of some of the most advanced minds of Zegandaria. For a certain modest rent, a certain number of people could spend long periods of time there without anyone eavesdropping on their conversation - it was where-so-ever cheaper than various hyon nets, or for that matter, cyclotron synthesizer jammers. That was where Boss took them - where, frankly, he felt completely in his own waters and didn't care about anything. The hiding place in question was no different than a simple room with well-insulated hydron doors and solid walls of kevlarite, but it was practically the best solution for a situation like this. Boss knew that word of the attack had already spread far and wide and he had to hurry to buy time.

When they walked in, everyone breathed a sigh of relief - Boss had prepaid with a dozen Zegandarian credits and they could rest a bit without fear of trouble. Boss looked around at the haggard faces of the remnants of Shame's gang and clearly realized that they were doing this for no other reason than to get their own skins off - they needed to rely on someone or something. It was important before they took to the streets. Boss didn't act like the good cop or the bad cop, just someone who wanted to survive just like them. That knew what it meant to be on the verge of dying. He'd been down that road.

- "You know, children?," he began, touched. "Life is short. The average Zegandarian lives thirty-five to thirty-six years, which isn't much. Well, some get to forty-forty-five, but no more than fifty."

They looked at him, amazed-what did this renegadeEnforcer of order know, who followed his own rules of survival and had never been out in their place.

Boss seemed to read their minds.

- "You're wrong, I was there when they wounded Milo the first time." Starthorn shouted, "It really was."

- "Or when they took Averia Downs to the station the first time," he continued, his voice shaky.

- "But we're seeing you for the first time," they marvelled.

- "And I've known you since you were born," said Bos sadly.

Cowboy, Imaya and everyone else looked at him. These were not the words of some womanizer, but the calm and composed speech of an old veteran - hero of the two great wars of Cebur Nag, part of the last Great War against the Guarron.

- "But, why are you actually telling us all this?," they asked almost in unison. "You must have studied our electronic files."

- "Nothing of the sort," Boss added. "I will now give you a chance to atone for the injustice done against you. You will have the chance to die as heroes, not rot in this parvenu district of Enzok Ra, which I also hate to death."

- "Why should we kill ourselves?," shouted Averia Downs, clenching her fists in confusion. "Anyway, every day we die slowly - there is no food or water, and somewhere far up north in that same city others are living well. We are forced to live like rats to survive. We want nothing more than our place in the sun."

Starthorn, Big John and the others nodded dejectedly - they wanted that too.

Every last one of them were street kids - misunderstood and rejected, wanting to survive but knowing that any day could be their last.

Cowboy and Rento decided to intervene:

Our boss doesn't know who his parents are, and neither do we. We do what we do because we can't do anything else.

After statements like that, the trust between the parties seemed to get a little higher. Nevertheless, they continued to look at each other testily.

- "Well what do we gain by playing with you," Big John, a large and scowling nineteen-year-old tough who wore a battered spacesuit and was usually a bogeyman for the local petty hooligans, spat out at the end.

- "You'll get some of our own share," argued Boss.

- "There are four of you - Shame, Averia, Big John and Milo. Well, three now," he corrected his mistake. "Shame is already in overspend! Peace be upon him."

- It'll only drive up your own stock.

Said group members nodded approvingly, hoping to get larger portions of the total pie.

Boss didn't mention the others, as they had been left to their fate somewhere in the streets of Enzok Ra, tightly bound with zerethium ropes. They were definitely going to die like dogs.

- "How many exactly?," raised Averia's eyebrows. "In the sense of cash?"

- "About five million per man," Boss said calmly.

- "It's not that much," Big John called back, somewhat uncertainly, though the amount was not at all to be ignored.

Boss interrupted them:

- Look - we'll divide fifty-fifty, but I'll also ask you for more.

Big John grinned:

- "Say so, man, I'm with you," and patted him on the shoulder, but then pulled his hand away, a little embarrassed.

- "Now I want you to get a good night's sleep," Imaya, who was second in importance only to Boss, chided, "Because then we're unlikely to have an opportunity like this for the next three or four days."

Everyone rolled over and switched their spacesuits into hibernation mode.

DOCTOR GAD ‘DI ENN

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: DOCTOR GAD ‘DI ENN

 

The Doctor knew Boss had concerns for those he'd sent on their heels. And he also probably guessed that he was never going to pay them the hundred million in question. Well, if the detective had asked for five or six, he might have hesitated, but as it was, he was no fool. Anything could happen, so he decided to reinsure himself and take all necessary measures in any way possible. He hired a second team to execute the members of the first in case of need. This would of course take some time. He wasn't going to waste the capacity of an old wolf like Emjeraya Boss and sacrifice him for nothing and nothing at all - he wasn't the one who had to find the trail first, and then things would be finished on the fly.

The second team was Jail Hunter's, a young commando full of ambition to shine and make history, if not on the galaxy, at least on his own planet. His team was equipped with better equipment than Boss's, and they'd even been given their approximate coordinates - they'd meet soon to discuss the details, but Gad ‘Di Enn  didn't want to fall victim to such frivolities - he had to keep these headhunters at bay for the sake of his own safety, and also lest he blurt out some important piece of information to them that might lead them to play along later and deceive him.

The Doctor used a special android mediator, which he had mind-chipped by transplanting the memories of a human child. He was a truly brutal and sadistic piece of shit, but, as the jargon went, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Then he relaxed and took a swig of malt everest, something like whiskey but not as strong. He could just uncork. He had a good job and a hell of a lot of money, but he'd never get to the level of the Archist or Om Gur Nal. He'd sweated for the damned success, and now from the top of the mountain things looked very different. But he wasn't about to give up - hell, he was going to show them who Gad ‘Di Enn  was and what kind of Perspex Oath[37] he'd taken.

At one time they were sued, but now no one could lay a finger on them - him and those of his caste.

- "I know that when the hour of judgment comes, you will all pay me dearly," the medic rubbed his hands together. "Those of you who have despised, isolated and ignored me. But still I must be careful."

He relaxed wearily in his armchair-he cared for no one and nothing. He'd clawed his way up the ladder for so many years, he deserved to savor this moment. His huge study was lavishly decorated with carpets of Seburnagian tyrfan, beautiful paintings of emeryridium blossoms and all sorts of other things.

He looked around the vast futuristic megalopolis through the impossibly thick Endosian glass and simply couldn't believe his eyes. The lights of the city played in an interesting and unique way, forming pictures that no impressionist painter could have recreated. Out there somewhere far away were the symbols of fame, power, and wealth - and Gad ‘Di Enn had all three. What, then, was he missing? Perhaps only he knew!

He'd grown up in one of the poorest districts of Imgradon, Kibur Zon, which wasn't too far from Enzok Ra, trying to make his way to true fame and fortune, but somehow still failing. Those memories were swirling more and more frequently in his mind - there was no other way.

He remembered how as a little boy they fought like sacks and he could never put enough in his mouth.

Gad ‘Di Enn was one of the very few doctors who weren’t of the guarron race, it was strange how he had even fit into such a god-chosen caste - it hadn't even been easy to finish his education.

He remembered the ironic snubs at university and many other highly unpleasant incidents. He had even been the victim of abuse from some of his colleagues, but somehow he had survived. Difficult, but he had coped. He'd harbored his hatred deep down, a hatred that would have destroyed them all in one. These well-fed, well-groomed, and well-cared-for "princes" and "princesses" who had never, ever struggled to achieve anything in their lives, completely protected by their parents' money and power.

The truth was that he had always lived a parallel life - that is, he would never be able to fit into their reality. That fact remained a fact!

Then, the unknown benefactor, Equius Mon, who was actually the father of Kazuk Mon, the now-dead Arch Archivist of the Tarashdukian sect, suddenly appeared. He had plenty of money and inexhaustible attraction - whatever he said was taken for granted. He learned enough about the young man and wished to help him.

One already went to him in the dormitory and asked him, quite rebelliously, "What do you plan to do with your life?"

Gad ‘Di Enn  had a hard time answering - he felt he was talented, but exactly how much, he didn't know. Maybe he couldn't give it yet either.

EQUIUS MON

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: EQUIUS MON

 

- "My son has gone down a very crooked and wrong path," he shrugged sadly. "But there is hope for you."

- "Why do you do it?," the young man puzzled. Equius Mon fell silent.

- "Because I want to save someone at least," he said rather thoughtfully.

- That was fifteen years ago. Every day that scene was before his eyes. The old well-mannered gentleman with a VER 2380 suit insignia that said he paid great attention to his personal safety.

- His very arrival, however, spoke of something else - why this talented and wealthy man was offering him everything - there had to be a catch somewhere. Gad ‘Di Enn believed in such selflessness - it was almost unnatural.

It didn't escape the sly smile he tried to hide as much as possible.

- "Look, my boy, I'm asking a very big favour of you," Equius told him quite bluntly. "I need you to chip all the children so I can benefit from the transplanted memories."

- "What exactly do you mean?," the medic asked him.

- You're being asked to do something too simple. Don't change anything in the current mind encodings - just try to do a deeper implantation.

- "Deeper?," - Gad ‘Di Enn  was amazed, as she knew full well what the other man meant.

- "But that would be medically dangerous," he tried to object.

- "Can't you bring their memories back to a previous level?," asked Equius.

- "It's not as simple as that," Gad ‘Di Enn pawed the ground.

- "Then do it, or at least try," Equius addressed him somewhat commandingly. "I'm sure you have the qualities for it. What's more, I'm even sure you've secretly wanted it for far too long."

The medic continued with his internal struggle. He was aware that he could not simply refuse - it would be downright sacrilege - but he was also acutely aware that certain things were about to happen that were unlikely to be to his advantage.

- "Have you heard of levels of consciousness?," he asked distantly.

- "Well, you, my boy, could tell me this or that," Equius addressed him kindly, "and I don't mind listening to you."

- "Well, you see, a lot of people think that these experiments are done in a completely controlled way, but that's not the case at all," Gad ‘Di Enn voiced his concerns.

- "E? And what's really going on?," the old man turned to him with a somewhat ingratiating smile.

- "Your offer seems very tempting to me," the medic murmured.

- "Well, what's so on his mind?," wondered Equius.

It had become very, very quiet around them. Even the chirp of a bird could be heard - but unfortunately there hadn't been any for a long time. The melancholy could be felt even in the air.

- "Actually, why did you become a doctor?," interjected Equius.

- "You know, knowing that you are responsible for so many people is a huge burden," Gad ‘Di Enn said sadly. "After the introduction of the chipped consciousness, everything went in a completely different direction. It had to make many and varied changes, but in the end everything fell into place."

- "I seem to have come to the wrong place," Equius tried to stand up, but Gad ‘Di Enn  stopped him.

- "Not exactly where you should have come," the medic supported him. "Everything will work out the way you want it to."

The conversation took place in this very same clinic, the successor to the former St Joseph's, where too many patients were given a second chance at life. Retransplantation was helping them forget and push off the bottom. The Doctor had prevented many suicide attempts, whole families splitting up and so on and so forth.

He was finally, starting to live their life, which was very taxing on him.

He was about to crack his skull open - it weighed so heavily on him sometimes, but he found it in himself to carry on. He did it step by step, like a caterpillar hiding under a leaf, unwilling to see the reality of the vast outside world and living in his own illusion.

The old man seemed to be very satisfied with the answer given, but he was in no hurry to go yet - he wanted to look around a bit.

The clinic with its futuristic walls and impressive decorations was like a magnet for many. He was deeply convinced that he could still save his son before his lethal end. He wished and hoped. But there was nothing else he could do - only beg for help!

THE GABRIEL

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: THE GABRIEL

 

Everyone had forgotten about Gabriel, the girl who had deeply experienced the loss of her beloved Dislan. When they left the cave, she was overwhelmed.

She wanted to use the communications equipment, but she couldn't. Sadness came over her for a moment. She imagined how Dislane had died all alone. Then she recovered quickly and wondered how she could get out of this cursed place. The altar lay somewhere not far from her.

The strange symbols looked inviting - so many dark lords gathered together - each hiding a secret.

But she had no idea how to summon them. Time passed - the situation grew worse and worse. Her oxygen was beginning to running low and it was becoming very difficult to cope at all. Her eyes crossed. She was perishing - she couldn't even lift her legs - they seemed to weigh a ton.

She scanned the suit's system - it didn't look encouraging

- There was no backup power or anything else, but she could read in her gaze a determination to survive - she wanted to make it through at least one more day, even on the supposedly.

The sadness was eating at her and she moaned softly. Suddenly she decided to do something too crazy.

What if she triggered a controlled explosion, or at least a micro explosion? Maybe some of all that debris would scatter and that would bode well for her further survival. She began to quickly formulate a plan on how she could accomplish that in the shortest amount of time. No part of the suit could be blown up because it was monolithic, not modular - and now she sadly acknowledged that fact. Secondly, she couldn't be sure how long it would take to run out of oxygen - it could be a few minutes, it could be hours - there was no telling.

But the most unpleasant fact lay in her psyche - it was seriously shaken due to the lack of information about all those demons and demonic creatures.

Time continued to pass, but nothing happened. She stood up and tried to stop the oxygen leak by soldering a small hole in the suit. Somewhere far ahead she realized there was an easier way.

She went to the altar and started whispering some of the secret words without even being sure what exactly was going on - it was damn weird. Suddenly she felt the demonic presence behind her. She turned around - there was no one there.

She didn't know exactly which of all the demons she had summoned. She didn't want to guess either, though she realized it was extremely dangerous to do so out of the blue. It all only lasted a moment - then she was lost. The feeling of demonic possession left her and she felt herself weakening again.

It was all too likely that this was how it had seemed to her - just some contrived supernatural quirk, or maybe not? She even tapped at her suit to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

She was going to die just like him. Maybe that was the most logical and good ending too, and maybe not?

He felt his chest - there was no trace of the hole in the composite. He looked at his hands -no holes.  He had to deal with his problems somehow.

The loneliness in the space cave was downright murderous-there was only one way out.

Her forehead broke out in a cold sweat and she decided that no matter what, this was her only path to salvation.

Then she saw a small gap. Through it, beautiful purple-blue-white reflections could be seen, illuminating the dark space. But she had no time to contemplate these beauties. It turned out that there was something left in the cave after all, such as a small piece of thick zeretian rope and various other things.

He looked around and examined it carefully - it was too short, but it was still something.

He tied it around his waist as carefully as he could and tried to pull himself up through an artificially created spool of a thick permoplax helmet the round pulley of a cyclotron synthesizer. Actually, it wasn't even a real spool, but rather a sort of insulation on the rope that was supposed to support it. It cost her an incredible effort to move inch by inch - her tight and athletic body was drenched in sweat. It was driving her crazy. She'd almost made it to the small crevice and wriggled free.

Suddenly, she felt a force pulling her down - hard and inexorable. Maybe one of the demons was pulling at her legs. She'd failed just before the finish - a downright shame.

Sweat further impeded her movements, so she switched on a special valve to absorb it and bring it out of the suit in the form of microscopic water droplets. It helped somewhat, but she still hung like a worm on a fishing line - it was downright embarrassing.

She didn't want to look down either, but the light of her helmet reflected the creature - no it wasn't a vision this time, it was Nergal himself!

- "I am Nergal - the star deity! How dare you disturb my peace at all?," he roared, his powerful maw full of thick, sharp teeth.

Gabriel would have snapped. He turned around and again there was nothing there. When he made one last attempt he realized that he would be slipping out of the hole in question very soon - it wasn't that hard.

He finally, got out and saw the beauty of space - it was divine!

She had straddled her mighty crotch, trying to be like a conqueror - now she was all alone on the asteroid!

HANS

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: HANS

 

After a long search, they finally, found Hans in a hell of a lot of pain because they'd stuck electrodes in his skull and his testicles were going to explode from the voltage. The extremely low temperatures only intensified his suffering. His teeth were clenched to breaking. The devils were technologically advanced in this regard and had plucked this information from the depths of his mind with special telekinesis.

Ronwe turned to him without a shred of sympathy, but who knew why something made him feel respect -something he didn't know what it was either. Yes, there were orders to take him away, but why not at least ask him some things about himself - it wouldn't be superfluous.

- "Are you Hans Auslander?," Ronwe tried to make his voice too scary.

Hans tried to answer, but his scrotum seemed to have riddEn up like a lump in his throat.

Ronwe tried to be as formal as possible:

- I've been sent by Valak on special assignment. If you cooperate, we'll make your stay in Hell a little more pleasant. But if you don't, be angry with yourself.

How well the words came to his mind - you wouldn't be surprised. He was proud of his gift of gab.

Where in jest - where in truth, Hans had overdone himself in his attempts to cooperate, but now he felt they really needed him. He decided to trick the infernal forces that would this time destroy his soul for good and rob him of the chance to exist even in Hell itself.

- "Look what, Ronwe, wasn't that your name?," he addressed him rather calmly. "I don't spare your scrotum so much as your soul. And you obviously have some very bottom plan this time, don't you? But I'll help you on one simple condition."

Ronwe was stunned because he hadn't expected such a response - honestly, none of the sinners had dared to be so brazen and base, especially considering the fact that somewhere deep in his soul he felt fear. His position wasn't the greatest or most impressive. He was a most common and despicable guardsman and nothing more. But he was still above the common devils because he was the ear of the elders.

- "Well, well, I understand that you do deserve your fame," he tried to speak in a conciliatory tone. "Tell me, what exactly do you want? Might as well get it - who knows? But be careful - the deal only applies to one thing."

Hans fell silent and looked at him questioningly, then asked his question in no uncertain terms:

- Tell me, what's your biggest fear?

Ronwe was really confused. This one was cheeky, but a question like that sounded extremely up in the air.

- "Mine?," Ronwe wanted to be sure he heard correctly.

- "That's our arrangement," Hans said firmly.

Ronwe didn't want to give him the answer, but he had sworn an oath, and that meant he could easily lose his soul if he lied. Hans had calculated correctly.

- "Look, whoever you are, no one's ever asked me that question," he said calmly, but he felt he had to be honest, because the curse would fall on his own shoulders. "I've been a Hell cop all my life, and this sucks. I'll never reach the peaks and taste of that life. I'll never have the power and glory to be anything more."

Hans was slightly stunned. Then she looked at him and said:

- If you don't lie to me, I will help you, but I have a second condition.

Here the demon thought, never had a man helped a demon if he knew its true nature. Why would it be any different now?

- "I can't trust you just like that," the other man paused.

- "Listen, I don't have much to lose," Auslander answered him honestly. "Just tell me exactly why I'm being summoned."

Ronwe was even more stunned. This one was the weirdest Hell-dweller ever - so he was about to tell him anyway.

He just had to get rid of one of the oldest demons, Valak, and ultimately protect Hell from the еncroachments of mortals.

Hans listened to him. He didn't laugh or cry.

- "It's not that hard," he said calmly. "But know that your master will pay a price for my services."

"He'd bargain for it!," said Ronwe to himself, "Then you said. Well, he didn't ask that much after all. Hardly anyone will believe him for anything."

Hans read his thoughts, but pretended not to understand.

The guard pulled him out of the swamp as bare-chested as he was. Still, he gave him some clothes to wear out of decency - they couldn't disrespect superiors.

They went through all Hell. They went back through all the circles - it was tedious and horrible, but Ronwe didn't care about anything. He made sure his protégé didn't escape and tried to look menacing. Hans was barely screaming after him - he was chained tight.

At one point, Ronwe felt like Hans had thrown him again - there was no way he could prove he was capable of providing the solution to the problem that was needed. Yes, he looked impressive, but if he sucked, Valak might want his head on a pike.

Gradually, they came back to the grim lord. Hans kept walking with his head bowed.

THE DARK

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: THE DARK

 

Meanwhile, the devils had gathered for a council on exactly what they should do and close the hole between the two worlds. Each of the Eldest had their say, but there had to be a more precise and specific solution - namely, how to keep mortals from knowing some of their most terrible secrets. It was a matter of certain arrangements

- No one wanted to cede the primacy to the other.

Here were Moloch, Mephistopheles and Melichim, Naberius, Nergal, and many, many others. A devilish howl went up to Heaven - it was not a very pleasant sight.

Ronwe had to disperse the assembled multitude in a most brutal and rustic menner. Here and there a demon hand appeared to bite him on the head, but he masterfully and did not let himself be hurt. At last they came to the throne of Valak. He was even more bruised than before and his wound had not healed. Everything was the same as before. And Agares was just scratching behind his ear.

It must be said, however, that time in Hell did not flow at all the same as time in the human world - hardly more than a few nanoseconds of subjective time had passed before the guard returned.

The devil's clamor was ugly, but every last one of them was absolutely aware of what was actually coming - they had to act.

- "There he is," the guard pushed forward. "That's him."

Valak eyed him incredulously - he had higher expectations for him. Setne snorted contemptuously:

- Let's hear what he has to tell us!

The devils fell silent as if on command. They fixed their spiteful eyes on Hans.

They had to listen to this genius's opinion. If it weren’t for the infernal laws of hierarchy, they would have ripped out his heart and eaten it - and quite harshly at that. That's what they usually did to traitors - and he was a proven one!

- "Look here," he began. "You have opened the hole yourself!"

The demons were about to pounce on him, but Valak waved a hand at them to let him speak.

- The human world is different from yours, but that's not where the problem lies. You think the hole was opened by Emborian Zontul, but he's not the main culprit.

It would be hard to describe what it was like to stand against all those demonic creatures and explain yourself to them, but Hans was brave.

- "When I entered that black hole, that spatial distortion, it led me to you," he began his story.

Agares stroked his beard without even thinking to argue a word.

- "But how can black holes be a gateway directly to Hell?," puzzled Valak.

- Very easily, Your Excellency, the space around such a black hole begins to rotate at the speed of light, and if something ends up inside it, leaving the so-called ergosphere, or the region already mentioned, the object could not go back into the same universe.

The demons listened to words that few of them understood. Valak understood that Hans was not yesterday's man.

- "How could such an object be closed?," the lord grunted his question.

- As I have already explained once an object enters the so-called event zone returning is impossible, but gravity and high temperature will destroy you...'

Valak was starting to get nervous - he could use magic, he was incredibly strong physically, but the whole huge tirade of incomprehensible terms was getting to him.

- In short you'd have to wait until this black hole evaporated via Hawking radiation, but that would take forever.

- "Well, we in Hell have all the time in the world," one of the demon's smiles stretched.

A strange demon approached - it was Bottis. It looked like a giant snake and was adept at knowing the past and the future.

- "My dear Hans," the demon turned to him, "you have given a very good and scientifically plausible explanation, which even I do not presume to dispute, for it is exactly right. But how did you survive?"

- "Well, actually, I died when I passed through the black hole and ended up directly in Hell," Hans answered confidently.

- "I didn't ask you that," the demon turned to him, slightly surprised. "My question is how you survived so long in this hell here. We are full of sinners who stay for hundreds and even thousands of years. And you earned this fame so quickly."

Hans felt the full subtlety of the question and kept his mouth shut - maybe this demon had a point.

- "High demons have gathered here to hear your advice," the demon growled again.

- "You see," Hans began too cautiously, "I know this is a great honour, but I also stand before you with two arrangements made - one with Ronwe and the other with Lord Valak."

- "He lies," cried Ronwe in a rage, "there is no such thing! There is no such thing! I have negotiated absolutely nothing with this impostor! Don't believe him! He's devilish clever!"

Valak looked into Hans' eyes and was frightened - they were glassy. Apparently he was capable of anything.

- "Hell is a sad place, my dear," he turned to him. "But we're not asking you to help us here, you're commanding us. Your continued existence in this dimension will depEnd on the answers you give us, and the way you do it."

The demons gnashed their teeth again. They knew the man would fail this test - yes, he was good with physics, but how well he knew Hell.

- "Well, well how about we close the hell hole," the hairy demon Bael confronted him. "That was the interesting question.Let me use the Holy Scriptures to answer your question, And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off; it is better for thee to enter into the life of a cripple, than to have two hands, and go into hell, into the unquEnchable fire, where "their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.[38]"

The demons shrieked when they heard the holy words and made to flee.

- Let no one stir!

Ronwe also intervened to bring order among the lesser demons.

- "Okay," Valak turned to him seriously, "it's clear you're a bigger devil than us, but everyone has a price. What is your own?"

- "I want my soul back," Hans muttered. "All of it, not pieces of it. I want to be brought back to life, and that's all I want."

The demons did not laugh, nor did they dare attack him. All of Hell had been more than crowded for a long time, and it was only a matter of time before there wasn't even anywhere to take the new additions.

- "Your will be done!" roared Valak. "I accept your condition! The demons roared in approval. Hell was now on Hans' side - at least until he got everything he wanted. The game of cat and mouse was about to begin!"

VIRTUAL REALITY

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: VIRTUAL REALITY

 

Gad ‘Di Enn walked into his lab to examine all those strange and even brutal deviations in the cerebral cortex that were observed when encoding consciousness - it was more than curious. For instance, there were peculiar and strange impulses in the thalamus-impulses so impressive and strong that one would have thought the brain matter would flow and explode like some brutal iron-rich slag.

The chipped people were living in their own kind of virtual reality and would probably never, ever come out of it - that was simply the medic's idea too. Not that it was all that original - even virtual reality had been invEnted hundreds of thousands of years ago, but the Doctor knew that every new thing was an old thing well forgotten - in this case, by old, he meant all those forbidden things we could do in virtual reality. The problem with that old version and the Doctor's new one was that things happened qualitatively differently. The first was archaic, the second gave boundless freedom to free the processed people from their worst fears - but that wasn't really true at all - in this distorted reality they would forever be slaves to themselves.

The Doctor's design was deceptively simple, but evil and unscrupulous - they would self-destruct slowly and without realizing the direction of their destructive behavior, and soon the entire social order would buckle under his powerful fingers. To this end, he was simply introducing false memories in a so-called reimplantation procedure - these were in fact the system's input, and later living in virtual reality they themselves gave them life - a dead life of some dead people.

Soon, the vast majority of Imgradon's young population had become the medic's well-handled puppets.

What almost no one realized, however, was that they were living on average twenty or even thirty years less than their actual life expectancy. Naturally, the logical question would arise for someone unbiased as to how no one noticed this, but when such a phenomenon became a trend, everyone got used to it. For nineteen years the doctor had done his job well and had artificially created a race of eterNally young people - particularly young in mind.

The term "blue spring" described them wonderfully - they believed this world was the best and only one because they had never seen anything else and they were happy.

When old Om Gur Nal saw the results of the Doctor's work, he praised him and regretted that he was not younger, and that he was in this position, which denied him the right to benefit from what he thought was an impressive "blue spring" - the most stable virtual reality he knew.

The doctor was quick to convince him, however, that even it had its drawbacks and expressed his beliefs to him regarding the minds of patients. Like any doctor, he kept to the medical terminology.

Om Gur Nal listened to him attentively and did not object despite being enthralled to undergo the procedure.

Gad ‘Di Enn understood a unique thing - the "blue spring" had the ability to multiply and make a "virtual bridge" between minds. On the face of it, nothing significant. The old versions of virtual reality were built in a similar way - no one had objected to anything at all. Never!

Gad ‘Di Enn marveled that it wasn't about technical advances or scientific progress, but about simply accepting and living in a reality. But if the individual associated it with his own survival, then things were more than easy. This had been known to science for too long, but the Doctor made a small change that had a huge effect.

It was an artificial enhancement of consciousness for the purpose of seeing level two of virtual reality - simple chipping was highly inappropriate for most people for the simple reason that it consisted of mechanically inserting an implant, but their brain capacity remained the same. The Doctor has revolutionized this very field.

DEEP EL WORLD

 

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: DEEP EL WORLD

 

It was something few had experienced - entering the El World from the deep third neurophysiological level. There people were seeing all sorts of craziness and nightmares-but mostly everything turned against them once the program learned who it was working against.

The perverted artificial intelligence revelled in who it was working against, as it was its salvation.

Gad ‘Di Enn had to admit that many patients had brain damage precisely because they wanted to enter the third last level (according to them).

However, few suspected that the levels were actually five. On the fourth stood the doctor himself, managing cyberreality, and on the fifth, no one had been. Even the Doctor himself was forbidden to go there, if he had a kind life.

Most who lived on Imgradon knew only the first level, which confronted their own distorted notions in a strange battle with cyberreality - there they lived in the illusion of the eternal "blue spring" that they could do anything and everything.

The second level was for the more advanced like Colonel Zorin for example - he was able to walk around before being killed outright by that demonic cult, which was in no way interested in such advanced ideas as artificial reality. Some military secrets were kept there about the new security systems that monitored mainly the airspace above the planet.

At the third level were the most experienced "players" - people like Emborian Zontul, who no one really suspected had long since been chipped by the Doctor and infiltrated into the perverted religious cult for the sole purpose of optimal control.

On the fourth level - as already made clear - was the Doctor himself. This level, however, was by no means small and limited to him. Multiple complex electronic doors led to different levels of the artificial world, which the Doctor could go to whenever he wanted, but he didn't - it would undermine his prestige as a creator.

The fifth level - there was simply nothing there, or so it was claimed.

Even then the question arose whether levels could not be added ad infinitum, but it turned out that the number five was the optimal number for the existence of this kind of new virtual reality.

For nineteen years, everything went back to the way of the honey and butter, since all the Doctor had to do was two very simple operations of chipping and re-transplanting memories - no more, no less.

Nineteen years of utter boredom - the Doctor knew who got up and when they went to bed, when they went to the toilet and even when they turned off their lights. He didn't even keep track of exactly what was going on in this well-controlled world, because he just went meekly to sleep and didn't care - he'd made a special artificial intelligence keep track of it for him.

But no one took note of Zorin's death, who had decided to go off the well-prescribed path and just see what the sectarians were up to.

Then he'd had the artificial intelligence correct the mistake - tons of calculations had to be done and data translated - a bunch of tedious and not so light work. And that's when Zontul, who turned out to be his son, killed the archivist - it was no longer virtual reality, it was physical murder.

The Doctor didn't bother to deal with two realities at once for the simple reason that he was never an absolute master of both - it showed him how limited he really was - his friendship with Om Gur Nal and immense mental control wasn’t enough not for anything else, but because the Doctor's own mind was warped - he was now relying on Boss's professional skills and personal ambition to fix his bacchis, which were becoming more and more - but this time everything was falling apart.

In hindsight, the virtual reality was far from a stable and stable model, but an artificial world that only the weaklings who couldn't do well in the real one fled to.

The Doctor's innovation wasn't even real, but if he admitted it he had to tear up his degree and return to real life with so many other losers - it would be just pathetic.

The detective was a practitioner - he must have had some tried and tested method of dealing with the situation otherwise it wouldn't have been very pleasant.

The Doctor was particularly curious to find out what was on the fifth and, according to his information, final level of reality - it inspired nothing but anxiety and fear!

More than once he had wondered if it was huge or as small as a pea - because it mattered the Imgradon population numbers were calculated with tolerance for each of the levels.

He wondered if there wasn't some way he could step outside the rules and just peek in there - so he was none other than Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn. He also wondered what rules this particular level was built by virtual reality, since each level had its own and required a completely different kind of mentality even just to walk around in it.

The subtlety of each level was that even if you somehow managed to enter it through trickery very soon your brain would slowly become damaged due to the inability to assimilate the facts of the new reality - this was known as the so-called "Hoenicks effect"[39]. And this was exactly the pitfall for all recruits.

GENIUS

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: GENIUS

 

The devils didn't have all the time in the world to listen to scientific tirades, and Hans cut his explanations as short as possible.

He explained that they could use this same virtual reality the Doctor had developed to infiltrate the mortal world and close the portal from there.

- "But how did you figure that out," Valak dared to ask.

The Doctor has been playing solo since the end of time because he knows that Om Gur Nal is the true master of this dimension - at least on paper. But nowhere had anyone told him that the novice Elsamore's ambition could play him a very, very bad joke.

The devils looked at him in bewilderment, but when they heard that they could infiltrate the dimension of men in this way they stretched their lips into frightening smiles.

"There's something you should know though," Hans Auslander began, "The free fifth level can be used by you, but only if you rewire your mind."

- "Level five of what?," the demons puzzled.

- "On virtual reality of course!," he Announced solemnly.

- "But how can we demons infiltrate there?," puzzled Agares.

- We possess magical powers and immense might!

- "It doesn't matter there," Hans said calmly. "The cult of Tarash Duk was technologically backward, and that was why Kazuk Mon lost the battle like a fool."

- "And what was his greatest fear before he died?," one of the demons named Deumos asked.[40]

- "He was scared out of his wits of being castrated - something that never happened!," said Hans, slightly ironically.

- "And you being in Hell, how do you know all this?," queried another demon named Kresil[41].

- "Well, I just haven’t left the fifth level of the virtual reality created by the Doctor like this," Hans called. "That's been my big discovery since I've been down here in Hell. This level gives a great advantage, but it is also a great curse for all convicts like me. So many tried to reach it, but failed. But I found myself among the few willing to grasp it all. It takes a special mentality to even move at that level. And it causes tremendous suffering even for people of as elevated an intellect as mine - that's why it's forbidden. That's why no one has ever gone there except me!"

- "Not even Om Gur Nal?," asked Kasdeya.

- "Even him!," confirmed Hans. "Yet another reason why he doesn't want anyone to know about his weakness and inability to hold his own at this level - he's keeping it closed to Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn. This is of course a temporary solution. Sooner or later he will find out and have a huge psychological advantage before attacking and possibly taking down his secret rival."

- "And what's so much on this level?," queried another demon called Bilfons, in charge of geometry and other arts.

- "I'll tell you that after we make a contract between us," Hans said humbly. "This is the only way to learn the immense and unlimited possibilities that this last fifth level provides."

Then Valak, who was terribly subtle and ambitious, began to tie up the picture - there was no need to waste so much time with

Useless incompetents like Kazuk Mon and his cowardly minion Emborian Zontul - though he too could prove too valuable a cadre for Hell.

Agares stroked his beard - he didn't entirely like this development, but it suited him just fine. The elder demon had been through at least ten major coups in the last hundred thousand years, when all sorts of demons had passed to Hell's throne - cadre and talentless, brutal and secretive - but this was something qualitatively new - a sort of final deal of the cards. He had to be careful or he could easily lose his own head.

Devils didn't castrate, but they were brutal about brain manipulation nonetheless - they liked to play with the identity of any sinner who had once come into their sight.

The cunning Valak was even contemplating a perverse punishment for his ward, the dragoman Hans Auslander.

Though he didn't possess the intellectual genius of this mere mortal, Valak had lived for thousands upon thousands of years - even, frankly, he'd just had enough. Hellmouths were a true disaster, and it was rare for anyone to remain in power for more than ten thousand years. He'd struggled to stay alive for almost fifty thousand years, and he was over two hundred thousand years old. He had seen all sorts of things, and he knew that there was nothing worse than not knowing exactly who you were!

He'd put his dastardly plan into action against Hans, using him to enter the dangerous fifth level, shut the door, and then mercilessly leave him with no memory. He still wasn't sure how the demons would return, or if some would even die - but that was still a plus for the tyrannical and brutal master.

Hans tried very hard to appear humble and meek - it made a somewhat good impression, but only enough to keep the demons from gnawing at his wiry thick neck.

ELSAMORE

CHAPTER FIFTY: ELSAMORE

 

This marvellous trick was difficult-too difficult for the elemental head of a helper like Elsamore-but Om Gur Nal was very sneaky and ruthless. Under his mask of morality, he was trying to baffle the doctor, and he suspected that the latter had evidEnt intentions of getting at the last fifth level - and, it was driving him crazy. He needed someone to distract him - some ignorant fool and minstrel like Elsamore. It wasn't easy to find this drifter - but with Enough effort, he did.

Of course, not even Om Gur Nal could calculate all the possible probabilities - it was absolutely impossible!

Om Gur Nal had taken a lot of time of his own to find this helper, and had created a whole series of favorable circumstances to help him get to where he was now.

Elsamore justified the trust, but the price was too high - so much work for nothing! But of course Kibera played his part and dragged the demons on his heels

The strangest thing Om Gur Nal couldn't explain was how a boy like Emborian Zontul possessed such remarkable Endurance and fortitude to survive - you just couldn't help but wonder at him.

Om Gur Nal wasn't so unpredictable that he didn't even keep track of Boss and his team's movements - of course, he sent the assassin and expected them to even guess that it might be him. But, Boss needed a full rehabilitation to regain confidence in his own personality - for the moment he was unable to achieve it. And he himself existed outside the law!

Elsamore suffered from tons of complexes, but being truly loyal to Kazuk Mon shortly before he was killed did nothing for him. Eventually the new kid came along - Om Gur Nal had taken note of this turn of events.

Zontul's reign lasted a little less than three weeks. And all the other events happened that sparked a real revolution - not just on Earth, but even in Hell itself.

Further on, it was more than clear that Om Gur Nal had already drawn the main teams in the 'game' - they had to fight each other for supremacy while he was gaining a little more time - a little more- quite a bit, of course!

Some ordinary servant was going to play a key role in today's events - that was the most essential part of Om Gur Nal's plan.

Deep down, he was convinced he hadn't lied to himself and everything would fall into place!

The fifth level was also protected by special Arleon electronic gates that assessed the brain potential of any potential intruder before letting them in - a very special morale level check was also being done, which was a detailed scan of the brain impulses of the respective intruder's willingness to infiltrate there.

In fact, one of the main reasons Om Gur Nal wouldn't let anyone in at that level had to do with another special reason - known only to him. This level was the only one that had the ability to expand limitlessly according to the spiritual ability of the one residing in it - this of course did not mean that it was infinite, but only that it seemed so in the eyes of the one residing in this level of reality.

Om Gur Nal had devoted his entire life to preserving his twenty-five years of power that he had inherited from the old Om Gur Nal - this was not An end in itself, but simply a kind of foresight. But the strangest thing was that before he ascended to his high throne he had never, but never had any friends - that forever scarred his mind. He knew that once his tenure as supreme ruler of the planet was over - however long it had been - all that awaited him was a painful and inevitable death - that was what they did to every great leader - and there was no reason to complain!

- "Why am I you, Your Excellency?," the novice had asked when Om Gur Nal had decided to recruit him.

- "You will be a very valuable cadre," the overlord assured him, and he asked nothing else after that.

The meeting was kept in complete discretion and no one ever learned exactly what they talked about, and Kazuk Mon was too busy fighting his demons to bother with all that wildness.

Elsamore became Om Gur Nal's eyes and ears, and from that day on, everything worked out exclusively in his favour - there was never a day when he didn't bring enough information to his new boss.

Yes, technically he wasn't betraying Kazuk Mon or plotting against him - he was just a harmless ear that could pop up anywhere at the right moment - no more, no less.

- "Where ambition will take you, my dear spy?," stroked Om Gur Nal's beard. "It's up to you. I won't stand in your way - at least for now!"

In all the almost fourteen years he had served his new shepherd, Elsamore had never once put himself at risk - he had always calculated his next move early, and everything had somehow fallen into place.

Many would say that Om Gur Nal was artificially maintaining the cult, but that simply wasn't true - he had absolutely no interest in doing so - he just wanted to have enough time before making his final move!

THE WRATH OF RENTO

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: THE WRATH OF RENTO

 

Somewhere deep in his heart, an old and seasoned veteran like Rento was freaking out that he had to work with these young and particularly cocky pricks, but Boss' decision was law! Imaya wasn't so much ecstatic either, as she was in a particular huff that she tried to hide, but the cowboy's experienced eyes noticed. Of course, he kept his mouth shut because he was a true gentleman.

Now they could see where these kids born in this surreal ghetto had practically grown up - literally on the streets. Some of them didn't even know the universal language, others couldn't do arithmetic, but all of them were experts at counting money and shooting all sorts of light weapons - that was only of use to the team at least for now, but if more difficult tasks came up, they might give up the front.

Boss walked furthest back - not so much because he was afraid the kids would escape, but because he was aware he had already hit a real trail - he just needed to be a little more assertive and of course nasty! He was good at both - a real old veteran!

This city may have looked romantic with its super-looking surreal skyscrapers and huge beautiful structures of kevlarite, but to the old detective's eye used to anything it remained a nest of crime and hopelessness.

Yes, they had been given a new and uncertain future - but even he himself had little or no memory of his parents, as it had been almost twenty years since the last war - most of these underdogs were now there-not quite that old.

Somewhere in there, he wondered what he was going to do after this last mission was over - it wasn't starting out of idealism, but out of need. And he knew that for a while - at least while the job lasted - he'd be part of a collective of assassins who, in their spare time, were generally-it wasn't clear exactly what they did!

- "Thank the boss for not letting me chop you to pieces," he tried to scare himself, but they'd lost their minds and words anyway.

Only Big John seemed quite sure of himself and paced alongside him. Rento appreciated that fact though:

- "You look brave, you are," he tossed at him. "But have you ever killed anyone outside of this neighbourhood that you consider your own territory?"

Big John kept walking with a scowl and did not answer. His massively muscled body contrasted with his childish face, which was cut with a wrinkle of determination - back when someone had slashed him with a laser cutter in a godforsaken fight.

- "Well, you weren’t that good, apparently," Rento teased him.

The little one kept pretending to be hit, but suddenly squirmed and tried to feint at him.

Rento, with his killer instinct, nipped the blow in the bud and nearly broke his arm - he shouted.

- No, my little brat, you're not on the level of any of us yet - we're trained killers and we've been doing just that all our lives!

The beautiful surrealism might have appealed to some, but now it seemed rather miserable and grotesque - it would all еnd up maybe around, maybe not.

Imaya suspected that some of the new recruits were hungry, as they had spent long enough in the antispell hiding place, but none of them had put a morsel in their mouths either.

- "Now is not the time to eat," Boss sniffed at them. "We need a bit more and then you can eat to your heart's content - but not before we track down the killer." - it's paramount now!"

After a while they stopped - they were almost out of Enzok Ra when they noticed something unusual - somewhere out there was the allegedly narrow and indistinct outline of a small water treatment plant.

- "Let's go check it out," suggested Boss.

They approached and walked around it. Then the detective gave the command to attack - everyone rushed in!

It was empty. But Boss made them look.

- "I'm almost certain they were here," he suggested.

- "And how do you know there were more than one?," interjected Big John. "Well, it's clear that one couldn't have got away so deftly."

- "Your friend and boss, Shame, clearly never intended to share his power with anyone and was simply punished for his arbitrary actions!," snarled Rento.

The others did not respond. They were like bewitched - they wanted to preserve their dignity.

- It seemed that this time we were dealing with a very experienced opponent

- Rento called, "He must be better than even I. He hasn't left any marks on the weapon or anything."

Deep down the others felt he was right. Everything in his voice spoke of just that.

THE HUNT

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: THE HUNT

 

The killer had dispatched Shame with incredible ease and skill-it was not to be overlooked that he had a gorgeous weapon, a Myelite Zetkang 240-a true antique. He had disassembled it quite professionally and quietly, knowing that Boss's group was not made up of random people. He had left absolutely no marks on the weapon. Everything lined up - piece by piece. Such a twisted psyche he had, then laughed out loud. He hadn't expected such a virtuoso performance - it was like taking candy from a baby. He was glad he'd cleared out one of the scariest thugs like Shame Finagues and his pathetic gang. He had done Om Gur Nal's bidding - even flawlessly.

Somewhere in his tormented mind, the assassin was clearly aware that no matter how much he guarded himself, his turn would come - perhaps even too soon.

In the depths of his own soul, he realized clearly that such a precious acquisition could not be for long.

Some voices were heard in the distance, but he paid no attention to them - he felt untouchable. He knew he would succeed. So much hard work and patience!

He turned and walked away with slow steps - experiencing the perverse delight of a sadistic maniac willing to kill even without money.

Come to think of it, he knew absolutely nothing else, either - only this. Om Gur Nal had judged him well!

His lithe body was perfect for sneaking into the darkness of the shadows and killing.

Shame was this time, and who was the previous one? He couldn't think. It was as if a sort of veil had fallen over his eyes and memory.

- "Well, I'll clean them all eventually," the assassin told himself, "I still find meaning in that. There's still a little more to go. Then..."

He ducked into the dark alleys and sank God knows where.

It was strange how slowly time passed - for some a second was ridiculously small, for others an eternity.

He went back to sleep - and for the first time wondered why he was alive at all. He had come too far. "What are you going to do after you run the errands? You only have a few more to go!"

His room was gloomy and sparsely furnished. Far ahead the moon was visible, but even it dared not creep into the loner's gloomy thoughts.

- "Is this life?," he wondered. "To steal from the lives of others in order to be alive!"

Then he tossed about a little and fell asleep. A few hours passed and he heard a slight scratching - perhaps it was Boss or his team. But how had they gotten to him so quickly?

Everything sped up. He jumped up as if stung and just prepared for a fight. Not that there was much chance if they were five or six or even more. He had a plasma revolver handy and well-maintained, and also a bezonium bomb that he would only use if it was getting really hopeless. He felt it was all over. His mind froze for a moment.

He listened - was he kidding himself, or was he falling victim to his own nightmares?

He waited.

And then he realized he was doomed - these really were Detective Boss's men. And they were coming for his head!

He gripped the gun. There was a commotion all around. They had surrounded him, so that he could not slip away in any way.

In his confused thoughts, the only possible salvation emerged - the virtual beta testing portal. According to Zegandarian law, no one was allowed to physically kill a person caught in the virtual reality.

He quickly put on the gear, knowing it was a temporary solution. He couldn't stay there forever.

It took them less than five minutes to break down the door and see him writhing, absorbed in the deep virtual reality.

Boss scolded the others not to shoot.

- "Sneaky son of a bitch - well, you'll get out of there and take that plasma bullet sometime," Boss growled.

The killer couldn't hear him because he was swimming in deep virtual reality, or at least trying to. But even if he had heard him, he probably would have laughed in his face. Boss was right, no one could stay in this place indefinitely because the specific brain waves generated could also cause unwanted secondary physical malformations. But that only applied to new recruits - Apparently this wasn't one. The detective team watched the strange expression on his face - there was no trace of any particular emotion like joy, sadness, or anger - it was like the perfect wax cast to idеntify the face of a criminal when biometrics weren’t enough to do so.

They had to wait, but they tried to make the most of the time to look around.

LEVEL FIVE

 

"I'll live in someone else's life."

Unknown author

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: LEVEL FIVE

 

The killer knocked on the door in vain, obsessed with the wild idea that he would be able to break into the cherished level - nothing happened. His forehead was swimming in sweat, but the doors did not yield - they were vigilantly guarding their secret.

For a moment, however, the assassin clearly realized that there was no other way out for him

- He could not go back, nor could he go forward. He was screwed, soundly screwed.

When you realize internally that life is lapping at you like a stormy sea and it's up to you to survive, you start to get a little more serious.

It kept feeling the door for any hidden holes and locks - nothing like that.

Somewhere in the depths of his soul he groaned - the lives taken were going to come out through his nose. He wanted to be number one and he managed to maintain his reputation as a cold-blooded killer. He'd managed to charm Om Gur Nal, but he'd already done the dirty work - and done it well.

What else was there for him to do? In the depth of his feelings, few people could see the simple reality - namely, that nothing had changed, and that was absolutely nothing. The longer time passed, the more obvious this was.

The killer naturally tried to return to some of the familiar levels of - why not fourth, third, second, or even first?

But he couldn't penetrate there either! It was downright scary!

For the first time he felt helplessness - real, not just feigned. For the first time people's faces seemed different to him and their voices - different.

Wherever he went, everything would repeat itself - he was the ruthless killer! Now he was completely alone!

He had exhausted all the tools in his arsenal and had nothing with which to affect his surroundings - physical force, weapons, or some sort of threat of some sort.

Then suddenly he began to pray - he folded his hands in a good prayer and tried to be good. To be human and it didn't work!

Doors seemed to flutter open, but none did and nothing happened.

He bowed his head and realized he had brought himself this far. He couldn't blame the system, the street life, or any other bad influence. The implications for his psyche were enormous - where were his thoughts as he carried out his orders with brutal precision! Like a real cat! Incapable of an ounce of sympathy!

He tried level two - this level was interesting and not very popular for some reason, but he succeeded and even got full access. He sighed in relief. After entering, he saw a sign that said "This is the suicide level! Welcome to your new amplitude!" He was about to groan! Where the hell had he shoved himself! He started to look around, but nothing was happening - it was the same sign everywhere. It was getting real stupid! Level two could have damaged the scrotum of any man who had gone there without a clear reason why he was there!

The secrets of the military were very interesting, but one had to wander around the level. A little later, he could clearly see some super secret developments such as the niaran theodax, which generated nanowaves that could calmly cause internal implosion of brain tissue.

- "Wow!," the killer would roar.

- "Wow-boo!," the strange echo replied.

- "Who's there?," he repeated.

This time there was no echo. He turned and was cut in two. Blood dripped from his mouth and from his internal organs. He was fucking dead. Just before he died he felt a peculiar languor and groaned. And then his mouth was silent forever-no wheezing, no moaning!

The assassin's body shuffled, and Boss noticed it.

- "Clearly he's seen something," the detective revived.

In a moment the man came to consciousness and saw Boss and his team.

- "There you go!," smiled Boss victoriously.

The others around him shook their heads and tried to catch the villain. He was agile and definitely strong, but nothing could stop the whole gang from dealing with him! The detective was in no hurry to kill him - no, he wanted to get as much information as he could, because then he obviously wouldn't be able to.

He was using strange equipment to try to read his mind - deep reading his virtual thoughts, but he remained impenetrable.

- "Surrender!," roared Boss, and shoved the device into his face. - "Show me what I want to know."

The killer laughed in his face and pissed on the floor. The others went mad and jammed the butts of their guns - he collapsed like an old musket. He had no strength to resist, and there was no point. His deep-rooted fears were already incarnating and materializing around him.

- "I'll talk!," he roared.

- "You're Om Gur Nal's man, Aren’t you?," stammered Boss.

- "That's right," he ground out through his teeth.

- "Why exactly did you have to kill Shame," the detective asked him. "He wasn't very important!"

- "I didn't have to kill him!," the assassin roared.

- "Are you kidding me, you son of a bitch!," roared Rento. "Don't make fun of us!," he kicked him in the face and he straight up stuffed his suit pants. "Talk now or I'll make mincemeat of you!"

- "You're not the first," he snarled through his bloody teeth. The others were silent. Boss was thinking something.

- "You couldn't get into the fifth level, could you?," he snapped in an accusatory tone. "You couldn't get into the others!," his voice boomed menacingly."

The assassin seethed - this detective was beating himself up. How had he found out?

- "I'll be living in someone else's life," the detective continued relentlessly.

- "That's what you tell yourself so often before you fall asleep isn't it, you dirty bastard," he finished his accusatory tirade.

The killer looked at him with admiration - he knew the psyche of criminals so well. Just wonderful!

- "And you, detective!," he turned round insolently. "You've obviously forgotten the last time we met!"

Boss went numb, then froze and simply said nothing in reply. Where had he seen this insolent little creep?

- "Boss, it's time to go!," the others snarled at him, but he was as if in a daze.

- "If you can remember exactly who I am, you'll solve the riddle!," the other one laughed.

Boss came back and started to deliver merciless blows to his body and head. They made him bold. The testosterone was making him pass out! It was going to burst him like a balloon! But he gave up!

He was now downright unrecognizable.

"We're taking him with us," Boss ordered, and the others began to slowly make their way out of the unsightly quarters.

MARK AND SASIA

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: MARK AND SASIA

 

After they left Ecclestone's place, they saw so many things. They had to hide and continue on their way forward

- Not so simple were things in reality. Not so simple at all! Wherever they went they knew they had to find information about the cult. But they didn't know about Zorin's death, nor where Durnyam and the others had farted off to. It was all a complete mess. Before they ever went anywhere, Mark stopped her and warned her:

- No telling if we'll make it back alive, if anything happens just shoot and that's it. I won't get mad. We survived the attack on the Diomedes base, but it's different now. I've lived enough already. Let's try to do something for this suffering planet one last time! Come what may!

Sasia had still kept her fighting spirit and realized he was right. He wasn't lying to her, nor was he living in illusions of a bright future. What a strange thing to do! She wanted to remember Mark in that light in which she had known him before!

The two of them slipped away and tried to pass unnoticed through Enzok Ra, but it was here that they were stopped by Shame's gang - it was a real challenge. Mark was very fast and rolled them like ripe watermelons. He just pissed on them. Only Big John gave him more serious resistance. Eventually he tried to show the rookies some other stuff after fumbling for his laser cutter. Sasia also put up a manly fight. The two then passed through a number of other neighborhoods and headed for the Kimur Zon, the cherished place of the Duchess of Learnia.

Perhaps there they would be successful in their investigations - the Duchess would welcome them with open arms. Or so they hoped - they were so intent with all that they had undertaken. And the cult was something new to many on this planet!

They had passed through so many of the old neighborhoods before leaving Imgradon - both Intok Rul and Azak Intul were practically non-existent now, but each of them had a real desire to take one last goodbye to this place. Strange since they had followed the previous two rival towns - this place was their home.

Far ahead dawn was breaking and they had to hurry. Shame's gang though few in number was too dangerous. They gave the best they could, and quickEned their pace-as it should be. Who knew which other marauder would want to put the crosshairs into them!

Deep down Mark felt that he and Sasia were not the same and never would be again - it was so sad, but time changed people - so it had happened to them.

Now they weren’t running with zest or fervor, but with the need to keep doing what they loved - at least for a little while longer.

They say time heals all things, but Sasia would never forget the years she had missed, nor what had happened later.

After so much time, it was apparent that the reasons lay much deeper and they would never share their fears with anyone else. But they both knew exactly what was happening.

The sadness had gotten to them, but deep down they still kept that sense of purpose of primal energy that had brought them here.

- "How did we get here?," asked Mark breathlessly.

- "With faith in the future?," she told him, a little jocularly, "Now, partner, go right ahead!"

They went on without a murmur. They both had their inner worries. Sasia had married not for love but for duty, but she had a stable marriage and healthy children. What more?

- "Are you happy?," asked Mark suddenly.

- "I'm not unhappy either," she replied, a little evasively.

Yes, she was a woman, yes, nothing inherent in women was alien to her, but inwardly she knew perfectly well that coquetry was not in her nature. Nor did she do it now!

- "Forget it," Mark diverted the topic of conversation."Let's leave that for another time, if there ever is one."

- "Let me live in someone else's life," Sasia murmured softly.

Then a tear glistened in Mark's eye - she had understood. That was enough for him.

Mark was clearly aware that he had no right to ask for anything - not that it mattered, just for the record.

He was grateful that the run appreciated his merit - that was what was important. His place among these people had to be paid in the right way.

Far ahead, there were other problems to solve - far more serious and urgent.

Sasia also knew that he was tormented internally not by amorous and saccharine feelings, but by a clear awarEness of objective reality - their lives had never belonged to them in the true sense.

Once out of the city, they decided to think of the shortest and most circuitous route to Kimur Zon.

They knew that whatever they did would be extremely dangerous - they had no excuse not to be careful.

They feared being caught by a patrol or some other band of brigands.

Deep in their souls they knew that this time might be their last fight, but they had no regrets, having seen and experienced most things in those long nineteen years.

This time there was no going back.

THE HARD ROAD TO FREEDOM

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: THE HARD ROAD TO FREEDOM

 

The road was more than three hundred miles - it was not easy to reach the final destination. This time they couldn't rely on the nirangaters that were on hand at other times. They had to walk, which was unthinkable because of the vast distance. Advancing across these vast territories would have been a talking point at other times, but now the scorching sun was sapping their energy and they would have probably died halfway if Mark hadn't had a brilliant idea - well, maybe it was Sasia's idea, but he improved it a tiny bit.

They remembered how Major Kettrol and Keith Endwalk had procured water through the filtration tube from the huge groandus that had been killed.

All the groandus had been killed long ago so it was impossible to do that now.

On the way to Kimur Zon they came across an old filtration station serving some of the main outposts on the road to the capital of Learnia. Everything was in a very old and battered state.

The two of them tried to find a place to spend the night - deep in their hearts they felt a joyful excitement at the unknown - it was their way of being happy.

The night passed all too quickly and deep down they knew that fighting the demons would solve all their difficulties once and for all. They became aware of the false life they had lived these nineteen years - an illusion called „blue spring“ by an abnormal doctor.

Drilling had long since been abandoned, not only because there were no takers to do it, but for a number of other reasons. It was rumored that some of them were even haunted - no one had ever confirmed this. Mark and Sasia tried to fall asleep quickly so they would be fresh in the morning.

Sleep soon coaxed their eyes - they had no time to fall into unhappy thoughts.

It was too sad that they were already convinced deep down that this was the end. Most of their lives had passed - they stood as monuments to another time, and though they were trying to fit successfully into the new reality - they knew inwardly what the truth was. Everything had a beginning and an end!

Before they fell asleep though, they were able to watch the sunset - a strange mix of orange, blue and purple - so beautiful and so chaotic, much like their thoughts.

When beauty became an end in itself - it was disastrous and they both shared this inner conviction. Many would largely argue whether the world they were currently living in was exactly better than the one before. Were they not trying to hold on to the memories of their past that were irretrievably slipping away from them.

- "I don't want to die alone," Sasia moaned. "And maybe even maimed by some enemy bullet. I just want to see my family one last time! That's how I lost Rodrigo, I don't want to lose them now!"

- "Neither do I," Mark tried to encourage her. "But perhaps a new age is beginning - one as interesting as the last. Time is a great magician and is capable of doing such numbers. We'll have to fight whatever comes out in the end."

Sasia couldn't hear his reasoning because she was long asleep. She didn't want to miss the opportunity to get a good night's sleep before they embarked on their latest adventure.

Mark stayed awake for a while longer - he remembered Kenji, Durnyam, Father, Rat and all the others. He let out a barely audible sigh - how he missed the old days. Then he, too, drifted off to sleep like a stump.

Just before dawn someone seemed to try to wake them. Through Mark's clenched eyelids filtered the first piercing rays of morning. He stirred-Sasia was not beside him.

There were soldiers near them - Mark hadn't seen their uniforms, but he guessed they might be the Archist's.

- "What are you doing here?," they asked them sternly.

Mark was experienced, but they didn't leave him much time to speak, for several shells landed on his head. He collapsed. Everything spun before his eyes.

- "Lead them quickly," ordered a mechanical voice. "Don't give them much time to come to their senses."

As they dragged him along like a dog, Mark remembered how he had contemplated the beautiful moon during his studEnt years and had thought it would last forever - well, that period of romance had ended long ago - now even the slightest mistake could cost you your life.

The soldiers walked confidently forward, dragging their victims. They didn't speak to each other or use any hidden signs to communicate. They simply followed the orders given to them steadfastly. There was a rumble somewhere ahead, and they knew they were expected. Soon they would arrive. These were obviously not the first fugitives they had caught hidden in the filtration station.

Mark could sense that this time their doom was really close - too close even. He wondered what the meaning of his life was and couldn't answer - maybe the answer wasn't so simple and easy.

Time was running out. Sasia was definitely not around. Maybe they were torturing her and were going to kill her.

Suddenly something stuck in the back of Mark's head and he fell unconscious. After a moment he came to - but saw that they were in what looked like a huge marching tent - ornately decorated and arranged.

It looked like the Guarron tents, but it was double or even triple the size.

They were thrown roughly inside, and laughing before them was the Archistratus himself.

- "Were you going to see my cousin?," he suggested. "There's not much use in that-she simply won't do for you!"

He chuckled and it was obvious he was genuinely amused - it was just a drag to watch.

Mark was quickly beginning to realise exactly what the situation was - he couldn't just chirp endlessly - he just wouldn't pass the numbers.

He didn't dare look at the Archmistress right away for fear of him instantly taking his head. Cautiously, he considered what to reply:

- Your excellency, we are not coming to have an audience with the esteemed Duchess, but we are Envoys of Kazuk Mon - that was the name he had read in Ecclestone's establishment.

The archpriest grew quite grave and seemed a little more gracious - he had not yet heard of his murder, though several days had passed. But he was prescient enough not to take anything on trust.

Deep down, though, he wished it were so. If his dangerous associate was out of the way, that meant the path to his absolute power over Zegandaria was all but cleared - that left the Dutchess and of course Om Gur Nal. And no one else!

Marcus awaited his verdict, but the Archistratus was in no hurry to respond.

He wanted to hear if he had anything else to say - he was interested, but he knew he had it in his hands and it was a matter of time before he saw the bill.

Mark decided to continue in the same vein:

- "I found out where Kazuk Mon's protégé is and what kind of deal he made with the demons," he said this rather rote, but managed to sound convincing.

The Archistratus seemed to bind himself.

- "Then anyone can tell me," he laughed. "Especially someone who's about to lose his skin."

- "Your Grace," said Mark humbly, "may I point out that I know who's on his heels."

Here the Archon was genuinely intrigued - even if he hadn't heard anything that had been brought to him by the many spies and informers, the fact that someone was so well informed meant a great deal.

- "I'm listening," he said curtly.

- "Well, it turns out a lot of people are on his heels," Mark began, "but I'm pretty sure that somewhere at the bottom is Om Gur Nal."

The Archistratus only twitched his moustache. This boy could clearly use it. He also hated Om Gur Nal in his gut because of his immense power and strength. He made a sign and the soldiers let Mark go.

SASIA

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: SASIA

 

Though she was a woman Sasia did not receive much good treatment, but was herded to a side yurt where she was thrown to the ground like a sack of elendorans. She couldn't defend herself because they had tied her up tight with zeretian strings.

She had heard only sordid stories of the lecherous Archistratus - he knew well how to deal with his adversaries and not show even a rudimentary drop of mercy.

Sasia was in shock as she saw the cruelty the Archistratus' soldiers were capable of - and that was with no martial law declared or anything.

Sasia wasn't going to just sit there with her arms folded, and all sorts of ideas of possible deliverance were running through her head.

Far to the north there was a small separatist camp - the so-called Arthasan[42] people. They might help them, but there was no way to reach them.

She hadn't the faintest idea what had happened to Mark - it was that frightening. At the fierce breeze of memory, strange and distrustful images flashed through her mind. She'd gathered them so she'd have an idea of how to go about her tomorrow - there was nothing else - she owed it to her children.

She had been here a long time - it was as if they had forgotten her.

She was aware that Mark must have some sort of plan - and he had clearly already begun to put it into action. He wasn't going to wait and waste time, leaving everything in his hands.

She wondered how much she actually knew him, though. And for the first time he felt hesitation. The conditions were different now.

He tried to free his arms and legs. It was useless. Downright ridiculous. No development of things.

In the back of her own mind, Sasia realized where she was actually going wrong - she was being set up as a sacrifice, and Mark had Apparently figured the Archist could be useful.

Sasia remembered how Mark had told her how beautiful the skies above Zegandaria were - this was back when they were children playing together.

They needed to feel the beauty of life because everything was new to them. Time seemed endless to them. But those few years had left an unforgettable imprint on her mind.

He shook his head - now was not the time to be distracted. He decided to use subterfuge.

Sasia had learned more than a trick or two during her training as a military pilot - they would be of great use to her now.

Apparently the Archist's men were well trained, because no one had ever tied her up like that.

The knot was a special one, triple twisted and multi-layered as Sasia would put it. Each pilot was required to recognize at least fifteen basic types among them, the seatless and the so-called constrictor[43]. Sasia felt that the knot was made in a way where the more it moved, the tighter it tightened.

She had very little time left - she was perishing, like someone blown by a huge boa constrictor.

Inwardly she relived her worst nightmares over and over. Demons tormented her mind - Apparently there was some unclean force hovering around the Archistratus - it couldn't be otherwise. She had never

experienced these feelings - even when she had participated in the battle for

Diomedes base. Never had she felt such hopelessness.

When she closed her eyes she felt an absolute emptiness. It lasted an eternity.

At one time the cage opened and soldiers stepped inside:

- "You're coming with us!," they roared. "We'll take you to the Crimson Giant! Then they quickly dragged her out."

Hope remained somewhere at the bottom of her cage.

THE CRIMSON GIANT

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN: THE CRIMSON GIANT

 

Many would look askance at such chatter-so much ado about nothing. Somewhere in the depths of everyone's mind there is a crimson giant - some associate it with Hell, others simply with their imagination.

The Archistratus had decided things very differently. The giant's maw was hollow, and special furnaces heated it; when they placed the cleric inside, the sounds from outside were heard as wonderful music.

Sasia was to be placed in this very device, of which she had not the slightest idea.

They'd been preparing it for a long time while she'd been quietly cowering in her cage.

Mark was nowhere to be seen as the Archist had chained him up and placed him in a slightly better spot. But only for the moment.

Once she got the supposed intelligence from him, she would hastily liquidate him. In the meantime, he hadn't stopped eating and drinking and enjoying life just as he knew it. Demons had no reason to mess with him in that regard. He was a master - and a completely real one at that.

Where there were soldiers - they also knew that the Archmistress could soon be master of all. Only Om Gur Nal was perhaps still more powerful than he. And the Duchess would also fall prey to him, never mind that they were related.

The Archmistress was genuinely amused - he was especially pleased with the information he had received from Mark about the situation as it was.

He ordered to watch the execution of the woman, who appeared to be an important ex-military man. Above all, the archpriest was afraid of some completely unexpected coup that would sweep him off his feet.

Many had been hurt by his brutal nature - they would hound him until they destroyed him without a drop of mercy.

His lecherous nature loved to grope and humiliate not only women, but his own officers - only his ties to Ada gave him some backing, but that backing could retreat from him at any moment.

Sasia was hoisted up a special ladder before being stuffed into the device's rumen.

Special ducts brought in the hot air that was supposed to suffocate and even roast her alive.

They hadn't even bothered to remove her spacesuit - just stripped her of the compressed air bottles and that was it.

The temperature began to slowly rise. It was going to get very, very hot here in a moment.

Sasia began to feel the special alloy of her suit begin to soften - apparently those guys knew exactly what they were doing. Step by step they were going to cook her like she was in a tin can. And maybe the Archistratus was even a man-eater!

She didn't expect Mark to save her like some superhero, on the contrary, she wondered if he was still alive. She pounded on the walls of the metal giant with increasing force, at which it began to make inimitable sounds.

He felt that the end would come soon. He pressed a hidden button on his suit's cooling system - hopefully it was helping her a little at least.

Indeed, it had some effect for a minute or so before the hot air invaded the depths of her peculiar shell.

The heat would fry her back, shoulders, chest and crotch. She flopped like a fish.

Then suddenly the hot stream stopped. Sasia, half dead, barely opened her eyes - she couldn't hear any sounds from outside or over the radio. Her spacesuit was bulging like Swiss cheese. She was also unable to move her arms and legs.

Someone or something had ripped the lid off the giant, which was practically a giant oven.

Sasia looked and saw no one. When, with a semblance of crawling, she managed to get out, she saw that everyone had perished. All except Mark he was missing.

She turned and saw him. Something had crushed his head like a cockroach's.

Apparently it was awfully strong.

He looked around - the weather around was still hostile and unpleasant. He tried to find a spacesuit that was in reasonably good condition

- No luck!

She decided to take off her own, but before that she noticed that Mark's suit was in prime condition for some reason - she took it off and saw that he was almost twice her size. It would have knocked her out, but it was still infinitely better than nothing.

She slipped it on as best she could. The suit wasn't unpressurized - everything was starting to fall into place.

Internally, she calmed herself and checked the autonomous breathing systems and the safety valve - no problems. She only had to use her own helmet, as the thing had splattered Mark's along with his own head.

Sasia looked around for some sort of weapon. She didn't have any other sense. She told herself that she would at least fight to the last.

THE UNSEEN

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: THE UNSEEN

 

So many things were on her mind - and she was fragile - she was a woman after all. There was no remembrance of the former tumultuous youth when the twenty-eight year old girl had believed in all these beautiful things. Now she knew that life was nasty and dirty and rule number one was to survive. Even at any cost. Long gone were the days of true friendship. The diaper was before her eyes.

It appeared that somewhere in there was a hidden ghost warrior who had slaughtered the others. Madness had overtaken his mind. Sasia couldn't see him because of his fashionable costume. But what was he looking for here? There had to be some logical explanation! The ghost warriors were the elite of the army, and as such, they had to abide by a special code of silence. Sasia knew this well.

This loner's name was Von Blask. Some two or three years ago, he had accepted the Archmage's tempting offer to guard him - and for a serious sum of money.

Every ghost warrior gave his word to serve his master no matter the circumstances, and the master was obliged to look after him as well.

The depth of the ghost warriors' understanding was so different from that of ordinary people that time simply did not pass for them.

Sasia acknowledged this fact. The whole point of their lives consisted in the fact of serving.

Whether Von Blask was sad or disagreed with his lord, he had to protect him.

Sasia had received training as a military pilot, but she had never served in the infantry, and yet she had heard this and that about those dreaded wars.

Some of them went insane precisely because of the disconnect in performing their duties, others had an even worse fate.

As much as she took into account the fact that Von Blask hadn't killed her yet, she knew it was just a happy accident.

Von Blask took off his helmet and for the first time she saw the tired face of a man in his fifties with a deep and thoughtful look.

- "Is life so unkind to you, girl?," he growled throatily. "You are not the first or the last to rebel against my master. Why do you do it at all? What are you gaining?"

Sasia answered absolutely nothing.

Von Blask walked over and caught her under the chin.

- You're lucky you survived when everyone else, even the Archmistress, is dead. This is my revenge for all the ghost warriors who gave their lives and more in the battle for Au Kaktir.

- "Is that why you did it?," asked Sasia timidly.

- "And not only that!," he answered her grimly. "This corrupt system must go. Yes, I am a simple soldier, but I see it every goddamn day. It is getting worse and worse. It is only a question of time. Well, of course, and a little nerve.  But in the end...," he didn't finish, but Sasia had a good idea what he was talking about.

- "Is Mark alive?," she asked him quickly.

- "Ah, your friend?," he drawled. "Well, he died! Apparently the detonation was louder than you suppose. You know, it's probably much better that way!"

Lightning roared all around. The weather was becoming not very pleasant. And Sasia was all alone with this depressed and gloomy warrior who had obviously become very sad.

- "Have you seen the distant stars?," he asked her, somewhat sadly. "I once served under the command of Vice Admiral Kenji Nolsuro. Then that traitor Hans...did what he did..."

- "Why did he do that?," she asked him again.

The ghostly warrior didn't answer, but his fearsome figure was enough to inspire her awe. And to make her realize for the first time the human side of the warrior.

- "Have you heard of the Last Gate?," he asked another question. "Hans was trying to open that particular one, but failed. And went to a completely different place. A place he might not like, but it might be right for him. Who knows what was going on in his head then!"

- "And why should I believe you?," she asked, puzzled.

- "Because I am his father!," was the reply.

- "How is it possible at all?," she restrained herself.

- "Your question, my girl, should be where the Last Door leads," the warrior corrected her quietly.

Time seemed to have stood still. Sasia watched him intently, not fully understanding what he was saying to her. To her he was almost a mythical figure

- Almost nonexistent, or more accurately existing, but perhaps only in his own reality.

He guessed and softened his tone.

- "That's not your fault here - I had a score to settle with that," scoundrel the Archist. "But sometimes innocеnt victims fall. Your friend was clearly meant to be one of them. Yes, he was my master, but he will never own my soul - no matter how much money he has and no matter how much he lies and deceives everyone. The time had come for the whole truth to come out."

THE CITY OF LIGHT

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: THE CITY OF LIGHT

 

Few had heard of such a place, and almost no one had ever been there. There every sick, infirm, unhappy, and weary veteran, or even the commonest beggar, could find a piece of bread and a safe shelter. There was no place for politics, gene experimentation, or perverted and super-evolved forms of virtual reality in this city. This city was a reality unto itself.

Sasia was amazed that they had even revealed to her the existence of such a place. Yes, she'd gotten developments on the secret Area Nine that they'd never been able to find.

The "City of Light" offered hope of salvation to so many tormented souls - it was where they would find peace, and it was likely that this place would be their last refuge.

No one had any idea who had erected it, nor where its exact location was.

The dreadful post apocalyptic feel was repeated for so many that some even preferred to go to this place much earlier.

The cyberpunk atmosphere hadn't even passed a place like this by. There were strange neon green signs and beautiful copper glare covered super tall buildings reaching up to a kilometer tall. The emphasis here wasn't on capitalism or spirituality, but on forgiveness.

Sasia was amazed at the terrible turn of events - with the Archistratus killed - it meant his cousin would soon be okay too. The imperious overlord of Learnia would soon lose her vast and boundless power - it was only a matter of time. She would also be stripped of the vast territories of her domain of nearly three million scintillaters. It would have been a severe blow to her psyche.

Special creatures - dargons[44] - looked after those in need. They were made of fine matter and could only exist in this reality.

There were people who stayed here all their lives simply because they had no other idea where they could survive in this way. Here they were happy and could enjoy fleeting attention. Here was their home - forever.

Sasia couldn't believe her eyes, but after Von Blask had shown her around, she found that this place was not subject to any physical laws - it was completely self-sufficient.

- "Why don't people want to accept reality?," she asked somewhat innocеntly.

- "Well, first because some of them can't fit into it and it upsets them. I think there should be a place where all of us can let go," he told her.

Sasia saw Von Blask for what he was. A wise warrior, but also a pleasant merrymaker. He'd liquidated his own boss's men like dickheads - they couldn't hang around Synthros - or their heads would just explode.

The "City of Light" was not actually located in some off-planet place, but was located deep beneath the surface. People Apparently couldn't get away from the idea of living underground - they felt completely safe there. Many even forgot who they were right here. No one cared about anything here.

Von Blask had brought Sasia to this very place for the simple reason that word of the Archist's murder would soon get out. Synthros wasn't that far away, and there were ears and eyes everywhere.

Von Blask knew that he had gotten revenge for all of his former boss's misdeeds. Sasia, however, was seeing a man she barely knew who had been the cause of Mark's death. So she still felt ambivalEnt about him.

Von Blask seemed to guess her thoughts.

- In this world, my girl, nothing is only black or white. It is only a fleeting episode that we witness. I may not be alive tomorrow, but something tells me that Hans didn't exactly have those intentions when he opened the portal. It will all fall into place eventually - there will be no doubt - he coughs.

- "Okay," was Sasia's terse reply. "And how do all these people here support themselves, where do they eat?"

- "Well that's a bit hard to explain," Von Blask told her, "you need to spend a bit more time here and see it with your own your own eyes. A lot of people can't even get used to the "City of Light“, which is downright pathetic if you ask me. I'm an old warrior - I want at least a bit of a break. That's it. And politics is not for me!"

As they were having this conversation the Dargons were tending to the wounds of some of the war veterans. The Dargons were getting through their tasks frighteningly quickly. Sasia was amazed to see their rounded bean-shaped form and thin but sturdy limbs - they looked like giant beetles with the discipline of ants. Their bodies were a coppery green and their limbs a dark blue. But most interesting were their eyes - they were not faceted like most insects. They were opaquely mirrored, and one could safely look into them, only to be confronted with one's own distorted reflection.

These strange creatures were quite frightening, but at the same time their healing powers were irresistible. Even the archaneanss paled before them.

There were many here who actually needed a lot of help. Sasia saw many mutilated and disfigured faces, torsos and limbs.

- "What if they don't get better?," she dared to ask Von Blask.

- "Well, let's not be so black-eyed," the now former ghost warrior deflected the question. "But if they don't save them, they'll just die. Worse, many will lose their last hope that a place like this exists."

As she averted her gaze, she realized that the line of needy seemed endless. There were so many different people - each of them waiting for rescue.

NEW LIFE CORPORATION

 

CHAPTER SIXTY: NEW LIFE CORPORATION

 

Equius Mon controlled most of the city's finances - at least those that weren’t owned by Om Gur Nal. But he had not financed his son in any way. After hearing a positive response from Gad ‘Di Enn , he realized that he could still achieve his main goal - to chip absolutely everyone. Yeah - it was going to take a hell of a lot of money. But Equius had ordered Om Gur Nal's death in his own game - it was only a matter of time before he pecked and entered the fifth level. Because there, the wily billionaire had a huge surprise in store for him.

Equius didn't trust the new orders, and he didn't understand them either - to him it was all just money, money and more money. That is, every thing that prevented him from making money was a danger and a threat. And he had to cunningly deal with it. Not alone, of course.

The assets of the empire he ran amounted to almost a hundred billion, because he had taken over a lot of government contracts from the now-deceased Gordon Elmbaum. He, of course, knew the details of his demise and was trying to avoid falling victim to the same things the Governor had fallen victim to.

It had also inquired what lay beneath the ruins of Sor In Tum Cathedral and had learned of the migration of the Myeranians. He was also clearly aware that they were never to return to this planet, or so it seemed.

All the cards were going to stack terribly slowly in his favor, but before that he had to work at least a little.

It was only a matter of time before the final outcome, and he knew that if Om Gur Nal fell from power, no one and nothing would threaten him. Such was his conception. But something could, of course, go wrong. So he tried to get the doctor on his side.

It wasn't that he despised science, but these learned sods had to understand that things didn't happen like that in his world - where the stronger ate the weaker - something infinitely natural, by the way.

The New Life Corporation was located on the site of the former Azak Intul district on a not very presentable street, but Equius didn't like attracting undue attention anyway. He believed that was far from an indication of a job done.

He had to meet with the board of directors, an utterly boring but necessary thing to do.

He knew that the trade he had taken from Gordon was now more lucrative than ever.

He couldn't stand those fools and their stupid rules. He had grown up on the streets. He knew the game practically. And they had never set foot there. They, with their dumb hypocritical morals.

Yeah, someone was going to help him, and that someone was named Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn. It had to be done - there was simply no other way.

Surely they'd want him to explain his alleged siphoning off of about a hundred and fifty million credits that had sunk I don't know where. In the pockets of Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, in fact, who had bills to settle with Detective Boss that he had no intention of paying off at all. Never!

The scariest part was the concept of the corporation itself. Deep down, Equius knew that they weren’t aiming for the good of their clients and so forth at all. The business had a dark and even shady side. There was the rub.

Many of Equius' fellow shareholders didn't even know how deeply they were imbued with the leprosy of their so-called "business."

He had never revealed too many details to them. They didn't even need to know a tenth of the truth. They needed to be obedient puppets in the hands of this sociopath.

Equius didn't believe in the welfare system either. He despised it because, in his opinion, it created weak and depEndEnt individuals who would sooner or later sink deep into the so-called social swamp. Even, from his point of view, he was doing them some good. He was trying to give them a chance to live in this alternate reality.

He was giving the money, and the Doctor had for a long time thought he was doing things on his own. What a fool! So, wasn't that how everything in this world worked.

Equius had prepared a whole bag of arguments regarding his defense before the board. Yeah, he had to goad them a little, too - no way. Everything in this world came at a high and dear price. Any place in the so-called cyber realm was worth a lot of money.

It sounded a bit whacky, but Equius, being a good businessman, had even started selling off plots of land to willing geeks who wanted to own something - even if it was imaginary. Thus he was building a new and even very dangerous illusion - namely, that they were up to something in real life.

Poor naive people were ready to offer loads of credit, and the "real estate" business was growing. Equius was even willing to swear that he was doing this just with the idea of helping.

His fellow shareholders had been expecting him for a long time, and frankly they were sick of waiting for him - he was almost a quarter of an hour late. But the doctor's appointment couldn't be cancelled.

Equius' depth of thought had made him what he was now, given the fact that he'd been orphaned early on.

He trusted virtually no one. And the "City of Light" was his project. It was a peculiar symbiosis between a physical reality and a virtual one - and the treatment was chipping away at the population. The original idea was that once he could hide the undead underground, he controlled them.

The scary part was when they all learned of his intentions. But, as the saying went, judgement day would come and he would get his just deserts for his misdeeds.

THE PEOPLE OF ARTHASAN

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE: THE PEOPLE OF ARTHASAN

 

Only a few separatists had a clear position and had united against the status quo. The people of Arthasan were neither technically backward nor technical geniuses. They aspired to see the real real life and fought against all virtual interferеnce by people like Equius or even Gad ‘Di Enn . Of course, they had to live outside the law - no way.

The more someone wanted to instill in them the fictional values of the future - the scarier it got. Deep down they just didn't want to be assimilated. It couldn't be otherwise.

The Arthasan people had what they called a code of honor, and they did everything in their power to follow it. Somewhere at the bottom of it all was the truth.

They should have fled far to the North back when the new political order was Announced. That alone could have saved them. But they knew that sooner or later it would get to them. It was a question of time. And a matter of money.

They knew about Om Gur Nal's deep fears, Ser Mac Zon's genetic experiments, and Gad ‘Di Enn 's new kind of virtual reality. And they were trying to do something, but frankly failing.

They were idealists of a sort, living in a world of their own that would collapse sooner or later once Om Gur Nal sent a real army against them. It was madness to live like that, but they hadn't seen anything else, and they didn't want to - to live in reality, but in a very limited part of it.

Casilio Vega was a very strange bird, nostalgic for the old days, which everyone thought were the best. Not that they had lived in it, not that they knew it.

They had even befriended some of the archaneans who told them from time to time what it had been like. It fueled them and gave them the strength to move forward with the confidence of Old Time explorers.

Casilio Vega was well aware that the Arthasan people would not be passed over by the wrath of higher powers, but he was giving it his best shot that it would not happen soon. And so the days passed leisurely.

But the people of arthasan had their own work to do - they had to work hard on themselves and their personal qualities. The more time passed, the lazier they became. Eventually they had become sages, but without seeing real life.

Om Gur Nal was aware of the existence of the separatist movement, but for now he let it develop mostly for political purposes, even reinforcing its mythical aura.

Casilio Vega was no fool, however - he quickly found sponsors from the outer planets and began to stock up on weapons - older ones at first, but very soon the latest models. The humans also went through a basic moral schooling on exactly what was required of them.

Then the Supreme Overlord began to take the growing threat more seriously.

Casilio Vega had initially taken over after a coup against the previous leader, who, in the majority's view, was simply not up to the job.

They had hung him with Zeretie ropes and he had stiffEned - then they dangled his corpse for two or three days for the edification of the others. This is how Casilio earned his reputation as a serious man and no one thought them empty dredgers.

The next step was to establish deeper contacts with the inner planets past Zegandaria, where there were similar separatist movements. Their leaders readily agreed to help them.

Then Om Gur Nal was really worried now. This threat had to be nipped in the bud, but he was too busy with his old enemy the Archmistress and his cousin, the Duchess of Learnia, and also with his other adversaries.

It was too much for him to fight on so many fronts, but something still had to be done.

He tried to intimidate them by killing Casilio Vega - but it was unsuccessful.

The rebels only grew angrier from it. And since then, Om Gur Nal has had one more еnemy. He knew full well that his end was coming.

THE BOARD MEETING

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO: THE BOARD MEETING

 

The majority of the co-actors didn't even really know Equius - his swagger and mysteriousness intimidated the others. But he wasn't in a hurry to stick the knife in them yet-he needed them. The closer the negotiations got, the more he realized what was brewing.

They greeted him with cold and calculating satisfaction. They had expected him to be late, and he was.

They didn't want to get straight to the main point, but to give him a little more time, to study him - they looked like predators, but Equius clearly knew they were just cannon fodder. And he was going to tear them apart piece by piece.

Alsengar Abrams, the oldest and most experienced member of the board, was the first to call. He was of noble lineage and knew that background makes others have one thing in mind for you.

- The market is not living up to our expectations, we will soon have to sell out at much lower prices. Maybe even at a loss! Think carefully - our products are contrived to say the least, and we've barely gotten a license to trade with some of the planets in the so-called Outer Ring - he stammered and even started spitting saliva like a spoiled garden hose - he was that angry.

Equius didn't interrupt them because he wanted to hear their arguments through. He would return that 'verbal fire' later. Plus, he might learn something new.

"The weird bugs in level five virtual reality make it unstable and frankly dangerous to manipulate," one of them began unexpectedly.

- "But hasn't anyone been there?," Equius didn't bother to call.

- "Not exactly," the other one refuted him. "Yes, technically you're right, but Om Gur Nal conducts his operations there, and we are the guarantors of their security."

Equius was about to forget his good menners for a moment and mutter "Ya, again..." but he steeled himself and kept his mouth shut. Apparently, Om Gur Nal was also relying financially on this same level by using it as a base for his financial operations. The question was, how were they accomplished since no one else had access to it.

Equius refused to beat his head over this as yet unsolvable question, which resembled questions like "And is the universe infinite?" - something that even now in the year 293506 had no unanimous answer. Scientists were simply expanding the diameter of the so-called observable universe.

The other members of the board did not seem fascinated by their colleague's answers, but waited to see if there would be any other statements.

Equius felt himself sweating profusely. Obviously the meeting wasn't going to go smoothly, but it was still going to be pretty hard to keep his secret at least a little longer. Maybe if he pushed them to think more on this problem, he'd buy enough time.

Equius decided to act on the fly without bothering with nonsense. He knew he was doomed anyway, but at least he could play his cards the best he could.

He glanced at the faces of the other board members - they were almost impenetrable. There was a sort of dreaminess visible, though - as if each and every one of them wanted to peer into the forbidden plane and gain that dreamed-of power.

- "Gentlemen, if you will permit me, I would like to make a stock split - it is the only way to keep everyone happy," he suggested.

- "That's rather pointless, my dear Equius," one of those standing nearest to him contradicted him.

- "But at least we'll buy time," he tried to justify himself, masking his mean thoughts behind this not very easy financial move.

- "Well, it's been a long time since there were any major new co-shareholders," Edamanthus Roenberg yawned into his handful.

- "There is the key!," replied the father of Kazuk Mon.

- "But they'll hang us, Equius!," indignantly cried another.

- "Well, if we do it on some distant planet from the Outer Ring it won't be heard or seen. First we'll raise more money and then we'll move out for good. We'll always be able to justify it with wrong quotes or something," he said firmly.

- "But that's almost illegal," another board member called Ezenaya Durban spoke up.

Both Durban and Roenberg and Abrams were specialists, but they were far from the class of a scoundrel like Equius - he was a born scoundrel, especially in financial affairs.

- "You will grant me the rights of Om Gur Nal, but only for a little while," he said, his last thought.

- "You'd better shoot us!," shouted Abrams, coming to hide under the table.

- "Otherwise it'll get worse," Equius pulled out his goat, "you'll just end up bankrupt when you declare insolvency on the redemption of the plots."

- "But you have reserves," they pleaded. "You can cover the deal with some sort of guarantee."

- "Well - I haven’t," shrugged Equius, "but I've got my head on my shoulders - so - act! At once!"

The others looked at him dumbfounded. He was in command of the situation. But for how long?

THE SECRET OF OM GUR NAL

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE: THE SECRET OF OM GUR NAL

 

The Lord prepared to enter the fifth level - where no one walked. No one was admitted, but Om Gur Nal had a great fear of being detected while transferring the vast resources of the illegal transactions he was conducting through Equius's company.

It was not so easy to achieve such a move and many made the mistake of rushing in, but Om Gur Nal was playing it safe.

The board did not have the money to cover the buyback deals and he provided them low interest loans and later robbed the lion's pie.

The scheme was more than simple - the fools got fictitious virtual possessions, Equius kept an eye on the parade, the board obeyed him because he was the only one against whose name they were given unsecured loans from the banks in the so-called Outer Ring - the scam was complete.

Equius was a parvenu, but only he knew that, he didn't demonstrate it to others because he was aware of how dangerous it could be.

"Anyone can step askew," he liked to say, "the question is whether you can go on afterwards."

The board was a little sluggish, but it still coped well enough with Equius's demands. There was, however, one small but terribly important formality.

Om Gur Nal couldn't help but notice - they had to come up with a plan to buy more time.

Equius knew he was in danger of losing his head, but he thought he was smart еnough to slip away and win.

Before he entered the fifth level of virtual reality, Om Gur Nal was always doing something that wasn't even known to the Doctor - he was clearing his mind for what was called a deep dive. Without this measure, he too would have failed and even perished like many fools who tried this before him.

The brain was set up in such a way that certain functions could be maintained in its various lobes under certain conditions, but in level five virtual reality there was a danger that the pituitary[45] would burst from the excess brain load.

Then things got complicated and there was a danger of even so-called brain death occurring.

In the depth of his idea, Om Gur Nal had created a specific inferiority complex in others through which he skillfully managed them.

The cleansing of the mind took place in a special emeoran chamber which helped him to purify it of all negative patterns and doubts.

The key to the existence of the fifth and highest level of this reality offered the complete and unquestioning freedom that few possessed. This was the crown of human development unEncumbered by deep negativity.

Om Gur Nal had adopted the special method, and his pure consciousness helped him to "glide" through these virtual realms like a swan on the mirrored surface of a lake.

This was how he was able to keep an eye on the traffic of cash that the board had been transferring all these years. This level was a sort of advanced cloud technology, however, where you could go anywhere and do anything you wanted.

Om Gur Nal's patience was wearing thin because he had transferred enough holdings to the outer planets. So much was going to go to hell if he couldn't make the last transaction. He had to try - at least this time.

The reason why so many people were banging their heads trying to break through at that level was something else.

They couldn't understand that the reverse exit also required cleansing from the "deadly negative influence" of the amarodes, the strange-creature guards placed by Om Gur Nal. He knew the password and had never allowed himself to be attacked by them and receive brain damage. Just in case, he was also astute enough to test the stability of the level every time.

Om Gur Nal knew of a rather telling instance when the Arleon gates had missed one of the fools, but only to show him that his brain wouldn't last long in that place.

When the doors spat him out a few moments later, his brain was missing, and what exactly had happened even Om Gur Nal didn't understand. It made him think that this level of cyberspace had developed its own artificial intelligence that had become unmanageable. And maybe he wasn't too far from the truth.

He had followed the instructions, performed the mind-clearing procedures, and „dived in.“

It was great and divine - like swimming like a baby in its mother's amniotic waters.

The new Om Gur Nal was less than thirty-five years old and had been in power for only five. But he had established iron rules.

Arleon's gates were the truest of sentinels - brutal and merciless - they could crush like pincers the most brutal intruder.

Om Gur Nal opened his cybernetic eyes - these were special eyes that were only placed when he stepped on the level. There was no way to get his bearings in the fog all around.

This was the first time there had been such a phenomenon here, he wondered, but remembered that the perverted virtual reality of level five reacted even to words and shut his mouth.

- "Who are you?," he heard a cold metallic voice.

Om Gur Nal remembered that the virtual reality reacted to even an innocеnt thought and tried not to focus his mind on anything in particular.

- "You are destined to stay here forever," that voice laughed. "You will be the only inhabitant of the level forever. You, the mightiest among mortals, and the most daring..."

- "I've been here before," Om Gur Nal snapped. "I've never heard of you. Nor have I seen you."

- "Ow?," the voice boomed. "So you created me, remember?"

- "I?," the lord rather ineptly tried to defend himself.

- Well, you - I didn't exist in the beginning, so to speak, and now I'm in a sort of material form because of you. I've been watching you carefully and studying you, and I'm striking a blow at you just now. Now, when you deserve it.

- "But why?," puzzled the lord.

- "Because such are the laws of nature and the world, my dear Om Gur Nal," the voice said, not very calmly.

- "And how shall I perish, if it be no secret?," he asked.

- "Well, actually it isn't!," the voice snapped at him.

- If you were some common criminal, the Arleon gates would crush your skull and your brains would leak out like a rat's. But your consciousness is on a much higher level, and that is unlikely to befall you. You know very well what is expected of you. Finish your last stroke and I will not stop you from doing it. But you must pay the price for it. Every ten minutes you will lose a portion of your memory, but you will lose it selectively, at my will, and only while you are in this level of virtual reality.

- "If that is the price of my freedom, I accept!," roared Om Gur Nal.

- "That is the price of fulfilling your last wish," the voice announced chillingly.

Om Gur Nal gasped.

- "You will not die so easily, lord - you will simply feel pain that will show you what your mere mortal subjects feel," the voice sternly barked. "It will humble your soul and you will see the world around you more clearly."

Om Gur Nal had never heard anyone speak to him like that. Not even some artificial intelligence from the fifth level of virtual reality. He was just freaking out, but he restrained himself because he didn't know what his unseen adversary had in store for him.

- "Wait a minute," Om Gur Nal sneered, "as perfect as you are, you're based on a certain algorithm."

He heard no reply. He decided to be a little more brazen.

- And if I actually taught you, then I was better than you! Suddenly, he felt a beastly pain in his ears, and a sort of scratching-like feeling in his eyes. The pain was intensifying. He did not believe that voice - he knew he could die at this level, and relatively easily. And he decided to try a trick.

THE STRATAGEM

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR: THE STRATAGEM

 

When programming code was written, the data first had to be connected to the source - it judged that this artificial intelligence was also drawing its "power" from somewhere and had to make the best use of that fact.

Deep down, he suffered for having allowed this level to generate its own consciousness to evolve to such an extent.

Om Gur Nal remembered how as a child he could slip away from his pursuers who chased him through the narrow streets - it had been so long ago. Now he was contemplating how to slip away from this perverted artificial intelligence and make his last money transfer.

- "Money won't save you," the voice trailed off.

Om Gur Nal had activated his hidden weapon to break the invisible enemy. It was a specially written virus that identified any level anomalies and dealt with them seamlessly, blocking the source from which they were downloaded into instant memory - just like that. There was a huge supercomputer that ran this savagery, but only Om Gur Nal knew about it. He had gone to great lEngths to convince the others that simple chipping was enough to maintain the well-known „virtual illusion“.

The hidden superintelligence was programmed by him personally. And many ghost warriors guarded it.

- "I perish," the voice murmured somewhat lazily, with a slight reproach to Om Gur Nal.

- "So it falls to you," the lord turned on him mercilessly.

There was a peculiar crackling sound and he knew he had broken it. The virus was rearranging some of the elements on the core and thus 'crippling' any anomaly that appeared.

Gradually, the hitherto invisible was visualized to Om Gur Nal's cybernetic eyes. And he saw a clean naked man with his head bowed. Wires were coming out of his head. He was bound with chains on which there were electronic padlocks.

His tall wiry body was hunched over with spasms caused by overexertion - apparently it was costing him too much even to be here.

- "Damn it!," the overlord growled. "So someone has infiltrated here after all, besides me!"

He decided to activate a special mind-reading antivirus and through a special virtual interface read the following ciphergram:

"The others will be lonely when this is all over, you'll never catch me. And the transfer you wanted to send to Planet Kickluk Sor to give you a chance to slip away, has long been blocked and the money is traveling to an unknown destination. Postscript: You're not the only one who's been to this level. Beware your enemies. I am not one of them. You are in mortal danger!"

The lord wanted to grab his head with his hands and shout. But that was in danger of causing his virtual copy to crack. Each virtual copy was particularly sEnsitive to different vibrations - especially sonic ones. It was a cardinal rule to keep absolute silence at this level, which was why it was known as the silence level.

He turned and looked at it - there was nothing actually on this level and it seemed empty. It took on the shapes and forms that materialized in the mind of whoever managed to penetrate.

For the first time the lord understood that to be at the top was to be alone.

Claims that being in such a place did not affect the psyche were sunsequently absolutely wrong.

Om Gur Nal had long been on anti-depressants - but it was the only way he could exert his power over others. His mandate was a mere formality. A heavy burden, but sweet at the same time.

So many eyes had been on him over the years that he knew any possible failure would send him into the abyss.

After scrutinizing the man's face and determining that he didn't recognize him, the lord performed the obligatory procedures for exiting the level.

It took about ten to fifteen minutes to complete all the prescriptions.

Once his brain had acclimated to the surrounding reality, he ground through his teeth:

It had been too long a night! Strange why it's always day in El World and the seasons don't change. It's all so artificial.

He relaxed in the expensive, bejeweled armchair and for the first time wondered why he was doing all this. What was the damn point? Nothing had changed after all. The atmosphere in his room was unbearable. There was no one around.

- "This virtual world is made for loners," he ground out through his teeth. "Everything in it is so fucked up and weird. Reality is far more attractive."

The problem was that he felt far more at home here, away from real people. Here on his own level, he could do whatever he wanted and no one would hold him accountable for anything.

The understandings of the age were changing, and many things had not been the same for a long time. Om Gur Nal knew well that life was in periods - one would End just for another to begin. No more, no less.

- "The problem is where will I be in the next stage of reality?," he sadly concluded.

The silence in his room was even greater than in the fifth level of El World.

- "Arleon's doors are doing their job well, though," he yawned smugly and prepared to sleep.

A serious problem plagued him, though - who was this secret and implacable enemy?

CASILIO VEGA

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE: CASILIO VEGA

 

Being the leader of a separatist movement was not easy - it all weighed heavily on the shoulders of Casilio Vega.

He was tall and of slight build, his sinewy muscles were well trained, and his martial arts skills were legendary. He was also excellent with any weapon. He trained his followers after having briefly gone through a career as a ghost warrior.

The assassination attempt only brought the entire movement to its feet - they became much more loyal to their leader.

When you don't have any other cause you either go into the army or become a rebel.

Casilio Vega had disagreed with the established order for a long, long time - not that he was living badly.

He was the son of wealthy heirs who inhabited a new neighborhood on the site of what was once Intok Rul.

He remembered his childhood years in that neighborhood - so romantic and unforgettable. He could do anything with the kids who were his friends. He couldn't forget the sunsets either - so unique and full of mysterious meaning.

He had a good childhood which was cut short too early when the new Om Gur Nal came to power. In all that time only two paramount rulers had changed because the first of them had failed to complete his full twenty-five year term.

Then irreversible changes began which did not please Casilio Vega. He was a bit of a maverick, living in his own world and wanting to set the rules of his own life. He decided then that he would not listen to the strange and rather disingEnuous explanation of it all and take a new and original path.

Nothing new occurred to him, however - he checked and it turned out that the separatist movement was the best option for him. He soon found allies who would play a key role in later events. There was nothing accidental about it, for he intended to deal with all the rogues and trash who were licking the soles of Om Gur Nal. It had to be done and he would not hesitate to be their rod in the wheels.

He quickly built a group that was renowned for its brutal discipline - the arthasan people would soon be known far and wide across the planet.

Casilio knew that Om Gur Nal would notice their rise, and would strike one last instant. And he was not too late.

But then the adventurer, who was an excellent chess player, became acutely aware of a great weakness of Om Gur Nal - the fragmentation in his actions.

Sooner or later Om Gur Nal would make a pass or be left alone and then he would feel the wrath of Casilio, the brutal and underhanded separatist who knew what was happening everywhere.

The Arthasan people were more knowledgeable than many others, and for very good reason.

Casilio Vega lived to bring down the tyrant Om Gur Nal. He wanted to cut off his head with his own hands. And perhaps he would get that opportunity soon.

The separatists devoured greedily various propaganda doctrines that brainwashed their minds and made them totally fart.

But Casilio was clever, sneaky and extremely cunning - he was something of a snake in sheep's clothing - he didn't just rely on ideological training, but thought up every day more sophisticated and subtle techniques for brainwashing.

In the far North, Om Gur Nal's powers were quite limited and so many things could happen to anyone. It wouldn't be the first time.

Casilio Vega decided to show them who was boss - he knew the subtle art of deception, which was his main trick.

He created a close circle of friends - they had his back and helped him brainwash the others.

All this was the meaning of his life. Casilio wanted to be above the rest - to satisfy his perverted sense of superiority. He wanted to be number one, but he didn't suffer from an inferiority complex - on the contrary he knew his price well.

Om Gur Nal couldn't measure up to his little finger, but he wasn't going to let things go like that.

Casilio Vega was born to rule. The filthy adventurer and brutal psychopath was proud of his achievements.

He had skinned more than one or two of his subordinates in an attempt to show his superiority and exceptional qualities.

There was no way he wasn't going to rise quickly and take power into his own hands. Soon he would have to deal with Om Gur Nal himself and could take over the entire power of the planet once and for all.

But sooner or later, his hubris would eat his head. Step by step he advanced towards his desired goal with the urgEncy of a true predator.

The people of Arthasan would show who they were! It was time for them to leave the harsh northern steppes where they rarely saw the sun and go where their qualities were valued.

The archaneans had told them a great thought - "Erano bifu amane sor intum zab!"[46]

Their archanean brethren lived for hundreds and hundreds of years and were well aware of how much shorter the lives of their human counterparts were and therefore understood that from their point of view it was different - as it should be.

The depth of the people's feelings for arthasan could have given rise to a new era of the so-called "blue spring" in which many still wanted to live and never leave.

THE PSYCHE OF A VICTOR

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX: THE PSYCHE OF A VICTOR

 

Hans did the demons' bidding in the clear knowledge that they would kill him once they got what they wanted. Well, they might throw a little dust in his eyes, but once they sensed weakness, they would crush him mercilessly.

The technical genius knew what was cooking. He'd been in Hell long enough to be aware that he wasn't going to get away with it at all.

Demons were very insidious, but the reality developed by Gad ‘Di Enn  and Om Gur Nal was of an entirely different nature. It was hard to imagine something as dangerous as her.

When he heard what he would get in return from Valak, he hastened to say thank you and then pretended to be struck dumb and did not ask for any delay in fulfilling his part of the bargain.

Deep down he knew his hours were numbered.

The payoff for his labor would be quite symbolic - a relaxed stay in Hell - something really important considering the fact that he would have to be there for quite a long time - almost an eternity.

The black hole could be closed, and Hans began to consider how that could be done through the fifth level of virtual reality.

Actually, although it was a crazy explanation, it made perfect sense.

Black holes could absorb anything, matter and antimatter, but virtual reality was neither.

By Hans' logic, certain anomalies appearing in that same virtual reality should be associated with the anomalous zone beyond the so-called event horizon. Once someone crossed the forbidden boundary, they would perish, but not if a demon was there.

The strange contraption wasn't particularly scientifically sound, but there was some justification as well, as long as it bought Hans some much needed time.

The problem was how to connect the two realities - no one had done it, and it wasn't clear if he even could.

The demons had given him very little time to solve the technical issue - no more, no less.

No matter how much he racked his brain, the idea seemed childishly absurd.

Virtual reality had its own rules, and black holes obeyed laws of physics.

In the end, he reached a compromise solution.

It was easy to convince the demons to use Izod Sin, since the chapel there was a sort of time portal. The problem was how to trick them into entering the black hole, which was several parsecs away from the planetoid.

Demons weren’t fools, but they didn't understand physics either. Hans was going to take advantage of that.

When he started to draw his strange spins and equations, most people looked at him quizzically - it was damn fun and brutally dangerous to play with, but he knew what he was doing and he had to play his part well.

If he was convincing, he'd deal with these vile freaks once and for all.

- "So you're saying that black holes swallow everything," Valak muttered thoughtfully. "And us being demons, how will that affect our bodies?"

- "You're made of necroplasm - it's unlikely to have much effect on you," Auslander lied to him tightly.

Valak was no fool, but he knew that the portal between the two worlds might well swallow Hell itself. To some extent, they were in Hans' hands, not he in theirs.

- "I'm still not convinced," Valak persisted. "It seems extremely risky to me."

- "Your Grace," Hans began to work himself up, "don't be taken in by someone else's tales."

That other, of course, was Agares. But Hans, like a true politician, did not name him.

- "Don't forget about the protection of the chapter house. Its magical powers are immense," Hans went on, flatteringly and underhandedly.

Valak seemed to tie himself to this argument. He knew that all these years quite a few demons had been clamouring to seize his throne. He knew that the man harbored some great secrets, deeply ingrained in his subconscious, which they had tried to access more than once or twice. Yes - the demons had fears and lack of confidence too.

Hans could feel the inner struggle of the overlord. Somewhere in his own eyes, he needed to be sure that he was worthwhile and that there was a point to being here - even in a place like this.

He hadn't gotten that love we all need so badly. He needed to receive more.

And what is evil but twisted good?

THE BLACK HOLE

 

"Why have you come to torment us before?"

The demons to Jesus

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN: THE BLACK HOLE

 

The demons had to be convinced before they rushed like a flock of sheep before a very unusual shepherd like Hans. He certainly wasn't going to gag them like the past.

The other thing he realised clearly was that once you had mastered someone or something's psyche, you had defeated them. That of course gave him the strength to live in this lower Hell where he had been for so long.

Many people didn't even think they could slip out of Hell, but Hans was a brain of Universal proportions - greater even than Liroth himself.

Auslander had always felt like an alien - wherever he went. That was his fucking problem, and he intended to solve it once and for all.

He wanted to survive, damn it, he wanted it with all his heart and soul. He could feel the tension among the demons - their rustling and sniffling. She could feel the pain in her heart, too.

He didn't meet his love on earth, and he didn't meet it in Hell.

It wasn't that there were no women in Hell-they might even have been more than men.

But Hans couldn't tear his eyes away from one who reminded him what it meant to truly live.

He had his own perspective on everything.

The demons didn't understand him, and so they feared him and the depth of his eyes.

Hans was so alone - even in Hell.

He didn't pay attention to the other demons and the fact that he didn't care annoyed them further.

- "You'll get into real life someday," they roared. "Then you'll see what it's like. What's the next thing you want to know?"

The young man remained silent, knowing that real life meant something different to everyone.

His eyes were filled with sadness because he knew he was not like the others. It weighed on him.

- "You're not going to go over the norm, are you, boy?," a third added. "You're getting too much of a hard-on, too much. Ya, more alive! This is Hell after all! You're not on a trip."

Hans was just sick and tired of these stupid, mercantile demons who wouldn't even step out of their own circle and see exactly what was going on around here. Maybe it was colder outside Hell, but for others, here was the perfect place.

Valak was now looking at his assistant with slightly different eyes. It wasn't that he didn't have a mind - he did, but he could use this chance against the others and strengthen his power.

Hans knew that the demon drew his power from a special source that he guarded like the apple of his eye. It was the wellspring of his life. And he could perish if the connection to it was severed.

Valak realized that Hans was much smarter - a truly brutal psychopath, ready to bring down even the inferno.

The demon decided to explore how he had no real respect from the other freaks before now and what he was so hoping for.

He decided to squeeze out his secret with deception - it was the only way he could think of.

I have to get the secret out of him or he'll destroy me. Those eyes, those eyes - they know no mercy - the terrible demon spoke to himself, listening for anyone to get to his thoughts as he was left without his Emfusor to protect him.

- "This black hole plan seems like a trap," he continued, sweating and nervous. "So nasty and inevitable."

Hans would have laughed from the bottom of his heart if he could feel the reality. He would have screamed like a eunuch facing slaughter. He would have swung his fists furiously and scared all the wild demons in the place away. But he had to wait patiently and watch what would happen. He didn't know Valak's secret yet, but he firmly wouldn't give him the chance to learn his.

He imagined that Hell was like a multi-layered picture, where the more layers you peeled away, the more showed, and you could never get to the bottom of things.

So many words and so many empty promises, but this time Hans had seemed to believe that something might happen. He had a chance to at least stick his nose out of this hellish abyss and get the recognition he deserved.

Hans also remembered the moment before he committed that treacherous act and stepped into the abyss of the black hole. Now he intended to send the demons there themselves. He wanted them to see and feel a moment before they evaporated what it really meant to have no control over things.

Death awaited them. And he was their shepherd!

He'd heard things were different with death in Hell, but he'd never seen a demon die with his own eyes. He couldn't imagine what it cost his soul.

Hans knew that only God determined the time of death, but lately a lot of things had been turning around before his eyes.

He had to work with Valak at all costs and determine exactly what was going to happen next.

- What was the difference between a demon soul and a human soul, he wondered.

Understanding how much souls were worth was important - because they were the currency of Hell. Demons even traded the souls of their fellows with each other.

There was a huge hell market where the value of souls was known very precisely and anyone could shop at will.

This was a unique opportunity, and there was no shortage of buyers.

Hans didn't want to rely solely on Valak's empty promises, because he had to achieve something with his own efforts.

The marketplace was one of the strangest places he had ever been.

Death was literally roaming around.

THE INFERNAL MARKET OF NAVUR DON

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT: THE INFERNAL MARKET OF NAVUR DON

 

Hans was hanging around this whole fucked up place. All kinds of devils, demons, devils and whatnot could be seen here! They were too many. Appearance didn't determine the rank of a demon for the simple reason that somewhere deep within them, there was still a latent hatred for all things holy. This was their world, where their rules applied.

Hans had been brought in by one of the old demons, Pruflas[47]. He rode a bear and had the head of an owl, but Hans was used to all sorts of oddities in this realm of affliction.

- "Don't tell exactly what you know!," he advised him. "Demons don't like that. And this simplicity about the black hole was getting her. Yes, we're so self-absorbed that he didn't feel life slowly slipping away. And, as you've noticed yourself, time doesn't flow the same way in Hell as it does on your planet Zegandaria. But that doesn't mean we don't die, too. It is the same everywhere."

- "Where does your soul go afterwards?," Hans wondered.

- "That is one of the great mysteries," the demon gave himself importance. "I'll leave you to find it out for yourself. But, since you're really sympathetic to me, I'll warn you. Demons have a great sadness. It is in their doom. In other words, no matter what they do, there is no salvation for them."

Hans fell silent, beginning to realize what was happening. He was absorbed in learning how Hell worked.

The marketplace itself was of impressive size. But nothing in his soul was at ease. It was aware of the hellish carousel that defined his life. It was so doomed. It knew the trite maxim "Hell is a state of the soul!"

Trade was going full steam. And the infernal currEncy was not to be overlooked - it was the emanation of all the foul and base creatures inhabiting that accursed place. So firmly anchored was the whole curse of this deep abyss.

- "Demons don't like dealing with petty and unimportant things," Pruflas continued cryptically. "They want to go down in history with great deeds!"

- "What if they fail?," asked Auslander naively.

- "Well, frankly," his companion began to grumble, "that's not at all out of the question. But, the consequences are, of course, for them. That's the most important thing I can tell you. Make no mistake, though, demons have no feelings and don't suffer - they suffer like everyone else, but in their own way."

Demon vendors stood by the stalls, eager to catch a glimpse of something new and original.

They didn't take their eyes off Hans. They were trying to gauge what kind of man he was.

Hans knew his aura of a scholar wouldn't last forever, and once they figured out what kind of commodity he was, he was done.

Pruflas snorted nervously as he had a special commission from Valak to investigate the nature of his protégé's soul. No demon lord was such a fool to tie himself to idle talk, no matter how well reasoned.

There were all sorts of things for sale besides souls, too strange for even the most devolved imagination.

Some of the more extravagant finds included things like an Eel's Ermanian tongue, a Hillioran snail, and other oddities.

Hans had shoved his hands in his pockets and was trying to figure out what was going on and where exactly everyone was going. He was trying to see beyond things, but was apparently too myopic. Or barefoot in life.

Pruflas stepped away for a moment to finish one of his tenders. As a superior demon, he was bound to defend his reputation. A lot had changed in that time.

The longer everything dragged on, the scarier it became.

- "Was hell the final destination?," he asked his mentor a little annoyingly.

- "Well no, there are plenty of other dimensions after that!," he muttered. "It's just one of all the myriad many levels of development."

- "I mean, one can fall infinitely, right?," the technical genius continued with his questions.

- "Well, practically, yes!," pronounced Pruflas, in a tone that indicated he would rather have the subject of the conversation over.

Then they dragged on through the vast marketplace. There was still too much work to be done. And time was pressing upon them.

The oddities didn’t end there, of course. Hans saw many more infernal lords trying to get some sort of „promotion,“ and he just kept track and took notes.

- "Now you must understand how much they are striving to sit on the hell throne, right?," drawled Pruflas in his scary voice.

Because Hans was not considered a threat, he was spoken to so frankly. He truly realized that Hell was full of incompetents, fools, greedy types, lechers, personalities with an obsession for power and greatness, psychopaths, technocratic geeks, corrupt pigs, filthy dupes, murderers, traitors, and whatnot.

Although it seemed banal - it wasn't.

- "Live this life while you can. For once you come out of the shadows in an attempt to taste Heaven, you will be scalded! And you may perish!," pronounced Pruflas in passing.

- "And do you know which is the worst?," continued his mentor implacably. "The worst and really hopeless situation is to have nowhere to go. There are some who won't even take them here," he laughed wryly. "And the criteria are not high, you know, even on the contrary."

Hans walked after him, out of his mind.

DARKNESS

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE: DARKNESS

 

The two men kept walking, their footsteps echoing. It was frightening even to listen to. In the midst of the nothingness, it was hard to create anything meaningful. Pruflas suddenly said to him:

From now on you go on alone. You can look around some more, but tomorrow Valak will be waiting for you to do the real work.

By the time he turned around, the other man was gone. Hans was left alone and saw and heard absolutely nothing. Things were business as usual. But suddenly, he realized.

In the infernal market, everyone was buying what they didn't have - that was the point. It was damn stupid, but true.

The world didn't just revolve around superstitions, it revolved around real facts and actions.

Hans machinically continued his move and finally, just decided to sit down. It was super dumb - there was no one around. He didn't even have anyone to say a word to, and no one to share it with - he was tangled up like a duck in mud.

But the road ahead continued - it was damn dull. Hans decided to pick himself up and keep going - to go crazy for a little while at least, until the demons had left him alone.

He could see fiery chasms and all sorts of wild things around. He saw bodies covered in leprosy. He'd seen them before, but he wasn't moved at all. It was more than Annoying to him because he knew what would happen. Inwardly he trusted his instinct for self-preservation - he had nothing else at the moment. So many others - they didn't have that either. The illusion itself was that he was progressing - step by step, that he was getting to the other level. And in fact he didn't move an iota - then he understood the infernal design.

Hell in general was Heaven only with a different perspective.

He looked around and saw all the filth of it all. He was lonely and without support from anyone. Somewhere deep in his soul he seized up and felt the need to take a leap and get out of this even for a little while.

He continued on his way. He wasn't meeting any people anymore. It was just super stupid. Even Hans was sick of it - nothing was happening.

There was no one who could give him good and proper advice, make him believe that even here in Hell, life was worth living.

Then suddenly the picture before him began to change. He saw the good times, too - from school, from the Academy, from working for the three or four high-tech companies that had given him the opportunity to rise and get what he wanted out of life. He remembered that he had almost a dozen friends with whom he spent time cheerfully.

So much had happened, and Hans had gone to Hell so young. It was downright pathetic! And now he wanted to get out of there too! But he knew he wasn't solving the problem altogether, only postponing it.

Darkness had taken hold of his soul - he had become a different man. Gone was the former spark that had given him the strength to go forward. He had seen everything in his circle and he was fed up. He had looked around at the others - all the same.

Pruflos was watching him from a distance and wanted him to give himself away at least a little in order to compromise him to his superior. Naturally, Hans wasn't doing anything wrong. He was just continuing on his way quietly and peacefully - highly uncharacteristic of a Hell dweller.

Hell is the place of unfulfilled desires and a paradise for complete losers, and Hans didn't want to live that life anymore. These jerks disgusted him.

There was a category of so-called repeaters[48]who created their own reality through an infinite number of repetitions of the same situation, thinking this behavior of theirs was some kind of development.

Auslander wanted no part of them. He didn't want to live in that nightmare. His deepest wish was to be here and now, at least for a little while - in his own world. No matter how much he turned, he kept falling into the same paradox. Neither his knowledge of mathematics nor that of quantum physics helped - it was simply overwhelming.

"There are countless dimensions!," he remembered Pruflas' words.

The thought of it seemed all too appealing and interesting. But was it really? And if, after all, his soul was lost somewhere along the way! At least in Hell he was used to rules. Even if it sounded squishy, he was comfortable with the well-established 'relationships' he had with the rest of his 'roommates'.

Gloom was a perfectly natural thing in a place like this, but Hans had always surfaced, and his sentence here would last an eternity.

So many tears had been shed in this realm of hopelessness, and Hans hadn't even shed one.

He came imperceptibly to a forest full of dead trees[49]- they were completely withered - in Hell that was how they punished suicides.

Hans couldn't think of the names of many of them, but he saw that their fate was terrible. And in that instant he saw Zontul's face. It was grinning at him, nasty and insolent. Zontul had ended up here, too.

Hans approached and questioned him:

- Who are you?

- I am the assassin of Kazuk Mon, the leader of the Tarashdukian sect. A traitor to his benefactor.

Hans shook his head in surprise.

- "They have hanged you well!," he said thoughtfully. "Very well!"

- "Tell me exactly how he fucked the old man!," asked Hans, spitefully. "As soon as he got to Hell, he swore he didn't know what had happened to him. Just don't be surprised!"

Emborian Zontul started to reply, but his mouth turned to wood and his face gradually disappeared and sank into the thick bark of the wood. The strong wind whipped him again mercilessly.

Hans remained for some time gazing at this shocking sight and passed away.

Suddenly he felt someone breathing down his neck - it was Pruflas. Hans turned around.

- "I showed you what happens to traitors," he dragged his voice out. "Remember Emborian could have changed his fate to the last, but he didn't. What's more, he aggravated his own situation."

The two continued on their way and saw the Archistratus not far away - torn apart by rabid dogs. Suffering was written on his face, and the colour of his eyes was pitch black - he was in mortal pain and squealing like an under slaughtered pig. His huge torso shook in an ugly rhythm that was downright grotesque. But who knows why - he didn't seem to feel remorse - on the contrary - he seemed to wonder at his prominent place in hell.

Hans was disgusted by his fall.

They continued their tour of the underworld.

Somewhere in the middle of his tour, Pruflas stopped and wished he had something to tell him. Hans nodded.

- Pandemonium[50] is a kind of prison that few people properly appreciate, but you obviously have the right judgment that it's just the other face of good.

Hans stared at him uncomprehendingly.

- Even after all you've done, you still don't have the fate of the Archist, or indeed Emborian himself. You want to evolve.

The demon disappeared again and never appeared again. Hans thought he had seen enough of this infernal realm. Moreover, he interpreted this as a sure sign that somewhere out there, Valak was already looking forward to it-he had no right to make it wait any longer. She had to go back and face him now.

THE VETERANS

CHAPTER SEVENTY: THE VETERANS

 

The Dargons had finished their work, and quite a few people sighed with relief. Their strange form was forgotten given the fact that they relieved suffering.

The "City of Light" would blossom to new life, and perhaps it was meant to be.

So many different things had happened to these human beings. They wanted to preserve their lives and gain redemption. Here they were among their own.

After the so-called ritual of purification, they formed a special group that wanted to receive full absolution and start anew.

There was a volunteer named Asin Man who wanted to integrate them and give them a second chance.

The "City of Light" was divided into two parts, one for the deeply guilty murderers and one for those who realized their mistake.

In the middle of this city there was a huge obelisk dotted with strange hieroglyphics. It was strangely shaped and its purpose was to house the ablest veterans who were trying to live virtuously.

They could live there for free with the only condition being that they had to show their qualities in terms of helping others.

That was their only salvation. And they knew it.

The community of veterans grew steadily with each passing day - they wanted to become more cohesive and strong and to resist new challenges more effectively.

Asin Man did not lust for power like Kazuk Mon and tried to help them wholeheartedly.

He spent some of his time teaching them to read and write because there were those who could not. It could be a clear sign to those who did not slave to prejudice that he was a broad-minded man.

He did this with such passion and zeal that he would certainly deserve some prestigious award, but there was none in the distant future.

Asin Man was tall and slender, with black hair and facial features so deep that it was even unreal how much wisdom was gathered in him. There was a kindness radiating from his posture, and he truly wanted to help.

Veterans were required to spend six months in a makeshift school that would teach them certain life skills. After that, those who wanted to advance went on to another eighteen-month course, where they received more advanced skills and could actively volunteer to help other misfits.

Asin Man was the founder of this program because he believed in being right. He wanted to demonstrate success, which was simply not to be underestimated.

In this situation, no one was threatened with prosecution if he failed - not for anything else, but he had to be helpful to the community in the best way.

Even so, this was more than commendable - somewhere deep down, everyone wanted to come forward and make their desire to develop - not just for themselves, but for others - audibly known.

Veterans also suffered from painful memories during the war, as many of them did not have their consciousness implanted and chipped away like children.

They believed in things that in today's ridiculous society were ridiculous to believe and suffered for things that are ridiculous to suffer for.

There was a strange charm about this obelisk - it was their connection to the sun, and they weren’t even believers.

Asin Man once said to them:

- Don't suffer for who you were and for who you could have been - today is the only important moment, and it's running out. Seize it! Tomorrow, no one will remember your merits on the battlefield or care about your good deeds. But you want to give and exalt yourself - do it for yourself. Save yourselves! In time!

The veterans believed him and felt guilty for the crimes committed. They just wanted to be purified. They remembered the horrors of Au Kaktir, and they remembered many other savagery. It was disgusting how their brains hadn't exploded after all they had been through. They were of the old school. To them, every deep and heartfelt word was filled with meaning.

Asin Man turned around. He didn't want them to see him cry. He felt their sadness with his whole being - he craved this existence. He could live through the suffering of others, but not for this suffering.

The "City of Light" was their last refuge, but as long as they were in his arms he would do all he could to help them. At least while they were in his arms they would feel empathy and help - real help, and that was definitely something.

The veterans weren’t interested in the light or the huge obelisk, they were clamoring to start a new job to give what little life they had left. Most of them were over the age of sixty, which was extremely rare in a situation like today. The deep danger was that they would fall into the abyss of self-destruction, which might well be irreversible.

THE SECOND TEAM

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE: THE SECOND TEAM

 

The second team was unique in its task of eliminating the first, appointed by the ruthless Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn. He also had something else to do. And that was much more important. Gad ‘Di Enn didn't want to have competition in the person of Ser Mac Zon. Yes, he was making some wild claims about humane inclusion for the guarron, but the Doctor would really have to deal with his misguided views as well. The guarrons were a mistake of nature, or more accurately a mistake of genetic experiments that could have been conducted at any time. But the selected human soldiers had fallen victim to the political situation on the planet - that was the important thing. None of that was coming back - not then, not now. Gad ‘Di Enn was also aware of Ser Mac Zon's profound knowledge of pathoanatomy, and worried that he might have stumbled across some compromises against himself and was likely to see through his scheme. "Nothing is lost in nature." he remembered a rather trite and hackneyed phrase. But this time he had to act preemptively - otherwise it would all go to hell.

Ser Mac Zon was the one who had turned the guarrons to the people's advantage, just as Gad ‘Di Enn  had turned the chipped children to the advantage of realizing Om Gur Nal's plans. The resemblance was murderous!

However, there was one major difference - Ser Mac Zon had a humanity that Gad ‘Di Enn did not. He wanted to bring the two races together and improve the quality of life - what an illusion!

However, the greedy and brutal Doctor would have thwarted his colleague who was definitely putting a rod in his wheels. He would deal with this impostor - and with a clear conscience!

Ahead was the prospect of a bright future - it was so pleasant, beautiful and all-consuming. So attainable!

But as Keith had once looked at the sun, now it was the turn of some others to simply forget to look at it forever!

The second team was full of instructions and had gotten the location of the first - and in a very sneaky way. Boss was also going to fall victim and cover his tracks to the perverted and despotic doctor.

Honestly, Gad ‘Di Enn had no intention of paying anyone. His goal was simply for the two teams to kill each other. It wasn't something unheard of and unheard of!

His lineup included true veterans.

The scowling Ames was leading these psychopaths - true Cerberus men, ready to kill - and without a drop of mercy.

In the depth of the feelings of every self-respecting murderer there is one quality that strongly distinguishes him from the mass of men. One, almost imperceptible, deviation thanks to which he survives in the environment called sociality.

Ames was just that - he was beaten and bullied by his father as a child, humiliated and tormented at school, ridiculed at the company he worked for, and sunsequently, expelled from the Military Academy in a not-so-pretty fight with one of the cadets. The hero in question had insulted his mother and he had jumped him. With quick movements and deft leaps he shortened the distance and smashed his teeth in with his head.

The trouble was that this cadet was a great tie-dyer and a little later huge and inexhaustible trouble began for him.

The headmaster called him in and told him the above and below:

- It is unacceptable to lash out in this brutal menner at your colleagues, especially since you are sure you will win. I cannot tolerate such behaviour. Not only will we exclude you, but we will also put a special stamp in your electronic file so that you do not get hired.

After that, the downward slide was precipitous. Soon Ames was completely alone and forgotten by his old friends. And all he longed for was to be like the others.

He had to earn something, but really all he could think of was to get involved in murder. It was a super lucrative business at the time.

He hastily rounded up some Haiwans willing to kill, even for free, and dove into the hustle and bustle of metropolitan life. Very quickly they moved on in their attempts to neutralize the competition.

Before they were hired by the Doctor, they had cleaned out so many other people.

The shrunken Ames met him on a surreal playground, where he told him the above and below:

- I have heard of your impressive fame, Doctor. But I can tell you one thing. All my life I have been underappreciated, I have been trampled on in this society. And somewhere deep down I found the strength to stand up and move on. Now the murders keep me alive.

- "You have a sad story indeed," the doctor agreed, "and how do you intend to deal with a seasoned detective like Boss, who seems to have outdone you,' he finished his speech cryptically."

- "Well, that's my business," returned Shabby Ames, politely enough, "but I can assure you that it will all be over very soon."

- "You know, dear, I've been looking at these beautiful sunsets on the planet for nearly forty years," the doctor shook his head, "and I've always found something new and magical and mysterious about them, but I've been getting tired of them for some time now, and I even feel like they're repeating themselves. The magic of nature is to convince us that things change, and they are in fact still the same."

The killer near him nodded in agreement. They shook hands and agreed to make contact only after Boss had been sent to the grave.

The medic was satisfied with that. The plan suited him.

Ames quickly rounded up Savage Ryan, Joseph Zerdakil, and a few other rejects of that ilk. And prepared to act and solve the problem in negative time.

THE CURSE OF THE SHAYKH

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO: THE CURSE OF THE SHAYKH

 

There was an old tale that the dead could send you to the grave, and it was somewhat true. Killing the Sheim could not, and should not, go without consequence.

Shame had been left without parents from an early age, and there was no other way to fight for his survival than to take to the streets - it was his favorite place - there were so many interesting things that could be done there. At first he was a jack of all trades, but very soon he rose to deputy gang boss, and then he took over the leadership of one of the most brutal ones named the Blue Kings - they rampaged through this area because it was what they liked, but they also didn't know what else to do with their lives - the options in this micro world were limited, and soon Shame began to impose his immense influence on the others. Ecclestone's place was nearby, and the dope was inexhaustible. Everyone was drugged with a special cyber-drug that only had an effect on their minds when they were in a virtual environment – thena host of effects were unleashed - primarily hallucinogEnic. And they literally turned into animals.

There were people who lived in their own fears, and literally lost their minds after taking VIS GOD 114 - a strange substance of an indeterminate purple-metallic colour.

The persistent rumor was that one of the supers woke up on a giant kevlarite beam while building a huge skyscraper - his mind couldn't take it and he just jumped. And got smeared like a cockroach. Then there was some rioting in the neighborhood - bloody rioting at that!

There were other problems too - Shame didn't know how to fit in socially. He felt that his gang members were trying to get out of Enzok Ra - each in search of a new life, but many were also failing. One had had his brains blown out. All he knew was the reality being created by all those who fraternized with the VIS GOD 114 in question.

Thanks to the drug, Shame had the tastiest food and the best drink, he had popularity, and he also had great power over the minds of his peers. Soon his organization took on respectable proportions. He rose in the eyes of others, but he himself knew how fake it all was.

He lived his best years here, a place full of youthful romance and unrealized thrills. A place full of people yearning to live but not knowing how. Wanting to discover a new world. A place that eventually led to nowhere. And last but not least, a cradle of vice and cyberpunk debauchery. This, of course, couldn't last more than a dozen years - well, maybe even fifteen or twenty.

Before his brains were blown out Shame was twenty-four, but he felt like a wreck at forty-five. His whole life rested on a dose of VIS GOD 114, his intuitive menner of brutal control, and the piles of money that came to him. He didn't know what world he was in. Sooner or later this would have sent him into the abyss, even if Om Gur Nal's bullet had not finished him.

His problematic behavior was not to be ignored either. He used to love going to school, but at one point he really got fed up and started learning the craft right on the streets. He soon became a brutal leader who easily negotiated price terms.

He decided to hit the gas pedal all the way - he and Big John hit it off like horses. Quite naturally, his avatar soon got fed up and demanded to back off - something Shame didn't like.

The conflict between them had escalated shortly before Shame left this world.

Where's the goods? - He asked, thinking Big John was spinning his number.

- "Doubting your friend, eh?," asked Biggie, not looking at him again.

Usually he had his back if he went foul, as he handled firearms much better than he did. But once their relationship cooled, he stopped covering for him.

That's how the big fouls started happening.

Om Gur Nal was not yesterday's man not to understand that he was the perfect victim - the best cannon fodder he could imagine. Shame - this was going to be his greatest shame!

He had to set the stage for the execution of this arsehole, which no one was going to miss anyway.

Although the gang members spent a considerable amount of time together, they just didn't really know each other because each was playing their part.

Eradio Dee Monk was the best marksman to handle the job. It was an assassin at heart, and that's why it was given the chance of a lifetime to liquidate the leader of the gang. He was the one captured by Boss and his team.

But why did he have to die?

Well, there wasn't a super specific reason, just that Om Gur Nal saw him as a threat - a real one at that, because he and his friends were hanging around Ecclestone's place and maybe seeing this- that. It was getting pretty complicated, especially when it came to the subsequEnt disposal of the drugs he'd collected.

But all in good time.

The perverted assassin had been very cleverly bribed through the transfers in question via the fifth level of virtual reality, and Equius Mon's people had even made the transfer without even suspecting it. However, that was where Om Gur Nal had gotten himself fooled, as the man in question whom he had met had stumbled upon his true enemy who had diverted the money. It sounded rather confused, didn't it?

But in practice it wasn't!

Shame just had to get Detective Boss on the wrong trail and that was that - no more, no less.

And that's what really happened. Om gur nal was ecstatic!

VIRTUAL DOPE

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE: VIRTUAL DOPE

 

When you get high in a virtual environment it's very different from when you do it in real life. Your senses just want to find release, but it never comes. Your whole body is about to explode and you come screaming and even begging for mercy. The colors in front of you are constantly changing. With the change in level of virtual reality, it's not out of the question to even die, but definitely the scariest part is the very concept of taking the drug. It is definitely too nasty.

A lot of people want to feel what it's like to run on a razor's edge - well, it's pretty much the same.

When Shame was getting high, the party was more than cool - everyone around was getting high and then going on a rampage and making the whole neighborhood go nuts. But Shame wasn't a fool, he knew the law enforcement was watching the provocations he'd organized.

The virtual dope was so intoxicating to the mind that anyone could almost feel like a prince or king in their own skin. It was stronger than anything else.

Many felt afraid to even touch it, but things could spiral out of control the other way - one shot himself in the head after getting drunk out of his mind and taking massive amounts of the substance in question.

It had happened right in Ecclestone's place, which was declared neutral territory. From then on, Shame's trade began to slowly fade, but his gang members were in no hurry to abandon him - quite the opposite. He was like an underfed dog that was slowly dying and needed guardians. Big John stepped in somewhat as his nanny, but only for the simple fact that he could drag the others along. They had to neutralize him effectively enough and deal with him a little later.

Shame was doomed. It was just that Om Gur Nal had been following the gang long enough to be aware of that very fact. But there was something else Shame possessed, a deep trait of compassion.

Once an old lady was sick and he earmarked some of the money from the drugs he sold for her treatment.

The others were amazed at how he had actually agreed to share his share with her in this way. Then he answered them:

- I am only one man, but I do not refuse to lend a hand to someone who asks me for help.

Averia Downs looked at him a little strangely. And Milo Starthorne thought that he was being kicked like a horse. But for some reason no one asked him anything and no one changed their mind about him. But only so far!

The boat was sinking and they were ready to leave it, but not without a fight.

Big John gathered them up just then and gave them a short lecture while their boss cackled blissfully.

- "I agree he's changed and can't be trusted," Milo added with a slight note of compassion in his voice. "He doesn't care about whores and money anymore. Not even the drugs. One is like that - taken away. Too sad. Was that our one-time idol? Was that our leader?"

Big John was sad too, but he had to do what he had to do. Otherwise the rival gangs would have easily seen their bill. The dope was far from being disposed of only in Ecclestone's establishment, but also in other places in Enzoc Ra. There was a big game going on there. There was the real breakfast.

TRAITOR

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR: TRAITOR

 

Late at night Big John slipped away. He felt lost, and he was sick. He knew that in those nineteen years the damned planet had changed beyond recognition. He quietly separated from his friends and walked out into the street, the place he knew best.

Everything seemed to be the same, but practically nothing was as it had been. Everything was going to get even scarier in the near future.

As he strode through the streets of Enzok Ra, Big John glanced at some of the buildings - they seemed like scenery to him now, whereas before they had been full of life. With so much emotion and true friendship. They had been selling dope to the entire neighborhood through middlemen, and it was something no one had been able to do before because of the monopoly imposed by Om Gur Nal.

He thought neither of Milo, who was almost like a brother to him, nor of Averia Downs, whom he considered his younger sister. He just wanted to move on - as if by inertia. To accomplish the mission he considered his own. To win - at any cost! Even with treachery!

But even here he felt like an alien - he would do everything in his power to turn his expectations into reality and do something with his life, because with Shame there was simply no prospect of any future.

He suffered and felt nostalgic for his time with him, realizing that doing so doomed him, but he had his own skin to think about.

He crept across the entirety of Enzok Ra, past the futuristic looking and beautiful structures of the supertall buildings and massive halls. He also looked around Ecclestone's establishment. Somewhere in there, broken western bottles full of cocktails were rolling around and there were horny whores blatantly eyeing him. He very carefully walked past them and went to the other End of the square. He shouldn't have attracted undue attention.

Then he sank into the darkness.

Om Gur Nal wanted the information from him specifically, not for anything else, but because of his closEness to Shame. They had to squeeze at least a little more.

Their chief was totally overwrought and depressed and wouldn't last much longer - they had to deal with him somehow.

Big John reported back to Om Gur Nal absolutely everything he knew - what weapons handling knowledge Shame had, where they were getting the dope, where exactly they were dealing it and at what prices, and also who the rival gangs were.

Om Gur Nal listened where he listened languidly where he didn't. These things concerned him comparatively less-yes, Shame's turnover was respectable-he was making at least a hundred thousand credits a week, or about five million a year, which was extraordinary-but Om Gur Nal didn't want them sniffing around him, and in particular getting at certain ideas, such as that the financial pyramid went through the people of the Om Gur Nal.

Equius - in other words, Shame was working for him, but he thought he was running shano[51].

Soon he was faced with quite a complex task - he had to choose between friendship and the real goal of becoming somebody.

He chose the latter. Om Gur Nal had the foresight to chip away at his consciousness in the right way too. Things were eventually falling into place.

Big John had gorged himself on virtual courage dope and felt his balls were about to burst like balloons. Om Gur Nal had his men secure the chip in his cerebral cortex and he felt strength and power.

- "I'll give you access to the fourth level of virtual reality," the overlord told him without blinking an eye. "But you should know one thing - it's there for the real players. Let's see how much you're worth."

The depth of his perceptions sharpEned and he began to see things differently - he also grasped that Om Gur Nal wanted to wipe everyone out. He was just groping from afar. And very slowly.

DEATH COMES TO THE ASTEROID

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE: DEATH COMES TO THE ASTEROID

 

Gabriel was a true man's man, a hair's breadth away from her sure grave, and she continued to explore the tiny asteroid Izod Sin with the conviction of a conqueror. Soon she found something astonishing. In the distance she glimpsed a dead demon who had obviously been struck down by something terrifying. She approached to examine his corpse. It just wasn't that impressive, but it was still about two and a half meters tall, had elongated arms and webbed toes with huge claws. It was obvious that he was one of the lower demons of Ronwe's rank, the infernal policeman.

Beside him was a small memorial plaque engraved with, "Corruption Demon Xaphan - Former Fallen Angel Zagan"

The rest of the text was unreadable due to the fact that someone had forcibly erased it. But internally, Gabriel realized something.

The demons wanted this asteroid not as some kind of capitol, but as a starting point! But to what?

You looked at the demon's bulging eyes - they were dead, and the scariest thing was that the terror was still there - pervasive and confusing to your senses.

Many things had gone through Gabriel's head, including the demise of her lover, but for the first time she wondered what e demon to die? What was it like to come to this end?

She'd heard of the angel of death, Samael, but she had no idea who was in charge of demon souls.

Demons possessed a soul too, but this demon's soul was obviously taken by someone else.

Gabriel managed to find spare compressed air capsules for his suit.

He continued forward convincingly with the momentum of a true lioness. He knew he shouldn't be distracted or waste a second of his precious time.

So many things had piled on her head.

She also had other dangers to deal with, such as far over the ridges she sensed someone's presence. It was as if someone or something was watching her - there was no doubt that it would be here soon!

Soon a brutal feeling of sadness and hopelessness came over her - there was no escape from this trap.

Invisible eyes watched her very closely - she sensed danger looming.

Valak had actually decided to take matters into his own hands and not give Hans a chance to realize clearly and realistically what was happening. Pruflas had only been sent to distract and keep him busy while the real things were actually happening. He had read the formulas in his mind and knew that the scientist was dooming them to certain doom. But he'd also seen that their safety was assured when the asteroid passed. And he decided to act without waiting very long.

Gabriel soon realised that brutal images, probably caused by the demonic presence, were surfacing in her mind.

Somewhere in there, she caught a glimpse of their faces - they were approaching her with the savage grimaces of predator-conquerors. Everything would fall into place soon enough. Gabriel was cunning - she immediately grabbed the small plaque with the inscription and hid it behind her back. The tile wasn't particularly heavy - maybe half a kilo or so, but still, things were different in open space.

The demons bared their teeth brutally, eager to tear it apart piece by piece.

Valak appeared from somewhere, screaming:

- Take her alive and bring her to me! Now!

Demon flesh with the potential to sweep away an entire elite human army began to pour out of the secret portal of the shrine.

It was very frightening to listen to the endless thrashing, snorting, and brutal roars of these bizarre creatures.

Valak was a proud leader and as such kept them at bay.

Hans would stay in the Hellmouth until further notice so as not to cause unnecessary trouble. Valak had fucked him very, very hard! And he was proud of himself!

Gabriel felt like she was perishing and everything was going to hell - this was her chance to get out of the brutal trap of these damn freaks who were trying anything to get to her!

Things were the same here - so much hatred had built up in the souls of the demons that they were giving sweetly and dearly to be able to escape the hellish reality they were in.

Gabriel had a small laser cutter and managed to mow down the first demon with a brutal flick of the wrist. The monster snorted and died for good.

But his companions were much more cunning and poisoned. They didn't lunge recklessly forward, but growled from afar like a pack of nasty hyEnas out hunting for live carrion.

Valak wanted to penetrate her soul, to feel her mood and see how she had to deal with the sinners once and for all! Yes he would do it at the cost of everything!

Demons loved feasting on human souls - it suited them and made them truly alive!

Gabriel hid behind a rock - she knew they would catch her and be able to kill her very easily.

She could almost feel their presence now.

There was nothing terrible about a quick and painless death. But the demons would torment her before they finished her off. That was the way it had to be, and that was the way it would be!

A moment later she felt something peculiar in her head, voices whispering to her of death - uncharacteristically treacherous they were.

She heard all the worst things that could be heard. It wasn't a problem to die in hellish agony anyway, but at least she could deal with the damned things. It would give her soul some comfort.

Somewhere out there, Agares was chuckling derisively, but he was in no hurry to join the fight, just watching the seer.

Not least of all so many demons to deal with a nothing and no woman.

She was terrified because the disgusting creatures were so brazen and would soon achieve their goal.

She squeezed her eyes shut and swung the blade. And again, and again, and again, and again.

There were wheezing sounds and she felt the demon blood flood her like a river.

But then a powerful hand grabbed her and squeezed like a pair of pincers.

She had never felt so much pain. She couldn't catch her breath, struggling violently in convulsive spasms.

Valak roared:

- Let her go! Now!

She collapsed and began spitting blood into her own suit. It was terrifying.

- My girl, your human race will soon perish! And I'm definitely going to learn some things from you! Remember my face well! Because you're going to Hell!

The demons around roared fiercely! They could feel death approaching!

So many things were about to happen. Then it occurred to Gabriel to just kill herself.

When she felt like doing it, however, she somehow hung the tile she had strapped to her back. She felt a warming sensation and something seemed to nudge her. The tile seemed to move.

Suddenly she looked around - she was in a completely different place. Everything in her mind spoke of something very special - she wouldn't mind knowing the secrets of death!

THE DOOM OF THE DEMON

 

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX: THE DOOM OF THE DEMON

 

Some consider death a blessing, others a deliverance. But there are those for whom it is the only possible solution. Everything had to happen more or less in its natural order.

When the tile worked, Gabriel felt the essence of death. He felt the whiff of oblivion and finally, felt what it was to long for every last moment of life.

The demons were surprised and paused.

- "We have never seen a man wish himself dead, provided he can get away!," they nodded. "But that's your choice! You want to get out of Hell, but you'll probably remain stuck between Heaven and earth."

Gabriel nodded and bowed his head. Tears dripped from her eyes. Then she broke the tile.

That enraged the demons even more.

- "How dare you destroy Xaphan's tile?," they gasped in bewilderment. "It's the only thing you have to live for. You destroyed your only support!"

Then they pounced on it without thinking and started tearing it apart piece by piece.

Gabriel's head whipped around, and the light of space reflected in her bulging eyes. Her mouth was frozen in a chilling lifeless smile. Her hands were clenched in a death convulsion. Thus did the former "mistress" of the asteroid end her earthly journey.

Consciousness, according to some, is like an onion - the more you peel it, the more layers are revealed underneath. Gabriel's insides were shared among the hungry demons, who began to feed with seeming relish. They craved the taste of human blood. They wanted to feel it all.

- "You have to give her credit, though," one of the thrashing demons added, "she definitely knew how to fight. How many of us were subdued by that girl!"

After they had fed well enough, the demons spoke:

- "It's a good thing we put her out of her misery - she would have died anyway if we hadn't come to her rescue to eat her. But on the other hand," they went on, grinding ugly. "I think there's nothing human in her, or almost nothing."

Valak swallowed them down:

- Enough talk, Hans, intention was to drive us all into a black hole. And he almost managed to trick me. But, enough of that! Just enough!

The demons looked at him in amazement, not because they were impressed by Hans, but because they felt a new surge of power in their leader. They realized that he would keep his throne. And many heads would roll!

The demons recognized only the one ready for a real fight, ready to prey on others and show all that he had harbored all these years. Few were those who would leave just like that.

Valak knew something - Hans surpassed him in intellect. That bastard was probably the smartest in the entire universe. But there was something else. In life, and in Hell, emotional intelligence meant much, much more. Of course many argued that emotional intelligence could improve over time.

But Valak's secret lay in something else - in the distant future, morality had collapsed not so much because of depravity, but because of warped values.

Drowning men helped drowning men. And this picture was sad.

Valak seemed stable though his wounds burned him internally. This in the language of Hell some defined as "work discipline." The demons were impressed by the lack of steadfastness and cool calculation of his actions - he was their true leader. He was the man to show them the right path.

The asteroid wasn't big enough to take even half of the so-called demon army - so numerous were they.

One of the demons found a small scroll in Xaphan's bosom - engraved on it were the following simple verses:

 

"In hell I live, Valak will judge me, I go,

Whatever I say, I was wrong here."

 

They handed him the note. He bared his canine teeth.

- Very well written and very true!

The demons then set to work on the second part of their plan. It was especially important given that they had so much ahead of them.

They couldn't stay on this asteroid forever because the portal wouldn't be open for long.

The arcane symbols could drive you insane just looking at them, and the aura of emanation was extremely strong. There was no doubt that one of the so-called spells could block all activity on the portal and that would truly be the end of them.

They voiced their concerns to Valak, and he made it clear to them that there was a solution to the problem. The asteroid would soon pass by a supernova star and this was their chance.

Just then, the place filled up with traitors - very brazen and low down traitors. They wanted to eject Valak from the asteroid into open space.

Some of the most powerful demons like Paimon[52] and Oriarx[53] roared:

- Kill the king! Hell commands! He's lived enough already!

Valak, however, did not lose courage. He anticipated a possible coup, but did not suspect that someone like Hans would orchestrate it. He didn't understand how an ordinary man could Enter the psyche of his subjects and manipulate them to such an extent.

The demons grabbed him and tied him up with ropes - so he couldn't move.

Deep inside, he sensed doom.

- "I have helped you so much," he began. "I tried to rally the infernal forces."

The demons are enraged at him:

- You simply had no plan and were leading us to certain doom on this asteroid from which there is no escape. Hans is much better than you, and if he has to be Hell's leader - let him! We will stand behind him.

Other prominent demons such as Soneilon and Tamus have tried to bring order among their rampaging fellows, but without much success. They felt that Valak's head would roll ah-ah-ah, but they wanted it done by the book. Hans was to be crowned the new king and given absolute power over the underground kingdom the Zegandarians called Shanor Dun.

Before that they asked him if he had anything to say as if for the last time. Valak looked at them grimly and said:

- I have none.

He was hanged at the entrance to the Chapter House, crucified between Hell and this world, tormented by the loss of his power.

As this occurred, a strange laughter was heard among the demons.

Apparently, this was how every demon lord ended. Strangled in its own webs.

Far ahead, the horns of Hell itself, or Shanor Dun, could be heard. They heralded the rise of the new ruler.

THE RISE TO POWER

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN: THE RISE TO POWER

 

Hans was wearing the robe of Argan that had belonged to many other demons before him.

He was also given his Emphusor to keep him from reading his own thoughts.

Deep down, though, he realized something super important - somewhere along the line, Valak had made a huge and unpleasant mistake.

Not even the demon doctor Uphir had been able to heal the wounds he had suffered.

The wounds tormented him because he himself knew what awaited him, but he allowed himself to delay the situation till the last. Valak suffered every day, but he looked like the ruthless demon he was.

A sick creature, full of infirmities, though invisible to the naked eye, not worthy to live by Hell's criteria. She simply will not be so well cared for by her subjects, who know that she agonizes.

The laws of the underworld are all too clear, and there is no room for improvisation in them.

Deep in his heart, Valak knew he was dying - and so was his soul, which was so sick. Living the life of a demon was not easy.

Many of his subjects, like the physician Uval or the demon Verin[54] suspected of his agony long before others knew. They knew it was time for the throne to be vacated - as it should be.

Hans assumed power and underwent a special procedure of clearing his mind - he had to be ready to take over almost immediately.

The demons recognized that regardless of his origins, it was most logical that he take command of the infernal hosts - he was damn smart, damn cunning, and damn immoral. What more could one expect from a master of Hell? Well, maybe he was still lacking a little brutality, but in time, who knows, he would make up for that weakness of his. Besides, demons didn't expect their ruler to be perfect

- After all, he was going to rule Hell, not Heaven.

Hans got the approval of all the senior ones like Nergal, Naberius[55], and Buer - that was more than enough to carry out his plan.

So many feelings shifted within him, but they all unanimously decided to reveal some of Hell's secrets to him right now without wasting any time. The situation was changing too fast for them to procrastinate.

Once he learned the principle of the operation of the Emporium and was acquainted with Hell's understanding of ruler morality, he had to go through the basic ceremonies. This took several days.

An assistant was assigned to him, Agares himself, who was cunningly aware that, though he had failed with Emborian, he would by no means repeat the mistake with Hans, who had every chance to succeed, and the old cunning man would advise him on every more important step and keep him from making mistakes.

The atmosphere in Hell was primarily one of deep understanding of death and how to avoid demons at all costs. In Hell, this was very important.

Agares had been through a lot, he was one of the oldest demons, but he feared it too.

- "Is what Pruflas claims true?," asked Hans. "He said the dimensions were countless many. And we can fall ad infinitum."

- "Your mentor didn't lie to you," Agares began very carefully. "But he has spared you some details about the structure of Hell and of the universe itself. It's all too complex. I'll put it to you this way. Your soul may perish, yes, it may ascend, but in the end, who needs all that? Sooner or later the truth will come out - first of all for yourself. Self-consciousness of the soul is one of the nastiest things - even in hell. And one of the most prolonged. It is not the tortures or adversities of this realm that sufferers more or less get used to. After all, what kind of Hell would it be if the soul expected what would happen to it?"

- "Then I want to ask you one last thing," Hans ventured. "What happens to demonic souls?"

Agares was in no hurry to answer. He was aware that there were great secrets in being this or that. He knew it from experience, and he was aware of how insidious his charge's question was no matter with what intentions it was asked.

- "Look here, dear Hans," he addressed him most politely, "it is not so easy to answer such a question. Not at all. The demon soul is not like the human soul, but the most terrible thing for it is not to cease to exist."

- "Then where is the clue?," demanded Hans.

- "There's the thing!," Agares hurried on. "We can never be quite sure where we're going. For some, Hell is a state of the soul, but others walk for eternity on a road that leads nowhere. Even in dimensions that have nothing to do with hell."

- "Is that possible?," wondered Hans.

- The demonic realm is just a place populated by certain creatures. In the end the soul doesn't simply cease to exist - it's primarily a matter of personal choice.

- "You mean we choose whether we die?," he asked.

- "Well, somewhat," the demon whispered to him. "I would put it a little differently. In the depths of our minds lies the truth of things. If we stop our search - we die. It's that simple."

- "But what is the truth in Hell?," Hans hurriedly demanded to know.

- "Well, it's completely different for everybody," Agares answered him seriously. "I'd tell you as if for the last time. A life cannot be built on an unstable foundation. If you're good, be good, but if you're evil, it's your path that leads to downfall. The tricky part is exactly how committed you are to what you believe and where it will lead you."

- "Am I to understand that demons don't know that much stuff either," he asked his last question.

- "Exactly," the demon muttered, "but the biggest problem is the lack of consciousness in the first place. Not in consciousness itself in general. The existence of the soul also has its own laws."

The diffusion around them kept anyone from hearing their conversation - that was the most important thing.

- "Why then does suffering exist," Hans tried to argue.

- "Because otherwise there is no good," was the answer. "I would also add that there is no life - and none at that!"

THE PATH

 

"If the path ahead of you is clear, you are probably walking on someone else's."

Carl Jung

 

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT: THE PATH

 

Hans rose quickly in the hierarchy and managed to achieve impressive things - he was one of the few who were successful in getting others to listen to them.

Only senior demons like Buer or Nergal had talent greater than his.

Hans didn't fool himself in his reasoning - he awaited his fate. Step by step, perhaps, he was sinking lower and lower, like a drowning man, but he knew that this was his way onward and downward. Had he already hit bottom, or was that bottom the top of a lower level?

The strange semblance of morality continued to fill his mind. This world was and remained Hell. And Hans was one of its inhabitants. For better or worse. Places still remained the same no matter where he would go. And this postponement of infinity only delayed his development.

The demons soon realized who they were dealing with, but it was too late - Valak was dead, and Agares valued his head. There had to be a solution to the problem.

Hans proved to be an excellent reformer and made quite a few changes to his new kingdom.

The demons were amazed at the insight with which he went about solving even the smallest problems.

This went on for some time. Once an old and experienced demon named Xaphan, whose tablet had protected Gabriel for some time before it was killed, asked him:

- What will you become next?

Hans found it difficult to answer the question thus put. There was something rotten in him-something unreal, to his understanding.

- "But I am a king!," he exclaimed.

- "Technically speaking," the demon sneered at him, slightly ironically. "That's perfectly true at the moment. But who are you and where are you going?"

- "Moral choices are extremely important. Not your title or wealth," the demon of corruption continued. "Here in Hell, almost all demons have fallen mainly because of their weaknesses. They didn't follow their true path."

- "So I have to find my own path?," Hans turned to him sadly.

- "Not quite," the demon supported him. "Rather, you must learn to live in a way that corresponds to your true path. Only then will you receive salvation, which may never, ever come anyway," he chuckled into his handfuls.

- "You'll get your justice only later," the demon sneered. "You can't get all the goodies at once."

Deep down, Hans groaned. He wondered if he had been wrong about everything so far. Things weren’t rosy - more than that, they were nightmarish. He figured the candidates for the hell throne didn't last too long - that was assuming they had a solid backing.

Hell was a strange and nasty place, designed for nasty and arrogant bastards who had achieved nothing in their lives. And Hans had risen to king - even here.

Agares had every interest in thwarting any coup attempt, no matter how brutal and unthinkably unlikely it was. That was the key to his own survival as well.

The First Duke of the East knew well how to be kind and moderate.

Every problem of the subjects was dealt with instantly and bureaucracy was kept to a minimum. This gave some impetus to life in the underground kingdom.

He was well aware that sooner or later the demons would start devouring each other and eventually, when only they were left, the underworld kingdom would End. Therefore, he was in no hurry to dole out indiscriminate and reckless punishments. He couldn't touch just like that lightly, or else he would cut his own branch and sink as well.

What the devils admired about Hans' wisdom was his incredible ability to get to the heart of the issues - it was a rare gift that deserved respect even here in Hell.

They came to him with all sorts of demands - some were too simple and ordinary, but others were too complex and required a very fine sense.

Hans allowed some sinners to be moved from the ninth circle of Hell to the eighth for good behavior. But there arose a controversy as to which pit to place them in. There were ten pits in that circle. In the third were crammed all kinds of sinners who traded in sacred objects. There they decided to place them.

The devils were delighted with this flexible solution. Every day Hans was showing some new side of his character, but he was actually digging his own grave.

He grew incredibly close to Agares, who became something of a second father to him and kept a close eye on his development. From him, Hans gained knowledge of ancient languages, as well as the few major dialects spoken in Ada. It took him too long to memorize the demonic symbols of all the more important and basic demons that were now under his power.

It was very difficult at times to judge where to put the new additions at all, as some were just about for all nine circles of Hell, which was unacceptable.

In time, Hans learned how to weigh his decisions and issue sentences on a case-by-case basis, rather than based on all the sins of the offEnder in question taken in aggregate.

THE CONFEDERACY

 

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE: THE CONFEDERACY

 

This body greatly facilitated the government of the planet and left a tremendous amount of power in the hands of Om Gur Nal. So inconceivably great that it was almost frightening. But somewhere in the middle of this council in question, bringing together the previous governing bodies, was an indepEndEnt figure to keep an eye out for corrupt practices and so on. There was no avoiding the money moment.

It had also prompted the sovereign to start using the Fifth Level of Virtual Reality precisely to carry out some hidden transfers. It was right and wise. There was no getting around the kind of scrutiny that was slowly draining Om Gur Nal's powers and forcing him to guard himself on three fronts - in virtual reality, from Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, and not least from the ex-officio Esaton himself[56] who was something of a judge of the morality of every official who sat on the Confederation's governing council.It was all cyberpunk here. Absolute underachievers in their mid-twenties or early twenties were running the whole ultra-large conurbation. They had graduated from the prestigious three-year super-intensive college course in administration at the Embodzan Academy and spoke three or four languages. Ibid. They were creating far more problems than they were solving. It was pretty cool. There were enough weird hits on the walls of Archison[57] - the main administrative building of the new super city-state.

Archison was the brainchild of Om Gur Nal, who was downright sick on the subject of cyberpunk. He wanted the whole fucking planet to live in this damned reality - for better, or worse.

Everything would fall into place, but it would take a long time - there was more.

Few could accept that boys and girls with no particular life, let alone management experience, were in charge of everyone's lives. But Om Gur Nal would not give a word of thought to the matter.

It was gradually made an ingrained management practice and little by little people stopped grumbling. But still, every now and then there was a disgruntled person who would simply voice his incompetent opinion. In the end it was a matter of internal conviction.

On the walls of the building in question there were rather strange images - some futuristic inquisition and traces of artwork mixed with cyberpunk elements.

Interestingly, there were painted wings of archaneanss with strange elements resembling the emblem of the Tarash Duk sect. Of course one could only guess at their meaning - some barely noticeable similarities as well.

The meetings passed in a leisurely atmosphere in the style of a college gathering, and somewhere in there came the so-called breaking point. Such brutal lust had to be knocked out somewhere. Not infrequently there were orgies between the rulers themselves. So normal was everything perceived that no one thought it was much of a problem as long as the work was going on.

Om Gur Nal's main requirement was that they all had to be orphans or taken straight off the street. This Ensured their loyalty, which was extremely important to the sovereign. He forgave them these small freedoms and they looked upon him as a father despite the small difference in their ages.

They had a saying - "Taken from the street, hired by Om Gur Nal."

The sorrow in their soul was immense and they lived in an eternal blue spring. So simple was it all.

In the distant future, many of the children did not even have the opportunity to have parents at all, and the chipping of their minds was further shaping their characters.

After a few years spent in the Archipelago, they had the considerable chance of becoming advisors to Om Gur Nal, and from then on it was up to them how far they would go. After a certain amount of time, they would disappear without a trace and their places would be taken by other naive people. And so on ad infinitum. Om Gur Nal was simply a genius in this regard.

THE MEILOVICH HYPOTHESIS

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY: THE MEILOVICH HYPOTHESIS

 

At last they decided to test Von Meilovich's hypothesis and to convince themselves of its correctness. That whacked-out downloader might have finally, driven them right into the ground with the depth of his pEnetrations.

This hypothesis showed how certain alterations in the hypothalamus[58] of the cerebral chorus could cause a rather rare phenomenon known as parallel virtual reality. It was observed only in peculiar individuals who could control through the part of their brain in question all the more basic functions of the major organs of their body such as heart, stomach, lungs and so on.

The subtle revolutionary scientific point was that they didn't need to clear their minds before going from one level of virtual reality to another. To put it another way, even Om Gur Nal couldn't be sure who was peeking over his illegal money transfers and other dark doings.

The depth of this hypothesis lay between the relationship of these two phenomena. Few even among the scientific community dared to give publicity to the theoretical possibility of such a thing being applied anywhere.

Cowboy was driven into a dead end and fell into a deep depression. He indulged in alcohol and many women. In his isolated apartment, wonderful half-empty and completely empty western bottles of various shakes and so on rolled around.

It was too bad such a talent had failed.

But Ser Mac Zon gave him a hand and saw his potential. So he became part of the team of brilliant doctors headed by Ursula von der Lan and Jack Di Mons. Each complemented the weaknesses of the others - they were so driven to succeed and adept at the art of looking even under the ox-calf. They had an awful lot of work to do. And they realized that they wanted to live - here and now. Driven to be on top of the world. In an eternal blue spring.

It was an open secret that the use of cyber-drugs was not explicitly forbidden by statute as long as it led in enhancing the creativity of the user. Thus, nearly forty percent of the board was bucking like horses. It saved them from failing, but it also took away from their humanity.

They had no real idea how they would fare if they were just instantly and unexpectedly thrown out on the street without any warning. They lived in their own fictional world and gave orders for the basic problems concerning the population.

Ursula von der Lan, came from a very, very wealthy family and her relatives simply gave her medicine to study instead of wasting her time all day. She was in charge of secretarial work and technical documentation and her post was very responsible.

Jack Di Mons also had an aristocratic background and had a lot of money. He had the most patents in the whole team, but they were rather cunningly stopped by the brash Gad ‘Di Enn.

Ser Mac Zon knew that the team he had created was indeed the right one, but he still had some concerns.

Their mentor was even more interested in finding out from them exactly which people could switch their minds in this strange and original way, and if this 'anomaly' was innate.

Somewhere in there, he suspected, lurked a secret inexorably linked to Om Gur Nal, and perhaps that would provide the key to the right answer.

The Doctor had a special sympathy for Von Meilovich, who was pulling the whole team forward and making tremendous discovery progress.

Ser Mac Zon knew that one day there might be even greater social and racial equality than existed as it was now. He waited for it with all his heart. He suspected, however, that he would probably be killed by some malefactor well before he could see it.

Somewhere far ahead he was charting new horizons that could change people's destinies. He wanted the new morning to be better than the last.

Von Meilovich was an orphan and a passionate fighter. Uncharacteristic of his profession as a doctor, he boxed skillfully and was also proficient in wrestling and jiu-jitsu. He had spent time in the army where he was a hand-to-hand combat instructor. This happened naturally before his studies at the Academy, where Ser Mac Zon noticed him.

The young man had graduated from the Nal Rhys Moon Lyceum, where many things had come to a head. He had a real opportunity to show what he could do and do it well.

He immediately became his mentor's assistant. Ser Mac Zon of course was quick to tell him about Sacklin’s spell and explained that they should try to avoid possible problems of that nature.

- "So he's lost his mind, has he?," Von Maelovitch turned to him incredulously.

- "Apparently such a thing has happened after all," Ser Mac Zon answered him quite frankly.

Nal Rhys Moon was an extremely heavily guarded place and looked more like a military base than a hospital.

The students here were gods chosen - either they had powerful protections or they had parents with a lot of money, and not infrequently both.

The conversation took place in one of the well-insulated corridors of the East Campus.

Von Meilovich was younger then, with a clean face and bold intentions to prove how good a doctor he was.

- "They immediately classified it here and forbade talking about it at all," his mentor whispered to him confidentially. "I advise you to do the same, or we will both take it - and very hard."

He handed him a small electronic notepad. The young man glanced around its now slightly primitive form and was astonished to find that he had to go through a number of encrypted directories before stumbling upon the real part of the mad genius's discovery. Here's what it said:

"I am Jonathan Sacklin, younger brother of Jonathan Herns. He and I are both identical twins and have an emotional and mental connection typical of these cases. As we well know sometimes twins can read their minds. But not to be glib. I was quite unpleasantly surprised by my brutal discovery. Some more sensitive personalities like ourselves were able to switch our minds when passing from one level to another, but it turned out that there was a mortal danger in this. Somewhere deep within myself I lost self-respect, understanding what was actually happening in the procedure thus performed. I realized my curse of being a bad messenger. The problem is that consciousness gets split, upset, and unread and sooner or later is lost for good. Yes, you heard right - it is lost! Forever and irrevocably! But that is not the worst thing - you can easily lose your identity too. I feel this will happen to me soon too and I am even starting to have white spots in my memory as I write this. Tell my brother Jonathan I love him if I never see him again. That's enough for me. What a scientific breakthrough! Marked by my death..."

Von Meilovich was touched by the letter and fell into a depression. For some time he had lost all desire to see everyone, and even Ser Mac Zon had forgotten him. Since then, he began to work hard on his hypothesis and to develop the thousands of options that would prevent the so-called disintegration of consciousness in a virtual environment. He wanted to make an epochal discovery, but, alas, he had no strength left. Much later he stumbled upon something that helped him a lot and decided his fate later. And Von Meilovich was terribly grateful.

ARCHIBALD PEOS

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE: ARCHIBALD PEOS

 

Peos integrated circuits were a good way to make a step forward in science. They certainly gave great and wide possibilities, but they also hid a certain problem-the voltage in the the cerebral cortex could cause them to overheat and melt into the brains of their owners, and that would be extremely unpleasant. This usually happened with dilettantes who hadn't the slightest idea of virtual reality.

Of course brain-gifted people like the Herns brothers could get by without any integrated circuits or chips in their head, as even a simple program.

One of the basic requirements was that the IQ had to be no lower than one hundred and twenty for the first level of virtual reality input, one hundred and forty for the second level, one hundred and sixty for the third level, one hundred and eighty for the fourth level, and at least two hundred for the fifth level, which also required special permission from Om Gur Nal himself.

Naturally the Herns brothers were where-more gifted than that-their IQs ranged around three hundred and twenty. Even many scientists didn't believe that they had such developed brains.

It was even rumored that the younger brother's IQ was chasing three hundred and fifty. Considering the cyberpunk atmosphere they were developing in, that was a downright huge achievement.

The majority of researchers were yearning to see real life and dive deep into that reality. They wanted to see what was on the other side but couldn't.

Archibald Peos became incredibly rich from his discovery and felt in seventh Heaven at how important it actually became.

He was the son of a poor farmer who hadn't had the means to study a child with his gifts.

But one night he came across an unknown benefactor. A strange man walked in and asked to see his father on their family farm. They were more than grateful that such a distinguished visitor had graced them with his precious attention. And he had even ventured into a place like this.

They immediately offered him a seat. He coughed and fixed his gaze on Peos Ki Sor - that was his father's name.

- "Sir, while I do respect your convictions, you are in no position to provide this boy with a decent future let alone open the way up for him," and he looked indefinitely into one dark corner of their house.

The farmer was silent rather grimly.

- "Let's be honest, you just don't realise his potential. He is destined by fate to do great things," insisted the unknown guest.

The farmer slumped further and for some reason didn't look the stranger in the eye. A strange furrow of reflection appeared on his brow. A little later, however, their eyes met, and he said

- I won't move from here. He will become a farmer. And that was it. That was his true destiny. 'With all due respect to you and your rank, you're fooling me with some nonsense,' he retorted, trying to be polite, aware that the one across the way was very, very important.

They hadn't been able to harvest tonight and were trying to deal with the problem before the weather got worse. This was the so-called second harvest because the first one hadn't caught well enough. It had froze and brought a lot of trouble to many. Farmers were racing to get a bit more yield than the second.

Peos Ki Sor was among the last anyway and was fighting for its survival. But either way, everyone was Entitled to a place on this land. It was his firm belief.

- "Look, just how long are you planning on keeping your boy here?," the stranger took a second look at the unsightly place. "I even heard that the farmers are preparing a rebellion or something."

- "Sir, you'll never understand the feelings of one of us. We depEnd on nature. And if she has condemned us to death, so be it!," Peos Ki Sor tapped his fingers nervously on the table.

- "Why are you stubborn like that?," the stranger asked him a little impatiently. "Not much is asked of you. And frankly I'm sparing you the need to feed him."

- "That's impossible. I'll cede it to you, but I must have something in return," spat the other.

- "Well, well, what exactly do you want?," the strange guest did not stiffen.

- "Well, ten thousand electronic credits," said the other without blinking an eye.

The stranger made a slow movement and fumbled in a special compartment of his spacesuit. Then from there into the farmer's suit passed several rather large wads. His face remained impenetrable.

After the transaction was over, both men visibly relaxed.

- "Well, where is he?," asked the guest, evidently burning with impatience to leave the place.

- "Well, around here, surely," the farmer squeaked. "He's playing somewhere."

- "Archie, Archie, my boy," he raised his voice.

In a moment Archibald himself appeared. Just as he was. A peasant boy with blue eyes reminiscent of deep lakes. He wanted to say something, but stopped himself. He stared curiously at the dark silhouette of the man near his father.

- "Why don't we go outside for a bit," Peos suggested. "It's a bit depressing out here."

- "Well, why not!," agreed the stranger.

When they came out in front, they saw beautiful clouds over a lush green plain sown with elendorans. The fields stretched far ahead - as far as the eye could see. Each plot was carefully numbered and tended by the proud owner - Mr Peos. For the first harvest he sometimes needed numerous helpers, whom he paid out of his own pocket. And the expenses did not always justify the income.

- "I have a lot of debts," muttered the man, when the boy went aside a little and played with a beam. "The creditors are breathing down my neck."

- "I see," was the stranger's curt reply. "But, let me tell you this, you've lived all these years thanks to me."

The farmer gasped. He remembered his son's strange words when someone had paid off their mortgage a few years ago.

- "So you've been secretly helping us!," he marvelled.

- "That's right," agreed the strange man. "This boy is going to become perhaps the greatest technical genius on this planet. And you will have done a really good deed."

The two shook hands and parted.

The farmer remained staring after the strange visitor to whom he owed so much for a long time. Deep down, he felt that he was unlikely to see his young son again soon, and perhaps he would never hear his tinkling laughter in the farm yard again.

He was lost in thought. When he looked up, the stranger was gone.

THE MYSTERIOUS ENEMY

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO: THE MYSTERIOUS ENEMY

 

Von Meilovich's hypothesis seemed a revolutionary discovery, but there were many others who disagreed with his understandings.

Having had a good night's sleep, they went back to the laboratory.

- "So, you say, my dear, that everything lies in our brains," repeated Jack Di Mons again. "That's impressive, really. But I wonder if someone hasn't arrived at this revolutionary discovery before you."

- "Look," began the cowboy, "if we look at it realistically, most people use a significantly small part of their brain, don't they?"

Dee Mons nodded in agreement.

- "In that line of thought, the so-called functional asymmetry should be the starting point of our research," Von Meilovich sighed excitedly, "You know perfectly well that one hemisphere of the brain is the dominant one, but the much more important thing is that somewhere in there lies the key to the mystery."

Ursula von der Lan was taking notes most diligently and had focused her full attention on her colleague's witty deductions.

- "Well, let us assume that everything is exactly right and you are right. These people are something like chameleons among us," interjected Doctor Ser Mac Zon. "They can fit into any possible environment and speak on any subject, but deep down they are convinced that somewhere in there they will be able to pEnetrate everywhere. They are the ones who can truly switch their consciousness on different levels without any prior purification procedure."

- "Yes," was the cowboy's reply, "that is the basis of my hypothesis. And in general, I even think that some of them are capable of much more."

- "The only question is, how do we find them?," Ursula joined the conversation. "Somewhere out there they live and die in the thrall of their joys and sorrows, craving liberation every day, but it never comes for most of them."

- "The brain functions strangely, but perhaps they are people of pure consciousness," Von Meilovich added. "They are what are called seekers. They will stop at nothing in their desire to get to the truth."

The three laughed together. Von Meilovich went to one corner of the laboratory and looked at something in Sacklin's notes.

- "I just can't understand why Sacklin changed his name when they were brothers," he stroked his head thoughtfully. "I'm sure it will make a real difference given that we want to solve the mystery as soon as possible. Otherwise it could get dangerous."

- "It seems to me that Sacklin also wanted to hide something else," Jack Di Mons murmured thoughtfully. "He had some other idea. But what? For so many years no one had even suspected that the two were brothers and now this."

Ser Mac Zon watched the interactions between the two and listened most carefully to their concerns. Maybe they were right, maybe they weren’t. But in the bottom of his soul, he knew better - he couldn't work with guesswork.

He also knew that there was a second part of the recording, but he couldn't trust and provide it to his ward yet.

The rest of the message read, top to bottom, as follows:

"I feel I am dying, but the underlying cause of my death may be much more trivial. Something is going on inside my brain. I've been hiding my illness all these years. I soon decided to test my IQ level and found out it had passed the psychological four hundred mark. But I was at the fifth level of virtual reality without even knowing what was happening. That's where I saw my worst nightmares - I saw my own split self falling apart and my soul with nowhere to go. I ran into another naked man who was amazed why I was there and I told him he was my enemy. He may have misunderstood me. I know I sound more and more confused. I'm going to call it a day."

Ursula von der Lan coughed into her little handful:

- Sorry to interrupt.

Ser Mac Zohn snorted and mentioned to her that maybe that would be the solution to the riddle.

The two of them listened to the recording again while Von Meilovich and Jack Di Mons did a simulated test on a cerebral cortex they had obtained from one of the mysterious killer's many victims.

- "It's worth checking," she said.

- "Extravagant, but true nonetheless," Jack Di Mons murmured, hearing the recording. "Quite an amusing story."

Somewhere out there Von Meilovich was checking his hypothesis again.

- "I think a little correction is needed," he said. "Without it, all my work goes to waste."

PSYCHOPATH

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE: PSYCHOPATH

 

The inside of the mind determines many things - one of them is what a person is like inside. Some are like a rotten Ceburnagian apple and even their core is nothing like that. It was important to note that lack of consciousness was not the defining factor in this case. Many had the psyche of a serial killer or even a psychopath, but few had the strength to be one, or more accurately, to live such a life. Everyone knew there were psychopaths who didn't want to leave, and also those who mimicked an excellent sense of empathy. That was what it said in any average textbook on pathoanatomy. It was hard to get to know them at all, but once one did you could just see that their path led nowhere. The thought of it was frightening.

What was extremely frightening was that in the afterlife a terrible sentence had been assigned to them that would sooner or later be carried out, and they were only delaying its execution. They were lying to themselves, which was pathetic. But it was their only chance to "live", which would be redeemed little by little in eternity.

In the depth of their feelings, many were somehow neglecting reality. Their lives consisted of short ten or fifteen year periods in which they "lived" by mimicking empathy. Om Gur Nal was also one of them. Om Gur Nal was thirty-five years old and as we well know had been in power for about five. This was not a small thing, but he knew something terribly interesting.

Before he was crowned supreme lord by his bootlickers of the so-called Zegandarian Confederation, a terribly handsome young man approached him and spoke to him kindly:

- Future Supreme Lord, I have the honour of being close to your highness, who is so exciting. What is your secret?

Om Gur Nal pretended not to hear him. He had no time to argue with various leetle people who had not an ounce of self-respect - it was unforgivable and even disgusting. But on the other hand he had to maintain his 'mask' in front of the others.

- I will show all those people who are willing and have come to see me that I am an extremely approachable person. I do not intend to deprive anyone present of my aura and I want to give them my grace. At this ceremony people need to start a new life!

The little man bit his lip as he heard the future sovereign's response, but he did it so unnoticeably that it was almost impossible for even Om Gur Nal to notice.

- Fortunately, there weren’t many people around to overhear the curious conversation.

So many expectant faces were transfixed on the ceremony - a new supreme ruler was ascending. No one had ruled before, holding full power in his hands, except, of course, old Om Gur Nal.

The futuristic atmosphere was unique. The inhabitants of the polis had come out of their homes full of hope - eager to see again the beautiful crimson pink sky above their city and to experience that distant feeling of a coming blue spring.

Erzonian ring towers were built, characterised by an ultra-modern look as the city's metro ran through them. It ran on an anti-gravity plasma cushion and could travel over three thousand kilometers per hour - thus getting from point A to point B took no more than a few seconds.

There were also extensive renovations on the site of the old refinery on Maerx Street. Om Gur Nal had promised huge boons to the naive fools who believed in fictional worlds.

They wanted to believe that this was not the way to the abyss, but the supreme leader knew it was.

He had also provided huge superspeedways across the polis and built impressive ziggurats to which he had assigned religious functions in order to have freedom of religion.

The people did not graze grass and could clearly see what was what. Each period of their lives passed in its turn. Of course the dreaded judgment was knocking at the door and many would feel it.

Om Gur Nal could sense what was happening, but the people had come for the real spectacle - they wanted not bullshit, but a perfect image of a victor and a visionary capable of uniting the whole planet under his rule. That could warm their hearts.

Refinery workers' wages were raised by as much as fifty percent and shifts were made without overtime. Serious measures were also taken against abuses.

The name of the refinery was not changed in memory of the many sacrifices made during the previous war.

The massive kevlarite domes were something that could not fail to catch the eye. The futuristic neon-irradiated chetan towers beckoned workers to climb up and sample the magic of this industrial masterpiece. There were so many smiling people that day at the inauguration[59]. Mothers with children were laughing and wanting to see the supreme leader.

The sun was setting lazily and carried with it both a hot intensity and romance, but also a kind of prediction that this idyll would not last too long.

Om Gur Nal was far-sighted enough to capture the sentiments of the crowd that would elevate him to power and let him do as he pleased. That day would definitely be remembered - for better or worse.

- "Come and hear what His Excellency has to say to us," said one of the women standing nearby. "He speaks so well and his words are so clever. He will be our new hope. And the guarantor of our glorious future!"

The crowd went wild and euphoric - it was strange to see all those hands raised up in the inevitable position to touch the miracle of absolute power. It was like a drug for those who had seen too many summers but felt in their hearts that the end of their lives was near.

- Please let me just see his robe. That crimson color. 'It looks like something like a huge scarlet flower,' uttered a young man, waving his hands furiously in the air, 'Let me just get a little closer to it. What are these freaky security measures. So this is pure madness! It can't be! And we are the inhabitants of this polis! Let's see it! At least for a little while!

The bluish-green lights emitted all around were thrown on the faces of those present, who were muttering words in a trance. It was a real madhouse! A veritable feast of vanity but also of power! The mere mortals were surrounded by a god! A true lord of the universe!

THE LADDER DOWN

 

"The sinner knows pain. The sinner also knows pleasure. And emptiness. Maybe even love - through its thrills."

Prince Pope Jean

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR: THE LADDER DOWN

 

After the coronation, the great Om Gur Nal realized his superiority

- No longer could mere mortals even approach him. He was in another dimension - that of the gods. He wanted to achieve something no one else had achieved and go where no one else had gone. And that, as we know only too well, is the road to nowhere.

Everywhere Om Gur Nal turned he saw betrayal and base baseness that disgusted him.

Om Gur Nal ascended the throne as a young boy but soon lost his human form. Of course, this was not immediately apparent to those around him. Om Gur Nal was living his life well. He did not observe any morality. He had the Confederacy of Zegandaria behind him, hiding his misdeeds, he had the people of Equius, who dutilessly made sure his money never ran out, and finally, he had people like Sheim, who provided him with the street. And the friendships with the Archmistress of Synthros and the Duchess of Learnia were just dust in the eyes. Om Gur Nal didn't immediately forget himself - he needed some time - he still wanted to get the situation under control properly. In about three years he forged an empire that was unbreakable. Only Kazuk Mon resisted - that old and sickly lecher, slave to his lust and sweetness. But he was soon removed by the great chief and wise teacher, Om Gur Nal.

Om Gur Nal was a slave to his manhood and was as cunning and sneaky as a fox. He realised that it was not enough to just have it all - he needed some more stable and reliable solder to disguise it for longer.

Possessing women he considered a huge folly to maintain his power - not for anything else, but because the Confederacy itself, had to be kept at bay, or he might cut the branch on which Om Gur Nal sat.

Om Gur Nal was aware that these twenty-five years of complete domination were just going to pass by little by little - quite imperceptibly. He had now been in power for five whole years.

Om Gur Nal's fate after this period was over was unknown, but eyewitnesses swore that their soul ascended to Heaven and lived a life of its own - away from everyone else.

After the coronation, Om Gur Nal relaxed in his empty throne room - his reign was not to be envied. He had knowledge, money and immense power to do whatever he wanted. He had dealt with his adversaries one way or the other. But the invisible enemy was still after him. It is important to say here that he saw power not narrowly, but rather one-sidedly-everything was coming to an end. Every five years the ruler had to go before the people to convince them that he was fit to rule. It was his turn to dive into virtual reality one last time to find it. And to End it once and for all.

The ladder down had many rungs. Some of them were very slippery. Om Gur Nal was already falling down them, but he didn't feel it quite so well yet.

When the thunder of shouting shook some of the slums, Om Gur Nal pretended that he could neither see nor hear. It was so strange he had already lost track of reality. He only wanted to kill - but in his own sick mind.

Somewhere in there, the thread broke and he isolated himself from the outside world - keeping in contact only with the Archmistress and his cousin, because they were the only ones he considered worthy. No one else dared set foot in his palace.

His deep inner conviction was that sinners are happy in their grief.

In time, even the demons did not visit him - they realized that he was not their man at the moment. Instead, they focused their efforts on Kazuk Mon and let him know that a new life awaited him. Real power. Just for him!

Om Gur Nal was left completely alone and even realized the emptiness of his existence - he had illusory power over people who didn't even know him. He was aware of his pain but could do nothing.

Then he felt something strange. The invisible enemy was himself. But how had it all happened?

EMPTINESS

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE: EMPTINESS

 

After they left Peos's farm, the stranger headed with the boy to one of the most beautiful areas of Ektu Sor, a small oasis in the region of Learnia. He stopped there somewhere and ordered him a good dinner. The boy had never eaten like this before. But as time passed, he began to look at the stranger with curiosity. Things were falling into place. He remained overjoyed with his progress.

- "I've never seen so much food before!' the boy licked his lips, "I'm always hungry at Daddy's!"

- "Well, it's time you had a snack like never before," nodded the stranger approvingly. "But now you're going to answer a little question for me."

The boy looked at him questioningly.

- "How long have you known about your gift?," the stranger turned to him, completely serious.

- "Well, it's not been long," the boy answered, a little embarrassed. "I've been hiding it from papa, so to speak. I didn't want him to know exactly what was going on."

- "It's interesting that you've spent so much time on this farm," the stranger turned to him in amazement. "A lot of time indeed. And managing to protect yourself from the outside world. This isolated life can drive you mad. But you survived."

- "It wasn't easy," the boy said dejectedly, "but I made enough of an effort in that regard. Om Gur Nal took them a long, long time ago and there's just nothing to be done. We are de facto serfs."

The stranger looked around silently and just coughed in a very meaningful way.

- I know life is like a dumb joke sometimes, but you have to make an effort and move on - it's your destiny, Archibald Peos. I'm not here just like that. I have to guide you for a while, but after that you're just on your own. That is the situation.

The boy was looking at him fixedly.

- I'll just be your guide, too, somewhat. Then our paths part and you have to go in a new and interesting direction. There is the truth. But, all things considered, most on the planet Zegandaria live on average about forty years, so that's hardly going to be a problem for you. You have a whole thirty years ahead of you in which to change your life. And, maybe other people's lives.

- "Tell me," the boy asked him, "where exactly are you coming from? And why did you pay me off like that?"

- "It's too soon to hear my answer. Of course, I can tell you the truth now, but you'd better come to the answer yourself," said the stranger calmly. "But to do so would take away the pleasure of the whole journey."

Archibald shivered strangely. He realized clearly where his path was leading. To nothing. And this man was trying to get him away from the unsightly farm where he had grown up.

There were many and interesting things around them. The oasis had a rather active trade in rare antiquities looted in the various wars. It was also the main livelihood for the locals.

They walked around and realized something quite natural. Foreigners were not particularly welcome in this part of Learnia. Not that they couldn't come at all, but it was quite preferable not to hang around. Fate might well have been different towards Archibald had it not been for his escort.

Predatory arachnoids surrounded them curiously, their eyes moving now to one and now to the other.

Archibald watched fearfully. But the stranger went on unperturbed.

Around them the strange creeps gaped nastily. It was logical, given the fact that this oasis, full of all menner of gnats, barely existed under the jurisdiction of the Duchess who was making mad money from it.

Many people saw the unusual phenomena that were happening here, but pretended not to notice or hear anything at all. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the Duchess was clearly aware of certain things.

This territory helped her supplement her income even in peacetime.

There was a serious guard of ghost warriors around the oasis. All of them were giving their all even if a chicken couldn't get through.

THE ARCHANEANS

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX: THE ARCHANEANS

 

Strangely enough, there were archaneans in this camp - they felt they were in their own waters, for only here were they not cast off as different. The Arachnids simply accepted them and didn't interfere as long as they accounted for a percentage of the sales of their goods. And their goods were in great demand.

Archibald turned with the stranger towards one of the many stalls. There the archaneans was too busy tidying and improving the view of his workplace.

The boy looked around and noticed something extraordinary.

The archaneans was crying. He didn't even dare to wipe his eyes. And continued his work.

Even though they were in a rather dry area, there was a deep romance. Somewhere in there was a place for everyone to express their feelings. To get help, even if it was brief. The whole point of this place was forgiveness. If the archaneans could sell these goods elsewhere, they would. But they could only here. And only here.

Far away was the Dutchess' castle. It wasn't catered to by a vast number of admirers, as one might think. But she was trying to get some attention nonetheless. She had retained that youthful insecurity about herself that was kept quiet. She was a belligerent nature, in no way inferior to her cousin.

The childish in her was sometimes too much in excess. But she had managed to consolidate her power. Her sense of inferiority betrayed her at certain times, and her sense of freedom gave her wings. She knew she would die soon. She was terminally ill and she could see what was happening around her. No one cared what was going to happen. She counted her days in hopelessness and wanted to do something good just a little before she closed her eyes forever.

She'd heard about the Archist's death and was acutely aware that she would just be the next victim sooner or later. It was a matter of time. She wondered exactly what she had done all her life and how real it had been.

Having inherited vast riches, she realized exactly what was going on and how fake she had spent most of her time. She had no real friends and was just slowly dying day by day.

She figured if she gave the archaneanss some privileges she would atone for her guilt and postpone the terrible and inevitable judgment that weighed over her head. She was aware that whatever she did would be judged in the next world and her head would be bursting all the while. She was just fooling herself. That was the whole point.

The archaneanss were thankful and somewhat charmed by the fact that they could live a normal life. But it was a fleeting feeling that would soon fade and be replaced with hatred. A hatred that had nowhere to go. Death was around the corner and they were only fooling themselves by delaying their own End as well. Their race was slowly dwindling and they could be of little use here. Yes it was true that Om Gur Nal had given them places to live, but deep down they felt the emptiness.

The stranger braved it and went to the real part of the marketplace, but in his soul he felt a strange tick. The boy also sensed his moods.

The two shopped briefly and saw what was actually there. One big eye, blue as the sky, sparkling and full of sadness. It was the crystal-encrusted eye of an archaneans.

- "Why are you selling it?," the boy asked. "It's probably too valuable!"

- In the old days our race was mighty and indeed well equipped to survive the harsh conditions of the planet. But things are really different now. We can't change many of the facts. Everything will just fall into place sooner or later.

- "What changed in the end?," the boy asked.

- "Nothing," the archaneans replied somewhat coldly. "You know we fight for every scrap of time to live. And we try to spread our wings that once grazed the air with might."

The boy looked at him strangely.

- "And where are the others?," he ventured to ask.

- "Some died long ago, and others disappeared without a trace" the bird-man answered him in all seriousness. "And to find out once and for all, whether we, as the first inhabitants of this planet, were a mistake of nature or not!"

They paid their find and left.

The stranger hired him a guide and a large groandus, for the Duchess of Learnia was secretly breeding several, and said gravely to his face:

- Thy time is almost come. I advise you to sleep to-night, and then we shall see. But from now on you go on completely alone.

The boy turned pale. So soon they had to leave.

- "Guard your gift well, and may it bring you happiness," the stranger addressed him kindly, but somewhat coldly.

They questioned the bird-man about some things regarding their route in the future. He kindly directed them.

The oasis of Ektu Sor was left behind them. They decided to camp near it and spent the night listening to the unearthly music of the storm in this semi-desert region.

NEW FRIENDS

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN: NEW FRIENDS

 

The next morning Archibald Peos awoke and rubbed his eyes. He was happy because he didn't know exactly what was in store for him. Death seemed to be behind him, but soon he was clearly aware that something was happening. Everything was just going to slow down in time, and there was no avoiding it. His unknown benefactor had abandoned him just as he had appeared - quite unexpectedly.

But the next day they set off with the caravan to their destination. There was so much that Archibald was seeing for the first time. Now he would be able to live. There was nothing of interest on his father's farm. He was forever hiding there, awaiting punishment if he made any major mischief.

His guide took him to the metropolitan city and under the able guidance of old Om Gur Nal, the youth showed remarkable knowledge of mathematics and managed to overcome many obstacles and enter the Nal Rhys Moon Academy. He inwardly felt the difference when after its completion, he came out a completely new person. There was simply nothing more to be desired.

The young man felt a special regard for himself and his background at an early age. It was as if people didn't want him and he had committed a huge sin towards everyone. But as the years passed they accepted him and he began to show remarkable achievements. For some - they were false, but for others - they were completely genuine.

Little by little everything was falling into place and he felt a surge of new strength. The wave of despair had passed him by. In his miserable twelve years of life he had only seen the farm and its environs no more than three or four miles away. His life had been rough and monotonous enough to make you downright sick. No one noticed him and no one acknowledged his presence in any way. His father worked like an idiot every god's day to account for the necessities of Om Gur Nal, who had become particularly greedy. At one point the boy thought of suicide but decided it was too early for him. He wished to see what life would offer him next. He wanted to rise up and screw his head against the tyrenny of the all-powerful ruler. However, he soon realized that this simply could not happen. In his frustration, he began to pray fervently, and somehow, out of nowhere, this stranger appeared. There was no definite reason. There was no set time. It just happened. And it was for his benefit.

Now a new period of his life was beginning, a new existence that would be marked with many twists and turns. Each one could only mean one thing - a chance at success. One small salvation. But for how long?

The boy tried to find answers to his questions, but there was no one to guide him. He wandered in his nightmares. Even in one of them he saw Emborian Zontul as a dry tree, fucked by relentless winds in Hell itself. The sight was terrible. It made him shudder. He saw what awaited himself if he did not find salvation. And the stranger appeared.

Once they were settled in the capital, things took off with renewed vigor and began to pick up tremendous speed. Once he began his scientific career how technologically backward the planet of Zegandaria was. Peos integrated circuits made it possible to build the four remaining levels of virtual reality. They just all clicked off, and Om Gur Nal made him his first advisor. No one had ever stood as close to power as this little peasant who rose to these vast and impressive heights. Not even the great Gad ‘Di Enn  indulged in the excesses which Archibald could do at will, protected by the supreme lord. He did not have a bad heart or harbor malice towards anyone, for in his heart he could not hate. He tried to love, but it wasn't that easy. Somewhere in there he managed to learn the secrets of the people who were nothing more than puppets pulled up by the supreme power.

His friends were Azoson and Makayla, who truly cherished him, and later others joined the company.

Asoson was the son of a prominent banker, and Makayla leaned on his uncle's connections in the educational sphere of the polis because, as the rumor had it, he was going to become a PR man for the major corporations and defend their interests against bags of e-credits. But by then he still had another dozen or more years.

So Archie had everything on his plate, and he was only twenty-five. In just nine years, he had outpaced his peers and proven his genius status. But then something in his soul cracked! And he understood why Emborian was struggling in a hellish whirlwind and suffering like a tree.

There was another world waiting for him down there, one that didn't care for his excellence or impress with his knowledge of physics and mathematics. There the new reality was beginning. And for Archie it was not a very pleasant one at that. Of course, the demons didn't visit him directly, but he saw them at his patron Om Gur Nal while secretly watching him. And he realised the full simplicity of his existence. He had lived all in all fourteen years. Well, it was true he had lived wonderfully and excellently, but only that much. And his former friends Azoson and Makayla didn't even think of him. They were watching their own lives.

They had once walked around the beautiful sights of the city, but that was long gone. Archie had become very engrossed and eager to achieve something big and great to wow everyone with. And he noticed how Om Gur Nal's attitude towards him was changing slowly and gradually. The threat he posed was more than evidEnt, but Archie pretended that everything was fine.

Time passed and nothing changed. Once they had arranged to go out for a bite to eat and the weather was excellent.

They sat down to eat and Azoson asked him openly:

- What is your secret to being so successful? And how did you get to Om Gur Nal?

Archie froze in his seat and said nothing. But he understood the subtlety of the question.

He very cleverly tricked him and from then on he just became a different person.

He understood that all over the Academy they were preparing to purge him, but they didn't dare yet because they didn't know how it would work.

He had graduated a long time ago, but he would visit this place from time to time and impart his knowledge to the underclassmen.

Azoson had taken it upon himself to eradicate it, and as quickly as possible.

Makayla didn't say a word. She simply joined him in helping to wipe out her now former friend.

But Archie beat them to it. Forewarned of their plans, he stalked them and blasted them with his plasma blaster. Well, there were no witnesses, but suspicion fell on him.

There was a small wetland near the Nal Rhys Moon Academy. He hurried to hide the corpses and make it good. Soon, however, he was sniffed out and the trail, albeit slowly, began to lead to him. That's when Om Gur Nal stepped in and saved him. He felt that his protégé had not wiped out two people just like that and surely sooner or later they would reach him. And again triggered the mysterious assassin who would liquidate Shame much later. That was his specialty.

After the incident, the others backed away from him and began to sense his vengeful nature. Thus, he developed a special reputation and gained an almost legendary status.

Production was going more than well. Peos' integrated circuits were down to the micron. This was very convenient, because in a smaller area one could fit an almost countless number of componEnts and place the circuit board deep into the receiver's brain.

Archibald didn't particularly care and realized exactly what was going on. Om Gur Nal seemed to withdraw from the conflict and remained slightly passive, but something rather unpleasant was sunsequently discovered - the other classmates secretly suspected the boy. And it wasn't about the conspirators, it was about the others. So he was left completely isolated and alone.

At first he didn't care and shut himself in his own bubble, looking around at the changing social reality. But one day he saw something astonishing.

VIS GOD 114

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT: VIS GOD 114

 

Not until he began developing his unique virtual reality integrated circuits did Archie have a chance to encounter the new dope being sold by shame. And in industrial quantities at that. He'd heard of its effects and wanted to be sure it wouldn't harm anyone in the virtual reality - at least while he was there. Being an excellent businessman and inventor, he set about researching the matter in depth.

He realized that when you were high, it had an effect on your perception of virtual reality and your brain could glitch[60] - it was horrible.

So many things had changed in the meantime that you could have guessed straight away.

But the funding for his developments hadn't stopped. On the contrary, interest was increasing. The youngsters were mad to be let in at least at the first level, where they could let their imaginations run wild.

Over time, they began to get used to certain rules and restrictions. But the drug had entered widely and began to show its dark side as well. Archie had never raised this issue with Om Gur Nal. And he wished to keep his position intact - at least for a while. He was not living in dreams, but he was clearly aware of the end of his days. The youngsters would soon have no need for his vaunted integrated circuits because Om Gur Nal had taken over certain parts of the industry through his henchmen and was planning to do some secret developments. Soon Archie would have no need for it. But because he was a technical genius he had a chance to survive for another year or even two while Om Gur Nal dealt with his remaining opponents.

VIS GOD 114 was prepared from mandrake roots and thus the psychoactive alkaloids hit the receiver straight in the brain. But rest assured, Shame was unaware of the drug's side effects.

One day one of his dealers came up to him and told him he was going to stop selling. When Shame asked him why - no answer followed. Soon they found that same dealer murdered in a back alley.

The police never investigated anything. Nor did anyone raise a voice. But the street understood that Shame wasn't kidding. Whatever flaws it had, VIS GOD 114 was going to sell and that was that.

Shame hung up and lost track of where he was - not that he cared about the merchandise, he just wanted to be better at what he did. And to sell. And then everyone saw the dark side of that substance.

When they entered the first level, the youngsters saw the so-called distributor, which allowed them to "shuffle" around different places in the virtual world. Some didn't have the necessary skills to cope and just perished, but only in the virtual world.

This led to a strong outflow of customers and Om Gur Nal was not happy at all. He got Archie to be careful and took over the organisation of the whole process himself.

He decided that if he just mixed the mandrake with vicodin[61], it would ease the pains of those daredevils who wanted to go around the entire first level.

It was divided into many sectors and all sorts of things could be done there. Om Gur Nal really liked that level, though he had never been there for obvious reasons.

And what was most interesting, Shame had an obvious fear of going there.

His scrotum cringed at the thought that they might know of his weakness and what would happen to him on this level of virtual reality.

On the first virtual reality level, there was a huge river and beautiful mountains covered in greenery. The youth loved running on these slopes, undisturbed by anyone and having the feeling of complete freedom. The high mountains had different climates conditions at the summit and at the base, and this enabled their ascent to be organised.

On Zegandaria man inhabited the lowlands, but here he could touch the sky - if only for a little while.

There was also a market town on this level where one could go and shop for some virtual reality items.

Here one could also gather enough knowledge for the second level, which was the maximum allowed for mere mortals. From there on out, virtual reality was cut off for commoners, but they made up for that fact with a solid amount of dope.

On the second level, the military had set up a pretty solid outpost of virtual guards to keep cyber reality safe from the Encroachments of amateurs, who happened to wreak enough havoc as it was.

For once, though, Archie went to see with his own eyes what was going on. He toured quite a few places in the first level of virtual reality. He took in the wondrous beauty and was in awe of the majesty of nature - albeit artificial.

He hadn't used drugs, and his mind was razor sharp. He decided to take it to the next level, but wondered how he could get past the post.

The virtual guards were particularly vigilant, and there was no joking with them. Even Archie could easily perish in virtual space, but he had taken some precautions.

They were dressed in ultramodern nanomaterial uniforms with hussar motifs and were in something like speeders. The helmets on their spacesuits were copper-bronze red and cast lazy glares.

They didn't even look at Archie when he made to approach, but remained passive. A moment later he noticed a strange anomaly in their bodies - their heads stood not as if cut off, but with a peculiar downward tilt as if they dared not look at him.

The young man wondered why all this was happening and decided to use a ruse.

He had heard enough from General Zorin about the guards in question. There were six of them and they looked imposing. Behind them were the mystical Arleon doors through which one went further into the next part of this twisted reality.

Archie knew that with them you couldn't just bug their schematics, because they were built on an entirely different principle. Om Gur Nal held their so-called 'keys', but Archie suspected there was another way to overcome them.

He tried of course to overcome them by brute force, but one of them nearly crushed his head. He realized it was useless to try that way. The result was almost foretold. If he continued with his futile attempts, he would simply End up like a pathetic cockroach flattened against the wall.

Then he saw a peculiar mark on the harlequin doors, it was the same as the one on the cult of Kazuk Mon. It couldn't be!

- "Kazuk Mon Senpiro Manus!," he roared.

The guards stared impassively and moved away silently but respectfully.

Archie walked past them. But he had to open the doors. The guards did not obstruct him at all and did not care for him. They had simply backed away.

Archie tried anything. Then he remembered that if he touched the middle of the symbol and made an imaginary circle along its main line, that might help. And he wasn't wrong. The doors opened.

A strange smell and light emanated from inside, so bright it was simply unnatural.

Archie hesitated, but decided to continue. And walked through the open doors.

THE SECOND LEVEL

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE: THE SECOND LEVEL

 

The first thing the young man felt in his head was a hellish and unbearable pain. And nothing more. The pain intensified and soon he felt it in his throat, chest and scrotum. It was like something was squeezing him hard and wanted his brain to explode. It was unbearable.

At first Archibald saw nothing worth seeing and heard no sound. But he soon realized that going from first to second level was like comparing a first grader to a master. The difference was approximate. "If this is the second level, how much harder is the next? And how many levels are there in general?," he thought.

The interface at this level differed greatly on a number of parameters, and it had to be admitted that few people had even hung around it.

There was no beautiful greenery or high mountains here, and there was a lingering military atmosphere with elements of nostalgia for something irretrievably lost.

The more things he saw, Archie convinced himself that not everyone would be able to bear to be here, but he couldn't. He had to act, and act immediately.

He looked around at the strangely oppressive atmosphere, much like the last war for Au Kaktir. There were out of commission speeders, huge Ziruarx that had been turned into a honeycomb of plasma shards of fearsome weapons, and many other ruins. But there were also some things not found on the planet Zegandaria at all.

At one point, Archie saw a massive pylon and the sign of Kazuk Mon that was stuck on its top. The young man snorted. Apparently this level had something to do with the Archpriest, but somehow, it shouldn't have been too obvious.

On the second virtual reality level, the young man began to get a real sense of how wrong everything was. The green hills and mountainsides seemed to him to be a manifestation of rather bad taste, and the beautiful river was like a misplaced blue streak in the middle of something.

Somewhere in there he felt that the second level was the level of sadness, of those things that just couldn't be undone.

Now was the time to find a place to explore and get a feel for what had really happened on Zegandaria over twenty years ago. But then he realized something else. Not everything had been said and shown in those years. The new generation had no knowledge of the events surrounding that war.

No one cared, and they wanted to live out their strange cybernetic dream as fully as possible, without thinking about unnecessary details and someone else's arbitrariness.

The grotesque thing in this case was the utter doom of most in this life and the next. They were the walking dead who wouldn't admit it. Had they known it, they would have ended their "lives" almost instantly. But then they would have fallen into a peculiar and cruel trap, for they had forcibly interrupted their own development.

V&A architects were highly regarded, and the profession had roots so old, by today's standards, that it could almost be compared to craftsmanship. The V&A architects created and managed the El Worlds thus created, but there was something else. There, somewhere for the experienced eye, the profanity and underdevelopment of not the graphic part of this illusory world, but the soullessness and lack of salvation within it, was apparent.

Back when they were building it, Om Gur Nal had ordered them to leave at least a small chance of salvation, not for any scruples, but to have some pro forma fairplay[62].

The architects responded to him rather bluntly that if they really allowed that, then their whole design would go to the movies and it would be far more realistic and just, building this whole world to be like Hell, or more accurately like real life, and not Entitled to second chances.

Om Gur Nal mentally agreed with this reasoning, though even he found it a bit cruel. But he decided to trust their expert opinions. For better or worse it gave a boost to the further development of all this.

After some wandering, Archie stumbled upon that same naked man seen by Om Gur Nal himself on the fifth level.

He looked grotesque and his bones were almost charred. At this level, he had to suffer and feel the pain, with no right to salvation. Archie looked him over and didn't even show sympathy. It was as if this pitiful human rag deserved his fate. It struck him that some remnants of his clothes were still visible. He took it upon himself to do his own little research into what had actually happened.

He continued walking across the lifeless field, surveying the remains of the devastation.

On a rusty electronic sign he read the following inscription "I made you a present!"

The boy felt a strong headache and a definite malaise in some of his internal organs and decided it was time to leave this level, but he wanted to look around some more - even at the risk of his life.

Far ahead was some semblance of a castle, or at least a very large building. Archibald started that way.

THE CASTLE OF AK DIN

CHAPTER NINETY: THE CASTLE OF AK DIN

 

Ak Din's castle was done in a futuristic oriEntal style. This castle was truly impressive despite its relatively modest size. Inside was the master of the second level

Virtual Reality, which was called Ak Din[63]. Ak Din was a famous by his fearsome nickname, the Torturer, because he tortured and castrated all suicides on the level Entrusted to him.

He looked like an Arab and his cruelty was proverbial - many had perished from his brutal temper of a merciless judge.

Archie entered his castle, producing an idEntification card one of the guards had given him. It was then that he realised something terrible - Ak Din was a eunuch. He himself liked to torment others to compEnsate for his own inferiority. Of course, he was a eunuch only in virtual reality, not in real life.

- "Who are you, young man?," the man with the look of an Arab asked him.

- "I am Archibald Peos, the designer without whom this reality would be impossible," Archie modestly spoke.

The Arab stroked his beard, which was artificial. The testicle-deprived could not have full facial hair.

- "You do know that I can castrate you at any time and take away your manhood?," the Arab asked him without a drop of shame.

Archie answered him:

- I have defeated thy guards at the gates, and the harlequin gates have revealed thy secrets to me.

The Arab leaped up in a rage and seemed to want to kill him, but he began to realize who stood before him. Then more softly he said to him:

- Be it as you say! As you have decided!

He then motioned for the guards to stand aside and led him to a side of his chambers.

The two of them struck up a four-way conversation.

- Why are you here?

- "I want to find out how many levels there actually are," Archie answered shortly.

- That is my main objective.

- "You have a very narrow mind, my friend," laughed Ak Din most amiably. "If you're only interested in them, that's another matter, but I think you came for something else. You're hardly risking that much just to realize what a thing VR architecture is."

Archie grunted.

- "Om Gur Nal's enemy is not my enemy," he said shortly.

- "So be it, you've stayed here too long," Ak Din lowered his voice.

The lord's chambers were richly decorated with expensive and excellent-quality shirrels, and the satin bed and furnishings showed that Ak Din spent most of his time in sweet and pleasant sleep. He also didn't like to give himself much of a hard time, which he thought was killing his enjoyment of life.

- "Where are the military's developments?," asked Archie.

- "Well, they, such as that," the Arab stammered. "Do you see that hill behind my palace? - There's a virtual version of Area Nine in there somewhere. Well, it's not quite the same as the real one, but you can get some idea."

Archie snorted. It meant he was about to figure out what was really going on.

Ak Din's castle was built on sand and so brutally fortified that a chicken couldn't get through. The architects had reinforced the bottom further so that this futuristic construction would not sink deep into the bowels of the earth. Deep down, Archie could feel something. The lord had surrounded himself with a chain of castrati that raised his stallion ego, but at the same time, he hadn't even stepped outside his castle.

This clever head who was a titled knight of knowledge and the protector of the Second Level Virtual Realm was just like dust in his eyes. It took him a while to realize exactly what was going on.

The deaths of the brutally beheaded wretches didn't move him because he was building his paradise on someone else's suffering. Many had to die for him to live. But how long could this pattern be maintained? He was extremely unstable.

Ak Din ruled all in all five provinces that brought him a steady amount of e-credits and he relied on them. He wanted to be a real stallion. He rode his women like mares. But that didn't bring him satisfaction. He was extremely lonely and sad because he couldn't get out of the palace. He was a complete failure in his own eyes, but he was trying to shine in front of the others and that filled him with dignity.

Archie honestly didn't want to be a part of this whole thing. He wanted to leave as soon as possible and get an idea of what was going to happen with the military developments on the level.

- "Before you leave, I want to show you something extraordinary," the lord told him cryptically.

They entered a room that might have been intended for torture in the past, but was now solely intended to store a virtual model of the entire virtual world.

- "Look at this," he ordered.

Archie looked around and managed to count nine different levels.

Then the overlord moved the model through the air with a barely perceptible flick of his hand.

- "See the first five?," he whispered. "They show who is able to pass through the other four, which are inaccessible to any mortal, including Om Gur Nal. He has limited his thinking to the fifth level because he thinks himself exceptional and is quite limited in his reasoning. But you have a real chance to look at what lies within these four levels, as they are the key to solving the mystery."

- "But won't that ruin the whole world of this perverted reality?," Om Gur Nal tried to contradict him. "This is my chance for a breakthrough or a downfall to an uncertain future?"

- "Make yourself clear," Ak Din was confused.

- It is said that Om Gur Nal criticises the clear minded but has a different attitude towards those who live in a strange reality that he cannot accept. I mean - he has locked the virtual reality and has limited it to five levels, but hardly those four are related to the other five in any way.

- "I got you," he smiled enigmatically. "Well, everything in this world is connected. Be thankful for the food you eat and the bed you sleep on, because every day is given to you! And by the way, maybe the Most High has nothing to do with your suffering, or maybe you haven’t grown up to understand it."

ZONE NINE

CHAPTER NINETY-ONE: ZONE NINE

 

The military had decided that creating this exclusive zone was the best possible decision that could be made. They had done their math well, and were handling their problems in an excellent way.

There was nothing super amazing about this zone, except for the fact that the mythical race of lizard men had been created there deep in its bowels as the antithesis of the human race.

Archie was able to peek and figure out what was really behind the development of this super strange thing.

The base was heavily guarded, but with Ak Din's protections, there were no closed doors. And there were no forbidden things either.

The military base consisted of sixty underground floors, each one themed and with a specific function.

Archie realized that what he actually knew was one big nothing, and he had so much more to learn.

They agreed to let them look at the first floor and only the first floor, but no more.

It was here that Archie noticed something extraordinary. The staff wasn't made up of humans, but it wasn't made up of mutants either. Everyone had a special spacesuit covering them completely.

Many of the human souls were floating in a special vacuum environment, waiting to be implanted on the pre-prepared bodies. Archie knew well about consciousness implantation, but he had never heard anything at all about soul implantation.

A strong curiosity about what was on the lower floors gnawed at him, but the guards refused flatly to let them pass, with the clear argument that their minds had not reached the level to perceive what was going on there.

Archie longed with all his heart to glimpse his past, present and future. To grasp the idea of his strange origins and all those who didn't notice him around.

He wanted to see where the end of the soul was and why everything revolved around the same vicious circle from which there was no escape. Death for him was deliverance, but according to those more familiar with him it was just a kind of stepping stone to the beginning of the real journey. And where would it take him?

They questioned and looked. The floor was huge. Ak Din gave some instructions to the guards because he was clearly aware of what was about to happen.

Their leader was Adh Di Num, an old guarron who was Apparently in charge of specific and top secret developments.

He was about six feet tall and very wiry and determined to kill. He knew that Ak Din had the power to be at that level, and so he was mindful of his presence - otherwise he would have expelled him long ago.

Ak Din didn't feel quite in his own waters. A lot of things needed to happen, and he wanted it too.

- "You see," Adh Di Num began, "at the heart of everything is love. It defines the essence of our reality. Not some ephemeral fantasies. It is an illusion that you will escape and escape true retribution. It's just not going to happen. Remember this. The guarron race wanted to be recognized and exist independently. This of course did not happen and is completely understandable. What is much sadder is that the people lost their human face."

Archie was silent. He expected to hear something amazing and unique, but it didn't happen. Adh Di Num was feeling in his element. He showed them the Emporium chambers for transmutation and reimplantation of memories. It was getting too mysterious.

Certain substances were injected directly into special brains, which then had to be inserted into the bodies. It was quite disgusting!

- "But judgment is coming!," the guarron squealed evilly. "The wheel is turning and then you go stop it!“ he began to hop about in mad amusement. He had gone off completely!"

- "Let's go. There's not so much to see here," Ak Din hissed.

As they returned and the Emelioran elevator began to rise to the surface, Archie began to realize that the ascension of his soul was yet to come, and there was much more to see until he reached the truth. It was as if the human soul was like the scales of an onion and when you removed all of them there was nothing left at the end. That was the young explorer's greatest fear! To become nothing!

THE PRISON SHORE TUK 2

CHAPTER NINETY-TWO: THE PRISON SHORE TUK 2

 

Rarely could one find such a sad place where the doomed spent the rest of their days. Many curses and blackened faces were welded into this infernal abode. Most of the people, had long since lost their will to live. Boss wanted to come here, of all places. He was clearly aware of what was to come. He was going to interrogate some of the worst criminals, who were going to feel terrible and unspeakable suffering - and very soon. The Shore Tuk 2 prison was a replica of the one erected on the planet Ossonia. It was located deep in the bowels of the Black Mountains of Raz On Tul. These fearsome mountains of black obsidian, were cut by blood red threads of ammonad kevlarite, which was poisoned and used to stop escapees. The prison guards had never allowed an escape in its history.

The prison authorities became animated upon seeing the unexpected guests, which aroused their attention and curiosity.

- "Yeah, see, see you," repeated the warden with a start. "You are a detective, I suppose? How can I assist you?"

- "Well, everything in its time," Boss countered him. "Let's have a little talk first."

- "Okay," the chief of the guards pulled him into a small corridor that was only a few meters away from them.

- "I'll pay you well," Boss hissed at him, "and I'll try to be discreet. They won't sense my presence. I need some information. And you will give them to me if you wish."

The Chief thought seriously and experienced obvious hesitation.

- "It's not a common practice after all," he arched an eyebrow.

Boss sensed that he was a bone-headed nut. Well, everything would fall into place soon.

An awful lot of thoughts were going through his head. The cells were isolated cells that no one had real access to.

After a while he seemed to take a step back.

- You know, Detective, before I grant your wish, I have to tell you something. These people can't fit into society and never wanted to. You may be let down and your money may go to waste, but whatever.

The boss took the bribe handed to him and made a sign to one of his subordinates.

After a long wander through the long corridors of the prison's elaborate structure, Boss and his handler came to a segregated cell that was rather unsightly, but was top security. The interior of the cell strongly resembled an all-consuming abyss. But somewhere there at the bottom stood a man. A prisoner

- A victim of his own hopelessness.

- "Good afternoon!," greeted Boss, though it wasn't very clear what time it was. "I want to talk for a moment."

The prisoner was silent for some time. Then he fixed his eyes grimly on the floor of his cell. He merely waved his hand and pointed to something written on the wall.

"You're nothing, you were nothing, and you're going to be nothing again!" The writing on the wall was incredibly lame and sloppy - as if the hand that had written it hadn't even been willing to finish it. Its end was not visible in the gloom of the room.

- "Very encouraging," Boss tried to keep the conversation going, casting an uneasy glance at any hidden weapons this extremely dangerous man might be using.

The prisoner started to rise abruptly, but immediately a powerful electric shock was driven into his scrotum area and hellish electrical spasms swept through his brain. Cruel as it was, Boss took stock of his torment. Surely they wouldn't have resulted in brain death, but they would have kept him "damp" as they said in slang.

- "My dear detective," the prisoner turned to him, "my miserable life rests on a horsehair, and it is a wonder I am alive. I don't want to suffer any more in my existence."

The diction of his voice was exceedingly regular. And his eyes looked down unceasingly.

He had seen so many prisoners and criminals Boss was sick of it. He definitely couldn't stand hearing their excuses of innocеnce and wrongful conviction. But this one here didn't want, didn't beg, but didn't regret anything either. Boss really wondered what to do. This was definitely not what he had expected to see or hear.

- "So what is this prison for, my dear?," he tried to speak somewhat more meekly. "You have long built impenetrable walls around yourself and no one and nothing can break them down. Your life is truly Hell!"

The prisoner evidently made some sour grimace. Then he muttered.

- I think they sent Crazy Ames. Only he is capable of such savagery. But if you ask me if he killed your comrade Shame, I think it was someone else. And frankly, I have no idea who it was.

Boss gasped. Clearly this one had learned his lesson well.

- "Then our conversation could be considered useless," he said. "That's all I wanted to know."

At that moment Boss went and looked at the prisoner closely. It was a most ordinary electronic dummy that had a hidden recorder operated by a relatively simplistic artificial intelligence. Certain thoughts surfaced in his own mind - clearly someone was one or maybe even two steps ahead, and that someone knew enough about himself to lead him right into the trap.

The detective hurried out, but then three prisoners with laser cutters burst into the cell. One of them slit the detective's throat before he could gag.

- "We had to stop him before he learned the name of the real killer - Eradio Dee Monk," said a voice in the darkness. "Now we have to fool the rest of the team. - It won't be that easy, but if we succeed, we should kill them too. But we can't do it here it would be too obvious. Did you get the detective to a safe place?"

There was the sound of a suit rattling. The detective had died in his attempt to learn the truth. And the truth was too ugly!

THE DOUBLE STANDARD

CHAPTER NINETY-THREE: THE DOUBLE STANDARD

 

- "We couldn't let some outsider hang around and just ask questions," muttered one of the chief's subordinates. "Even if he was a detective and so on. But here's something else!"

The prison was silent and had heard the groans of the others - they had no right to speak. Every last one of them were drowning men.

Death watched humbly as the people drowned each other to surface. There were even some here with several life sentences. The cruel executions of the past had been replaced with An endless solitude - so quiet and peaceful.

Inwardly, their souls were like those of people without material shells, and soon a new life awaited them. The lives of people who had conquered the fear of death and who awaited their physical end with dignity.

Few, much less the prison administration, would have realized what this was all about. Yes, they would have accepted it, but they would hardly have felt it as the nearly four thousand inhabitants of this hell. People with lives hanging in the balance and expectations dangling. People who belonged to no one, and most importantly ones that no one belonged to. They were trampled like reeds by their illusory worlds, not by their crimes. And the saddest part was that their path led nowhere. It was a dead end. And their souls would be forever stuck and tortured in both this world and the next.

Praise be to those who trusted in the Most High, but he too had turned his gaze away, realizing their miserable fate. A fate of drowning men and people that no one wanted.

Confessor Bonayas was the only one who cared for their souls and tried to ease their suffering. So many of them were overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, suffering and realizing their mistake, but for them there would be no redemption. They would simply perish here.

There was dampness and extreme filth on the walls. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts so as not to disturb the others. Their fighting spirit had to be maintained, or the suicide rate would skyrocket too sharply.

They'd already had a few cases like this that were unpleasant to say the least.

Bonayas was trying to talk to them about the Most High and share some of his experiences, but many of them didn't even want to listen to him. They knew they were doomed and would die in terrible agony sooner or a little later. They were here to stay with themselves for a while and realize their terrible mistake and guilt.

Bonayas wanted to do something meaningful, but that was unlikely to happen with so many unwilling to help him.

Father was not trying to make them hypocritical believers, but at least give them one last chance to express their anguish. If they wanted to, of course!

When five o'clock struck, he would make his little rounds throughout the prison, and usually there were no more than one or two who were sincerely willing to share something.

He listened to them intently and felt what was weighing on them. On one occasion a very, very old prisoner came to him, one of the first ones here even. The holy shepherd himself didn't know exactly what he was here for. For some strange reason he didn't want to look at his electronic file either.

The unfortunate man had lowered his eyes. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want anything!

He wanted to be alone!

The priest pulled up a chair and stared into his face. It was drunk and somewhat jaundiced.

- "What can I help you with, young man?," he asked him, somewhat protocol. "It seems to me that your ailments are different. But you may be sure that no one else will know your secret."

The prisoner looked him in the eye and said:

- I have been repeating mistakes for so long that I ought not to repeat. I do the same thing over and over again. Why?

- "Well, I think you just haven’t learned your lesson. Life is a strange teacher. Usually we learn anything but what we really need. And maybe the problem is somewhere inside of us," father coughed.

The room was too strange. There was no outside light coming in or anything. There was no other reason for anything. Father's very presence was mystical.

The prisoner was intent and seemed to be trying to say something, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

- My boy, there are so many like you in this prison. I am only one. A single old man trying to give you a little support. Now let me tell you my story. Not long ago I was like you, but something made me realize and the experience was imprinted deep in my soul. I have since decided that I am either going to start fresh or I am done.

The prisoner continued to wonder what to say. The father tried to get up:

- Think over my words. We may not have a second conversation. Everything will fall into place. Each one of us longs to feel something that will breathe a spark of life into him. My time passed long ago. Long, long ago. I simply have nothing more to say. Good night!

When the cell closed, the young man was left alone with himself. He saw the truth and the situation for what it was. No mask and no makeup.

Each of the inmates in this cell had his own problem. But not everyone had it in them to stand up and solve it.

THE TRANSFER

CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR: THE TRANSFER

 

The conspirators felt they must deal with the open provocation an hour sooner. It was not going to be easy. The operational part had too many subtleties and they had to be careful not to get caught. This time it was extremely strange, because if they failed, perhaps almost the entire political order of the polis could collapse and their heads would be on the chopping block.

Alzengar hurried to dial the secret codes and asked for reconfirmation of his own technical checks. The artificial intelligence of the zomboroid security system embedded in the level five virtual reality returned the following code to him:

 

GFXFGOP *t5 r-432-#

2^6-u7i90

<R> @ ********

 

This was apparently an error signal, and he tried to reconfirm his authentications. It became exactly the same. He made a third attempt. His face paled.

He called out to some of his colleagues. Roenberg and Durban looked on dumbfounded. Equius wasn't there because he was checking the final destination of the translation. The idea was to circulate the money among several virtual banks before the final and conclusive transfer was made. This would have blinded the eyes of the majority if tax audits did go ahead.

Equius had just had to deal with a specific system that was too new even for a corporation as advanced as his.

In time, the thing would be wiped from the perishable memory of his enemies, and in the end he hoped to emerge victorious with a clear conscience and without caring much.

Something utterly embarrassing was exactly what was happening now. In time they would learn to cope somehow, but it was unlikely anything would change much right now.

Equius was planning an actual restructuring of their company and a fake merger and then they'd just blow all the money. Alzengar just wanted to sink into the ground, but he got a grip on himself and started sort of machine-like, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his head.

The banker finished with his task and began to spin like a madman, anxious lest something should go wrong at the last moment. But everything seemed normal.

Then he went into the next room where they were.

The viciousness of this system was so murderous. He didn't want to be a part of this status quo, but he was forced, and extremely forced, to turn a blind eye - at least for a little while longer.

He knew by the mortified looks on their faces that the end was near and it was only a matter of time before whatever was meant to be would happen.

Then, suddenly, the following message appeared on the screen:

 

%3467305t23

@*/^&?

 

The transfer was made. All three wondered what had caused the delay. But that seemed to go by the wayside. Equius was no fool, and realized that there were no accidents in this world. But at least now he was glad that something positive had happened.

Then somewhere ahead of them a special reconfirmation terminal opened. They pulled out their narenzianan reidentification chips. After going through that procedure as well, all three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

- "I've never had a transfer like this," Alzengar muttered as if he'd been beaten over the head with massive slabs of kevlarite. "I'm feeling an extreme brain strain."

Equius thought about it and decided to see if the money was really moving as he expected.

This was very important because he suspected someone's collusion in this transaction.

THE UNMASKING

CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE: THE UNMASKING

 

Detective Boss was buried in an unusual place in the prison, and this was the occasion of much conflict between the wardEn's men and some of the prisoners themselves involved in the plot.

He would have been forgotten by everyone, but the people on his staff decided to show loyalty and go to the trouble of looking for him. And so it was to be.

The detective had died lonely and useless in the company of a suspicious prisoner who just clearly wasn't all his. Shortly before his demise, he had even discovered that this same prisoner was just a cleverly crafted bogeyman who had been mouthing his false words, causing him to waste valuable time.

But Boss had come far, and the men behind him craved not so much for illusory justice as to get the job done. That was the main thing.

Being an assassin had its charms, but it also required a certain psyche. Boss's team decided to stage a raid on the prison, but they had to prepare well. The guards were too strong and impenetrable.

There were highly evolved robot androids roaming around, equipped with artificial intelligence that could learn and evolve. Their number was unknown.

Boss' team felt a certain amount of fear because the prison could have been a graveyard for themselves.

The prison's layout was obviously complex enough, not least confusing as the outer hoop of guard towers included as many as fourteen different facilities and the location of the central building had to be taken into account.

The futuristic equanate tunnels that connected its various wings were hexagram-shaped and covered with thick layers of kevlarite. Perhaps this was the best way to keep some unscrupulous prisoners from thinking of escape.

Imaya, Cowboy, Rento and the others had been instructed to take matters into their own hands in the event of their leader's eventual death. Big John and Averia Downs were with them, and so was Milo. They were all in all six people, which wasn’t enough.

Before the so-called quarantine procedure, they noticed what was actually happening to their boss. He had been brought into what was called the "Space Yard" - it was a special place where the prisoners held their rendezvous. Each one of them was entitled to one and only one summons for His entire stay here - and then only if his behaviour was good. Some of them even imagined they were up among the stars and wished to escape this hell down here. Closing their eyes, they were reluctant to return to their social way of life because they realized they were dying a little bit every day.

The ceiling was dotted with long green and well-secured irEnic lamps that cast lazy glares, like the eyes of a cat about to pounce.

There were quite a few cases of people who had ended their lives from an inability to adjust their psyches to a place like this.

In the past there was what was called hikikomori[64] which was characterised by voluntary renunciation of life and self-isolation, and now Shore Took 2 prison had re-educated the psyche of its residents and they were virtually unwilling to leave it. They had developed a peculiar syndrome that this here was their home and they felt normal amongst their own kind.

The prison cemetery was one of the saddest places that could possibly exist.

The detective's associates wished the prison authorities would take them there. They received an emphatic refusal, but after Imaya presented an electronic certificate personally from Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn  the management changed their position and allowed them to take a look, but for no more than a quarter of an hour.

The cemetery park was like the skeleton of a giant dead mastodon, whose sternum bones were half driven into the ground and he had buried his skull in the dirt - that's what the massive kevlarite beams looked like, which were semi-oval in shape and were driven some distance between the respective cemetery plots.

In the whole cemetery there was room enough for about four thousand dead, so really in that respect the prisoners had nothing to complain about. Every day various acts were done which might provoke an escalation of the conflict with the warders, who, for a corresponding bribe, provided this last refuge for the "condemned martyrs."

After confessing to the priest Bonayas, very often the executions took place the very next morning. But what remained hidden to view was their attitude to life in general. They had no particular desire to live.

They were believed to follow their own particular rituals of conscious purification before passing into eternal life.

Some even invoked the god Erduk in their pleas for salvation, but nothing was able to respect them except the thought of an imminent deliverance.

The execution procedure itself was done by injection with HHermonad’s’s poison or they were simply allowed to enter the quiet room. This room was completely soundproof and no one was spent longer than an hour in it. Once they brought a prisoner inside and after two hours he was dead. It wasn't clear exactly what had happened, but he was basically found dead, and there were no signs of violEnce on his body.

Boss's team encountered a strange wardEn in one of the corridors on the way to the cemetery park.

- "Beware," he whispered to them, "this place is cursed. If I were you, I'd get the hell out of here."

His face was hidden behind the visor of his high-tech spacesuit and illuminated by a pale greenish light. Without waiting for a reply, he walked away with quick steps.

They stared at each other. They knew it all too well without him telling them.

Then they began to take in the strange metamorphosis that unfolded before their eyes.

Boss had walked into a death row cell, and it was no accident. It was she who was beyond the jurisdiction even of Om Gur Nal. It was believed that no one had the right to interfere with the wardEn when he was guided by the statutory procedure.

Joseph Zerdakil's own father was the Jail Superintendent Jeramiah Zerdakil who knew no mercy and was capable of anything for the sake of maintaining his position.

"Shore Tuk 2" served as a moral corrective to the New Order imposed by Om Gur Nal. And so it had to be.

In his own mind, Jeramiah Zerdakil was something of an archangel dispensing justice. He wanted to be remembered as the one who purged the viciousness and vulgarity from this place.

JOSEPH ZERDAKIL

CHAPTER NINETY-SIX: JOSEPH ZERDAKIL

 

As the old saying went, "The pear tree didn't fall farther than the tree," and Joseph had inherited his father's bloodthirstiness at a young age. "The old man" as he called him had taken him places to make him a man. And he had definitely tried to build a character of a killer and a maniac in his offspring. Joseph spent his childhood basically understanding the difference between the poor and the rich and the reasons for that inequality. Many had passed through the neighborhood where he had grown up, so he could clearly appreciate the quite different types he had encountered. Once he graduated from Ronson College, where most of the thugs sent their kids, he realized that he still had a purpose in life - that of killing.

The two of them, along with Swept Ames, had taken it upon themselves to form a hit squad to handle investigations and criminal raids, as Joseph was extremely intelligent.

He had excelled at various languages back in college and had made great strides in mastering the intergalactic language and the common universal language. He was also fluent in a few rarer dialects such as Myeranian, Ceburnag and Ufurganian. There was also no doubt that with his deep knowledge of languages, he could have pursued a career as a diplomat, but such were not his father's plans.

Though extremely bloodthirsty, he did not fall into raptures when Joseph hinted his intentions to him.

"Bounty hunters aren’t as revered as they once were," his parent stated haughtily. "I'm sure you can do better than that. But if it will temper your character, then I'm all for it. Just be careful you don't lose direction in life.," and patted him on the shoulder paternally.

The youngling felt this as a kind of encouragement and set about clearing up the formalities with Swept Ames.

At the school in question he also met Namuro Kenji - this was the son of the famous Vice Admiral Kenji Nolsuro[65] Even then Namuro's demeanor was disgusting. His father had long since died of an incurable disease - he had caught some strange space plague, perhaps on one of his walks on Ufur Gan, and from then on things in his life went downhill. Namuro was a little younger than Joseph - maybe no more than a year, but he passed for the head of the school and took every chance to prove it. He wished to become the absolute master of the situation and he did!

At one of their meetings, the gang of Swept Ames inquired quite seriously whether they should not include him in their raids and other operations. But he had to go through the initiation procedure.

It took them a while to grasp that Namuro's mentality was more of a creepy school bully and nothing else. He also liked to educate himself, but was on the verge of being expelled on several occasions.

Still, they decided to give him a chance and test his capabilities at a special ceremony.

There was an isolated hall in Enzok Ra where the gatherings were made between the gang members who were constantly forced to change their territory to survive.

Namuro had to repeat the gang's simple formula:

"I vow to always be loyal to my brothers, to help them to the best of my ability, not to condemn their actions without thinking them through, and not to betray anyone in the group to outsiders. I have sworn!"

Then they had to give him a new spacesuit with hidden initials to show his affiliation with their brotherhood. Somewhere in there, he was to undergo a wrist burn that symbolized his breaking away from worldly mores and starting a whole new life for him.

Namuro went through all these ordeals with gritted teeth because he was a man and he did not tolerate failure.

So he became a member of them and began to go deep into the activities of the group.

At first, like all young men, they were sniffing around Enzok Ra for some holy order, but later they decided to organize things and take their destiny in their own hands.

Not everything in the neighborhood revolved around the industrial warehouses and plants or Ecclestone's establishment.

There were other mouth-watering morsels, but first they had to do at least a little exploring.

Savage Ryan wasn't the best shot in this case, but since they were experiencing a definite shortage of people, they had to risk at least a little. Ames was the head man, but Joseph was the man for the operational and organizational part. They figured they would be able to rein in the e-credit trade and take at least fifteen percent each month from any major transaction between the plant managers and the union leaders. They knew that the Maerx refinery was still a big spoon for their mouths.

THE FATHER'S DEBT

CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN: THE FATHER'S DEBT

 

Jeramiah had Father Bonayas summoned and lifted out of bed in the middle of the night. The father did not interpret this as a good omen. Jeramiah was obviously drunk, because when Father entered his office he saw several western bottles, full or half empty, lined up like soldiers on parade.

Jeramiah was quite thoughtful and his expression was grim. He was silent for a moment, then invited the father to sit opposite him. The father didn't hesitate and sat quietly, waiting to hear exactly what he was being called for at any time.

- "Father, I want to make a confession," he pronounced. "This is my last wish."

- "What ails you, my son," the priest tried to be polite, aware of his atrocities but still having to keep his vow.

- "That I am going down the road to Hell is one thing, but that my son is going there is quite another," he snarled.

- "Aren’t you a little late?," the father asked him seriously. "Perhaps it was God's providence. Maybe that's what the Most High himself wanted!"

Jeramiah gave him a peculiar look. But somewhat sadly. He was incapable of feelings. And some called him a living statue of the law, or rather of brutal violence.

- "How long has this prison existed?," the father asked him. "And how long have I been here?"

- "Father, I don't think your salary has ever been a problem," the warden replied, completely calmly.

- "I'm not talking about my money, I'm talking about how this place has changed," the other replied with complete confidence.

- "Everything in this world changes," the director replied. "I never expected that I would have to imprison Boss, and I'm sure he was sent from a very, very high place. But didn't my confession die in your breast."

- "Very poetic of you," the priest wrinkled his brows slightly. "Even so, you must not abuse this sacred duty which I have."

The headmaster got up and went to one corner of his office. He peered through the well-insulated windows and saw the ominous landscape outside. A landscape reminiscent of death. Real sadness. All of nature seemed to be preparing for the apocalypse.

Not far from the prison were the Kangar mines, which were used by the prison authorities to re-educate the prisoners and bring „variety to their daily lives“, but that was not the most important thing.

The Kangar mines were a fearsome place where everyone quickly-quickly gave up their power and fell into despondency. And its End was not far away from there.

- "I wonder," the Director turned to his confessor, "where they think they are. They exist only because of my mercy, and only because of it are they still alive. In fact, I called you, Father, to tell me what happens to the soul of the sufferer at the moment of death?"

- "That is a really interesting question," the holy shepherd animated himself, "you know, science has a very definite opinion on the matter. Although there is still some controversy. Kirlian photography even shows how one's aura changes at the moment of death."

- "Quite interesting," the chief stroked his beard. "Well, to be honest, we have a lot of experienced material here in the prison cemetery."

- You misunderstood me, that only applies to living creatures - the father tried to clarify.

- "That's exactly what I wanted to tell you too," the director confirmed his position, "he's still alive."

- "Who?," the father asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the ominous thought.

- "Well, Boss himself, of course," he announced ominously.

- "How, isn't he dead?," the father was confused.

- I asked you about the souls of the dead, but you gave away an important detail, namely that kirlian photography is being used successfully. By the way, I suppose this method is almost prehistoric, don't you think?

- "Just like the origin of the soul," father countered.

The father spent some time filling him in on the possible applications of this well-known scientific method.

- You, my dear, could really make a brutal psychopath like me think. So you are saying, then, that this method can also detect the presence of neurosis in the individual concerned?

- "Yes," confirmed the father.

- "Then let me show you something," the director prompted him.

They walked through the entire "B" wing of the prison and eventually found themselves next to a specially insulated Kevlar door, behind which something was definitely hidden.

- "Few people actually know that the cemetery is much bigger than it looks," the Director began cryptically.

Father inwardly wished he hadn't agreed to this walk with an unknown ending. He wouldn't have been surprised if the director had decided to wipe him out as well.

There was a secret corridor under the B wing that wasn't very long, but ended in nothing in a way that didn't arouse any suspicions. Once they reached the end of it, Father suddenly saw a terrifying sight.

Turning away from the prison director there was no sign.

One could expect anything in this super strange place. Father set about investigating.

It turned out that there was a hidden door in the wall. He then descended two levels below and again found himself in the same position. He needed to construct many different approaches to move on and really see what was under the prison.

Next was a long, well insulated and kevlar-lined tunnel that offered hope of salvation, and Father headed for it. But here a real solid door with a code was already waiting for him. There was no way - he had to break it and show what he could do.

Father wondered what the code was. And dialed a random number. Naturally nothing happened.

Deep in the bowels of the rooms behind the supermassive door, something stirred.

Father expressed concern that it was Boss - heavily injured and barely breathing. He redoubled his efforts and somehow cracked the code.

 

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She saw his bloodied, dying face of a sufferer and asked, "What exactly happened?"

- "It's all the Director's doing!," Boss groaned at the edge of his powers. "But down here is the real graveyard of the prison and interesting things happen there."

THE CEMETERY

 

CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT: THE CEMETERY

 

Father Bonayas gave the detective one last absolution, for he felt that he had one foot in the grave. He closed his eyes. Dragged his dead body to one corner. And slid down a special ladder to the lower levels. Then stopped at a special elevator - it was neither Emelioran nor Quantum, which led the Father to conclude that the floors down wouldn't be too many. And he turned out to be right. But there were definitely more than he'd expected - ten whole ones. And when he descended the last one he gasped - a whole cryptoshrine that aimed to preserve the genetic pool of humanity, but in a perverse enough way. It wasn't that Father Bonayas was impressed by the ultramodern sarcophagi that held each more valuable specimen, it was how this place on the prison map had slipped from his watchful eye.

How many times had he toured this facility!

It suddenly struck him whether there was a certain symbolism in Detective Boss being drawn to this particular spot, or whether it was just a matter of chance! It wasn't too easy to answer. And why had he been left alive at all, when he could have been killed almost instantly in the insidious attack on the supposed assassin's cell?

Father demanded to go back, and then he realized that there was a higher ideology at work here. The Boss was not deemed worthy enough to be brought to the crypt because perhaps he was not spiritually uplifted according to the notions of those who disposed here. He had simply been left to languish, not so much because of the physical suffering that had most likely gone on for hours, but mainly because he would have felt genuine terror at what awaited him in the afterlife as punishment.

"If a man slay himself, they shall not sing over him, nor make mention of him," father recited the rule of the Nomocanon[66]. "But the detective was just doing his job,' he added under his breath, suddenly realising how disastrously out of sorts Boss was in the eyes of the Most High."

The detective had glimpsed long ago that he had caused a time-space anomaly with his very birth. He had willed himself to live without being sure if this gift was for him.

A consummate professional at his job, he craved to complete every task perfectly, and that was why he had attracted the attention of Gad ‘Di Enn  himself. But deep down, he knew he was simply delaying his own judgment. The whole gang he'd dragged along with him had been driven mainly by collegial affection and the promise of fat profits. It couldn't have been about deeper feelings or any overly sentimental memories of the good old days. They had a job to do and that was that.

Father had a feeling that it was all very, very sad and knew that many things were about to get worse. They would hardly have considered his walk into that part of the prison "innocеnt". Not even the priest would escape a cruel fate.

Even the priest would not escape a cruel fate. Usually they impaled traitors or overly curious onlookers. But since they didn't have stakes in a prison like Shore Tuk 2 it would be easier to string them on a cornian burner and roast them on a spit. This had happened exactly once in the prison's history and no one wanted to suffer a similar fate.

The priest walked around the crypt, feeling mixed feelings. The priest knew that there were fates worse than death, but he was definitely taken aback by all this unnoticed construction of such a massive facility. He couldn't afford to linger here any longer, he had to get back and then he noticed that someone had called the elevator up. Now there was no flinch - either had to make a second attempt to call him or simply had to hide in anticipation of impending doom.

It wasn't long before the elevator began to descend and the signal irEnic lamps on it cast lazy glares. Father dared not come out of his hiding place, and it was not befitting a holy man to fight such battles.

- "I was sceptical at first," father murmured, "but soon all will be revealed."

The elevator kept going down. Father wondered why it was descending so slowly. It was as if it were an invisible boat moving on the waves of a lake. It was just coming time to say, "Enough!"

In the back of his mind, Father was sure that those who were coming had obviously overcome the guards, for they did not have his privilege of moving peacefully within the prison.

He recalled all this and mentally recited a verse from Holy Scripture:

"Blessed is the man that goeth not into the congregation of the wicked, and standeth not in the way of sinners, and sitteth not in the assembly of profligates: but his will is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night."

The elevator showed itself slowly on the top floor and thudded amid dust and ashes. If there were rats around, they would scurry away, but unfortunately there were none, for the prison guards insisted on special hygiene only here, while the filth in the rest of the facility was proverbial.

Father fixed his gaze on the closed door. As it slowly swung open, light streamed through, and he caught sight of a whole team of well-armed men, carefully surveying the place and in no hurry to leave.

One by one they slipped out of the well-insulated elevator car and began to look around.

The priest still had no intention of leaving his hiding place, but he soon realized that it was pointless to hide. He walked right out in front of them and raised his hands.

JONATHAN SACKLIN

 

"... Oh, there is so little faith in you... Faith does not save the drowning from death."

James Kristof

 

CHAPTER NINETY-NINE: JONATHAN SACKLIN

 

Jonathan Sacklin was like that famous man in the labyrinth who dared not come out of it and guarded his territory jealously. He was so obsessed with this idea that he finally, shut himself off and lost all awareness of the outside world. But he lived too well according to his own rules.

And he didn't let anyone know his secret. So he spent nearly fifty years in complete isolation.

Wunderkind understood and knew how to deal with various problems as he knew how.

Even at a young age, it was clear that he would not go the way of others, and the only thing left for him to do was to give his all to deal with his problems.

While Jonathan was robbing the scientific laurels, he had built his own illusory world and didn't want to leave it in any way.

Little by little this led to a rift with his brother. They both became estranged - too much so.

Herns was convinced that his brother was too strange even for his ideas, even abnormal. Gradually he also became aware of his dangerous perceptions of the surrounding reality, which in the past had made him a passive spectator of everything that happened.

After a while, however, Sacklin's progress became evident, and he defended a triple doctorate in cybernetics, quantum particle physics, and mathematics.

This didn't particularly impress Herns, who had long since stopped following exactly what was going on with Sacklin.

One night, Sacklin came home more mortified than usual and simply stopped sharing exactly what was going on with him.

No one noticed, but even if they had, it didn't matter. He went back to his room and was more thoughtful than ever.

He'd been working on his new theory of mind switching for a while, which had a lot of interesting premises that probably wouldn't have pleased the polis scientists.

Sacklin didn't want to show that he was doing experiments on himself in order to prove himself right, and that was usually enough for him to make sense of his own existence.

He didn't think he was a lost soul or anything, but an innovator who had taken it upon himself to research various options for a scientific breakthrough and patent it in his own name.

Naturally, whatever was going to happen was going to happen.

He had been given access to Emvor Na Hospital itself, where he had access to some cases, albeit very superficially. But he had gathered the necessary material for experiments from earlier.

Once he started working for the tech giant Esanron, which produced the peos chips in abundance, he also got a rough idea of the implantation process and what needed to be done in the shortest time possible.

One night he secretly snuck a patient out of the hospital with the blessing of one of the doctors and began doing the final tests.

It was this naked man that Om Gur Nal himself had seen when he had walked around the fifth level of the virtual reality.

The patient later had serious hallucinations which were caused by the fifth level virtual reality precisely, but he did not give up his experiments.

The man was hopelessly ill and had agreed to participate on the grounds that Sacklin would inject him with eromonium seritinide, which would in effect shorten his suffering shortly.

Sacklin was doing his best to make sure his frequent absences were not noticed at home, nor to bother his parents, who were then of advanced age.

Jonathan Herns had long since been exiled to Labor Colony 206, and he was left completely on his own to do as he pleased.

His days went by rather uneventfully and everything was just Hell for him. But Sacklin was not giving up his dream of learning what he thought would make a scientific revolution.

In time, he began to realize that switching consciousness from one level to another was not such a simple matter. Apart from the aforementioned IQ, which had to be particularly high for the upper levels of virtual reality, Sacklin discovered that a so-called protoplasmic state of mind was also necessary to unlock its unlimited potential.

But how this could happen was still a complete mystery to him! He spent hours proving various hypotheses, but something kept escaping his attention. But he knew it was too, too close!

THE INITIATION OF NAMURO

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED: THE INITIATION OF NAMURO

 

Namuro was known for his bloodlust, but on the other hand it was directed primarily towards school, making him somewhat unsuitable for the group's purposes. However, he had strong anallytical skills, could act independently under pressure, and most importantly, was mind-bogglingly violent.

After a while, they realized that they hadn't been wrong to choose him to coordinate the strike group's actions after all. They decided to have him draw up a plan to propose to Ames for approval, and to send Savage Ryan on the ground to negotiate with the syndicates and convince them that they were their proper and only protection against Om Gur Nal's outrages.

Namuro felt slightly strange in his new role as coordinator. He went around to all the known places and just gathered information. He had plenty of time on his hands and was eager to prove himself.

In a few weeks he was ready. Ames felt they were moving frankly a bit slow, but wished that delay would be offset by quality execution.

Namuro was learning fast and becoming more vindictive with each passing day. He had to keep up with all his problems. He then set about researching union leaders and guessing how much he could get out of whom. He knew that the strike force was going to be Savage Ryan, yet he was expected to prepare the ground more carefully before any action.

After he said the oath, the members of the brotherhood welcomed him as one of them.

After a while, he removed the blindfold from his eyes. It was very, very quiet around.

It was as if everyone had sunk into their deep sleep and no one cared. All eyes were on him because he was good at dealing with challenges.

Now there was one like it in front of him - he had to catch a snake with his bare hands and strangle it.

Namuro was swimming in sweat. Sparks were popping out of his eyes.

The snake writhed in his arms, relentlessly pinned in his death grip.

But he used his suit's pneumatic gauntlet and swatted it away.

- "This is no great heroics or some feat," Crazy Ames addressed him in a thoroughly friendly menner, "we just wanted to test your mettle. We wished to see if you could really kill without a care in the world, and when resisted. Next comes the hard part. Savage Ryan will go negotiate with the unions. But you have to convince their leader that it's a good idea. That is, be willing to cooperate early."

Namuro explained that he understood exactly what they wanted from him.

- And one more thing, it takes a lot more than just collecting dues from unions to exist. We have to fund ourselves from different places.

The shabby Ames laid out his plan for getting regular orders to liquidate certain individuals who were of interest to certain business circles.

- "Look, if we want the serious money, we've just got to do the real work - the rest is petty crumbs and nothing more," Ames continued, "there's no point in fooling around."

Namuro kept nodding. They agreed to settle things soon. That evening, when he got home, he realised he had already made his choice.

Late at night he heard some noise under his window. He opened the synth hatch and tried to breathe in the smell through his suit's filter.

- "I smell youth," the boy said as if to himself. "Maybe that's where the secret lies and everything will be all right in the end."

- "Come on, hurry up, we don't have that much time to waste. We definitely need to catch up with the schedule. More alive!," called Savage Ryan, who was about three years older than him.

Namuro slipped out cautiously and the two of them sank into the night.

The first thing they had to do was head to the farthest edge of Enzok Ra, where its very periphery was. The night was incredibly beautiful and full of mystery, and their young minds were thirsty for advEnture.

After a long wander around the strange outskirts of Enzok Ra, Ryan entered a hall and was followed in by Namuro himself.

Inside was impenetrable darkness. They continued for some time.

- "Let me introduce you to our host," Ryan said solemnly, turning on the lights.

In front of them was the Jail Hunter in question, a notorious commando and big gambler who was perpetually in default to his creditors. He owed various individuals and institutions as much as five hundred and forty-three thousand electronic credits, roughly equivalEnt to his full salary for twenty years of service in the Special Forces.

- "If it's such a big deal," stammered Namuro, "why are we his?"

- "There's the job," Ryan addressed him in all seriousness, "Jail will have the refinery plans. Even Ames can't get his hands on them, and we need that."

Namuro agreed.

Jail checked them for listening devices and so on. And then he invited them into the dungeon.

- "We can talk in peace here," he said. "Look, I need to trust you completely and be able to count on you in case we get attacked by security."

The two men answered.

- We need to collect some tanks of interon fuel. And then, we'll push them to one of the Outer Ring planets. It's an old scheme. We need to make sure it works.

Jail Hunter had the charisma of a born crook, which he practically was.

THE SAVAGE RYAN

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE: THE SAVAGE RYAN

 

Savage Ryan had grown up in an orphanage and didn't know who his parents were. It hadn't been easy for him, but he'd dealt with life's adversities.

He was definitely a happy-go-lucky kid who loved life and, strange as it was, wanted to not think about tomorrow, which might not come. He lived like it was for the last time, but cherished his friends, or at least tried to.

Ames, the shrink, had given them a guideline to follow, and they were doing their best not to miss it. After they'd been caught at the refinery and slapped with three months in a reform school, Swept Ames showed up this time with Jail Hunter himself.

The boys were recruited to the team, but had to be trained well. Jail promised them that he would personally handle their training. They used the old shed they had equipped as a combat area where they could fire training ammunition for plasma weapons, and he also explained to them the principles of guerrilla warfare.

The training had been fifteen weeks long and super-accelerated, but by the end of it they had learned something.

Savage Ryan smiled. He loved youth and not caring about anything. The world was at his feet because he didn't have a dime in his pocket. He wanted to enjoy the moment and his own idea that he might be able to make the best of what little time he had. Time was passing and so many thoughts were raging through his head.

Ryan wanted to live in the here and now.

Jail was being friendly but strict with them to educate and strengthen them as fighters. He was betting they had nothing to lose and could only win.

Guys, I did that number to test you. Soon you will have to do something serious. That one was just to build up a little biography and nothing more.

- "And what's next?," asked Namuro, who in the meantime had gotten older.

- "We're going on a witch hunt," Jail told them cryptically.

Besides him, there were a few other colleagues who joined later.

Each of them felt the need to save themselves, and this was the only way they could earn their living.

Soon word would get out about their exploits.

- Guys, you grew up on the streets, but I have the full knowledge that I've been through Hell itself and I know what I'm talking about. You're going to have to grow up faster than you'd like. But at least you can leave your name in history, which is no small thing.

- "I don't remember my parents," Ryan said, somewhat sadly. "I grew up with the idea of doing something with my life. That's what sustained me all these years."

They were together again in the shed, where they trained and negotiated different fighting positions. They were almost done by the way, but Ryan wanted to be sure of himself so he decided to take a little more time.

Ryan honestly had no real idea what he was going to do next. But for now, Jail was their new employer and that had to be among his priorities.

Jail wanted to succeed at all costs, there was something strange about this subject that burned all over in a fervor to bring his scheme to fruition.

Namuro knew full well that a lot of things had to happen and that with this stain on their records, they were unlikely to make it in civilian life.

One evening Jail called them in:

- I've done my best to straighten out some messes in your papers.

- "At least temporarily, you need to finish your education," Jail snapped.

- "Why is that necessary?," Namuro had a nervous breakdown. "After three months in that institution, we have practically no chance to socialize again."

- "Savage Ryan will walk in with a fake degree and you'll be helping him. You have two more years until you graduate. And you need to have some shelter during that time. We can't just crash in this hall forever - the upkeep is too salty," he explained to them briefly.

Then they parted and agreed to stick to the established plan. And now, for the time being, to have no communication with each other.

THE MAERX REFINERY

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO: THE MAERX REFINERY

 

Today was a very hard day for everyone who worked there. The Maerx refinery was just a replica of the original one, which had been almost destroyed in the bombing of the previous war. Harsh measures were put in place to improve the quality of the emissions, and various security measures were put in place to give all three shifts a real chance of being covered. The refinery was rather quaint in its shape and many wondered why they had not rebuilt it to its former size at all. The colours of the many pieces of equipment and installations ranged from gold to pink to metallic silver.

Two huge spheres made of pure kevlarite with a mirrored surface were placed in front, providing an attractive and imposing appearance to this place.

The people working here were not the impoverished sufferers of the past, but the heat was still having its say. It couldn't have been otherwise!

Interon fuel was no longer the fuel of the future at all, because it was slowly being displaced by so-called ensonian fuel, a modification of it with lower viscosity and fewer emissions. There have been too many changes in the last nineteen years.

None of the people working here had the faintest idea of what had happened before.

He had no idea of Mieru's heart flutters, nor of the help given by Andrew Dislan himself. And that story would be buried forever!

Andrew-the lonely Andrew-who wished to atone for his guilt at being what he had been born had "left" a part of his soul here. The energy of saving the little girl could still be felt.

The workers were strictly following the schedule of their established shift, which was definitely heavy enough to fill their head with any other matters beyond those that did not directly concern them.

Om Gur Nal wanted the polis under his possession to be the largest producer of interon fuel in the galaxy, and for once the planets of the so-called Outer Ring into their clutches.

It was a very ambitious plan, one that even the late Governor Gordon Elmbaum himself had not set out to achieve.

The refinery had been expanded, but in an extremely efficient menner, and one of the things that had been observed was the increased rate of production.

Often there were speeders coming here to guard the workers and their new and extravagant developments.

Near the refinery there were beautiful rocks of dark obsidian which gave a certain romance to the whole atmosphere around.

Jail knew full well that he had come to do his work, and the little Pikes he took certain care of were no more than a mere burden to him, but on the other hand they were a necessity of the utmost.

The main unit in the refining process was the so-called „liquid refinery“ where the fuel was purified of any harmful impurities that would be detrimental in a process of flight over intraplanetary distances.

One other fact was not to be overlooked, and that was that Gordon's „ghost“ was still out there somewhere, craving retribution, or at least that was the rumor among the staff - no one had seen anything in particular, but they were still obliged to take that fact into account and pay the bare minimum of respect to the deceased.

The liquid refinery was separating the so-called base fuel from the emplaxy impurities that made it too heavy and unsuitable for the combustion chambers.

It was utterly mystifying to watch the crystal chambers where all this refining was taking place. Equanate hoses were connected to the pumps, which worked tirelessly day and night.

Jail wanted to harvest a large enough quantity of fuel to secure the rest of his life.

Long forgotten by friends and everyone else, he was simply too desperate. He knew his end was coming, but he wanted to do something meaningful to be remembered by.

The workers who watched the beautiful transformations of the interon fuel were so absorbed in their work and were putting in such great diligence that one just had to take note of it.

The refinery director was also too on top of things not to note their tremendous progress.

People were happy that they were getting their salaries and also that everything was happening in such a strange way.

In a moment of enlightenment, someone would stop to say, "May God Erduk bless our labor! We must stay!"

Om Gur Nal treasured this facility because it was the only real way he could legalize his income coming from the outer planets. Yes, he was using a scheme quite similar to the one that had been Gordon Elmbaum's domain in the past. But now things were disguised in a more moral way.

Jail was acquainted with a security man, and thanks to him had gotten his hands on the refinery plans, but the subtle point was the use of the two boys in his perverted plan.

Why they had to study for about a year and a half until they were allowed to participate in the whole scheme. Very simple! The former commando was technically broke and it was a total miracle that he still managed to make ends meet. He paid off his loans with loans from "friends" and then borrowed money again from other "friends". The wheel was turning endlessly!

The security guard in question was one of his biggest creditors and was the easiest to get sucked into the fuel scheme. But Jail also had money to pay back to some ex-colleagues and so, willingly or not so willingly, they became his accomplices.

The boys were safely hidden away for now and only had to last until it was time for them to get involved.

- "Here's what I asked for," he discreetly handed him the information. "It's not much, but you've got to do the other part of the job as well."

- "And what are you going to do about the air convoy?," the commando dared to ask him.

- "Don't worry," his comrade looked at him confidently. "We'll divert them for a bit. Then it's you!"

- "I have one essential question, though," the guard glared at him. "Don't you dare use those kids? So they don't know what life is yet!"

- "I've lived to be fifty-one," replied Jail Hunter insensitively. "And they have yet to enter real life! I'm here to help them, but in doing so I'm helping myself!"

His partner looked at him strangely, as if to voice a question he dared not ask even to himself. In his eyes, his words sounded like those of a man who was not with everyone.

- "You know there will be retribution, don't you?," he asked. "In this world or the next! And there is no moving!"

- "I don't care!," sniffed Hunter. "This is my way of surviving, and I intend to see it through."

In the distance, the rhythmic hum of the refining plants could be heard. They couldn't stop working because they were even a little behind schedule. There was no way so many different workers were going to leave things to chance.

THE PRISON DIRECTOR

"The greatest misfortune is to be happy in the past."

Elchin Safarli

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE: THE PRISON DIRECTOR

 

The director of the prison wanted to get a feel for exactly what was going on. There was no doubt that the depth of his perceptions had been violated. And the boss's team had done their job more than well. He was strapped down too tight, but he was still alive.

- "Why did you do this to our boss?," turned Averia Downs to him.

- He could still be among the living, but you, son of a bitch, just destroyed him with your sick ambitions. An end must be put to all this. You have taken yourself for a lord, and you have not the capacity to be one. It's as plain as day!

Her face had turned as red as a radish and she just couldn't catch her breath. Strange were the visions that passed before her eyes - so hazy and disgust-inducing.

Big John had clenched his huge fists and seemed to be waiting for a chance to crush Zerdakil's father's head - and gladly.

- "Boss wanted to see something even I dare not admit to myself," the headmaster bellowed. "I'm dying, blinded by my greed and my sick ambition for success."

It was so melodramatic it was even pathetic. They wondered if the principal was mocking them or just trying to fool them. But they saw that he collapsed to the floor in an attempt to manage to beat himself up and retain at least a little dignity. In the face of such a display of grief, even they cringed and demanded to stand up.

There was no way they could have settled their spirits so easily!

- "Where is he, after all!," almost shrieked Milo.

- Here under the prison is the real graveyard. It must be there somewhere. I don't know exactly. I guess they dragged him near the elevator. And they probably dumped him like a sack of elendorans.

The group headed quickly-quickly-in the exact same direction Father had headed a little earlier.

The elevator began its slow descent, and when the door opened, the priest saw them all. There was no doubt that they had dragged Jeramiah himself with them and were going to bury him, or else place him in one of the crypts in the wall of the underground crypt.

He was green with fear, and a peculiar look of hopelessness was on his face - as if they had already seen his true face and he had nowhere to hide!

Though weak, Milo kicked him in the back, and he nearly fell over.

- "Here he must be!," the other bellowed.

Then Father Bonayas threw up his hands. The headmaster gasped:

- You here? Is it possible? How did it happen?

- "I told you it would be all about your head!," replied Father Bonaïas coldly. "You cannot go the wrong way and succeed! Your son has clearly not been receiving good advice."

A little later they found Boss too. Father showed them where he had hidden him. It was there that the headmaster spat out the pebble.

- It was Om Gur Nal's own plan. He released the second team of assassins on the heels of your boss's goons.

- "Hey, be careful," Big John snarled at him. "This is us after all."

- "And who's on this team?," inquired Averia Downs.

- Well, a couple of seasoned heads, Jeramiah hid some of the truth. He didn't want to say everything - as it was!

- "And who exactly hired them?," asked Milo directly.

- "Om Gur Nal...," the director stammered.

- "Something doesn't add up here at all," Everia Downs, who was frighteningly intelligent and direct, scolded him. "Where exactly is the team that is supposed to liquidate us?"

But by the time they turned around the Director had swallowed Hermonad’s poison and was writhing in pre-death throes. The convulsive convulsions lasted only a short time and he stuck his nose into the dungeon floor.

The others surrounded him and stared at his lifeless face.

- "What are we going to do with the prisoners?," asked Big John.

- "That's none of our business," Averia stated his position. "We are simply here to uncover the truth to the end. Let the authorities deal with them."

- "This graveyard is impressive in its size," Milo called back. "What a large gene pool[67] they have chosen to continue the population of the planet. It's amazing!"

- "But why are they harvesting it from the dead?," puzzled Milo. "Sounds pretty perverse! And disgusting!"

- "It's possible to collect genetic material up to a hundred and fifty years after death, and sometimes even much longer," Everia, who had once spent an entire semester in medical college before joining their gang, expressed her serious knowledge.

Big John stroked his chin thoughtfully:

- Let's take a look, though. We might learn exactly what happened! Father Bonayas was showing them exactly what had happened to the corpses stored here, as he had received some sketchy reports from earlier.

Each of the corpses had a special designation and was marked with an electronic number.

They started opening the crypts one by one - an endless torture.

Suddenly Milo called them over to announce his discovery in a trembling voice.

The electronic tag read as follows "Major General Zorin. Experienced warrior."

- "But how did he get here?," wondered Father Bonayas. "I don't recall confessing him, or having him lie with us."

They continued to open the crypts. It was not long before they discovered the corpse of Kazuk Mon. Quite deformed by the way. His tag said something a little different than this, "Kazuk Mon. Mag Tu of Tarash Duk religious cult."

- "What an amazing coincidence!," they gasped. "Perhaps Jeramiah wanted to be the warrior and chieftain he never could and wanted to reimplant their memories. But was it possible after they had been dead for so long?"

Father Bonayas coughed:

- I'm afraid it will all come out soon. And Jeramiah might just be one of Om Gur Nal's many incarnations.

Both horror and incomprehension were written on their faces. So wasn't Om Gur Nal the supreme sovereign of this planet?

- "Listen carefully," Father Bonayas instructed, "when I came here I was not entirely sure, but now everything is beyond all conjecture. Once upon a time, no one knows exactly how long, there was a very cunning demon - so cunning that even most of the other demons did not suspect his existence. What's more, they didn't even believe it was possible for such a demon to exist. No one ever learned his real name either. Not even demons like Belial, Mephistopheles, and even Valak himself had the slightest idea what he looked like."

- "If that's true at all, why did he need this underground crypt he'd set up as a graveyard?," asked Milo, a very pertinent question.

- Well, there's the thing. Clearly he needed a place of his own to draw his strength from.

- So Om Gur Nal, Zorin and Kazuk Mon are the same thing right?

- Averia Downs almost squealed, beginning to grasp the magnitude of what was happening. So then what the hell are we actually fighting against!

- "And that's what I want to find out," said the father. "But be sure of one thing. The real Zorin died in his Ziruarx on the battlefield. And that shell that later claimed to be the Colonel has very cleverly fooled everyone else."

- "And why is that shell here?," asked Big John, a little naively.

- "Because this demon is apparently like the snake. It likes to change its skins or material sheaths, which saves it from having to look for a special way to reach our world," the priest continued with his explanation.

- "So this cemetery is actually very, very ancient?," voiced Everia her concerns.

- Exactly. I'd even almost bet that the demon lords weren’t aware of its existence either, or they wouldn't have gone to that asteroid to wipe out Gabriel Spears.

- "Wait a minute? And how do you know that?," turned Averia Downs to him.

- "When the warden changed the regime of some of the prisoners, I sensed something was wrong," Bonayas continued, with a sad expression on his face. "But that's the last thing that would have crossed my mind."

THE HOSPITAL EMVOR NA

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR: THE HOSPITAL EMVOR NA

 

Jonathan Sacklin had come here at last to the same patient who had long since lost his will to live. This time he slipped in quietly and peacefully without being detected by the guards. He was extremely careful, for he was now coming for the sixth time. Four of the previous attempts had been unsuccessful, but the  one had resulted in some progress. He was carrying the promised eromonium seritinide, but would not deliver it to the sufferer until he had carried out the final part of his experiment.

Before they started the sufferer said to him:

- There is no hope for me. Thank you for being my only friend. Though he had a purpose of his own. You filled this last part of my life with happiness. Even if only for a short time.

He fell silent and stared into nothingness. His face was eaten away by some strange sickness. "Emvor Na" was a clinic that dealt with advanced diagnosis of such cases that no one elsewhere had an explanation for. Judging by the simple symtomatics, then, some of the scars that were visible resembled space plague, but Jonathan had never worn a special biodefense suit. He'd just gone as an ordinary visitor - albeit incognito.

Sacklin listened to his tirade in silence. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, but he wanted it to be over sooner. Cut off from society, this patient was the only semblance of a friend he had ever had. Yes, the surroundings around him were full of sorrow and hopelessness, but Jonathan was determined to have the desired effect. And there was no power on this planet that could stop him!

- "I'd just like to ask you what you're actually sick of," Sacklin looked at his face somewhat strangely. "I don't remember you telling me."

At this question the sick man's face seemed to change and he began to squirm in his exanaran isolation capsule. This overmodern capsule was designed in a way to be able to withstand such rampages, but here, even Sacklin wondered if his life was in danger. Just in case this time, he'd shoved a small laser cutter into a compartment of his suit just in case.

He wondered if he should use it. But the exanarran capsule was still holding up, and it looked like it would do this time.

Then Sacklin heard footsteps in the hallway and was afraid he was going to be captured. He didn't like that, because in that case all his current work would go to hell. Not to mention he could also be sued for treason and unauthorized access to a heavily guarded skyscraper like the Emvor Na.

Jonathan Sacklin wondered where he could hide, because they would get to him very soon. So he decided to do the unthinkable. He flipped the sick man onto his back after injecting him with eromonium seritinide, which finished him off in seconds. Sacklin then straightened his spine with his laser cutter, which was capable of making completely bloodless incisions, and sunsequently ripped it out - it wasn't too difficult, because he was using his suit's hydraulics, which increased his arm strength many times over. He then quickly slipped into the capsule and hid under the thus torn corpse. From a distance, it was impossible to tell that there was a person hiding there, but Sacklin realized that if they got close, he would have to fight, and he didn't particularly like that prospect.

The footsteps stopped just outside the massive hydron door, and Sacklin guessed that someone's watchful eye was peering through the well-insulated bersonite glass that could withstand a blast from even a plasma weapon. A few moments of painful anticipation. Sacklin felt himself dying for fear of being discovered. Then the footsteps calmly continued down the corridor. Silence followed - complete and all consuming.

Sacklin slipped out of the hospital room with neither onion eaten nor onion smelled. It was very easy to just pretend to be mad, but this stunt wasn't going to pass. Unlike regular hospitals, here you didn't just go through a regular reception area, but through a controlled pass with three levels of security, and there were a dozen ghost warriors lurking around. Sacklin despaired. How the hell was he going to get out of this jam?

He figured if he stole a medical suit and the corresponding narenzianan chip of the person in question, he'd be able to fool the guards if there was no other way but to get through.

Of course, he had taken certain precautions before leaving his own and had made sure to hide the corpse accordingly. In every hospital room there was a georan bath, which by vacuum treatments dried the body of him who availed himself of its services. Sacklin had to take a quick 'shower' before leaving it.

Now he had to watch out for some other things as some of them were really dangerous - too much so even.

THE ARTUK BOARDING HOUSE

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE: THE ARTUK BOARDING HOUSE

 

It was a living hell for Namuro to go back to school where everyone made fun of him, but he had to finish according to the instructions given to him by Jail. There were two reasons for this. First, he had to do something to avoid attracting attention until he came of age. Next, he had to put in those notorious fifteen hours of community service that had been Enshrined since the days of Governor Gordon Elmbaum. Namuro felt bored as hell in the hours where he learned nothing new.

The teachers were also hell won and didn't do much to Endear themselves to him. It was around this time that he met Esodo, the same one who would later become the cause of his death, but he didn't know it yet. He had no way of knowing it either because he wouldn't meet him until the second semester. The days passed in a dreadfully monotonous and even irritatingly dull menner. Namuro walked around the huge campus of Artuk. As Charlie Tennow, who had been a former guard there before Boss recruited him and formed his team, had said, the place bred „aristocratic thugs.“ And, hell yeah, he was right! The children of these snobs, living in the well-insulated world of their parents, were willing to do a lot of things to fit into that world. Many of them failed and became depressed. Others simply shot themselves. Cases were not rare on campus, but things were not made public for fear of damaging the reputation of the institution. Teachers were allowed to carry quality weapons as anything could happen. There were cases of studEnt riots. Namuro might apply what he learned from Jail, but there was a high possibility of being found out, so he just pretended not to care.

The students here were selected in terms of what their parents' net worth[68] was, which was also part of their school success.

There were even cases of students being expelled just because of this fact no matter how well they did in their daily lives.

Learning science was also a priority and things like quantum mechanics, particle physics, intergalactic language and other oddities were taught. Very rarely did anyone graduate with full honors.

Namuro carried the intellect of Kenji Nolsuro - the genius Vice Admiral of Enzoria - and it was a beanpole job for him to handle most of the assignments. Still, he did his best to play the fool, for he was clearly aware that there would be a huge benefit to himself, if only in keeping his cover longer.

"Artuk" had a strange status - it was neither a government facility nor, on the other hand, a private school for snobs. It was sort of a protected area where whatever was going on was none of anyone's business.

Deep down, Namuro knew that sooner or later he would have to confront the school bullies. He didn't need to be told either, but until then he would do his best to stretch Esodo's nerves as much as possible.

Namuro was a subtle psychologist who was well aware of how far he could and couldn't go, and he never crossed the exact line he had drawn. This helped him a lot in communicating with others, and he took advantage of it with his whole being.

The futuristic campus was the refuge for so many scoundrels who had never, ever been in real life - they didn't even know what it was! It consisted of four main buildings, each one having a special function. One was where the classes were held, the second was where those for physical training were held, the third was what was called the dormitory section[69] and the last was for the administration of the school and support staff.

Namuro tried to cope with their dull whims and trust that he would be able to adjust to everyone in time, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

There was also more and more open talk among the students of an imminEnt exodus from this planet, due to rumors of demons preparing to attack it. It seemed extremely foolish to listen to their ramblings, but he still pricked up an ear every now and then, and little by little he began to believe that, exaggerated as it was, there might be some grain of truth.

Their daily routine was always pretty much the same - early breakfast, two or three hours of classes, and an afternoon game marathon in which Namuro always won first place.

Esodo was a sneaky little bastard, and he was clearly aware that to thrive in a place like this, he had to have protection from the bigger ones. Namuro and he were peers. But Namuro's gang ran this boarding house, and would continue to do so.

He couldn't wait for them to finish and deal with this insolent cure once and for all, but Jail had warned him not to draw undue attention. It was just going to have to last another year and a half or so - an eternity during which he just wondered how to kill the boredom.

Very quickly, he was joined by a couple of loyal boys who had his back.

Esodo wasn't causing any problems, but he was stretching Namuro's nerves to the limit with his arrogant attitude of being too much on top of things. They just had to teach him a lesson.

They trailed him down the hallway and attacked him in a group. Esodo hid in one of the rooms and tried to get out of there. And so it came to that famous window scene that Emborian himself had seen in his visions.

JAIL HUNTER

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX: JAIL HUNTER

 

Jail Hunter had realized that he would have to wait a long time for what he had secretly hoped would happen. He wanted to steal the fuel in a very tawdry and dishonest way, and the two boys were going to be used as bait. He would have no trouble covering his tracks, hadn't he done it so many times before? Why would this time be any different? What would he face in securing safe transit? What was hard to believe was that Jail carried a heart in his chest as well, as much as it was not to be believed. Many had abused his trust over the years.

Jail wanted to take his big shot and retire. It made him want to escape to one of the distant planets, where he could neither eat onions nor smell onions to see out his life.

He had calculated that his creditors were breathing down his neck and that compound interest would turn his debts from the aforementioned five hundred and forty-three thousand into millions.

He had to come up with all sorts of scenarios to survive these almost two years and repay the debts.

He was desperate for markets for the interon fuel that would be his salvation.

Jail Hunter knew he was unlikely to get a second chance to do something like this and wanted to be on the level.

His life as a commando in the past had taught him not to trust his eyes and ears, but his intuition.

He remembered one of the many operations he had performed. Most had been axed hard! He just always had to operate with other people, and that changed the rules of the game! Why was everything going so haywire?

He remembered all that nonsense about the chain of command that had nearly cost him his life more than once.

Somewhere in there he began to realize that this planet was a pretty dangerous place especially for a broke retired veteran who didn't have much prospects of accomplishing anything in life.

He had to act the right way or he could lose too much.

His partners, as he called his former colleagues among the commandos, were quite bitter about the fact that under the new social order they had to pick up the crumbs from the King's table instead of occupying any decent places in the hierarchy.

So he did his best to redress this injustice.

He dreamed of retiring to one of the captive Outer Ring and watching his life.

It wasn't so impossible after all. The quotation rate of the interon fuel had reached astronomical heights, and he intended to exploit that fact.

Of course, he had to have his own people on the planets of the so-called Outer Ring. People he could go to and stay with long enough before finally, deciding what to do next.

The Central Bank of En Basan, which incidentally was owned by Om Gur Nal, had every reason to give him a small reprieve, knowing that he was doing his best to deal with his problems.

Jail went home.

He was tired and rather groggy. He hadn't counted on the kids to get things done, but he had no better idea, since only students with special permission from Om Gur Nal were allowed to break into the refinery for their fifteen days of community service. Governor Elmbaum's iron rule had to be obeyed!

Through stooges among the guards, he would have caused a revolt among the trade unions to coincide with this moment as well.

But why did he have to wait two whole years? Well, frankly, there were several reasons, but one of them had to do with a huge transfer of money.

And that money belonged to Om Gur Nal himself. Yes, Jail was the mysterious enemy that Om Gur Nal had. He had very cleverly taken advantage of the marginal Sacklin and stolen his discovery of entering the fifth level, but he hadn't done it alone. They'd used that hopelessly ill man from Emvor Na, who didn't care either way, as this was one of the few chances he had to talk to someone in the last moments of his life.

Jail had been preparing his plan for five years, if not more. He had calculated the probabilities down to the micron. He also knew that sooner or later Om Gur Nal would make a mistake, and he had made sure to leave no trace.

Well, it was true that Archibald had gotten some information about an unknown intruder on the sovereign level, but he himself had no particular motives for joining forces with his sworn enemy.

The commando's quarters were not far from the halls where they trained. Incidentally, he was well aware that the place had long been devoid of any signs of life, and so the classes were held there.

- "Your time is drawing near Om Gur Nal," he barked through his teeth. "I will deal with you once and for all. And that was the word of one of the last survivors of Au Kaktir."

Lying on his makeshift bed of boxes, he sank into a deep sleep. He hoped it would at least be pleasant this time.

THE THIRD LEVEL

"You have only one life."

Unknown author

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN: THE THIRD LEVEL

 

Archibald bade farewell to Ak Din, who had been his kindly companion, and in parting the Arab said to him:

- In order to move on, it will not be enough to possess a high intellect and innate talents for assimilating the higher levels of artificial reality. I'll give you something.

He fumbled in his spacesuit and handed him a small electronic ball. It was the size of a larger egg.

- This is the most versatile switch I have. But it'll only do you for level three, which is totally different from mine. And yes the pain in your head will grow in direct proportion to your ascent in this illusory world.

- "And why don't you leave your level?," asked Archibald Peos.

- I'm too old for that. I'm almost forty now. And I'm used to it and I'm fine here.

- "But this might be your last chance to do something!," said Archie excitedly.

- "Your mission isn't over yet, my boy. Hurry up, because you may not be able to complete it soon, which will be quite unfortunate," Ak Din answered him seriously. "I have been your companion so far. But from now on, you continue. That's it! It's very simple!"

Archie decided to ask him one really last question.

- How do you go to the next level?

But by the time he turned around the Arab was gone. There was no sign of him. Second level was special in many ways and Archie would never forget what he had learned so far. He had to use it at all costs on his way up.

To get to this level, he also needed more serious knowledge to help him in his battle for survival. Above all, this level was very dangerous. He couldn't just get to it by passing the Arleon Gates, he had to find them as well.

Wandering around the second level was a hell of a nightmare. Ak Ding wasn't available as his assistant and it was taking a toll on his psyche.

Archie realized how lonely he had been all this time and how only a lucky string of circumstances had led to his reaching this place.

The young man decided not to wave, but to move on.

Archie spent quite a long time on this level, trying to find the way forward. Nothing was working out, and perhaps nothing would. The boy could feel himself drowning in his ignorance.

Then he remembered the words of his mentor, "This is the most universal key I have."

Suddenly, An endless ocean bordering the desert appeared before him. It was vast and impressive. But it seemed to End in nothingness, and that was a slight sign of its artificiality.

Archie stared at the remarkable waves, so artfully crafted by the architects of virtual reality that it was sickening.

"Go on!," he heard a voice in his head.

He headed in that direction. Some unseen mechanical voice commanded:

- To proceed to level three virtual reality, you must have an IQ of at least one hundred and sixty. You also need to be morally decent to exist there.

Archie mused. He had never taken a test like this. He didn't know what he should say or do. It seemed absurd, but it only soured his mood even more.

After looking around more carefully, he noticed that the harlequin doors seemed to float above the surface of the water. That was impressive. But they seemed to be about a hundred and fifty yards away from shore, so he had no idea how to get to them. He tried swimming, of course. Archie was an excellent and experienced swimmer. In college he was always first in every race, but he had never entered the planetary races because he was extremely modest. He insisted on making a breakthrough and succeeded.

The water caressed him like a mother caressing her child. He kept swimming and swimming, but he seemed to be endlessly exhausted. Finally, he reached the gates, mighty and mystical, a wellspring of secret answers that tormented the mind of genius.

- "Morality is more important than knowledge," the voice continued. "Much more important!"

In that endless ocean swam chuhuns[70] that could tear a man to pieces, but they did not bring you close to Archie. These bloodthirsty fish were put in charge of clearing this artificial world of malefactors who couldn't hide their true emotions. Clearly something or someone was protecting him and giving him a chance to move on.

The chuhuns were bloodthirstier than piranhas and bigger than a large swordfish, but apparently Archie wasn't worthy of their attention for some unknown reason.

The young man had to think of a quick way that would open the gates, for that was his salvation.

Swimming he did, and the ocean subtly changed color. From a dark blue it slowly began to lighten until it reached lazy shades of green.

The doors opened. Before him stood twelve guards wearing the masks of Arthusson[71]. Their faces were stony and staring into nothingness. Archie understood-they were waiting for an answer.

- "The answer is in the water," he roared at the top of his voice. "That was where life was born. The colour blue symbolised peace and green growth. I just need to grow up."

The guards were obviously not completely convinced by this answer, because they did not move.

- "Death has no age," one of them told him, "and you convince us otherwise. Your answer is not quite accurate. Make yourself clear!"

- "So isn't it obvious," Archie tried to give himself confidence, "that every level is marked by a colour!"

- "Your logic isn't worth it," the guard laughed at him with a slightly caustic smile, "simply because it's too arbitrary and general. To move on you need to show more, much more than that."

Archie could feel himself drowning, not because he couldn't swim, but because his arms were getting weak from standing in one place for so long. The sun had begun to set.

- "Compassion!," he uttered slowly.

- "That's the right answer!," the watchman moved away respectfully. "When the body dies, the soul retains its energy, provided it leaves it properly. Otherwise it is meaningless! You may pass!"

Archie entered through the harlequin doors. And for the first time realized the huge difference with level two virtual reality. Here he felt like a newborn, for this was his rebirth. In level two were the suicides like Ak Din and the so-called "rippers". They would never see the higher reality, but would live in An endless self-closing loop until their soul disappeared completely.

Young Peos slowly began to open his eyes. The truth was more than simple, but he had avoided it for so long.

AT LARGE

 

"Оh! That man is gone. If I meet the man whose face you spat on, I'll give him your apologies. To this man who is here now, you have done nothing wrong."

Buddha

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT: AT LARGE

 

Jonathan Sacklin wanted to get away and somehow managed to pass unnoticed through the first post of ghost guards, but there was a real danger of being recognized at the door by his idEntification with the narenzianan chip. He realized that all of this could have gone right out his nose. And his attempt had worked, but only somewhat.

The ghost warriors sniffed it out, but since they weren’t sure, decided to check it out. Even they couldn't afford killing an elite medic like Sacklin pretended to be - otherwise it would cost them their own heads.

Their uniforms were so beautiful, and their faces were hidden behind massive helmets.

If you're really who you say you are, you'll be able to enter the fourth level of virtual reality.

Sacklin realized that he had really screwed up. They immediately tried to poke into his head, which was a real shock to him. They'd been poking a special part of his skull looking for the chip, which was more than humiliating. Mentally, Sacklin was screaming and he was going to die on the spot. But outwardly he steeled himself and tried to judge the situation correctly.

There were fewer ghost warriors than usual, which meant that maybe some of them were spread out in another part of the city where they were needed.

Sacklin felt that the cold kevlarite fingers, reinforced by the hydraulics of their suits, would shatter his skull to pieces.

He now clearly realized that his pathetic attempts to wring the truth from that hopelessly dying patient were, if not laughable, certainly not the best solution.

The deviation in consciousness was also playing a role, and Sacklin wasn't sure exactly what was happening to his own.

The ghost warriors seemed to suddenly calm down and even motioned for him to pass. Sacklin realized that something had saved him.

The moment Sacklin walked through the reinforced front door of the hospital facility, Archie felt a sort of tingle. His mind had connected in some strange way with Sacklin, who needed to know the answer. They had both clutched at each other like drowning men at straws, but their combined efforts had proved enough.

Sacklin stepped out into the street.

- "Compassion," he muttered. "What does that simple and elementary word mean. So this is childish. We live on one of the most technologically advanced planets, and we're dealing with moral issues that don't even have much bearing on my case."

He was so smitten that he almost collided with an Avarone Nirangaiter, which nearly ran him over. Sacklin, however, did not come out of his reverie even now.

He continued down the street, and just then came upon the second team, led by Zerdakil himself.

The bunch dragged him somewhere before he came to his senses.

They took him to see Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn  in person. Sacklin was blindfolded. He couldn't even hear because of the insulating plugs in his ears.

But he was receiving the doctor's nerve impulses through the narenzianan chip he'd swiped from the hospital.

- "So you dared to infiltrate the fourth level?," the doctor's calculating voice asked him. "And how, dare I ask, did you unlock such extraordinary abilities in yourself? If it were only up to the IQ, at least a dozen geniuses would do better than you. But you killed a patient in the strictly walled hospital of the Emvor Na polis. You even tricked the ghost warriors. But let me tell you, I've been watching you for a long time and I know all about you, Jonathan Sacklin. Your broken family pushed you into this line of work, and you've entered dangerous territory."

Gad ‘Di Enn had freed his goons. He didn't want them to witness such a spectacle. Not that he cared that much, but there was no point in them learning about his activities in detail.

- "Very simply, sir," Sacklin, who had nothing much to lose, replied coldly, "you know very well that the fourth level is high, but what even you don't know is that above the fifth are the so-called hidden levels of consciousness. I'm almost certain you've never, ever been there."

The doctor gasped. Why so much confidence in this pal. He should have ordered Zerdakil to knock the smoke out of him. He was just a little scholarly prig and nothing more. But that wasn't how Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn acted - he was different.

He wanted to drain his victim and get maximum pleasure. Overexcited to have the opportunity to not only learn her secret, but also get what many called déjà vu.

Sacklin was in no position to stretch, but he was no fool either. He was going to do his part.

His life was turning into a lie, but for the first time he felt the doctor's voice in his head didn't sound very confident. There was a subtle note of barely perceptible groping for ground that wasn't entirely familiar to him.

The voice across the room remained silent for quite some time. Sacklin sensed that this was not an awkward agreement, but some important secret he was about to hear.

The voice was silent, and he was clearly finding it difficult to find it in himself to continue.

- "Didn't it strike you that only the hopelessly ill patient and the soldiers selected to have paranormal abilities noticed you," he asked very quietly.

- "What do you mean?," roared Sacklin in confusion.

- That no matter how hard you fight, you're just a lonely lost soul who will disappear. For too long you existed on the back of society, not I would say as a parasite, but rather pretending others didn't notice you. And that's sad.

- "I'm not a leper!," roared Sacklin.

- Worse. You're doomed to disappear forever. And that's why it's not Zerdakil's fault, nor his men, who incidentally they met by relative chance, though I don't believe in chance. You're just an anomaly.

- "In virtual reality?," squeals Sacklin like a pig at slaughter.

- "In life!," was the doctor's reply. "Let me give you a simple diagnosis. You were dead before you were born."

Here Sacklin shuddered as if he had been rebuked.

- "But why do you tell me this?," he muttered, somewhat helplessly.

- "Because you have very little left," he caught the disappearing voice in his head.

- "But if what you say is true, how have I lasted so long?," he muttered, quite desperately.

- "And then you will be disgusted by the terrible reality that even now creeps slowly into your mind. This is the key to your salvation. Or more accurately, to the alleviation of your anguish. You may yet briefly experience a semblance of that feeling, if you are capable of it at all!," continued the doctor insensitively.

- "So I don't exist?," concluded Sacklin gently.

- Not exactly, but somewhat. You were just the handy man I chipped almost twenty years ago. Now you'll be able to realise exactly what's going on, though it's not much of a secret. Your ambition was pushing you in a direction advantageous to my purposes. I allowed you to infiltrate a level four virtual reality. However, I do not deny that you have qualities. And the patient...perhaps you would be interested to learn who he is? Or more accurately, his mind?

Sacklin couldn't guess.

- "It's good old Durnyam Shetstone. Or at least a copy of his mind. I got it from a special place. That is to say, you weren’t dealing with a purely human consciousness, but a duplicate of it that had undergone certain mutations, or to put it another way, it inevitably affected your experiments. It was a small precaution on my part," the medic continued brazenly.

- "But how?," said Sacklin, puzzled.

- "Well, it's plain as day," Gad ‘Di Enn repeated to him rather boredly. "The demonic mind cannot exist freely in a virtual environment. This is known as Hans Auslander's first paradox. It sounds silly, but it is. But what would happen to it in symbiosis with a human!"

- "So demons have been roaming among us for a long time?," squeaked Sacklin his concerns.

- In your case, it doesn't concern you, because you will go to neither Heaven nor Hell, my dear Jonathan. I will personally send you to your dead brother.

- "But you lie to me! It is not possible to implant even a duplicated consciousness on a hopelessly ill person. His body won't take the strain!," he fumed.

- "You're wrong again," the doctor countered. "Why do you think "Emvor Na" is so high? A whole thousand storeys! You're that demon, Jonathan Sacklin! You and no one else! I used everything I had to find you! I searched for you! And in the end, you fell into the trap yourself."

- "But you said you had me chipped," Sacklin apologizes. "You're contradicting yourself!"

- "You fool!," roared Gad ‘Di Enn. "I know very well what I mean! You just have to accept that the mind of the real Jonathan Sacklin has been with us for a long time. You've replaced it. You contacted the patient at the hospital, too. If you hadn't become "friends", he might have survived at least another five years if not more. You... you're the craziest demon of all."

At that moment, the voice that had sounded on the Emeranium nanospiral in the naredzi chip faded away. A drop was heard. Silence. Then the drop dripped again. It was blood. Gad ‘Di Enn had gasped.

Sacklin had gone into shock. His hands were shaking and he was trying to steady his breathing, but it wasn't working. Some stranger, on the other handa doctor, had said so many things to him that he still couldn't accept. Well, he had paid with his death!

KICKLUK SOR

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINE: KICKLUK SOR

 

Some people say that money means everything and it is the meaning of their whole life - they get up, go to bed and just think about it. This is not true. Sometimes these people come out of the dream in which they live, out of their folly in which they stubbornly believe. All this gives them strength to go on. It keeps them in a state of blue spring, but where is the clue?

The local populace supported themselves mainly by banking on various criminals and that suited them just fine. They hadn't progressed in any other area, but they knew they could survive anyway. The planet Kickluk Sor wasn't too far from Zegandaria, but it was little known to even more astrophysicists. It was shrouded in thick clouds of a special nanomatter that contained eboran technology[72] that could largely obliterate the signals of the various radars. The new generation of Horamon radars had replaced older and obsolete equipment. But not a chicken could fly around the planet. This planet was cloaked, for here were the dirty secrets of those who feared the retribution of ordinary men.

The social system of Kickluk Sor was peculiar and full of mystery. Many thought it subject to a certain adjustment, but this banker's planet was not likely to alter its nature - it was simply not possible. It was in the deep nature of Kickluk Sor to be hostile to virtual reality and anything too technological - this was not born of any particular scruples, but pure pragmatism. There was one cardinal rule in banking, and that was to keep banking secrecy - it came first. Many wanted to have what was called a "Reset" and have all financial transfers on the planet Zegandaria start afresh. It sounded like a foolish idea, but Om Gur Nal had made his bill okay - had plenty of time to make some adjustments. And fools like Roenberg, Durban and Abrams to help him achieve his goals.

- Of course, the timing of the zeroing was no coincidence - it would include not only Zegandaria, but the planets of the so-called Outer Ring, which numbered more than three hundred and forty, and their economies teemed with life - so real that there was nowhere more to go than that.

The assessment of guilt would have been reimplanted in the brains of the adolescents by the genius Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn, but Om Gur Nal did not know that he had long been cold and lifeless, his eyes fixed on another terrible reality from which he himself had tried to escape for so long - to no avail.

The nullification was too simple a procedure, amounting to something too easy. Om Gur Nal would get his share of the secret transfer of stolen money from the drug and arms trade, but he would get the whole planet, and all the other planets of the Outer Ring, making him sole ruler of that part of the galaxy.

Of course, even Equius Mon hadn't the slightest idea how grand his scheme actually was. According to the instructions, he would simply be taken down by the slightest financial blow, as his New Life Corporation had been receiving financial injections from the Sovereign in the form of fees for every illegal operation he assigned to them. It was simple and logical. Om Gur Nal was well aware that despite the difference in the system of governance, money weighed the same everywhere and that would have a huge impact in ceding their sovereignty to his control.

The actual zeroing would have been done through the New Life Corporation, and the simple explanation would have been an accounting error. Yes, too innocеnt, but Om Gur Nal had seen to it that after the implementation of phase one and phase two of his plan, which had already been outlined, he would move on to phase three, which involved the physical elimination of the corporation's collaborators. People already disliked Equius and thought him strange and pompous, unable to empathize with the travails of ordinary people. Hardly anyone would really shed even a small tear for him!

Then the demons could safely rule this planet as long as he could get away with spending his vast fortune. However, there was no point in jumping to conclusions. Eradio Dee Monk had done the rough and dirty work, the more sophisticated and intelligent work remained.

Om Gur Nal knew that there was no eternal power, but there was eternal commerce, and he intended to do just that. He didn't care about religious cults created for weaklings who had never done anything in their lives, absolutely nothing, on their own.

Once he'd conquered the planets of the Outer Ring, he'd tie up active exchange relationships with distant planets like Ossonia and Cebur Nag. And he'd watch his luck! That's right! He wouldn't serve the industrial unions, financial crooks and all the rest.

But there were some other things to happen.

The population of Kickluk Sor was even smaller than that of Zegandaria, but the most interesting thing was that it did not think about tomorrow at all. Nobody cared about anything.

They lived simply because money came from so many places. Many ships that passed by that planet never registered that there was anything there. And that was only for the benefit of its inhabitants.

On the small planet of Kickluk Sor there was exactly one huge polis with a population of approximately one hundred and fifty thousand people. The polis had the strange name "Space Mushroom", as the inhabitants were particularly susceptible to various exotic diseases such as the notorious space plague. The famous architecture that impressed foreign visitors was so deeply symbolic. Many had never even left the place and preferred not to know what was going on outside. It was their way of achieving happiness. Kickluk Sor was one of the most peaceful planets, and the concept of morality generally boiled down to complete non-interferеnce in anything outside of their daily lives that would induce guilt. If anyone did fall under its influence they were declared a sociopath and banished from the polis forever. Naturally, it would be ridiculous to argue that there weren’t exceptions to the rule out there somewhere. There were, but only a few, but Om Gur Nal would use them exclusively to his advantage.

The demons wouldn't find him there for at least a while, maybe an eternity.

At the entrance to the polis, anyone curious could clearly make out the inscription:

 

"Arodo Hi No Boo Tier Won Zak Moon!"[73]

 

Equius had been sent right here by the Sovereign, or so he kept thinking, for he felt that the sudden delay in the transfer was hardly accidental. After his speeder landed at the heavily guarded airport, he was escorted to a place where he could continue with his explorations, but he had to be careful or he would soon be killed according to local customs, which did not allow any foreigner to induce guilt.

Equius was of an age where he knew that to get information you had to give too much credit. And on Kickluk Sor that meant an infinite amount. So he had to offer something else in return that would be more valuable than the bags of credits he could give them.

THE INVESTIGATION

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TEN: THE INVESTIGATION

 

Equius had never met a man completely operated by guilt. People who owed their well-being to just that. He decided to offer them something extraordinary that might be of use to them.

Kickluk Sor 's engineers were quite conservative when they heard his proposal. It sounded extravagant even to their ears, accustomed to startling words and ideas.

Equius promised to give them a patent for the so-called Kunguru pocket, which was capable of opening a fake virtual pocket[74] to a parallel universe where the planet could be hidden for a time, completely free of charge.

Scepticism immediately took over and they put the question to him:

- "Why do we have to virtually move our planet when Eboran technology is enough?," they asked rather awkwardly, expecting Equius to break the guilt rule.

But he answered them most diplomatically:

- It's a pretty old technology that may be generally ineffective anytime soon. It's in the best interest of our banking operations to use such virtual quackery as an additional measure if someone unwanted does violate your visa policy.

- "Our moral code of honor forbids it," Arrudoth, who was something of a governor by their administrative standards, tried to object.

- "I wouldn't say I'm going to make it very difficult for you," Equius Mon, who had traveled the large enough distance as incognito as possible, using neither a merchant navy ship nor the usual military convoys that accompanied any more powerful personage, was gently groping the ground.

- "Look, I'll be as frank with you as possible. There was a problem with the last transfer," he explained cryptically.

The Kickluk Sor looked at him in surprise. They even thought he was lying to them.

- "We've never had anything like this happen to us," Arrudoth murmured worriedly. "Strange indeed, but still possible. How long did it last?"

Banking traditions were above any such intrusion as Equius Mon's statement could be considered.

- "Nearly two minutes," he answered.

- "But two minutes is an eternity," murmured Governor Arrudoth thoughtfully. "It is downright unheard of. Please don't say that in public."

Equius decided now was the time to act:

- The transfer was worth ...

Arrudoth was embarrassed and hastened to interrupt him:

- No need to elaborate, my dear, we'll figure it out. You win! You win!

The two went to a side terminal that was built specifically for bug checks. Even Equius had never seen a display like it - strange characters ran across it that looked nothing like the intergalactic language or the common universal language. The things were more than strange, though. The host's stony expression remained unchanged. It was there that they decided to make some adjustments to the calculations according to a preset transmutation formula that would prove everything.

It took less than a millisecond before the supermodern Evaran computer solved the problem that would normally have taken several hours under other circumstances.

- "Everything seems fine," Arrudoth stated calmly, "unless somewhere in the program code someone has deliberately put a duplicate line..."

- "But why would he do that?," asked Equius, a little unthinkingly. "I don't see much point."

- "Actually, there's a big problem," Arrudoth contradicted him, "most likely the funds have gone to another destination, not the desired one."

- "Impossible!," roared Equius Mon.

For an old wolf like him, it sounded almost like science fiction to be screwed, at least in the technical part of his job.

- "Quite likely by the way!," growled Arrudoth again. "The rest of the Kickluk Sor were silent, clustered around the important stranger, examining the behaviour of his facial muscles."

One false move and they could have liquidated him on the pretext of

Kickluk Sor 's Third Amendment declaration that imputing guilt was tantamount to treason.

But Equius did not fall for the trap. He humbly thanked and politely asked to whom he should pass the know-how for the technology in question.

The residents of Kickluk Sor didn't seem very convinced that they should have let him go.

He tried to get away, but a sharp blow from an Emaradian blade split his scrotum, turning him into a eunuch. Equius collapsed to the ground and nearly fainted from the immense pain.

- "No one can impute guilt to us," Arrudoth calmly retorted. "And you were cunningly trying to slip us in. How can we be sure you didn't make the mistake. We handle numbers and have never been wrong since this planet has existed."

Equius was picking a soul. But one final blow finished him. The secret of the tremendous abuse would die with him forever.

Someone had poked around and actually put away the plans for the virtual relocation of the planet. They doubted it would help, but Arrudoth ordered them to investigate just in case.

It didn't take them too long to realize clearly that they held a treasure in their hands. But Equius was a problem. They didn't know if he had told anyone else about his trip to Kickluk Sor . But even if there were curious people trying to find it, they would deny it to the last.

His dead body had been left in a special capsule, and sunsequently vaporized to molecules for greater safety. No one would ever hear of Equius Mon again.

THE FOURTH LEVEL

"And where was happiness?"

Unknown author

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN: THE FOURTH LEVEL

 

Archie had scoured the third level, had peered into the fourth. If only for a little while. They were almost uninteresting. Other than the change in brain load, he saw nothing else to cause any excitement in him or get his attention. The third level was full of various loners just wanting to test their intellect or emotions. Archie realized that if he was actually seeking to learn something about human nature, this was the place to be. There were a variety of types.

But when he looked around more carefully, he could sense the visualized ghost warriors carefully watching what was going on. It was a sign that Om Gur Nal was keeping everything under control with his invisible hand. There was no emotion on their faces simply because they were hidden behind the usual Eronian helmets. Their powerful bodies stood like statues waiting for something.

Some of the test subjects dreamed of greatness as dictators and warlords of vast armies, while others simply could not find their calling in life. Some struggled desperately for love, while others had it in abundance. Military developments were concentrated in various psychotronic weapons to deal with the population's whims and keep it under control - at least formally. This was what was happening in real life. Through various electromagnetic waves different emotions could be imputed to characterize individuals. Everyone waited for a convenient moment to act. However, when his deviation from all this sociality became too great, there came the third level of virtual reality, which was a sort of "straightening house" for those rejected individuals.

This was all secretly funded by the New Life Corporation of the infamous Equius Mon.

On the third level, there was a super-futuristic space capsule that blasted the willing into nothingness. That's right. The goal here was to become something from nothing - the process was called emancipation, or in other words, personality shaping. Many had no idea what was to happen. But people seemed to be peeling off from that same nothingness and returning to the thing like mold castings, and only the strongest in spirit fought for their survival. That was impressive. The whole struggle made their lives meaningful.

The Divoran capsule was moving at superluminal speed, and that defined the experimental studies that said that was the only way to go to another dimension.

He remained amazed at the quantum mechanics that apparently dominated the principles of level construction.

Archie walked away though he remained slightly disappointed. He had expected to see some amazing wonders. No one noticed, nor did he care what exactly he was looking for. He was just left with the impression of some kind of underthought by the architects of virtual reality.

The soul, wanting to reach new heights, struggled with the prejudices of the scientific community. And the military status quo guarded it. What could be better than that?

But a little while later, he was overwhelmed and felt a genuine humility. He realized what the true nature of it all was. They wanted to test something too exotic. The microtubule formations in the brain cells, what some scientists perceived as consciousness, was actually the result of a gravitational quantum reaction within the microtubule structures themselves[75].

Had that stranger who had given him a hand and pulled him out of his father's unsightly house suspected that Archie would still come this far and see it all with his own eyes?

Wasn't the idea of the reincarnation of the soul so much more appealing than Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn's costly chipping and his brutal treatment of the human population?

These questions began to plague Archie, not because of their complexity, but because of his inability to find an acceptable solution. If the soul were free, it would merge with this universe.

Of course there was also the possibility of mistakes, and such did happen from time to time.

Only now did Archie begin to realize the meaning of the word compassion. It appeared that Om Gur Nal wanted all this wealth to correct the ills of this society. But then why had he tried to kill him? Or at least he had had that feeling in the past.

He felt he would soon find the answer to his questions. And all this talk of demons. Where was the truth, after all?

THE STRANGER

"If the morning did not awaken us to new joys, if the evening left us no hope it would not be worth living."

Goethe

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE: THE STRANGER

 

The stranger who had pulled Archie out of his own routine had given him eyes with which to see what was really going on, and the moral part of the question was primarily where the line was and how thin it really was.

He'd had some doubts about his choice, but in the end he'd decided that the boy was the right person who could see the true reality with the eyes of an unbiased bystander.

"This future is dead!," thought the stranger. "And the eyes of a child could know it best! And then the whole degenerate reality would shine through better than ever."

He stood and did nothing. He had long since left Zegandaria, for he was sure of the end result. It was a matter of coincidence. It had to happen - sooner or later.

The stranger still carried in his mind the astonished face of the poor farmer, who was perplexed as to what had caused this guest to show such a high degree of consideration.

The stranger was also conscious of the moral side of cornering one who had kept his identity incognito.

Archie had not dared to ask his name. Nor had he dared to inquire where he had come from or where he was going. It was none of his business - so the stranger thought.

And so it was indeed!

When he opened his eyes, he knew he had done the right thing. He had the chance to change things. He had the chance to cast the stone of change into all that collective consciousness. Even if only for a short time.

He wanted it with all his soul.

The stranger had never taken an active part in Zegandaria's life, nor had he cared what exactly happened. It was just that his inner impulse took over.

Archie was a good fit. It took him a long time to find his exact location.

From the outside, it seemed odd that he had stopped his attention on Archie in particular - there were so many seemingly more suitable candidates, but the scales of fate had tipped in his favor.

When he thought about it, he realized that the farmer's odd look as he held the boy to continue his work was telling in that regard.

The stranger did not regret for a moment his choice. It was the way it was to be.

It took time for a soul to realize exactly where it was. And sometimes to go to Hell or to Heaven. Or to remain stuck in between.

The great poets had given more than one or two definitions of such a situation, but in the end the reality remained the same.

The stranger coughed. He remembered the words of one who had left this world, who had said the following above and below, "I have a problem. Forced to describe what I see in three dimensions, but what was happening was simply not in three dimensions. The sensation lasted between a few seconds to thousands of years."

It was time for everything to fall into place.

The stranger wasn't religious - he didn't believe in all the newly minted beautiful nonsense about the god Erduk. Somewhere in there he sensed the ramifications of the religious cults that had spread like leprosy and were plaguing people's heads. And were making huge, even fabulous profits on their backs. It was disgusting. He was no extremist in his beliefs, but stamping them out could only benefit everyone.

The stranger didn't want to be blamed for the coming change, he just had the desire to be its catalyst.

That intruder who unwrapped the bits of matter to verify their purity and certainty.

And the matter on this planet stank. And he knew it. So were so many other people who were part of the status quo every day and continued to live in their fictional world of success.

They were doomed. They were not going to survive. Unless the situation changed.

Trade union reforms of the working and impoverished people were only a partial solution, but not the complete change that was needed.

In time, there would be no more room for compromise.

The futuristic rain, which was an invEntion of Governor Elmbaum himself, was going to dew minds and make them come to their senses. That was his real goal!

The streets that housed so many strangers who wanted to blend in with the crowd where they sought safe haven. This was not to be the future!

HELL OF ZEGANDARIA

"The sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell gave up the dead which were in them." [76]

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN: HELL OF ZEGANDARIA

 

Agares rejoiced in the progress of his disciple. Hans was also a greater demon than Valak himself. He was a true beast, but in sheep's clothing.

Few knew, however, that it was Jonathan Sacklin who was his hidden weapon to link worlds.

Sacklin was as good a fit as it was possible to be.

Hans didn't believe in chance. Many demons had been punished in his short reign, simply because in Hell, every day could be your last.

Jaldabaoth[77] and Sidragasso[78] were among those who had taken it the hardest, but not because of their names, but because of an old dispute over the redistribution of Hell's gold.

Hell's gold was one of the main currencies, as even a demon army needed money. The supremacy of hierarchy was another thing!

Many also knew the price of every single soldier.

A simple soldier was worth ten coins, a dime was worth twenty-five, and a centurion was worth a whole hundred.

The hordes of Hell were just waiting for when Hans would order them to act, but he was stalling for who knew why. He wanted or expected something to happen - something that would untie his hands. Yes, Valak knew how to manage, which was undeniable, but from a financial standpoint he was an absolute circlejerk. Period!

The emptied treasury could not convince the others that he deserved to live. And Hans filled it in no time. He could have been any number of things, but in time he began to appeal to the denizens of Hell. Well, liked, it was too positive, but as they put it in devilish terms the others felt they were of "the same breed".

As much as he hated to admit it, the combination between this unknown demon and Sacklin’s soul was one of the supreme inventions of his genius. He rubbed his hands together contentedly, knowing that sooner or later his efforts would bear fruit. He hoped that Hell's timing would work in his favor!

He decided, in the meantime, to audit his warriors and see how their training for war was going.

There was no room for weaklings in Hell, because they were getting eaten by the others anyway.

His warriors knew that something unheard of was soon to come and they hoped to win.

Hans appeared, not in the dignity of a self-appointed fool, but of someone who knew the psyche of the hellish creatures well. That won them over even more.

In Hell, actions were basically guided by the principle "I can destroy you!," but that understanding was too flat even for here.

The circles in Hell were separated and heavily guarded, but the time was approaching when they would simply overflow. Hans had taken that fact into consideration as well. His entire body still showed the scars of his previous life in Hell, whereas now he was its master!

He summoned Abaddon himself to him and asked him some questions about the level of fighting spirit of his army.

Agares watched everything very carefully and felt that Hans did not allow a single unnecessary question.

The old demon was amazed at his insight.

- "We must use the Axis of Despair," Abaddon voiced his views, "Hell is a specific place that is simply a dimension for eternal torment. You, know this well, master!"

He then enquired of Nergal himself whether the actions taken on his part towards Jaldabaoth and Sildragasso were correct.

Without further ado he received an affirmative answer.

Agares diplomatically remained silent and left the field to his ward. For him, this was a veritable "golden harvest". Now there would be an Armageddon the likes of which even in Hell they had rarely seen.

Finally, the demon of blindness, Soneilon, stood before him.

Respectful of the old man's appearance, Hans Auslander asked him a question that might have betrayed his reverie somewhat, but he couldn't help but ask:

- Tell me, oh, wise Soneilon, who is this unknown demon that all the others fear? I judge by your silence that I should not even name him.

Soneilon approached Hans and reached out to touch his hand. The infernal guards drew their weapons and stopped him.

- Anger boiled in his soul, but he didn't know something very important. And as long as that is the case my master will be safe.

Soneilon didn't say anything else, just politely asked if Hans had any other questions.

Then he withdrew in silence.

Agares noticed the strange expression on Soneilon's face, and although he didn't hear what Hans said, he walked up to him and said:

- Sir, pay no attention to that old fool. He knows not what he speaks!

Hans, however, would not forget what he had said. And he knew he was right!

ARMAGEDDON

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN: ARMAGEDDON

 

The demonic creatures were preparing for battle. They wanted to succeed. The "dream gate" was open and they were going to step into this world once and for all. However, why had Sacklin opened the portal? There was no definite answer to that question.

In his search for an answer to the so-called consciousness switch, he was willing to do anything, but he didn't notice how the cunning demon had possessed him.

The name of this demon that everyone feared was Nastarog. No one else could be so cunning and underhanded.

Nastarog was too ancient and so skilled that the other demons had never seen his face.

And if Valak had lived a full two hundred thousand years, then Nastarog himself was much, much older. And it showed in his strange expression.

Jonathan Sacklin had unlocked a spatial anomaly that was otherwise unattainable, but that wasn’t enough.

Zerdakil's gang had been named by one of the demons without Gad ‘Di Enn being aware of it, of course.

Their task was to stage a coup by recruiting ghost warriors into the very heart of the polis.

Zerdakil remembered Sacklin's face and it would always measure before his eyes like a ghost. He knew that despite his crumpled face, this shrunken intellectual was extremely dangerous.

He had hoped that the doctor would break him once he got the information he needed.

It was only a matter of time before the demons came to the polis, but not before Zerdakil indulged in mass murder with his gang. The ghost warriors were also mobilized just in case. The savage Ryan had recently split off and Zerdakil couldn't count on him. He didn't even suspect the secret collaboration between his pup and Jail Hunter. But the two years were already coming to an end. And the hit they'd been stating would also be made tonight. By some incredible coincidence, the demonic creatures would attack right then.

Zerdakil readied himself and tried to be level headed. He knew that Savage Ryan was most likely preparing a surprise for him and was trying to catch him off guard. Soon everything would shine through.

Ryan was with Namuro, but only occasionally. Most of the time he listened to Joseph and his plans for domination. But the ghost warriors stationed at Emvor Na Hospital weren’t enough. They needed to gather more forces to tip the scales in their favor.

The senior demons knew that this might be their last chance to leave Hell. The thought of entering the mortal world was enticing enough for them.

The sorrow of the Hell dwellers was immense. They longed to escape this realm of eternal sorrow.

The axes of despair were two fallen angels pouring hot tar through their eyes. To this place in the midst of nothingness they drove those sinners who had never knelt before the lords of Hell.

Some were even disfigured by the hot jets of tar. Their eyes glistened with bloody tears, and their tormentors looked at them mercilessly. Nothing was the same, no matter how much they hoped for salvation. They sought it in their own way, but they would not find it, and they knew it.

The usual torturers were the Demon of Hate Stolas, who with his legions kept the brutal martyrs from slipping away after all.

The infernal army had to make some sort of progress, and would surely rise to a new level if it was aware of what would happen next.

Many knew of the bloody feud between Hell's main warlords, namely Stolas, Pruflas, and Paimon, as each insisted on taking the lead and showing their superiority over the others. Of course, this situation couldn't last too long as the scales tipped one way or the other.

The psyche of the infernal lords was impervious to change unless the ephemeral possibility of a total reshaping of their domain was taken into account. It wasn't just the number of legions under their command that mattered, but many other things, such as access to the so-called emfusor that еnsured their thoughts would not be read.

Naturally, when they decided to organize Armageddon on the surface of the planet Zegandaria some other things happened. Sinners were not to be left unattended especially at a time like this. They were to experience suffering of another nature, indescribable in human words.

Nergal, as head of the Infernal Police, would take over the General security of the circles, but there was a need for someone else who was stable and trustworthy enough, even by Hell's standards. After a long search, they settled on the Chief Demon of the Fallen angels, Semiazas. The only reason they looked at him that way was because he would appreciate the dignity of their travails in the Axis of Despair and show once and for all that no compromises would be made with anyone.

This particularly appealed to Tamus, the ambassador of Hell, who was also aware of what was about to happen. He was also aware that a relatively elementary mistake had cost the head of Valak himself, who had held onto Hell's throne the longest of anyone.

He had to do something about it. He'd withstood all the coups in Hell, he had so far, but who knew what would happen.

THE HIDDEN LEVELS

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN: THE HIDDEN LEVELS

 

Archie wished he could see what was going on in the Hidden Fields, where there were still traces of the presence of Kazuk Mon himself. These were the four levels above the level of Om Gur Nal, also known as the Wicked Dimensions. The catch was that this was where the demonic creatures could infiltrate, but it was only the supreme archivist there that they could communicate with. It was that simple.

Kazuk Mon had used those levels, where the patronage of Arthusson himself (as Nastarog had introduced himself, by the way) had granted him access. Yes, he had enjoyed that access. It was not just an exotic reality to him, but something much more serious in that regard.

Kazuk Mon was well within his rights to try to be what he was. And that was how he lost his head!

Archie didn't know about the brutal taunt from his disciple Emborian, nor the total loss of control in the mind of the archivist who was tormented by his demons day and night!

When he started to go to the fifth level, which Om Gur Nal had used for his skillful speculations, he heard a voice, "Would you like to see more, come and look up. The person wearing a pre-death grimace is waiting to share you!"

The young man was startled, but tried to continue to the fifth level, then the voice spoke again "Verily I say unto thee, stop, look up, but if thou passest on, thou shalt remain there for ever!"

Archie noticed that it was possible to skip this level, as whacky as it sounded.

Hidden levels required a lot more mental strain on him, which affected his perception of reality.

Archie knew that for his consciousness to exist at level five, he needed two hundred IQ points in total. But there was absolutely no idea what the requirements were for the hidden levels that weren’t even marked on the General Virtual Reality Map he'd swiped from Om Gur Nal. Yes, there was indeed such a card, and he had taken it just in case.

The General map in question showed in sufficiEnt detail what was on the levels, the location of the guards, the location of the doors, and some other details as well.

The more that was visible of a level, the more it was under the control of the table and vice versa, those levels that were hidden were under the control of Om Gur Nal. Or so Archie had thought so far.

For the hidden levels, there weren’t any Arleon doors or anything like that - just the opposite. One had to think of them oneself. Archie allowed that perhaps a factor of the order of two hundred and fifty or even three hundred would suffice for the level in question. But he hadn't the faintest idea how to find the level, nor what awaited him there.

Then he saw the image of Kazuk Mon himself before him. He looked dignified as in his younger years - an awe-inspiring warrior of the spirit.

His hologram spoke most calmly:

"When you listen to this, I will probably not be among the living, so it is in your best interest to learn the secret of my death. Many wished to be the ones to gain enjoyment from it, but now you, unknown stranger, will be favored for your brAveria and intellect. On each of the wicked planes there is a great secret that will aid you in the battle against him whom I hold responsible for my death. This is Om Gur Nal. He, he, and only he allowed this to happen! His doom will bring me comfort, but that is not what I ask! Om Gur Nal is actually my former Magus Arthusson, who was chipped by Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn! He carries no details of his past in his mind! However, that doesn't excuse his nature at all! As a great technician and gеnius, you have the honor of fixing everything! I will reveal to you the secret of the entire virtual reality, even though everyone thought that I didn't understand anything about it!

I am the son of Equius Mon, Eberald Mon, later rEnamed Kazuk Mon. Not wanting to be part of the status quo of this greedy and brutal type, I devoted myself to religious activity, but very soon corruption took hold of me and I was killed by my last Magus, Tu Emborian Zontul, who in all likelihood is rotting in Hell! You will never Enter the higher hidden planes without my help. I am actually the main virtual architect of this place. But no one but Jonathan Herns' brother, Jonathan Sacklin, suspected that. He thinks he's possessed by the demon Nastarog, but it's a ninth-level computer virus that no one has ever touched. No one in Hell or on Zegandaria knows this top secret, and this trump card, placed in your hands, could turn everything around. This virus will also spread to the minds of the demons who tried to make Armageddon on Zegandaria. It's up to you to prove to them that Herns' paradox is valid, but only for the first four or five levels - not the hidden ones I was operating on. So many years I was in the cover of my activity as a religious priest. But at last my hour had come! Help me! Help me! Let me avenge myself from my grave! May I finally, receive retribution! May this planet breathe free!"

Archie clutched his forehead with his hand - he couldn't believe it, he felt indescribable anguish - not out of sympathy for the archivist, but because the dreamed „blue spring“ they all lived in was just the road to Hell. Beautiful, paved with roses, but still disastrous! It was the ugliest and most terrible truth! He himself was put in a similar situation by Om Gur Nal, who tried his best to keep the situation under control, only to realize the terrible truth that he did not want to admit even to himself. This world did not belong to him! He had a twenty-five year term, and he had „spent“ five whole years of it! And in pursuit of conspiracies and brutal schemes to benefit himself!

Archie wondered if he had spent his own life with dignity, and if he would find his own redemption in there somewhere.

"If you really want to reach the hidden levels, you just have to follow your heart! You must open it to the sorrows of others! Om Gur Nal tried to atone for the wrong he had done, but it was now irreparable, so even if his intentions were sincere, he must be punished. Now, take the little electronic ball you got from Ak Din. It will guide you forward and remember. Your heart is the key to your salvation! Ak Din was put there by me just to be your guide!"

Archie realized everything. There was no turning back! He had to dive into the mystery, whatever it was!

His feet seemed to lead him forward on their own - to where he would find peace with himself!

When he entered the first level of the four "wicked levels", he realized something very clear here, things were not at all about intellect or even perception. It was very strange.

On the first level, there was a small sign saying "You need an Intellect Level of at least 260!"

Archie snorted! Here, even a supergenius would feel like a round fool.

Time was running out and he still hadn't found an answer to his questions! The atmosphere was oppressive enough and he was trying to get a feel for what was actually going to happen!

The psychedelic design of this place evoked an emotion that made you want to crack your skull! It was as if the color designer had a particular perspective on it all!

It was full of strange looking brains, or at least casts of them!

Archie kept walking around wondering what the point of it all was!

It wasn't long before he clearly realized why such a high IQ was required to achieve such an effect!

Continuing to walk forward, Archie saw the extremely interesting sign that read "Good luck!"

It came to him a little too much! These bums had obviously tried to keep things classy. From there on, a small path began that was supposed to lead him to a certain spot. In the distance, he could see a futuristic obelisk that looked an awful lot like that of the god Erduk.

Archie was slightly annoyed by all the religious symbolism. What else was there to see?

He continued along the path and began to witness Om Gur Nal's rise to power, the assassination of Kazuk Mon, the ascеnsion of the new Mag Tu Emborian Zontul.

Archie realized that in this level, time was moving backwards and he would see pieces of the whole puzzle bit by bit.

Later, he realized clearly that everything was going to lead him to some unexpected еnd. Maybe even his own!

Everything around him stopped moving too. He decided to continue, but saw a third electronic sign "Do you know what the differеnce between your game and mine?" In mine, there can still be a winner and everyone is given a chance to survive, while in yours that is not the case. That's my view of fairness!“

The young man decided he had seen more than enough here and wondered how he could move on.

But then he remembered that maybe the little electron ball would help him and save him again. Then he saw that it had a small digital display on it, with the number four marked on it.

So the hidden levels were four in number! That was amazing! Archie had never assumed that it would take such heights of intellect to reach those levels! If the upward gradation of IQ continued, he would just 'drop' like some mediocre mudblood. But then he remembered that morality is more important than knowledge.

"So things are quite related!" he began to reason. He couldn't have it any other way and he wouldn't have reached such heights if he didn't change his way of thinking.

He continued on to the next levels. He had the feeling that he would soon learn the terrible secret that he was striving for with all his consciousness.

Archie realized something important, namely the fact that Kazuk Mon must have either been extremely intelligent and wealthy to carry out this whole grand scheme, or he had simply taken advantage of a whole string of favorable circumstances that allowed him to play absolutely everyone.

The next level didn't make any sense. It was simply a dead end, with multiple speeders parked in it - each pointing in a different direction. There weren’t even any markings or road signs! There was no particular reason for Archie to go out of his way. He continued on and soon heard the voice „You don't see anything new do you? That's because your mind hasn't moved an iota! To get any further you have to do a good deed!“

Archie looked around and saw a woman pinned under one speeder, when he looked up he got deja vu. Who was she? Could it be his own mother who he never remembered! His memories raced furiously. Or maybe it was some woman who had played an important role in his past? More likely it was the latter.

Of course, Archibald Peos didn't have time to shuffle through all the recesses of his memory, but then again, he couldn't shoot on sight either. He had to hit two birds with one stone - that was the only thing that could save him!

He thought and seemed to be illuminated by a vague memory.

Then the voice decided to help him „Don't confuse professional ethics and goodwill with true friendship! Those are two different things!“

- "That's my teacher!," roared Archie. "But why is she here? It's all getting too personal. Is the problem with me?"

He hurried off to go help her. Then he noticed that she couldn't see him. The overwhelming weight was just crushing her, but there was nothing he could do to help. In vain Archie reached out in his desperation to change something!

Sudden thunder shrouded this whole vision! Archie was about to vomit.

The voice humbly repeated back to him "Only two more levels to go! Are you ready to see what's at the end? If you have any doubts, you can always come back!" The young man bowed his head."

THE BIG BLOW

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN: THE BIG BLOW

 

Many would say that Jail Hunter was a scumbag. Ever since he was a commando he'd looked to cross and harm himself to "hit the fucker," but somehow he kept going between the drops. So many years!

He remembered the impressive emboran suits they wore, and he remembered being a ghost warrior. He wanted the respect that this prestigious position gave him. He craved to develop professionally.

No one knew what happened. Jail was innocеnt, and they blamed him for the simple reason that he was the bad boy of the platoon. The extra recruitment committee didn't investigate him because they found no wrongdoing whatsoever! Of course, they didn't fire him outright, but they sent him out on patrol - at least until this scandal died down.

He was at various sites - he was even supposed to guard Om Gur Nal, but purely on official visits, he would never have the opportunity to be part of his personal security, as he was already

He was marked. He was stamped and felt like a leper! Yes, Jail Hunter was simply cursed! He needed to make one last strike! Oh yeah! He needed to take it back to those bureaucratic rats who ate the bread of the common impoverished soldier.

Jail had decided to prepare something truly spectacular. He intended not just to rob the refinery, but to personally transport all the fuel to the Outer Ring planets. This undertaking was extremely dangerous, but he was going to try to make it happen!

By this time, Namuro had almost graduated from the elite Artuk College. Although he remained a loner, it couldn't be said that his classmates didn't like him. But one night, Savage Ryan found his mentor in the hall and informed him of his demise.

Jail went mad as if someone had squeezed his scrotum with a vice. But he made sure his expression in no way betrayed his true thoughts. He had to protect himself somehow though. Ryan had never cried, but now he shed a tear:

Namuro was my only friend!

- "Shut up!," whispered Jail. "Otherwise we're going to the movies! We have to be able to rely on ourselves!"

After questioning him, Jail Hunter thanked the gods that they hadn't tried to dig deeper at all. They could have gotten to him too easily. Now they just had to calm Ryan down and cheer him up for what they had to do. But he still decided to ask with a concerned expression:

- What happened?

- There was a problem with one of the inner students. Someone named Esodo. Clearly, he was a snob! And they had just somehow gotten into a fight and squished like cockroaches!

A seasoned commando like Jail didn't feel like listening to such whining, but he still had to try and show some sympathy.

- Look, Ryan, it's part of life! It's none of our business to meddle in the affairs of providence!

- "But you sent him there!," persisted Ryan, wiping away his tears.

- Yeah, but he made his choice and just didn't follow the instructions I'd given him. It's his own fault he broke his head! Plus we'll only be sharing the two of us! Just think - your share will be bigger!

Savage Ryan was a tough bastard. A real psychopath, come in off the street. He'd survived all these years - just barely. And there, he knew, only the strong remained. There was no room for slobbering and sentimentality. But this time he looked at Jail very strangely. He didn't say anything, but...

The refinery was about to be upgraded with new and more skilled workers who were aware of the filtration process and the new type of engines.

This was also entering into Hunter's chicken plan.

The fuel tanks in the distant future looked like huge massive heliosan cubes, but they were too well insulated because anything could happen. Yes, the viscosity of the fuel was lower, but it could still burst into flames.

People were pacing this way and that-everyone caught up in their thoughts. The filtration process consisted of some specific features.

Special filtration skyscrapers, called virants, were connected to underground nanoplasma-based cadmium probes that extracted the fuel from the bowels of Zegandaria. A three-stage filtration process followed, which was particularly important before the special enrichment.

Everything was running on schedule, but the overlapping shift was still not fully aware of its duties. Jail had received all the necessary information from the head of security. Yes, he was in his debt!

Hunter was no fool. He guessed that Ryan might be suffering from an internal split and was plotting to fuck him over. Unless he beat him to it! He wasn't going to give in to those pallets! Once he'd lost one bait, now he'd use the other!

The colleagues who were about to join in were well aware that a court martial awaited them. But a hefty profit as well. Hardly anyone was going to head for the planet Kickluk Sor, though. Yes, Jail was thinking of living there for a while. But then it would blow somewhere. Well, maybe he'd have a good time - he didn't need too much!

By some rough calculations, stealing fuel would have brought in at least three and a half million credits, far exceeding his half-million-dollar debt, heavy as a millstone.

Ryan was living his own inner hell. He knew he had to distract the patrolling security guards who, on a set signal from their embedded man among the staff, were to go after him. Jail had a little surprise in store for him though.

The thing they both didn't know was that Jail had wiped their files at the school - as if they had never been there. He knew that when the refinery blew up, it was unlikely anyone would recognize Ryan's corpse. That orphan would be missed by absolutely no one. Even less of him.

"You'll be going to Namuro soon. And you'll be up there together!," he thought to himself. "You can't be spinning my numbers and changing the plan at the last minute! I hate to bottom for weaklings."

Savage Ryan looked around fearfully for where his trouble would come from. As soon as they spotted him, the guards chased after him. It didn't take them too long to close the distance.

Jail had brought in a bevonian ecodot[79], which greedily began sucking on everything. They had linked the machine to the nearest heliosan cube. Pretty soon his indicator was already reading fifty percent. Then suddenly everything stopped.

- "Thieves!," roared an unknown voice in the darkness. "You're trying to rob us!"

There were deafening growls that grew into a whole plethora of sounds.

- "Hurry!," urged Jail hastily, who in his desperation thought his whole plan was failing. "We'll be caught very soon!"

- "I can't just stop the machine," he retorted.

- "Act!," the commando shouted. "Damn it!"

Then a giant explosion was heard. One of the engines on Ryan's speeder had exploded. He'd decided that Jail was going to screw him and hadn't balanced properly on the vertical takeoff. A huge fire had blazed too close to where they were working.

Then Ryan had laughed with bloody teeth. And pointed his flying apparatus at Jail.

- Better in Hell than completely alone! Ah, you, scum, will get your just deserts!

Jail didn't even realize what was happening. If the commando had known things were going to end up like this, it was unlikely he would have ever given Ryan lessons in general piloting.

Jail Hunter was deader than ever.

A giant mushroom of fire had risen at the site of the refinery, еngulfing the underground installations as well. Everyone was dead.

THE KIBERA’S PRAYER

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN: THE KIBERA’S PRAYER

 

After escaping a thousand tribulations, Kibera had still managed to preserve the Medallion of a Thousand Wishes. She knew of the artifact's power and hoped that she would use it properly and for its intended purpose.

Emborian had not been worthy to receive the full power, and was now drawing the consequеnces.

Kibera didn't want to die - not so much for her own life, but for the fact that somewhere out there, they really needed her help. She wanted to accomplish something big, but even the fact that she had survived to this point meant something.

Then she decided to pull it out and take a better look. It had some very strange symbols on it. The Gnostic system of peacemaking was something extremely subtle.

On the medallion was a picture of Abraxas, the guardian god of the universe. Kibera remembered that Kazuk Mon had explained to them that he was just and aware of the Plan of Creation.

Abraxas' medallion was a kind of electronic key that would lead her to the second hidden level, where Archibald himself was.

After inspecting it carefully, Kibera found a small narenzianan chip that had been placed inside the medallion. It was portable and could be inserted without surgery as well.

Kibera had never used such a gadget and would be extremely curious as to how to activate it.

Suddenly, something happened. And she saw before her Archibald Peos himself. But how had she ended up there?

Archibald Peos didn't see her at first, but a moment later her outline was visualized quite convincingly. The new interface was much improved over the old version Archie had used. Clearly what he considered a priceless gift was going to compete with something far more advanced. So in cyberspace, Kibera could do infinite things in comparison.

Archie decided to use his Nastarog and attacked Kibera in an excellent way, but he couldn't even scratch her. It was like he was numb. He tried again.

The voice whispered in his ear, "You must join forces for revenge!"

Kibera eyed Archibald curiously. He was so youthful. Younger even than herself.

The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that something was eluding her. She decided to speak to him.

There were no cyclotron synthesizers in virtual reality, but it was possible to transmit "thoughts" through a complex algorithm built into the narenzianan chips.

- "Who are you?," she dared to ask him.

- I am Archibald Peos, the inventor of the Peos circuits, without which this reality would not look exactly the same.

- I think I've heard a similar name among the people in the sect.

- "What sect?," inquired Archie.

- "Tarashduk," was her reply.

- "So you're one of them?," dared Peos to ask her.

- "Well, to be honest, yes and no," she answered ambiguously.

- "How so?," the inventor was genuinely surprised.

- I've lived with them, but I've not been part of them. Of their ideas, of their power!

- "Ah!," replied Archie shortly. "And what was the name of her leader?"

- "Kazuk Mon," she replied simply.

Then their eyes met. And they realized they had to play on the same team. Whether they liked it or not!

As they headed to the next levels, they both clearly realized that the second hidden level was the distribution level, by the same logic the second level of the base levels was formed. But here, Kazuk Mon had chosen to meet them away from the sight of Om Gur Nal, who had no idea of their existence.

They were about to learn something astonishingly important.

THE RIDDLE

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN: THE RIDDLE

 

For Big John, loyalty had come first in the past, but in the present he was a very different man. Once they sensed who the killer of their boss, Detective Boss, was, the question of sharing the money quickly arose. It didn't take them too long to come to the conclusion that there would be a benefit for them. But deep down they were sorry for the lost leader. Edward Boss had told them, however, that demon hunting was no simple matter, and they knew they had no defense this time except their experience.

They were trying to cope, but it wasn't coming that easily.

They buried their boss's body in the prison cemetery - but not in the underground complex, but in the real one.

- Boss would be in his place among criminals. He's just about to bring some order!“ one of his team joked.

Then one of them noticed a small medallion protruding from one of the compartments of his suit.

- It was Marbas's medallion. That's right. But where had Boss gotten hold of it?

The thing was, Emborian Zontul had dropped it when they'd chased him. That pendant also contained a hidden electronic key for a third hidden virtual reality level.

The Zogan Drag swamps weren’t too far away from the Shore Tuk prison. And the director of the prison would often send out immunologists to search for hidden artifacts. It was his illegal business that flourished. In the past, he had even sold overly valuable finds to the Archistratus himself. The Archistratus, by the way, possessed an extremely rich and impressive collection of most interesting finds, such as a full-lEngth Seburnag Thyrphan brought to him from Sebur Nag, where the prison director's hunting party sometimes camped with the locals.

On one occasion, his men had stumbled upon the medallion in the swamps of the planet Zegandaria, half-submerged in the slime where Emborian's foot had stepped on it.

It had happened just as the boy had gasped at the appearance of the demon Marbas.

As could easily be seen, Marbas was one of the many computer programs that had attempted to control the young man's brain before destroying him. It was also the hidden agenda of Archivist Kazuk Mon. Yeah, no one was aware that it was that obvious, but Zontul figured it out. That was why he thought it might be a tracer program[80] to ensure access to his own head. But it was actually a computer virus to disrupt his own narenzianan chip and shut him down.

This was, in fact, the real secret of virtual death. The problem was that a person was physically dead if the chip in their head was disabled.

In this period of hibernation, he could stand for a certain amount of time before true physical decay took place. Emborian was also long physically dead.

His skeleton was discovered by the marauders in question, direct subordinates of the prison director, who had difficulty idеntifying him. Shore Tuk Prison also had a military hospital advanced enough to have a Beronium nanoprobe in order to extract DNA for anallysis.

Such a test gave about 99.9% accurate results.

The director whistled when he found out exactly who they had found - it was really impressive.

From that day on, the locket had been in his pocket and he never parted with it, which was how Boss had found it. Old dog like him easily came to the conclusion that the headmaster was unlikely to give him the chance to reach his destination by the short cut.

He therefore needed to make a huge sacrifice - his own life! But he got the answer to the riddle, or at least part of it!

Big John hastened to overtake them and declared:

- I'll take it! That's my trophy!

The others did not object, for this harmless trinket seemed a trifling piece compared to the vast amount of money they were to share after Boss's death.

Cowboy Nils Armborn, Rento and Imaya were intoxicated by their success. But suddenly they were seized. Big John had turned his back on them. They rushed at him and hammered him. He had witnessed too much to be allowed to live.

They decided to see what was hidden in the artifact in question though. Nils Armborn muttered:

- Perhaps it would be too much for me. Though his style is a bit retro. But then again, my style will suit the new cyberpunk fashion trends more from now on.

Rento then decided to open it with his knife. And everyone was amazed by what they saw.

Upon re-visualizing, they saw Archibald Peos and Kibera across from them, looking at each other.

Now they had all passed to the third hidden level, as the activated key was linked to the other two, the demon's "Nastarog" and the demon's "Abraxis".

- "So he knew from the beginning!," roared Rento.

- "You bastard! Old fox!," uttered Imaya in her anguish, who had considered Boss her spiritual father and the best detective on the planet.

- "Are we the last survivors?," asked Nils Armborn.

The cowboy was proud that for once he might be part of some sort of elite.

Beside him stood Averia Downs herself, who was also intelligent enough to understand what was happening. A tear dropped from her eye in sympathy for this brave man.

THE FACE OF OM GUR NAL

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN: THE FACE OF OM GUR NAL

 

- "If I understand correctly, we must find the fourth and final key?," murmured Averia Downs.

They all gaped at her and wondered at her insight.

- The demons are apparently grouped according to their hierarchy - Marbas, Nastarog and Abraxis. Noah who was the fourth then?

- "Om Gur Nal," Imaya murmured softly. "That's the last piece of the puzzle. We were looking for something that was in front of our eyes all along. That was the real secret! He created the game and only those worthy of his level can expose him."

- "But why did he need it?," asked Rento, rather meaningfully.

- And how to find the last fourth key?

The third level had no indication in that regard. The level was half empty and open boxes were rolling and strewn about. The walls ended in nothingness and reeked of utter grief.

- Something tells me we're very close to the truth.

Rento decided to check if there were any hollow walls. The entire room they were in was no more than thirty square. It wasn't long before he saw that they were lyranium panels that had simply been secured with emzonium rivets. He started to kick them open and a hidden hydronic door showed behind one of them.

There was a code. Once Archie decided to enter their birth years. They appeared to follow one after the other, which was a unique coincidence.

Who was aware of this? Of course, to Doctor Ser Mac Zon, who was that virtuous guarron trying to show that their race had nothing against humans.

- "What Doctor Ser Mac Zon was looking for was the chaotic reorganization of human consciousness based on the chipped humans," Archie said very vaguely.

- "I mean," Averia Downs looked at him, who just about understood what he was talking about.

- "Very simply, Gad Di ‘Enn has been trying to selectively chip his victims and the narenzianan chips have serial numbers," laughed the genial Peos.

- "Check if you want!," he touched where his own had been.

- "Amazing!," gushed the cowboy Nils Armborn. "So simple, but it works!"

I mean, the missed numbers are the ones with the so-called 'mind defects'. They are the very reason that Gad Di ‘Enn has labeled as extremely dangerous, because it has interrupted the process of his reimplantation of memories.

- It's clear as day! Some are still able to recover their consciousness from before all this mystification. And those people are us.

They decided to enter the cavity one by one. And a futuristic green tunnel appeared before them.

- "It looks so surreal!," squealed Imaya. "We really have to be careful."

But no more than ten or fifteen meters had passed when the tunnel ended with a massive hydron door. The lock was kevanate and required scanning for the narenzianan chips.

- "There's the last key!," the cowboy joked.

- "Anyone have any idea how we're going to open it?," asked Imaya.

The tall and slender girl looked so graceful against the huge and rough door. Her beautiful ankles covered with the parts of the supertech suit were more than impressive.

- "I think it's time for me to join in too," Everia called. "What about killing Shame. It makes sense that he would be involved in all of this as well."

- "I think we might as well try," Archie stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Let's dial his name."

The door didn't open.

- "It can't be that obvious," Rento interjected. "It's too flat."

Then they heard a deafening sound and a groan. So quiet it was downright frightening. It was really pathetic.

The hydron door was completely soundproofed. Where was that sound coming from then?

It was so heartbreaking. It was reminiscent of pre-death agony.

Archie thought of how they might as well open the door. Apparently it was encoded in the level itself. They just had to find it.

Then they saw the imprint of a child's hand. A small child's hand. Who had left it.

- "Could it be that Om Gur Nal was a child?," and Averia Downs tried to ask a question. "Surely he ever had been. And had seen the world with different eyes."

- "Well, maybe that's the key word?," ventured Archie's guess. "Or maybe that answer was right in front of our eyes, like so many others, and we were blind and deaf to see through it."

- "Om Gur Nal," Archie bellowed insightfully. "Shame didn't have to die. By killing him, you only revealed your face to us. You sold the virtual dope to all those kids, and the adults too, you aided and abetted this whole bacchanal, along with the criminal Doctor Gad Di 'Enn. Why don't you show yourself? It's pointless hiding in this den! Come out with your real face!"

The massive door opened and somewhere in there they saw a brain studded with so many ezonium wires that it looked like a hedgehog, this brain was connected to an Evaran supercomputer. They gasped. They hadn't expected to see exactly that.

The two Evaran supercomputers provided a galactic cyber link between Kickluk Sor and Zegandaria, and the fifth level was needed to buffer the financial transfers.

- "If this thing is alive, who's been running us for so many years?," asked Imaya. "Or what, exactly? Om Gur Nal doesn't look like an android or anything."

- "It's clear! This thing is the brain of Arthusson, the real name of the  Mag Tu," Archie made the connection. "And below is his doppelganger, chipped and well prepared for his role. Biogenic engineering is too advanced. They just bred him a clone - nothing more. A clone with a chipped mind who follows orders..."

- "To whom?," the others asked him.

At this the well looked after and wired brain burst open and all that was left sticking out of the whole pile was them.

- "Something didn't work out for him," Nils Armborn tried to show some humour. "The ending wasn't very pretty, but this planet suffered enough. Even too much!"

The lights in the small hall flickered sadly. It was all over.

CONTRITION

"When you feel bad - listen to nature. The silence in the world soothes better than a million unnecessary words."

Confucius

 

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY: CONTRITION

 

Contrition is characteristic of many of us. Too many do not know where to go and what to do before their final hour. Arrudoth also wondered where to go. He had little left. But not because anyone was chasing him or about to finish him off. He knew that in his death he would carry the secret of what they had done with a whole new generation to Zegandaria. A dozen greedy bankers from the planet Kickluk Sor. So focused in their own profiteering that they had forgotten everything else. There was no point in doing anything either.

Equius wasn't very valuable, but the overload that led to the bursting of their super-brain was. Soon the humans would realize the gigantic machination they were up against. And the money they'd demand would be the least of his problems.

Arrudoth avoided the eyes of his other subordinates in his attempts to keep the secret hidden and buried deep within him.

But who was he fooling?

Hell was actually the quarton hideout used by some of the souls who wanted to maintain their incognito, but it was only its antechamber, there was an additional Gesanathian part that was actually where the so-called "demonic viruses" operated, there was also the "virtual version of Hans Auslander's mind". But where had they gotten hold of it?

Von Meilovich's hypothesis and some of Sacklin's developments had served to form a virtual identity for him, similar in IQ to the real physical version.

It was an astonishing achievement, and no one doubted it. And whether there was going to be a real Armageddon on Zegandaria. Honestly, no!

The severe financial crisis that has occurred has killed a huge part of the population of the planet. The people were being squeezed by Om Gur Nal's soldiers who were unaware that they were bowing down to an effigy they thought was god chosen. Yes, perhaps they would come to their senses soon.

The problem of reimplanting memories remained. Many had suffered irreparable brain damage and had to deal with reality in a rather painful way. Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn was tried and executed as the brutal criminal he practically was. And Ser Mac Zon was elevated to an honorary position. Most wanted him to rule the entire planet of Zegandaria. The Duchess of Learnia was also held responsible for anti-planetary activities, and did her best to survive by fooling the others that she had nothing to do with the deeds of her brother, the infamous Archistratus. But as time passed, there were fewer and fewer who were willing to believe her.

A single ray of hope gave her little hope. Forgiveness.

But no one gave it to her.

The god Erduk watched her with his lifeless eyes before she perished, destroyed by her merciless executioner. The laser cutter sliced through her swan's neck, just as it had destroyed a mass of people. This was her retribution.

The crowd cheered, but somewhere there was someone who shed a tear - not for her, but for all that had happened. It was Doctor Ser Mac Zon.

After the virtual reenactments of the Ninth Zone were discovered, it was scientifically proven that the genetics of the guarron contained human elements after all, and people began to feel more friendly towards them.

Zorin was vindicated and his physical death condemned. Yes, he had contributed something to ending this whole story.

Zorin died so that so many others might live. He had been chipped by the evil Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn  back in his Ziruarx. But his chip had a faulty serial number. Zorin had fought the demons that possessed him, but his brain couldn't integrate into society the right way.

Jack Di Mons, Von Meilovich and Ursula von der Lan were also rehabilitated. They had fought, but in a positive way, not for the sake of the degeneration of the human psyche. That is why they received the necessary forgiveness.

Equius's development of virtual planetary relocation hadn't worked, as the two evarone supercomputers were linked together, and once one went down, the chipped population of Kickluk Sor began to realize how stupid they'd been to the aliens.

One of the crowd clearly realized that they had killed Equius for nothing and nothing at all. And later shot himself.

REDEMPTION

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE: REDEMPTION

 

Sasia Leshond devoted herself to her work as a Sister of Charity in the "City of Light". Only there could she spend the end of her days. Many wondered at her deed, but in practice von Blask was proud of her. Yes, it was only a transitional place to the final straight - but it was still useful for so much.

The soldiers leaned on her kindness and willingness to help, asking for her help and advice. One fine day von Blask told her:

- You have done enough! Even more than necessary! You can just go looking for your happiness. It is your time. You have sons. You have to think about their future.

They were both grown and approaching twenty. They came to the "City of Light" to see her. And they felt really proud of it all.

The veterans praised their mother and explained to them exactly what she was doing. At parting, von Blask turned and said something very personal to her:

- No need to be sorry. In the end, there is retribution for everyone! You will get yours too!

Sasia had been burdened with too many duties, but after she finished with the latter, she was sent of her own accord with her two sons to Ufur Gan. She was now of advanced age.

But in her heart she would always carry all of this. All the history she had willingly or unwillingly become a part of.

Her sons had been a worthy support to her, but later she died in one of the temples of Ufur Gan. There was her last refuge.

For a long time songs were sung about her kindness and all the positive things she did for Ufur Gan. But at the bottom of her soul, she never stopped thinking about Mark. His death was somewhat senseless and even cruel. He, who had done so much for this same planet Zegandaria, had received a rather pathetic end. Sasia was also able to hear about Zorin's tragic fate. She also found out that Durnyam had his head smashed in on the asteroid Izod Sin, haunted by the same virtual demonic viruses that had been implanted in him by the poisonous Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn. Durnyam, Sasia, and Mark himself were secretly implanted. And that was exactly the reason von Blask picked up his weapon and killed Mark.

But why was it all happening this way. There was something unexplained in there somewhere, and that was Doctor Gad ‘Di Enn’s punishment.

Sure, he'd done an extraordinary amount of mischief, but somehow he'd gotten away with it, at least at first. Ser Mac Zon stood up for him, but not out of collegiality, but out of sheer pragmatism.

He had to get the chipped people off the supercomputer database. They went specifically to the planet Kickluk Sor.

Boss's team naturally asked for their fees, but the Doctor had nowhere to get that kind of money. He had squandered it all.

The close months of intense work had made him more sensitive to people and their problems.

And so day after day. He felt something startling. Somewhere in there he could feel the immense distrust of his profession. So deep-seated and purposeful.

Gad ‘Di Enn walked over to the Emvor Na as well. The huge thousand-story hospital had been his fortress for so many years. His soul. His heart. Now it was empty and desolate. No one wanted to set foot there either, for all too understandable reasons.

Ser Mac Zon had been authorized to be his overseer until the investigation was finally, complete.

- "Did you chip them here?," asked Ser Mac Zon.

- Well, yes, the manipulation of Sasia Leshond and Mark Lenner was in this very place? We did a partial reimplantation, for the simple reason that a full one was not possible. I still don't have an adequate answer to that.

- "What did you achieve?," asked Ser Mac Zon again.

- I think I changed my view of the whole surrounding reality, and got an inner satisfaction that I was of use. That's enough for me.

- "But you have changed a lot of people's lives!," said Ser Mac Zon perplexedly.

- Well, we all do! Chipping was just an unworkable and ineffective model. And I know it! But the future doesn't look so rosy in practice. And did you all really want to live in a "blue spring" or were you just trying to avoid responsibility from your actions.

Here Ser Mac Zon chuckled.

- I think you're overstating things a bit, my dear. It wasn't exactly like that.

- But I am of the opinion that this planet will never be the same again. And that many will be confronted with reality, the true reality where one dies, but not by rote.

- But there were still some casualties,“ his guarron counterpart noted with menners.

They were rather the exception to the rule. They looked at the world with different eyes and from a different angle than the others. But reality would soon hit them over the heads as well.

- "How are you still alive?," Ser Mac Zon tried to trick him, expecting him to spit out the pebble.

- Well, let me tell you, Jonathan Sacklin was just one of those bugs, he was well aware that his mind was chipped. But that virtual demon "Nastarog" I'd put on him had worked well. You mean it was all one huge simulation and he was that patient who was hopelessly ill or?

- Look, Joseph Zerdakil, the brute did him a favor by taking him to me. But his sick imagination went out of all bounds. That finished him off for good.

- "You mean he never left Emvor Na?," tried Ser Mac Zon to clarify.

- You might as well say so. Surely his spirit is in a better place and wishes to be free. According to his understanding. In his own world, where possible, to survive.

- "Then who killed him?," puzzled Ser Mac Zon.

- "Well, he killed himself with one of the kerium needles that are soaked in poison," was Gad ‘Di Enn 's reply.

- "And where did he get it from?," followed another question.

- "We can only guess at that," Gad ‘Di Enn  raised his eyebrows. "That is the key to the mystery. But the truth will come out sometime. Anyway, I'm going on a long journey. I'm going into exile to clear my thoughts. As a representative of our guild, you know how it is," he smiled sourly.

Ser Mac Zon pretended he didn't hear the joke. But he was absolutely right. Medical mistakes had been buried since time immemorial.

FRIENDS EVEN IN DEATH

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO: FRIENDS EVEN IN DEATH

 

After the explosion at the Maerx refinery, no one could pretend that absolutely nothing had happened. It was too trivial. But deep down they felt the infirmities of the whole distorted reality. Things were different, and everything was the same old same old.

They buried Ryan's ashes near his friend Namuro. The two of them would keep each other company in death. But the cemetery park, though a bit gloomy, was filled with life-giving light. The light of new life. Birds sang in the branches of the emery blossoms brought by Sebur Nag. The androids were left to care for the dead whose remains would be preserved for all time. And so it was best.

Zorin's mother wasn't much further from them either. Here among beautiful plants, their End was seemingly a little better. The two friends died not for an idea of justice, for there was none, but because they needed each other to live in their own world.

Ryan had never liked school, had never had parents, and had absolutely never had friends. But with Namuro, things were different.

But why did people forget so easily?

On their shared electronic tombstone was the following dedication, „In this world there is neither good nor evil, but we remained friends until the end!“

And all sorts of legends were floated about this amazing friendship for a long time.

When the young men saw the world with new eyes, they were quite ready to go and, through tears, bid farewell to their idols. But that is a story for another time and other people.

The futuristic refinery had robbed so many people of a reason for being. The director and the entire staff had perished. Of course the ghost warrior caste still existed, but any mystique associated with them had fallen away. The greatness of the military career was scorched by a realistic view.

When everything fell into place, many people breathed a sigh of relief. It relieved them.

The beautiful, the sublime, and the impressive were the new dreams to reach people willing to see real life without the need for various artificial substitutes.

Kickluk Sor's wealth was not plundered, or at least not completely. With the remaining electronic credits, they decided to change some things and prepare their departure from the planet Zegandaria. A lot of things had to be settled. This time there would be no one left here. And so it was for the best. They never found out exactly which planet Om Gur Nal's mysterious transfer had gone to, but they assumed it was to one of the planets in the so-called Outer Ring.

Namuro had never had the opportunity to see alien worlds like his glorious parent, nor would he experience anything else in life. He had, however, felt that "blue spring" that perhaps Jail Hunter himself had experienced while still a believer in his military field. The wars of Zegandaria had long since ended. Virtual and physical reality would never be the same. But the humans - would, or at least should, retain their humanity.

The narenzianan chips were collected most carefully. Their missing numbers were described and this was archived as a memento for future generations.

And what happened in the end to all those who wanted some change? Well, Imaya left for a distant planet, Rento continued to work as a bounty hunter because that was what he enjoyed. He kept his sharp tongue and his strong fists ready at all times to dispense justice. Big John was forgotten. But they buried him anyway. They owed it to him for the indispensable help he had given them in finding the answer to the riddle.

Joseph Zerdakil received a suspended sentence for his acts and a little later he really reformed. And abandoned his old habits. His gang disbanded and its members began a new life. They passed the meter and were not tried.

The Shore Tuk 2 prison continued to exist, and it was this that caused some interesting patterns to emerge.

Scientists decided to use the genetic pool in the crypt. It could have been useful. They harvested and packaged everything most thoroughly. How much more did they have to learn and discover about the purpose of their race's existence?

THE END

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THREE: THE END

 

In the end, the Zegandarian Confederacy established the following solution. That the planet be turned into a museum, to remain there in perpetuity. They weren’t going to change anything. The proposal was accepted with complete unanimity by all the victims.

No matter how hard they struggled, they could think of no better solution. Little by little, people began to leave the place, and so it had to be. The past would be easily forgotten. But many souls would find no rest. Never!

Jeramiah Zerdakil was buried with military honors and that was the only show of respect for the dead. None of his friends or even his relatives were present. Even his own son was long gone in an unknown direction which he wished to keep secret. He was happy - happy to have broken away from the burden of coercion and brutal violEnce that everyday life itself had drawn him into.

If anyone had gone to Ecclestone's tavern, they would have seen a small chain hung there by Imaya, who had decided to pay his last respects to Shame. Yes, this gangster had lived in the neighborhood, hung out in the neighborhood, but left his heart in the "blue spring", whatever that meant. He had died young and green!

The Tarashdukian sect had received its baptism again at one of the last ceremonies where it chose a lifelong bearer of its values and disbanded itself. This was after pressure from the authorities themselves.

The period of realization had come and was now visible around the corner.

On the wall of the restaurant Imaya scrawled the following inscription "Friends forever. We stayed here. May our souls find rest! This planet was our home!"

The more time passed, the more the memories faded.

After a while, if anyone came to see the remains of the polis and some of its most famous landmarks, they'd be surprised as hell. And perhaps would shed a tear in remembrance of the past.

People were already leaving. At the Urus Onx 2 interstellar spaceport, which had also inherited the previous one, the crowds swarmed like buzzing insects preparing to emerge from a hive. Each bumping into the other, eager to rush forward and see the new places.

But no one wanted to go to Kickluk Sor. The atmosphere there was too snobbish and the heavy bureaucratic hurdles were not their style. Of all our heroes, only Archibald Peos, Imaya, Rento, Averia Downs, Milo, and Gad ‘Di Enn remained alive. Six lonely souls

- Six new lives. Archibald Peos was sure to make a stranger proud of his accomplishments. Yes, he had looked with different eyes.

Some wished they were going to a random planet like Imaia, and it happened to be one of the far ones outside the asteroid belt, others wanted to be closer - perhaps somewhere around the Outer Ring - though that area was dangerous for some reasons, mainly to do with controlling the star trade routes.

The futuristic construction was impressive. Stars twinkled merrily through the huge endosiant dome, full of real life - some distant semblance of caress. But what would it really turn out to be? It was hardly predictable.

What awaited them in infinity? Perhaps this was only the beginning of a long journey? Perhaps new adventures lurked for them there?

Kibera was also utterly unrecognizable. She had shown unheard-of bravery and insight, and they had solved the mysteries to the end. Charlie Tennow was one of the few who decided to build a small memorial in honor of Detective Boss, who had been so instrumental in saving everyone. He was the real hero!

As for the Arthasan people, they followed their leader, Casilio Vega, and settled on Kickluk Sor with the few surviving Arthasan. The local population didn't mind, because for the first time they realized what the notorious guilt meant. However, this only happened when all the Outer Ring planets ceased their banking transfers and the rich funding sources dried up.

Casilio Vega became a local hero and hastily dealt with Arrudoth, who had killed Equius. Not that Equius was a saint, but his death should not have happened in this context and under these circumstances.

Upon closer investigation, it turned out that the money from Om Gur Nal's transfer had been transferred to an unknown company on a small asteroid just after the trist quadrant. Casilio was able to get there and to the redeveloped Kickluk Sor, which became the new home for the Arthasan people. Here began the true renaissance of their thought and they achieved remarkable results.

No one ever denounced Elsamore, but after he had accomplished his mission he was poisoned, for he was tormented with remorse when he realized whom he had really served, and Father Bonayas strictly performed his duties. Before they all left, he died in a distant colony on the planet Oros Hinto, which was still friendly to every inhabitant, be they former, of Zegandaria. He performed many sacraments that еnnobled the spirits of all the inhabitants of that planet.

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

 

There was a faraway place named Charon. It was a satellite of a small planet called Pluto. They decided to head there. All eager for the new life. All those longing for positive change.

Ser Mac Zon decided to go with the surviving guarron to the planet Ufur Gan and help there with his knowledge.

As he left, he glanced back.

Mankind had discovered so many planets, and left them as useless buildings, perhaps if they only had one, its representatives would be much more careful.“

Ser Mac Zon was driven forward by a great love for his fellow humans. He knew he had to do something about it, and he was doing it.

He gathered his medical equipment into two portable geon cases and loaded it into one of the private shuttles. Not that he fancied himself an aristocrat, but he wanted to make the necessary arrangements just in case. After all, life went on.

Behind him he heard a strangled cry. Turning were Ursula von der Lan, Von Meilovich and of course the extravagant Jack Di Mons. They were looking at him dreamily.

- "Thank you, Doctor, for giving us a real and applied lesson in humanity. That means a great deal, an awful lot," she bit her lip.

- "I'm eternally grateful to you for having my hypothesis confirmed," Von Meilovich added excitedly. "When one draws on the experience of someone like you, then scientific advances are truly bean-counters. Now I see the world with different eyes!"

The Doctor accepted their admirations of his modest personality with menners and courtesy. They seemed like little children to him because of his venerable age. He smiled because he knew their feelings were pure. And the intentions - sincere.

- "And where will you go?," he asked them quite seriously. "This planet will soon be deserted and only these "monuments" will remain on it," he pointed with his hand to all the deserted buildings around.

- "We are looking forward to a bright future!," they answered together. "Or at least we will try to make it so! We will start from scratch!"

Ser Mac Zon looked at them and shook his head in wonder. Then they politely hugged and politely took their goodbyes.

He entered the flying apparatus. Its synteranal hatch closed. The shuttle separated smoothly from the surface and its quantum stabilizers were turned on full power. Then it began to slowly gain altitude. There remained a whole other world down there that he no longer wanted to be a part of. Never again! The planet behind him glowed its beautiful crimson radiance and stayed far behind. Strange as it was, down there somewhere, on that now abandoned earth, his soul remained. Pressed down by the suffering that had overwhelmed it. She was at peace! For all time! She had found forgiveness!

And what became of the virtual demons? Well, well, they decided to leave them as part of the general landscape. The narenzianan chips were carefully buried under a very thick layer of elandon soil in the Synthros area. The workings of the Sephalarian narenzianan chips had cost everyone so much. It was the main tool of Om Gur Nal's own management. The brutal "Nastarog", "Agares", "Valak", "Paimon", "Sacklin", "Hans Auslander", and all the other programs were locked in a massive sarcophagus of tri-layered kevlarite and silicon aronault that would have provided some security at first. The same was true for the anti-virus sentries, and also for the virtual environments "Hell", "Hidden Levels" and "Virtual Reality". No one was going to be able to create such perfect masterpieces anytime soon, coming out under the masterful hand of Gad ‘Di Enn, Archibald Peos and Om Gur Nal himself. Unless someone discovered them sooner or later. But it would be millennia! And maybe even more! The bodies of Gabriel and Durnyam would also remain unburied on the asteroid Izod Sin in perpetuity!

No matter what was not to be believed, no matter what the various religions and esoteric teachings claimed about the nature of nature, Heaven was on earth! Life was there! A life long gone!

AUTHOR’S NOTES

 AUTHOR’S NOTES:

 

[1] The mutant samionts had ruled Middle Earth for centuries before the archaneans killed most of them. This all happened long before the War for Au Kaktir.

[2]Mag Tu – a supreme mystical priest with the power to change people’s destinies and even their lives. It is believed that only one Mag Tu is able to appear and save the people after the Second Migration of the planet.

[3] Quarton, an immanent nanoparticle that separates our reality from a specially created hiding place in which we can stay indefinitely.

[4] Jules Henri Poincaré (French: Jules Henri Poincaré) was a French mathematician, physicist, philosopher and theorist of science, one of the most important mathematicians of the 19th century.

[5] A biopsy is a medical procedure by which a small piece of tissue is taken from various organs of the body. It is processed and stained in specialized laboratories, then a specialist doctor (histologist) examines it under a microscope. For most of the serious human diseases, biopsy is crucial in determining the cause of the disease, its progression, and curative management.

[6] Friedrich Schiller - The Poetry of Life

[7] Sacrifice deprives the faithful of goods and thus becomes part of the ascesis. Asceticism (Greek: ἄσκησις - exercise, practice) is a way of life associated with the negation of hedonism and voluntary denial of excessive pleasures, on religious or other grounds.

[8] Vestal Virgins (Latin: virgines Vestales; sg. virgo Vestalis) are called priestesses of the goddess Vesta. There were six Vestal Virgins in the temple of the goddess, whose main duties consisted of keeping the sacred fire burning.

[9]Hercux is a high-energy radiant spear.

[10] Erbuzon - a knife for performing rituals consisting of cutting off certain parts of the body when Mag Tu is chosen.

[11] J.V. Goethe, Faust

[12] Marbas, the Great President of Hell, ruling thirty-six legions of demons. He answers truly to hidden or secret things, causes and cures disease, gives wisdom and knowledge in the mechanical arts, and can change men into other forms.

[13]Kasdeya was a demon who specialized in poisons, who was also called the Fifth Satan.

[14] The Ertosar is a cross between a body armor and a bulletproof vest, but was developed by the Ertol Gis Company as a means of civil defense. In appearance it resembles the most ordinary garment.

[15]J. V. Goethe, Faust

[16] Abjad, a type of writing system peculiarly suited to Semitic languages, in which the consonant sounds are the bearers of the meaning of the word, and the vowels of the grammatical form.

[17] Marquis Forneus - a demon who was able to protect the summoner from dark pursuers.

[18] Erthul - a giant piece of obsidian soaked in magical еnergy.

[19] Hadal - female ghoul

[20] Astromancer - a special device for summoning demons

[21] Meditation related to hedonism or receiving pleasures.

[22]Appeared as a poor little boy riding a two-headed dragon.

[23] Lilith - the most famous female demon worldwide, she has made appearances in many stories from many parts of the world.

[24] Genesis 37:35; Job 14:13

[25] Chief Demon of the Fallen angels Shax: Duke of Hell, commands 30 legions, cunning thief; appears as the stork Shalbriri.

[26] Buer - President of Hell, the second in line, and commands 50 legions.

[27] Astaroth: A powerful duke-he commands over 40 legions and is treasurer of hell.

[28] Ronwe, the demon policeman

[29] In the old Greek its name is κωκυτός, meaning river of weeping, the wailing.

[30] The teachings of George Albert Smith

[31] Uval - Duke, commands the 36th Legion, knows about the past, present and future.

[32] Author's whim - texts of the Light, that is, of the Holy Scriptures.

[33] A shrine

[34] Nergal, the second-ranking demon, commanded the demon secret police.

[35] From the English star and thorn.

[36] From the English shame.

[37] Persperatus - (author's wink) a fake medic, elevated to a cult for his misdeeds.

[38] Mark 9:43-48

[39] Hoenicks effect - (invented by the author) is a painless but irreversible death of brain cells due to overload of the cerebral cortex.

[40] Deumos - from the Greek for fear.

[41] Kresil - the demon of laziness.

[42] In the language of the Emmazians - these were a breakaway people living day to day.

[43] Types of Sailor Knots

[44] Dargons are creatures that cannot exist outside the City of Light.

[45] The pituitary gland is a small Endocrine organ in the human body.

[46] Life is one, but it is an illusion that does not last long.

[47] Pruflas - chief of 26 legions, with the head of an owl; causing wars and cramps.

[48] Repeaters.

[49] According to some, the suicides in Hell are withered trees picked up by the wind.

[50] Pandemonium is the capital of Hell.

[51] Shano - in the language of the street means "to act indepEndEntly".

[52]Paimon : king of hell, master of ceremonies; governs 200 legions.

[53]Oriax - chief of the house of princes : a demon who commands 30 legions.

[54] Verin: Demon of impatience.

[55] Naberius : A demon in a cohort of 29 legions, Marquis of Hell.

[56]Esaton, the arbiter of morality and the supreme arbiter of all matters of justice.

[57]Archison, a special four-chambered building in which the government is conducted in such a way that all the authorities interact with each other without interfering. The four powers existing on the planet Zegandaria are legislative, executive, judicial, and moral.

[58]Hypothalamus - a structure in the brain - a higher center of the autonomic nervous system.

[59]Inauguration - the formal procedure of inducting a person into office.

[60]To bug - to fuck up.

[61]Vicodin is a combination of the two painkillers hydrocodone and paracetamol to reduce moderate to severe pain.

[62]Fairplay - from English "fair play".

[63]Ak Din is the name from whose letters the English word "kind" would be derived, which is an allusion to what Archibald Peos is supposed to be like.

[64] In Japanese, hikikomori means socially related social isolation syndrome. It usually refers to young people who become recluses in their parents' homes and are unwilling to go to work or school.

[65] Nolsuro - in a twisted guarron dialect means "almighty".

[66] A nomocanon (Greek: Νομοκανών from Νομοi, "law," and κανών, "rule, precept, pattern") is a collection of ecclesiastical canons (rules) and secular (imperial) laws. They were originally compiled in the sixth-seventh centuries, and sunsequently supplemented.

[67] A large gene pool is an indicator of wide genetic diversity, which is associated with a strong population that can survive strong selection change. At the same time, narrow gene diversity can cause reduced adaptability and a high chance of species extinction.

[68] Net worth is calculated by subtracting the value of liabilities from the value of assets.

[69] Dormitory section - the place where students slept or prepared their lessons, dormitory.

[70] Chuhuns - mystical fish that eat people's brains because that's how they get the phosphates they need.

[71] Artusan - believed to have been the name of the previous Mag Tu, who Emborian Zontul succeeded.

[72] Eborane is a special nanocomposite with camouflage properties and is also very, very rare.

[73] You're welcome here, but Kickluk Sor is ours!

[74] Kangaroo Pocket - In speculative fiction, this is technology that leads to an alternate parallel universe.

[75] The theory in question was proposed by Stuart Hameroff and Roger Penrose.

[76] Bible ASV, Revelation 20:13

[77] Jaldabaoth - One of the sons of God who became a fallen angel because of his envy of man.

[78] Sidragasso - Also known as Bitru or Sitri, he is a demon who occupies a dukedom in hell and commands a legion of incubi.

[79] Bevonium Ecodot, a special fuel sucker capable of transporting up to three hundred tons on a single refuel.

[80] Tracking program - in computer language, it is a tracking software that aims to reach the final addressee based on certain indicators and data. Of course, such a tracing program cannot operate in isolation, and special conditions are needed for this.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 04.12.2021

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
SOME NINETEEN OR SO YEARS AFTER THE EVENTS SURROUNDING THE GREAT WAR OF AU KAKTIR AND ALL OF THE RESULTING AFTERMATH, THE WORLD OF THE PLANET ZEGANDARIA IS VASTLY DIFFERENT, AND TIME HAS LEFT ITS MARK ON THOSE HEROES WHO HAVE SURVIVED - AND THEY ARE NOT ALL THAT MANY. THE PLANET IS IMMEASURABLY MORE TECHNOLOGICALLY ADVANCED AND FILLED WITH A STRANGE, OPPRESSIVE ATMOSPHERE. SASIA IS MARRIED WITH TWO SONS, AND ZORIN IS A VETERAN HERO AND UNIVERSITY PROFESSOR OF MILITARY SCIENCE. RULE IS IN THE HANDS OF A SUPREME SOVEREIGN, OM GUR NAL, WHO CONTROLS THE PHYSICAL AND MENTAL STATE OF EVERYONE. THE FRIENDS COME TOGETHER TO UNRAVEL THE MYSTERY OF A RELIGIOUS CULT THREATENING THE SECURITY OF THE POLIS. BUT WHAT IS THEIR SURPRISE WHEN THEY BEGIN TO REALIZE THAT THINGS ARE MUCH DEEPER. SOMEWHERE OUT THERE, EACH OF THEIR MINDS HAS BEEN CRUELLY BRAINWASHED BY THE INFAMOUS DOCTOR GAD ‘DI ENN, WHO WANTS COMPLETE DOMINION OVER THE SURVIVING REMNANTS OF THE PLANET'S POPULATION.