Chapter 123: The Ordinary Transforms

The world is going to shit.

Were the words of some great philosopher of an unknown epoch, of an indeterminate time and of a dubious existence. But he had full certainty of its veracity.

Because in each era, however much its ephemeral sparkle was golden or dark, it shone with a civilizational bad omen.

It was the reality of the epochs. The punishment that the infinity granted.

***

The great multitude withdrew in a lugubrious atmosphere. It surrounded them like a stormy cloud.

Heads down and with complicated emotions.

They had seen images that did not belong to their dystopian reality. The death by the poisoning of crossed chemicals and the cycles of polar colds was a misfortune that normally devastated them. But none of those present had heard before about invulnerable man-eating monsters.

They were frankly terrifying.

Gabriel walked slowly under the dark clouds. It was going to be a ashen day, with the rain stopping in the middle of the night.

Next to him walked the ancient addict, with a smile drawing itself on his lips. He used his two hands to create the necessary friction to drive away the cold.

"I still remember that day, Gabriel. I was about to throw myself from those abandoned tracks into the void and suddenly you appeared. With that ridiculous scooter and your cheap food." Murmured the boy.

"I simply did not desire to see such a grotesque ending before my lunch. Your ass in a bloody disaster, what disgust." Answered Gabriel, returning for brief instants to that day. "I even thought of using the scooter to hit you. But I preferred to waste so many hours talking to you."

"I always appreciated it. I would have done it if it were not for you. But I also desired to hit you when you simply did not stop talking."

They burst into laughs, sharing a small moment of genuine emotion. A small thread of destiny, behaving like a broken comet, had united them in such a casual encounter.

"If I encounter one of those… Monsters… I will do it; I will fight and die with valor." Suddenly said the young man, sharing aloud his desires. "Daniel. An anonymous hero. It is much better than a suicidal addict."

For a second, they sank into a sepulchral silence. They enjoyed their own reflection in conjunction. A spark lit itself inside the dark eyes of Gabriel.

He had not seen a savior.

Not closely.

But for a moment he imagined visualizing its trail.

The trail of a flourishing humanity that interposed itself as victor before the challenge.

"Even if you do not do it, I will continue remembering you as Daniel."

Their paths little by little separated.

They belonged to the same district, but their residences were significantly different. By different bad decisions, Daniel was one of the unfortunate inhabitants of the famous sewers.

A place where the indigents, addicts and thugs gathered.

No one needed to know that part of the history.

***

The streets were practically empty. Passersby who walked to their homes and different means of transport. The perpetual spirit of productivity had evaporated as a result of the announcement.

Streets that anciently competed viciously in tight and dangerous crossings, now were only a shadow.

The alleys seemed mouths of wolf for atrocities.

The neon lights, that once delivered promises of modernity, were only the limited oil that burned in the lamp.

Unlocking each lock of his door, he entered his apartment.

His nose was received by the smell of humidity and rust. It was really a place not apt for living. But even so, he sighed of satisfaction.

It could be the end of the world, but he had a place to which to return. Maybe the human nature reduced itself to that, in seeking security. An ideal that was not sufficiently elevated, unless it was practiced until its culmination.

The decisions many times converted themselves into ideals.

Many of the citizens who had observed the images that had been diffused publicly, would hide terrified. Convincing themselves that the apparatuses of the government would be the final solution.

Nothing more false than that!

Any knower of the history would dismiss that conclusion with a ridiculous mockery.

Only in individuals like Daniel was seen a light spark of hope.

In the hero, in the anonymous; in who would take the reins.

"Noel should be enjoying all this shit from his laboratory. Sharing barbecue and enjoying the great life." He murmured with sarcasm. His communication had been cut a long time ago, so they knew nothing of the one and the other.

Maybe he was worried about his situation.

Another possibility is that they were strengthening themselves.

The blue light that he had seen, before withdrawing from the experimental camp, returned to his memory. Transcendent and spiritual, a phenomenon that should not exist in his world.

But it was real.

The news of the government that soon would arise, according to the promises of the orator, should be related with things of that resemblance. He did not have to be a genius to guess it. Presenting crude images was the first step.

The steps that followed a preparation of war.

In a war four steps were necessary: Culture, logistics, armament industry and soldiers.

And from the proportions of their situation, all that must evolve.

Because the only sustainable path for the humanity was the evolution. From immemorial times the same phenomenon had repeated itself. Since without evolution, the only path was the death.

He had to enter the game.

Despite the last events, those demonic creatures came from that illusory space.

He could not give it a name; but he was convinced that it really was thus.

Only that world could give him the responses that he longed. For only upon questioning the source, through a consistent examination, one would be capable of seeing.

"Old helmet, it seems that in the end you will convert yourself into one of my best friends in the apocalypse." He said with diversion. Immediately he induced himself in the transport of his consciousness, to a world very different from his.

The Heaven Above All.

At that point, the title sounded imposing.

He arose in one of the classic plazas. With polished benches and statues of white stone. His surroundings were practically empty.

Only the obsessive players would lock themselves to play again after such a tragic event.

Had he converted himself into one?

He discarded his useless thoughts. The Jester's mask breathed the glacial winds and settled over his face.

He disappeared among the alleys.

He did not have a clear purpose. Maybe his entrance to the game had only been an escape mechanism. Or another thing.

The Jester, a dangerous madman.

Blood Tempest, a potential Herald.

Amazías Von Tepes, the voice of the past.

He forged an identity inside the game; strong, capable and resilient. And all those effects began to transport themselves from one world to the other.

From the unusual color in his hair, his physical conditioning and the fangs.

The secret lay there.

Strengthen himself in the game. It could have unexpected effects in the reality. His instinct smelled it.

It was the key that they would prepare. The bait that they would pursue.

Despots, Edward and Charles… You still have much to give me. So many mysteries. I will have to bleed.

A vampire who bleeds.