Strands of visible wind blew into a hushed room from an open window, hiding the subtle murmurs that assumed the stiff coldness of the room's current dim atmosphere and mood.
These faded murmurs, which seemed to hide myriads of emotions, resonated with the diminutive warmth of the candlelight that stood upon the wooden desk, and the background creakings of the wooden floorboards.
And, next to the candlelight was a small, brownish map, with a newspaper. The map seemed to be an old "Artifact" painted long ago. Yet, it remained true to the world's landscape, even in the present age, depicting the Grimlands perfectly, what people called the lands that composed the entirety of the known world.
But, within the Grimlands was only a darkened world, only protected under the shadow of the Bloodheart Tree, which rose after the "tide" of Abstract Essence swept the lands from the depths of the world, shattering the peacefulness of nature that thrived during the Elden Times.
"…"
The murmurs abruptly stopped and were replaced by the words of a young man with mature, brown eyes, sitting by the candlelight, who uttered:
"…This doesn't make any sense… and it happened this morning?"
"How could the tide even reach it? And, even the Godslayer Knights were unable to do anything against it… the Alliance of Swords & Crowns couldn't do anything against it…"
"…The Grimlands are doomed." He resigned with a small sigh, leaning on his wooden chair, "It's only a matter of time before we all die. The Demonic Tide has won."
The Demonic Tide arose thousands of years ago, beginning the first era since the birth of all existence, the Elden Times. It arose from the depths of the world—from the "ethereal body" of the Sleeping God, named, the Dreaming God.
At its peak, the tide swallowed entire continents, and the entire world fought against it in a Great War that spanned hundreds of thousands of years. However, its reappearance half a century ago sent the natural order of the world tumbling, and with its encroachment on the sole protector of the world, halting the influence of the Gods…
"It's all over… with this, the Gods will tarnish the world completely with blood and fire. All of existence, born from nothing, and so they will send us back to nothing through a baptism of ashes and purple flames…" He said, as he brought the newspaper to his face, and inspected it carefully again.
And, as he thought, his eyes still weren't deceiving him. In as big as words anyone could imagine, the daily newspaper boldly exclaimed, "The Demonic Tide has encroached upon the Bloodheart Tree, in only a matter of decades."
And, it was so. Without the Bloodheart Tree, the Gods could do anything to these lands, with their unseen nature, their control over the divine elements, and, most of all, their almighty hegemony.
They were unfathomable beings that existed beyond everything, and, it was discovered not too long ago that their objectives did not align with that of the living.
The young man coughed, "Well, it isn't all bad, I suppose... as a self-proclaimed conspiracy theorist, I believe I know more about the Gods than most, and so I would surely know that they cannot directly destroy us, as their power is so great and almighty that they could shatter even themselves into indescribably abstract pieces with enough effort."
"So, perhaps the death of everything won't happen too quickly."
"…But, that won't stop them from destroying everything eventually." He said as he rubbed his face.
"…Well, I was tired of life anyway. And, I'm sure everyone else is too. It was just a few months ago that the ministers and officials of the Alliance started to tax even the small amount of coins we workers fought to bring home every day, just to survive. Then, as if to mock us, they just wrote it off as a tax for the betterment of society."
The young man, who called himself Scott, couldn't help but clench his fist in anger as he remembered.
Because of all the various taxes imposed during the years he lived in the country of Peinns, he could barely even afford this small home which could fall apart at any second. But, he released his fist and simply decided to go outside instead, to step out into the streets of Hurgines City.
As he rose from the wooden chair, he looked around and noticed the state of his room. Empty. He barely had any time or money to buy decorative items anyway.
"Damn it. This is just making me feel more and more frustrated." Scott muttered, unable to hide it any longer.
He quickly opened his room's door and put on an ordinary brown suit to take a walk outside, and, even though the air was frigid and bitter, he found it better than being inside the house and reminded of the momentary anger that had almost consumed him.
He noticed his fellow neighbours coming out of their homes on this night, just to stare at the stars for one last time, he said:
"If I could describe this moment in one word, it would be simply, boring. A boring, dull end to such a beautiful world, despite its endless faults."
"…It would have been better for us to never have discovered the true intentions of the Gods, so that, we wouldn't be so hopeless in our last, fleeting moments. Or maybe, it would've been better for us to not have divided ourselves, despite the massive threat that loomed over our heads."
To those words, a few of his neighbours glanced at him and nodded, before simply staring at the night sky, and the myriad of stars that glimmered ominously.
And then, the sky began to crack and somehow shattered into millions of fragments that flew across like comets, leaving only the pitch dark of the abstract realms beyond.
Scott felt his heart drop, mumbling, "…It's here already. And here I thought I would have some more time to contemplate."
But, as he stared more closely, he didn't expect hooded, ghostly and shadowlike apparitions to fall out of the void in the sky soon after, taking the forms of blackened, inhuman warriors. They were bizarre, and wickedly so.
They then spoke, all at once, pointing their sharpened blades at everything that lived and breathed on that street:
"The Gods have shown you all mercy. Your "deaths" shall lead to a newfound brilliance in the Almighty Dream, governed by those blessed, and created by "Them."
"As the heralds of divinity, we, the "Black Blades", shall lift our swords and renew this pitiable earth."
One of them pointed at Scott, before charging at him and striking him clean through the chest. Then followed the same with every other person who had witnessed it happening.
"Wh-why?!" Scott cried out in anguish.
"…These words are to you, 10,000 years from now," The blackened apparition replied, "Do not dare to disobey "Their" Will, and cast away any memories of this imperfect world."
"Or else, you will be smitten with Retributal Fire of the Karmic Soul, and cast into the Abyss."
As it said this, a black fire rose from its blade and started to consume Scott whole. He didn't feel any pain, but instead felt a great burden on his heart, that was growing the more the fire consumed him.
And yet, this burden relieved him of all the pain and anger he felt at that moment. He was at peace. And, with his life flashing before his eyes, he was reminded of the greatness that his life also held. Greatness that he didn't feel these strange apparitions were taking him to.
So, with all the might he had, he lifted his arm and held the bloodstained black blade, trying to pull it out of his chest, while letting loose all the feelings he had at that moment.
"Y'know what? Fuck you, and your Gods! I'm gonna survive, no matter what. And then, I gonna swear an oath on my very soul, to kill you fuckers, one by one, including the Gods themselves!" He roared.
With a sudden burst of strength, he ripped the sword straight out of his chest, and fell to the ground, in a pool of his blood. However, instead of finishing the job, the apparition disappeared, leaving him alone, surrounded only by the corpses of his fellow neighbours.
"…This hurts. This all fucking hurts. I don't care about keeping composed anymore. Fuck you, you damned Gods! I'd swear on my soul again… if I had the strength to…"
He looked towards his chest, and noticed that the black flames were still there, and were slowly corroding his left arm, making blackened bubbles form on the surface of his skin.
"…The year is 1897. The month is July. The day is the 21st, and it is roughly midnight currently. I have wondered before if I would ever be able to say this, but…"
"Today is the date that I die."
As he said those words, he closed his eyes and waited for the sweet embrace of death to take him. However, something else was waiting for him to give up.
As the last living being alive perished just like that, the Sleeping God slowly rose gently. Just by awakening from its dream, all of reality collapsed, and the lands and the seas, and all that was not the eternal abyss, was destroyed, sending shards of existence sprawling.
"The World… is Born Again. My Second Dream… shall commence again. The Other Gods shall be satisfied with just this from me, but let me add my influence into the mix."
The Sleeping God pieced together the soul of a human, "his" soul, and branded it with "God's Grace."
"I shall bestow a Boon in this second life…"
"So, he must hope… he will not make the same mistake twice here. Or else he will lose both my interest and his life."