《The True King of Death》Ch 2: The past
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He felt sorrow, deep heart wrenching sorrow, one that could kill the soul.
He didn't know how or why, but some unexplainable phenomenon interfered with his feelings as he was forcefully calmed down again and again until he felt no more strong emotions.
This left him in a state of constant melancholy and guessing, as to what the cause of his grief was, — he couldn't recall.
He didn't know who or what he was, one thing he knew though.
He must have been pretty scary, for monsters had far avoided his location. Maybe it was for the best though, many had visages far too cruel for his taste.
He found himself in a desert of sorts, although he didn't retain much of his memories prior to his transition but even he could tell that something was wrong with the sky.
There was no real lunar cycle here, there was only an eternal night with a sky devoid of stars. It wasn't anything special, most would say even less than that, even still. Something had resonated deep within his soul as he stared at the boundless skies. A feeling buried deep within, struggling to break free.
Day after day, night after night he scanned the skies looking for answers, hoping that the tugging at the back of his mind would cease and the dam blocking his memories would crack, and the flood would pour in. But alas, he had no such luck. Not on the first, not on the second, not on the hundredth day.
Nevertheless, his skull remained turned upwards, his empty eye sockets taking in the full canvas that was the black skies.
Time passed and he grew curious, he explored the bones that made up his body and the peculiar red orb that floated inside of his rib cage. He was impressed by the cloth he wore; it must have meant that he was an important person, a king perhaps? He could only guess.
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The staff he held within his hands was of extraordinary make, standing out even among the other items of exquisite make on his person. Still, his eyes strayed to the gently pulsing red orb floating leisurely inside the protection of his firm ribs. It had an enticing allure to it as it pulsed with light, with life, beckoning all to reach out for it. Waking desires to obtain it at any costs in all who saw it.
He reached for the orb and let his boney fingers caress the precious sphere only for an unruly pain to assault his mind.
Visions, memories flashed before his very eyes at speeds normal humans could never hope to comprehend. But to the Overlord, the highest tier undead this was a trivial task.
He felt his mental eyes opening, then his line of sight shifted as he looked up from a lying position at his assailants who were having fun impaling him on a sword and watching as life left his body, just when he thought that this was the end a paladin in pure white appeared and became his savior.
The vision shifted showing a massive chamber adorned with priceless treasures. At the end, a crystalline throne, and upon the throne an imposing skeleton that could be mistaken for Death itself.
Before its burning gaze that purged the living rows of untold monstrosities lined up in wait of its, no, his command. He was the one sitting atop the Throne of Kings, he was the one by whose side 40 others of similar overwhelming power stood.
It was good times, he concluded. However, his delight was short lived as the vision shifted once more.
There was great battle, the shaking of the black walls was proof of that. Why? Because these walls were by nature, indestructible. Something that could shake these foundations had to be serious.
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Before his mental eyes hundreds upon hundreds, no thousands of beings which could be called nothing less than Gods, the strongest of the Gods had laid siege to his, and his comrades' home. It was an unforgiving slaughter where the creations of his dear friends lost their lives one after another under the relentless onslaught of the Gods.
He felt an unruly fury rising, and it didn't get crushed by the unexplainable force like before… next he knew a wave of utter destruction brought forth by his rage decimated the corridors where the enemy advanced. Gods they may be, powerful they may be, but against total annihilation they were powerless.
Oblivion, that was the power sealed inside the Red Orb of Momonga, the highest-class magical item that becomes stronger when he wields it. Truly, a fitting power for the one that rules above all.
The vision shifted one final time to reveal him sitting atop the Throne of Kings, — all alone.
No comrades to speak off, he sat there silently, surrounded by his servants he awaited the end.
It has come, Ragnarok, the end of Yggdrasil was here, and yet… he couldn't just abandon the creations of his dear friends and comrades, he couldn't just throw it all away and save his own skin.
As the final countdown reached zero everything went dark… and then he awakened on the barren lands of Hueco Mundo.
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