Chapter 54 - No Rest For The Wicked

Dreams are fleeting. Only nightmares last forever.

It was an old saying, one that had passed on through multiple civilizations. Bdevorren would know, he had been through all two and a half of them.

Even before the first bremetan forces came marching along the Sea of Mone, trotting on their bicorns and claiming the land and the sea in the name of their Empress, before the name Asukan was even etched on rock and clay, the name ‘nightmare’ was ancient. Actually, the Norse referred to him, or his kind, as mares, evil, vengeful spirits that twisted one’s thinking, corrupted one’s spirit and went around spreading mindless chaos everywhere.

They were not quite right, but not quite wrong either.

A mare was an aberration, a flaw in the mechanics of Reality, created when Divinity and Anathema clashed against each other, creating an error in the source protocol of the World. A glitch in the system that existed to corrupt, acting in ways to prolong its own existence, while keeping itself hidden from the World that was always on the lookout for them.

And with due reason. A powerful mare could make glaring distortions in the fabric of Reality, twisting space, time, Truth and dimensions, tearing holes where there should be none, creating paths and backdoors into places that didn’t exist. It could make two plus two fifteen.

Bdevorren too, had led a long, long, life. He had seen the fall of the Ikai singularity, seen those twisted abominations called yokai become trespassers in a new world and possess the natives to continue their existence. He had seen the growth of the bremetan kingdoms. Seen the rise of the hypocritical and duplicitous Asukan Empire.

He had seen it all.

Someone in his position would have grown to become the greatest threat to Reality during all this time. That swindling babe of a skinwalker claimed to be wise just because it had lived for six centuries. Bah! Bdevorren had lived through three of her lifetimes and never broke a sweat. He had consumed the minds of unsuspecting bremetans and svartalfars and muspels alike, and the more it consumed, the more it understood, and accompanying that feeling was a carnal hunger, one that wasn’t content with receding into the minds of prey, but to expand, to invade into others through psychic and empathic assault, devouring souls by corrupting their minds.

He became Bdevorren, the devourer. From a tiny glitch capable of only minor corruption of the host, he had evolved to become a high-level mare. No, nightmare. Glitches or not, keeping up with modern vocabulary was important.

And like every self-respecting nightmare, Bdevorren began to actively hunt.

The first had been a councilor in the East. Then, a Queen from Karnegrug with all kinds of strange fetishes with whips and chains that Bdevorren couldn’t comprehend. A beast-slayer after that, and so on. He constantly chose better and better bodies with varying spiritual food, expanding his own repertoire of skills with great relish as he feasted on their hapless souls. His journey continued for decades and centuries, growing into a massive beast, feeding on lowly commoners to exotic adventurers to Asukan nobles, projecting its consciousness across massive distances, and causing mayhem and suffering in general. It was still hilariously beneath the levels of Those-That-Lurk-In-Darkness, but Bdevorren was nothing if not diligent.

And with that diligence, came a nagging desire to become more. Just corrupting natives and twisting their spiritual constitutions wasn’t enough anymore. If it wanted to elevate itself, then it needed to twist the laws of Reality. Make its mark on it.

Become a true aberration.

As the saying goes, Pride before fall.

That’s what happened next.

Bdevorren achieved what he wanted. Bdevorren manipulated Danttu to spend all his resources, manpower and technology to rip apart the layer of Reality, creating a rift into the broken Ikai realm. The World whined like a little bitch as Reality rose to correct itself, but the damage was done. The rift was created, the door opened to the Other side, and it would not be closed.

That was when the whiny little bitch turned its angry gaze at Danttu, cursing him with Sin and disintegrating his soul. Before Bdevorren even knew it, it had come for him, ready to devour it, and had almost done so, when Bdevorren managed to escape by transferring its consciousness to its nearest target — a fluffy little, six-year-old changeling named Elena, fishing along the sea coast.

And that, in hindsight, was how its suffering truly began.

....

....

....

The Aberration that twists Reality.

The nightmare that erodes the spirits from existence.

The curse of the Nightwitch.

The Adversary that curses the High Lords.

Evil’s granddaddy.

Bdevorren had been called many names, across its two and a half civilizations worth of lifetime, and throughout the entire time, it had been growing from a tiny little inconsequential phage to a full-fledged nightmare that would one day join the echelons of Those-That-Lurk-In-Darkness or be annihilated in a cataclysmic clash against the corrective forces of the World and Reality working together to end his evil reign.

It was only after his final gambit that he realized how silly he had been, how ignorant he had been of the true monster that walked the world, with no one being any wiser.

The monster that existed in the form of the tiny six-year-old changeling, its current host and captor, a silly little girl called Elena. An incomprehensible freak. And this coming from a nightmare that lived for as long as he had, such a statement was not lightly made.

Bdevorren didn’t really understand the finer mechanics at play, but the changeling had a rather specific trait — one that made others, man or monster, look at her and think ‘timid’. No matter what she did, those around her considered the brunette to be an adorably helpless creature of some sort.

It was as if blinders were placed on all their senses when it came to her, distorting the truth to fit a narrative best served to protect her.

It was what kept her out of trouble despite being terrible at her cons and schemes and thievery attempts. At least until that terramancer had fallen in love with her adorableness and taken her in as his secretary.

It was also what kept Bdevorren from turning her into his own puppet.  Every time he tried to take control of her, he would be instantly inundated with thoughts of Elena’s timid and kind nature, and every desire to take over her being would be replaced by a burning need to take care of her.

Even after he discovered that she had somehow stolen all of his empathic abilities.

In rage, Bdevorren had gone ahead and stolen all her unused soul capacity for himself.

And just out of spite, he did it twice.

Hindsight, as they say, is a massive bitch.

He really should have expected his bad karma to follow through. For after the two attempts at Levelling-Up, the changeling just gave up on Levelling-up, deciding that her Schema had faulted. Bdevorren had done everything he could to get it past her thick skull that all she needed to do was try again, and this time, it would work. He had even tried to manipulate her emotions, boosting her confidence and evoking a need to try again.

But no matter what he did, the stupid girl would just not try again.

He supposed it would have been easier if Bdevorren could actively communicate to her. But he couldn’t. Because out of all the hellish effects his brush with the Correction had landed him with, was the inability to communicate.

Also, Bdevorren wasn’t Bdevorren anymore. The Aberration that could once create a majestic, towering form of insanity for itself, a form that made mortals go insane just by looking at it. Evil’s granddaddy. He who fought the forces of Reality and survived the Correction of the World was now, for some unknown, inexplicable reason, stuck in the shape of round, cuddly, oysterish head with with vestigial limbs and wings, and large, bright eyes that blinked all day like a dimwit and gurgle like a newborn baby, whenever his accursed, monstrous host had the temerity to force him into corporeal form from where it was hiding in the depths of her addled soul.

Adding insult to injury, what made it worse was that instead of calling it by his self-anointed terrifying name, she insisted on calling him —

“Oh Joey! I know you must be feeling terrified on your own! Don’t worry, Momma is going to get you back super soon.”

Bdevorren let out an anguished prayer. Every time she referred to him by that accursed name, something within him died.

The accursed creature was several thousand miles away, and still she was able to reach through their connection and torment him. Bdevorren wanted to… wanted to kill himself. Really, where was a Reality Correction when he needed it?

Just as planned, he had escaped the vile mistress’s clutches into the body of the other native. This native — Ultaf Shimizu, was a hormonal bastard, with little to claim as far as skills were concerned, but definitely better than the changeling in every way. He was also a bit of a dimwit, with ridiculously low mental and spiritual defenses. Taking over his soul, and commanding his brain to do what he wanted was child’s play.

Yes, the Consciousness transfer was temporary. But in Bdevorren’s eyes, even this tiny speck of joy was infinitely better than nothing. At the very least he was in control. Again. Just like the old days. Now all he needed was to kill his wretched mistress and tear her apart and then he’ll be free. Yes, that was the way to go. He’d use this form to get to that changeling and strike her down. He would not even consider how helpless he was and how timid she was, and how looking at her made him want to….

Damn her.

Let the Darkness take her! Twisted Blight that she was, even in this body, Bdevorren couldn’t entertain thoughts of killing her without being affected by her helplessness. Truly she was a scourge for nightmares.

If Bdevorren had the ability, he would have scowled. He didn’t, so he settled for paying attention to whatever was happening around him. His ‘body’ currently lay on a long table, with a group of healers bustling all around him. Healers, the lot of them, and utterly, utterly useless to his plans. Bdevorren would’ve preferred a host with some amount of physical strength and skill, but not one with one of those petty parasites latching onto their soul.

Twisting one soul was one thing. Twisting a symbiotic group was another. It didn’t help that just his gaze was enough to render such symbiotic bonds apart.

“How is he?”

Bdevorren went still. Ultaf’s eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see the new individual, but he didn’t need to. He could sense the sheer amount of power and mana surging through him. Just the thought of gaining that body as a host was enough to make him salivate. The kami would have to go, but even without it, the power, the strength, the reflexes… Just the thought of having that body flexing under his control sent shivers down his spiritual spine.

This was Mujin Shimizu. The Warlord. And unless he misremembered it, that walking-talking-plotting World intended to use Bdevorren to shatter the native’s bonds with its kami. It was risky, but it could work. Bdevorren had no delusions that the symbiotic bond would be great, but it was nothing he couldn’t shatter. No, the real issue was assuming his corporeal form and shattering the symbiotic bond, without being blown to bits by this horrifically-powerful creature.

“He’s healing, but it will take time, sir,” said a healer. “Every single joint in his body was broken. Punctured lung, extreme tissue damage, multiple brain aneurysms, penetrating wounds, spiritual backlash from losing his kami…. I cannot fathom what kind of beast did this to him.”

“ I have no patience for your excuses. It’s been five days already.”

“And it can take even more, sir,” said the healer in an unrepentant tone. “We have undone almost every bit of spiritual damage and healed his nervous system. In fact, our scans show that he is already conscious.”

“Conscious?” barked the Warlord. “He’s lying there like a log.”

“And that’s the issue. His senses are active. He can hear, smell, feel and possibly even taste. I imagine if his eyes were open, he’d be able to see us as well. But somewhere along the line, all that information is remaining unprocessed, because his mind is, well, asleep.”

“Why?”

“We do not know, sir. We imagine it might be an effect of the spiritual backlash when he lost his kami. But even then, this is unprecedented.”

Bdevorren grinned. He could ‘awaken’ the body at a whim, but a suitable opportunity hadn’t presented itself.

“Clearly your fame as the best healer in the nation is overhyped,” barked the Warlord. “That is my grandson you’re treating. I need him awake so that he can tell me what happened.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m freshly out of miracles. We have no option but to wait for his brain to restart. If you desire, you can consult anyone else, but I doubt the results will vary.”.”

The Warlord grunted, and walked out of the room.

Bdevorren sighed. There was always a chance that the Warlord’s kami — a beastly thing — would have sensed his presence. Natives of the Ikai Realm were horribly sensitive to nightmares, which was why Bdevorren went out of his way to stay hidden in the deepest trenches of Elena’s mind, away from her conscious thoughts.

He sighed again. Fate was being most unkind to him. Even during this tiny respite from his vile mistress, he was having to tiptoe around and stay away from causing mayhem. And that was without taking that blasted walking-talking World into consideration.

Really, he understood, even accepted the fact that being a nightmare was no easy task. To lurk in the shadowy corners of souls, hiding from the World’s Corrections, always fearing of being eroded away from Existence… it wasn’t a life for the faint-hearted. But why oh why, did Fate have to send that abomination after him?

Bdevorren didn’t truly understand that thing. Lukas Aguilar he was called, and he looked and felt and moved around like a native, but a native he was not. Inside him, Bdevorren could feel the ebbs and flows of World-energy, surging like the tides of the sea, breaking rules and ignoring the laws of Reality like no one’s business. It was enough to make him go green with jealousy.

His mind too, was impenetrable. Bdevorren could understand facing something difficult, but something he couldn't even understand, that was a first. He had been utterly scared when the Outsider had tried to analyze him, and it had taken him everything to hide himself away. And when his vile mistress summoned him, the trickster had the gall to try and Correct him at first, and then apologize when he escaped, as if it was an honest mistake.

Bdevorren realized he was waxing a bit maudlin.

It was time to do the job he had come here to do.

With a mental snap, lifeforce began to trickle through the body again, and the mind began to wake up. All perception that was going to him directly all this time, was now being rerouted through the ‘mind’. He would have to open a mental channel back to his fiendish boss, and give her a message to prepare for things. Opening a channel would cost more energy than Bdevorren would like, but that was the job given to him.

—GIGGLE—

Fools! Trusting a nightmare to do a job so crucial.

Bdevorren extended his senses, and dipped into the warlord’s emotions. From this distance, not even the kami would be able to detect him.

— SACRED EIGHT STATUS! LEGACY! CASTLE— MEN, GRANDSON—

Crimson and brown swirled around him. Oh, there was purple too! And black, so much black, surging from within like a boiling cauldron…. Such delicious suffering…

—STATEMENT! KILLED EASILY, NOT. NEED TO KNOW, NEED TO KNOW, NEED TO KNOW AND FIND THAT —

Purple rushed out in torrents, black following right behind. Resentment, Worry, and Anxiety were the primary tastes, just a little more and it would tilt to despair.

Was there despair?

Bdevorren dug deeper.

— JIMMO, FIRE-KING! WHY WOULD HE ATTACK? NAOWA, STRAFF… CONSPIRACY! THEY WANT ME REMOVED! WANT THIS — FIRE KING JIMMO?

Yellow this time. Rising in tendrils. Falling. Anxiety again. Rings of violet echoing out. Stagnation? No… Fragility. But not by strength. By rules.

Perhaps if he twisted things just a bit….

TANYA, HAVISKALI —CANNOT ENTER! HOW! WHAT COULD HAVE —

Doubt was the deepest shade this time around. Orange. Deprivation. Who was being deprived? No, not orange, it was turning pink. Emasculation by boundations?

He could work with that. Just a little bit of —

— AWAKE! HE’S AWAKE! AWAKE! AWAKE! AWAKE! NEED TO TELL—

Bdevorren let out a feral hiss. He had increased his sensitivity to reach out to the Warlord from a distance. Coupled with the suddenness and the extremely loud thoughts of the healer just beside him, it might as well have been a sonic boom. Shutting his senses, Bdevorren retreated into the Mind. Further emotional synesthesia would have to wait. He’d have to depend on the physical senses until then.

“Lord Shimizu!” spoke the healer out loud. “Ultaf is waking up.”

“Ultaf…” the man croaked. “My grandson. Are you… are you hearing me? Can you speak?’

Bdevorren was curious. Was that fear he sniffed? He couldn’t help himself, and dipped into the man’s emotions again. This would be tricky, reading his emotions and using this body to respond back. But this man’s mind was fertile ground for the seeds of torment. With all the negative emotions swirling around him, this promised a bountiful harvest.

The body opened a single eye.

“....Grand… father?”

“Ultaf,” the man croaked. Big powerful warlord, reduced to helical shades of pink with some violet sprinkled in for a side dish. Pathetic!

All these colours were beckoning Bdevorren to make art. Perhaps he could —

—GIGGLE —

Perhaps he could indulge himself just a little.

“Who — Who did this to you? Who attacked the castle? Who… who left you like this?”

The official answer to that question was Tanya. Tanya came in. Tanya used Ezzeron. Tanya broke Zuken out. Tanya is hiding in the Desert. A bunch of statements that painted the aeromancer cum ice bitch as the bad girl. An answer that would send Mujin running to the Desert, and there he would face Tanya, and those parasites and that World. The place where they would trap him and try to kill him for good measure.

It was a good plan. Maybe it would even work.

But it was a boring one.

—GIGGLE —

“It was… It was Tanya, Grandfather,” spoke the body. “She — she is working with the yokai.”

The man went stiff. “Ultaf. Tell me everything.”