“I am a dark king,” The skull said. “Yet, my faith was as common and mundane as yours, mortal. I don’t seek deprivation of materials for bodily and creative production. I have built many laboratories to attest to that. I have an avid interest in the environment that sustains me. I evolve and do things in a more optimized way. It rejuvenates me. It rekindles my soul. That which shines is an important side-show to provide special meaning to my actions. That meaning is my faith.”

  That was neat. “Don’t you have a God?”

  “I don’t believe we do. Or you would not be here,” the creature said.

  “Why not?” I said.

  “Ask while you can.” The creature looked at its crown. “I’ll tell you a story. One day, a human saint came to me. He asked me where I came from. I knew not the answer. He said I came from God, dead as I was.”

  “I looked about me. I looked at the sky and the ground. I realized the human saint was an illusion. The saint was nothing but an old man. I did not come from God. I came from the greed of evolution. I left the saint alone. He had given my brain a good question to ponder over.

  He spoke of contracts of morality with God. The only contract that mattered to me was the contract of equivalent exchange between saints and tyrants. I traded materials for illusions known as qualia. I traded illusions for materials. I obtained money. I performed social actions. I became a king.

  Inside my head, I kept my memories of contracts and incidents in the form of stories, in case I forgot. These stories inform my faith. That said, I seek, yet, immortality. So, do I seek other stories, just like you seek my stories.”

  The creature crowned itself. The bleak luminous light atop the points of the crown turned blue. He, the dark king, sat down. I could feel his spite. “Who will you support? Me or the dying goddess? Consider this well. You need to help someone, to earn your meat, your grapes, your wine, your woman and your society.” The fluorescent blue light brightened, in the skull’s eye sockets. “If you fail to choose, you will be nothing to me. You will not need to come back and talk about it. If you want to commit to the research of the world, I welcome you with open arms.”

  “What is your objective?”

  “I want to kill Ambrosia,” the creature said.

  “If I refuse?”

  “I don’t feel satisfaction from defeating a weak opponent. I have the upper hand. Obviously, I understand your emotions too. Ambrosia hasn’t tortured you the way she tortured my troops over the years. No wonder you don’t feel the same animosity.”

  “I don’t concur.” I hesitated. I remembered the profile of my ideal when I had died, and the way candles had lit about it. I wanted to be better. “I have thought it over. I shall serve Ambrosia and the Thesis nation.”

  “Do you actually think that Ambrosia is the right pick?”

  “No,” I replied. “I think I am righteous in my choice.” In the corner of my eyes I saw a pile of white skeletons, slumbering in the dark.

  “I see you did not come to mourn your conscience. You have one last chance,” the creature said, lifting his hand.

  I crossed my arms. “Fine, you are righteous. I am wrongful.”

  “You are conceited, mortal!” The creature roared. He brought his hand down. The room caved in. I saw rocks falling about. I stepped aside to avoid a large chunk of rock overhead. The creature turned into a gray-brown demon with two horns on his face. He lifted his face, red eyes flashing in my direction. The creature turned the opposite direction and wrapped his hands at his back. He looked at the cave’s ceiling. “Those who don’t own their conscience are nihilists. I call them cowards. My name is Nidhoggr. Remember that.”

  His profile disintegrated into dark waves and particles. The dark king receded, then from sight, then from memory, like a childhood scarecrow. I took a step forward. I fell to the ground on the second step. I lost consciousness.

  ***

  ‘My mother did not teach me to like the world. No, that’s not right,’ I thought. ‘I could have liked or hated the world either way. Indeed, my parents encased my personal world, as I did among friends.’ There was no remedy for that. Every grown-up bird eventually left his home.

  I opened my eyes to a ceiling with golden stripes spreading outward into a circle. It depicted the sun. That cave had been dark. I looked to the right. Ambrosia tended to my wounds. My left hand was out, cold. “Where are we?”

  “We are in a recovery room of the castle. It’s the second residential area, from north.”

  “I see,” I said, at length.

  “Well,” Ambrosia said, “have you had enough persecution or are you looking to persecute someone?”

  “I am not a shadow,” I said. My voice was dry. “Sometimes, I don’t want to laugh. I use these times that I don’t laugh to introspect my thoughts. However, the first time I completed remarkable studies, I did not feel anything. When my friend patted my back after I got a ball in the hoop, I felt nothing had been achieved. I wanted to live.”

  I once belonged to a good middle-high school due to initial remarkable studies. Now, I was an alumnus and the school was a high school. That belonging was only my participation trophy. I completed my homeworks, and did my practice before gaining entrance. However, it was an innate feeling that I had not done enough to score that school.

  Then came high school level. My high school grades were average, a discrepancy between the first half and the second half. When my father pointed out my results in grade 7, I wept crocodile’s tears. I was more interested in playing Age of Empires II and reading books. In my extended second half of high school, I played basketball. I dribbled and got a ball in the hoop. When the friend patted my back, I did not think I had done enough. I was just some person who wanted to learn basketball, due to anime, and happened to have a really good surrounding.

  That was the wrong perspective. I was not ‘some person who wanted to play basketball’. I was a person, with teammates and other players. Then came college. I got out of college as a better person.

  I saw the room was bright. It was not cold.

  Black fumes exuded from my skin. “You are burning, again,” Ambrosia said. She brought her fingertips together. Radiant leaves wrapped my body. They felt cool. The fumes turned into flames. The flames subsided. Ambrosia held her hands apart. A gray book materialized in front of her. I lifted my upper body, to now sit on the bed. I looked around.

  Hugh was in the dark side of the room. Ulysses stood under the light from the east-side window of the room. He vanished, and I saw no remnant of his presence. The light glowed. Its shine was succinct, but soundless. I gazed upward, seeking to derive and evince. The light modulated the room.

  When it shone on Hugh, the latter disappeared. The light glowed onward. Hugh reappeared. Light was not vain. Whatever it was which materialized Hugh was not vain either.

  Existence was vain.

  I stood up. There was nothing to be gained. There was no sunshine. There was no rain. There was no such thing for what I myself did not desire. Therefore, I had to be truthful to myself.

  Had it been a chore to raise me? Was it a chore to live? What changed?

  It was selfishness. Lies made for endless persecution. I touched my forehead. I must have been foolish to only think of tests and trials as infinite games. I was a finite pawn, and something other than that – a human citizen, between the standards and hierarchies, of caring and belonging, and nurturing and status.

  Standing for something or being a hollow shell – either way was my way. Fruitless impatience would always be the hallmark of failure to prepare and to predict. A mere shadow, a mere snake. I had encountered a snake in that cave. It was that gray-brown demon with two horns and red eyes. I looked at the walls of the recovery room. These portrayed red flowers surrounded by a golden plaster. The room was rectangular, to be exact. “Ambrosia, I subscribe to being a hero.”

  “Good,” Ambrosia said. “I was thinking that you don’t even believe in my existence. Why would you persecute yourself? Will someone punish you for being lazy?”

  “No. I will be a have-not. That’s freedom. Everyone will die one day or the other.” I scratched my head. I summoned up the contract I had first received and agreed to it.

  “Congratulations on officially becoming a hero, Aidan,” Ambrosia said. “I’ll consider not making you a rat subject. I will support you, so long as you need it.”

  “Wait, that’s still on the table? Well, thank you.” I waited. “I don’t feel like anything has changed,” I said.

  “Yeah. That is correct,” Ambrosia replied. “I believe we have an agreement now. I will update you shortly.”

  “I see. Do tell me how I can avoid becoming a demon lord.” I said.

  “Let me look up the particular process to grant my powers to a demon lord apprentice. I believe something similar happened three hundred years ago. The result of the contract was a mixed bag, to be sure. His name was Mujang.” Ulysses reappeared close to Hugh, braying the way only a deer could. On the cover of the gray book, I saw a stretched-out snake beside a sleeping man. ‘The human condition,’ I thought.

  “My answer to your question is that everything depends on your own actions,” Ambrosia said. “I’ll send you to a dungeon with a training party the day after tomorrow. You may see yourself to the maid at the door.”

  I had little way of knowing if my rejection of the demon lord’s proposal was real or a projection of a conveniently insatiable snake. Perhaps I would one day know what he meant.

  My eyes connected with Hugh’s. The creature deprecated in the darkness. For an instance, Hugh held its claws to the light. The claws were a vivid red. It was more appropriate to say it was a paw. Hugh clenched this paw.

  In place of antlers, Hugh had a horn. Hugh had wings.

  When I took a step back, I saw that both creatures had golden eyes.

  ***

  Two days later

  06.09.10022

  Three persons crossed the door into the induction room.

  I saw Dalton, in the company of a black-haired woman and a red-haired guy. They paid respect to Ambrosia, and looked in my direction.

  “Hello, I’m Aidan Alastair. I’m a demon lord apprentice. As such, my spells revolve around Caecus. Nice to have you.”

  “I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep a lot.”

  “Handle yourself, Catherine,” said Benjamin.

  ***

  Two days earlier

  04.09.10022

  It was afternoon. The sun shone in the western sky.

  “You seem to have made yourself comfortable,” Ambrosia said.

  “I have,” I said.

  “Okay, got that. Time to modify your status. While I’m at it, I’ll give you some advice if you care to listen.”

  The process went as followed: I sat cross-legged, on the bed. Ambrosia put on gauntlets, then looked at the inscription on my back. It reminded me of a certain anime. It was about a white-haired adolescent with red eyes, who got an inscription on his back from a goddess called Hestia.

  An unusual coldness froze my back to stiffness. My skin stung as if it was being cut, slickly. I heard sounds of web-strings breaking apart, as granular as creaking concrete.

  My chest contracted. I heaved in air.

  “Bear with it, will you?” said the goddess. She swung her hand swiftly about my back. Her fingers became like those of a virtuoso.

  “I doubt anyone would want to be your patient if you were a doctor,” I said.

  “Not my demographic,” Ambrosia said.

  I closed my eyes. I waited for some time. Then, I opened my eyes to the recovery room. I could not feel the goddess’s hands. I looked up to see her in front of me. “We are done here.”

  “Cool. What’s the result?”

  “You are fine for now. Your preference remains Caecus. Your Qualia is presently Nox. Caecus means confusion of beliefs and can be characterized as total lack of belief. In game systems, this can mean the scale of good to evil, including neutral good and neutral evil.

  Nox, which is your qualia, means night. Qualia indicates your preferred art. As for Nox, it represents six affinities. These are ice, void, electricity, radioactive elements, acid and air.

  Nox symbolizes death. Death means maximum entropy. You may characterize it in terms of increased concentration of inward energy. That indicates a greater amount of flaws as well.”

  “Gravity, ice, electricity, and three more. Got it. Thank you,” I said. The translucent button on my left lit up. I pushed on it. It revealed my whole status.

  I tapped on Proof-of-relation.

  I was worried about the defense attribute not showing up. That was important if I took any substantial damage. I tapped on the physical resistance.

  I was not interested in becoming a tanker.

  I looked at Ambrosia. She had a blank face. She must be in NPC mode. I sighed and looked at my status again. I would leave the review for later. “Can you be more specific about how I can remove this 0.73 demon lord affinity?”

  “Improve your trust attribute,” Ambrosia said. I gave her a blank stare. She cupped her left fist with her right hand. “Improving your trust attribute is as much a deterministic method as it is something that lies within your control. I wish you luck, Aidan Alastair.”

  ***

  05.09.10022

  If you don’t owe yourself any good advice, you don’t need to persecute yourself. Just understand what you do better.

  It was evening. I was done with some push-ups. I felt expedient. I put on a gray t-shirt and walked away from the training pitch. I saw a man writing some notes in a library. He had a blue hat at his side. I walked past the library. As I walked, I saw Ambrosia training some magicians. I looked ahead, in a neutral head position. If I had the chance to fight Hugh, Ambrosia’s pet, that would not be bad in itself. I saw a shop selling meat buns. I forked over 60 utils to get two of them. “I wonder if it will be sunny tomorrow,” I said.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hawking’s theories have not been invented from thin air,” said a young scholar, passing by.

  “Neither has the doctrine of our goddess, Ambrosia. I believe both are related,” said a shrewd-eyed elderly person. That piqued my curiosity.

  An emaciated dog trailed them. “Only for today,” I said. I broke a piece of one of the meat buns I held and threw it to the dog. After the dog was done eating, it came back to me. I patted the dog’s head and tapped it lightly. I smiled, with wry, at the emaciated dog, and walked away. Further left, there was a farmland for chicken and wheat. There was a Shepherd dog in one of the barred areas. Its fur was a mix of brown and black. Beside it, an advertisement board displayed information about a contest for the best wheat-grower.

  I entered the castle garden and found a suitable alcove. I sat myself there. It looked dull and demure, but well-lit. Here, I could not hear anyone. I looked at a spire rising in the distance. The area beneath the spire mainly comprised of a library. I stood there, awhile. A button lit up within my eyesight. I pulled up the notification menu; I had received a message from Ambrosia. I opened it.

  [Hello, Aidan. Please be present at the third induction room, tomorrow morning, at 09:00. You will find below a list of your teammates:

  1. Dalton Dakota

  2. Catherine York

  3. Basil Foster

  Do not forget to reply to this email.]

  I sent a reply back. I looked down to the right. It was late. I headed toward the cafeteria. Along the way, cherry blossoms fell by me. It was a moonless evening. A group of five lit up fireworks to brighten the sky.

  At the cafeteria, there were stalls of vegetables and a buffet of cooked food. I took some vegetables and roasted chicken wings. I went to the counter. A buffet supervisor recorded whatever I took. I got to my room. I washed myself. I cooked and ate the vegetables and ate the chicken wings too. Thereafter, I got to sleep.

  ***

  Beyond The Legacy.