Trigon Unleashed Chapter 1: Lee Priest? No, Call me Trigon.

Chapter 1: Lee Priest? No, Call me Trigon.


Dedicated to Jeff. Thanks for everything bud.


(General P.O.V)

The echoes of the church service still played in 17 year old Lee Priest's mind as he walked along the sidewalk of the bridge, his Bible tucked tightly under his arm.

The evening sun cast long shadows over the bustling traffic below, engines droning in an unbroken symphony of movement.

Lee adjusted his pace, his thoughts drifting between the sermon he'd just heard and the growing uncertainties in his life.

Then he saw him—a man in a black hood pulled low over his face, moving swiftly toward a school bus full of middle graders stuck in traffic ahead.

The man paused briefly, looked around, and crouched to shove a duffel bag under the bus. Something about the way the man moved sent a jolt through Lee.

The man disappeared into the crowd, but Lee's eyes remained fixed on the bag, a bad feeling gripping him.

He quickened his pace, weaving between pedestrians, his heart pounding harder with each step.

"Hey! Stop! What did you do?!" he shouted at the man's back, but no one paid attention.

As he approached the bus, Lee quickly dropped to his knees and peered underneath.

The bag's partially open zipper revealed tangled wires and a blinking red light. His breath hitched. It was a bomb.

Lee scrambled to his feet, waving his arms at the people near the bus. "Everyone get back! Move away from the bus!"

Confused stares greeted him, but no one moved.

Inside the bus, children pressed their faces against the windows, their young voices muffled behind the glass while pointing at him. Lee had no time to explain. Certainly not to the bus driver in ear phones.

Dropping back to the ground, he reached for the bag.

His hands trembled as he grabbed it, feeling the weight of both the explosive and the risk he was taking.

The timer’s beeping quickened, each sound louder and sharper than the last.

Lee didn’t think. He acted.

Rising to his feet, he ran towards the water and hurled the bag over the side of the bridge, with every ounce of strength he could muster just as the counter reached zero.

The explosion lit the sky moments later, a deafening roar followed by a burst of flames that illuminated the water below.

Heat waves rippled back toward the bridge, rattling cars and silencing the world for a moment.

The bus was untouched. The children inside were safe. Lee stood there amidst the sudden panic, his chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through his body. Relief washed over him in a wave, and he turned back to look at the bus.

Then he froze.

While everyone was running away from the scene, the hooded man was standing behind him, just a few steps away, a gun pointed directly at his chest.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” the man said, his voice cold and deliberate.

Lee’s stomach dropped. His instincts screamed for him to run, but his legs felt like lead.

The man cocked the gun. Without thinking, Lee raised the Bible in front of him, clutching it as if it could shield him from the inevitable.

The crack of the gunshot echoed across the bridge.

The bullet ripped through the Bible, shredding pages and leather before slamming into Lee’s forehead.

The world tilted. Darkness rushed in like a tide. Lee’s body collapsed to the pavement, lifeless, as the Bible fell from his hands. Pages fluttered in the breeze, marked by the crimson stain of blood.

-0-

Lee’s awareness returned slowly, a fragmented sense of self piecing together in the void.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t move, but he could hear. Voices—two of them—argued somewhere in the darkness, their tones as distinct as their words.

“He defiled the Holy Bible,” growled a sharp, furious voice. Its anger reverberated, cold and biting. “He used it as a shield, desecrating the sacred text! There are rules against this—rules that must be upheld!”

“You saw what happened,” countered a calmer voice, steady but exasperated. “He was terrified. He sought comfort behind the Word in his moment of need. And he saved a bus full of children. Does that not outweigh your concerns?”

The angry voice bristled. “Saved children? His intentions were selfish! He clung to the Bible, hoping it would protect him. And need I remind you, Gabriel, that he’s no believer? His memories are filled with irreverence—filth! Cartoons glorifying false gods, blasphemous idols, and worse. He admired them, worshipped them! A mockery of the Creator!”

“It was entertainment, Michael, and you're referring to Anime, Cartoons is a general term.” Gabriel replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone. “Point is, they were a distraction, nothing more. Humans do that to escape their burdens. Surely, even you can recognize that?”

“Entertainment?” Michael spat the word like poison. “His ‘entertainment’ idolized hubris. Beings claiming to be gods! Gokus, Demon Lords, Celestial Sapiens... all absurd creations that humans dare to revere. His mind is steeped in their poison! Lee Priest is a Sinner!”

The argument escalated, their words sharp and cutting.

'They are talking about me.' Lee discovered. Taking into account he'd just died and the context of their discussion, it wasn't difficult to figure out his fate was in their hands.

Lee strained to speak, to defend himself, but his body remained unresponsive. He tried to move, to force out even a single word, but he was trapped—an observer in his own fate.

“Lower your voice, Michael,” Gabriel said suddenly, his tone softer. “His soul is waking.”

There was a pause, followed by whispered words too faint for Lee to make out. Frustration gnawed at him, but he remained silent, powerless. Whoever these people or beings were, he hoped they wouldn't harm him. He'd tried to follow the Bible's teachings in life and even died doing good. It wouldn't be fair if he was punished for a mistake that wasn't his.

Eventually, Michael spoke again, his voice tinged with malice. “We’re at an impasse, Gabriel. You refuse to send him to Hell, where he belongs, and I refuse to allow him into Heaven. He’s unworthy of both.”

Gabriel sighed heavily. “Then there’s only one option left: reincarnation.”

Michael’s chuckle was dark, laced with venom. “Not just any reincarnation, brother. He idolized those ridiculous gods in his cartoons. Let’s grant him his wish—a life of hubris and despair. A fitting punishment for his sins.”

Gabriel hesitated. “God won’t be pleased with this, Michael. You’re tampering with—”

“God won’t know,” Michael interrupted sharply. “The Reincarnation Veil is absolute. It erases everything. No memories, no past life. Not even God’s omniscience can pierce it. The soul that was Lee Priest will cease to exist. He’ll be nothing more than a vessel for his own arrogance. Besides, you know he will be happy with an existence unbeholden to no one but himself. True Freedom like the Pirate King would say.”

Imagination was a realm outside of the True God's influence. Thus ungraced by his glory, but similarly spared his wrathful envy.

Gabriel’s silence was heavy, reluctant. “I pray you’re right.”

“You won’t remember to pray,” Michael said with a cruel laugh. “Neither will I. Once he passes through the veil, this moment, this argument, and even his name will be lost to eternity. Only he will remain—reborn, cursed, and forgotten.”

Lee’s awareness began to fade, the voices growing distant. He wanted to scream, to plead his case, but the darkness claimed him once more.

The last sound he heard was Michael’s mocking laughter echoing in the void, as he was cast out of known existence and into the infinitude of the cycle of rebirth, where reality met fiction and mixed.

-0-

Long before Lee Priest’s soul was cast into the cycle of reincarnation, a pivotal moment in the cosmos shaped a certain dimension in the Omniverse.

On the tranquil world of Azarath, a society of powerful magicians sought to purge their realm of all evil.

Pooling their collective power, they condensed every ounce of sin, darkness, and malice into a single, writhing mass.

The magicians sealed this essence and cast it into the void of space, banishing it from their dimension.

For thousands of years, the mass drifted through universes, consuming fragments of darkness from several sentient worlds it encountered along the way.

It absorbed all known and unknown sins, sublimating vast amounts of negative emotions like hatred, despair, and cruelty, growing larger and more powerful by centuries.

Over time, the mass larger than star systems began to compress, the accumulated malevolence birthing a consciousness from another reality.

The being that emerged was pure, unbridled evil—a force fated to one day shape entire worlds to its will or consume them to sate it's unending hunger.

-0-

(5000 bc)

Far from it's universe of birth, the being finally arrived in a world where fate intertwined with the Past. A world of Marvels.

The jungle was dense, air heavy with moisture. An obsidian triangular shaped spacecraft hang over the trees, conspicous among the greenery.

Suddenly, birds scattered away as a red meteor tore through the sky above the craft, crashing into the earth with a deafening boom.

Where the red light struck, the ground smoldered. Amidst the smoke and charred foliage lay a red-skinned baby, naked and crying.

The infant’s four glowing eyes darted wildly, its small hands clawing at the dirt. White hair clung to its scalp, damp from the impact. Tiny black horns protruded from its forehead, glinting in the dim light.

The sound drew the attention of three nearby figures: Makkari, Thena, and Kingo.

The Eternals approached cautiously, their armors shimmering with celestial energy as they stepped into the clearing.

“What... is that?” Kingo asked, his voice low, glowing fingers aimed.

Makkari tilted her head, gesturing to the infant. *A baby,* she signed, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Thena knelt beside the child, her silver blade retracting into her hand as she studied it more closely.

The baby’s cries softened as she extended a finger toward it. To her surprise, the infant grasped her finger tightly, its glowing eyes locking onto hers.

“It’s not human,” Kingo muttered. “Red skin, four eyes, horns... whatever this is, it’s not mortal.”

Thena glanced back at him. “It fell from the sky. It’s not mortal, but it’s not of this earth either. We can’t leave it here.”

Gilgamesh emerged from the trees, his large frame casting a shadow over the group. “If mortals find it, they’ll kill it. It doesn’t belong with them.”

Thena nodded. “Then we take it.”

Kingo frowned. “Ajax won’t like this.”

“Then Ajax can tell me herself,” Thena said, lifting the child into her arms.

Its cries stopped, and for a brief moment, the clearing was silent.

When they returned to the Eternals’ ship, Ajax regarded the infant with a mix of caution and curiosity.

“If you take this child, you take responsibility, and that begins with giving it a name.” she said after a terse discussion which ended in a close vote.

Thena glanced down at the baby, its tiny hand still clutching her finger. A few names came to her, as if projected by the child itself.

'Lee Priest. No, Call me...' It's red eyes narrowed in a strange struggle, before they lit up with confidence.

“Trigon,” Thena whispered.

The name triggered an explosion of red energy from the child, tearing through the ship's roof.

The skies above parted, and a ripple of power spread across the cosmos.

On Titan, a young Thanos paused, his bloodstained hands tightening as a chill ran down his spine.

Somewhere in the nine realms, Heimdall and the Watcher on the moon recoiled, blinded by the surge of power.

A new force had been born.