The Doomguy
New member
In the Court of the Great Khan silence has descended.
He can hear his ichor coursing through his veins as it carries oxygen across his frame. Feel the rhythmic beat of his heart in his ears. Smell the fear of the would be corpses strung above him. Taste the aeriform molecules of blood that had turned to vapor as the engines of the ship powered up to leave Valtraxian Airspace.
Muteki knows it is not a true silence. No that belonged outside of his Court, outside of the Erilik Tide, in the Void Sea. There no atmosphere carried the incessant noise of the mundane. It is an airless dark that symbolized a peace and calm that few were capable of comprehending. It symbolized The End and The Death of all things that dared enter its cold embrace.
He took in a shallow breath. There was a time when he was The End and The Death of all things that dared to look his way. Now Shivero, Tundra, The Galactic Patrol, all were capable of ending his life in an instant. If Muteki wished to truly retain the mantle of the Great Khan he needed to grow stronger.
Back then he had millennia to hone his skills and grow. Spent countless years cultivating his strength. How does one achieve such power again in such a short time? There were a multitude of answers, but none of them seemed plausible. Majin sought absolute dominance of the soul, Dragon Balls were unreliable, and meager training did not suffice.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind’s eye. When they opened again he was looking through the vision of another. He saw a man cleaved into, chopped by a single slice of the hand, Ki-radiating from the palm. In the distance he heard screams and the splatter of blood against the slick-steel of a ship’s interior.
The eyes blinked and he was transported to another. They were looking into a mirror, staring at themselves, as they sutured their own wounds. Something had looked to slice the arterial veins in their neck, but the cut was too shallow. Seeing as they were still alive he saw who the true victor of their fight had been.
It seemed his conquests of his Imperium were developing quite well. Souls from all across Neutral Space were spilling into his domain slowly, but surely. It is because he did not believe in waging war in the traditional sense. No, the Great Khan did not teach his men to fight in glorious duels, not at all. He believed in mechanised butchery, industrial slaughter, total and utter destruction.
It did not make him evil in doing so. Oftentimes he offered salvation, to join his Aphotic Imperium without bloodshed, only to be rejected. Forced to fight populaces who were being led by at best, a misunderstanding, at worst a lie, that they had any chance against them. They simply fed into the proofless belief that they were strong enough because their governing bodies told them they were.
The Great Khan lets out a breath he does not realize he has been holding. It feels as if an eternity has passed. In truth it had just taken a microsecond to encapsulate his thoughts. His eyes yawn awake as he sees into the empty Court before him. Though he is not alone, not truly, at least.
He feels the gaze of the tortured souls that hover above him. They stare at him from their parapets, nailed like butterflies on a board. Their suffering is beyond anything in their wildest imagination. They witness this, this moment, and everything else that will follow inside the Court of the Great Khan. For there is nothing left for them to do in their eternity except suffer as their greatest foe only continues in pursuit of his goals.
The Great Khan goes to address them, but before he does, a hooded figure enters his Court. It brings a small chest it holds in both hands. It is not ornate, it is crafted from wood and steel, locked only by a simple key that only Muteki holds. He holds it up toward his Master, the Great Khan reaches out with his mind, lifting it to him as if gripping it with an invisible hand.
The chest is small in his palm, then again, most things are when compared to him. His fingers wrap around the chest, gazing at it, a flicker of excitement in his corpse-eyes. The hooded figure drops back, seemingly being absorbed by the walls of his Court. Then a chuckle escapes from the Great Khan’s lips.
This is enough, he thinks to himself.
He stands from his throne and begins to descend. His feet connect with empty air, yet lay flat, as if a stair is truly there. Each one releases an echoing thud. The representation of the Great Khan’s mastery over flight.
When his feet connect with the Dark Emperador of his Basalt and Obsidian tiles he looks ahead. He feels his lungs fill with air as he takes in a deep breath. Ki empowers his vocal chords and diaphragm. He then commands space and time by uttering a single word and reality tears apart before him.
Beyond the portal is the Third Demon World. It is the largest of all the three, consisting of two suns, a purple sky, and before him a strange forest. The Great Khan can hear in the distance the floating islands of active volcanoes. They spew sulphuric clouds of ash into the sky, blackening it in the distance, but he is not afraid.
The Great Khan steps through and enters Hell itself.
He can hear his ichor coursing through his veins as it carries oxygen across his frame. Feel the rhythmic beat of his heart in his ears. Smell the fear of the would be corpses strung above him. Taste the aeriform molecules of blood that had turned to vapor as the engines of the ship powered up to leave Valtraxian Airspace.
Muteki knows it is not a true silence. No that belonged outside of his Court, outside of the Erilik Tide, in the Void Sea. There no atmosphere carried the incessant noise of the mundane. It is an airless dark that symbolized a peace and calm that few were capable of comprehending. It symbolized The End and The Death of all things that dared enter its cold embrace.
He took in a shallow breath. There was a time when he was The End and The Death of all things that dared to look his way. Now Shivero, Tundra, The Galactic Patrol, all were capable of ending his life in an instant. If Muteki wished to truly retain the mantle of the Great Khan he needed to grow stronger.
Back then he had millennia to hone his skills and grow. Spent countless years cultivating his strength. How does one achieve such power again in such a short time? There were a multitude of answers, but none of them seemed plausible. Majin sought absolute dominance of the soul, Dragon Balls were unreliable, and meager training did not suffice.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind’s eye. When they opened again he was looking through the vision of another. He saw a man cleaved into, chopped by a single slice of the hand, Ki-radiating from the palm. In the distance he heard screams and the splatter of blood against the slick-steel of a ship’s interior.
The eyes blinked and he was transported to another. They were looking into a mirror, staring at themselves, as they sutured their own wounds. Something had looked to slice the arterial veins in their neck, but the cut was too shallow. Seeing as they were still alive he saw who the true victor of their fight had been.
It seemed his conquests of his Imperium were developing quite well. Souls from all across Neutral Space were spilling into his domain slowly, but surely. It is because he did not believe in waging war in the traditional sense. No, the Great Khan did not teach his men to fight in glorious duels, not at all. He believed in mechanised butchery, industrial slaughter, total and utter destruction.
It did not make him evil in doing so. Oftentimes he offered salvation, to join his Aphotic Imperium without bloodshed, only to be rejected. Forced to fight populaces who were being led by at best, a misunderstanding, at worst a lie, that they had any chance against them. They simply fed into the proofless belief that they were strong enough because their governing bodies told them they were.
The Great Khan lets out a breath he does not realize he has been holding. It feels as if an eternity has passed. In truth it had just taken a microsecond to encapsulate his thoughts. His eyes yawn awake as he sees into the empty Court before him. Though he is not alone, not truly, at least.
He feels the gaze of the tortured souls that hover above him. They stare at him from their parapets, nailed like butterflies on a board. Their suffering is beyond anything in their wildest imagination. They witness this, this moment, and everything else that will follow inside the Court of the Great Khan. For there is nothing left for them to do in their eternity except suffer as their greatest foe only continues in pursuit of his goals.
The Great Khan goes to address them, but before he does, a hooded figure enters his Court. It brings a small chest it holds in both hands. It is not ornate, it is crafted from wood and steel, locked only by a simple key that only Muteki holds. He holds it up toward his Master, the Great Khan reaches out with his mind, lifting it to him as if gripping it with an invisible hand.
The chest is small in his palm, then again, most things are when compared to him. His fingers wrap around the chest, gazing at it, a flicker of excitement in his corpse-eyes. The hooded figure drops back, seemingly being absorbed by the walls of his Court. Then a chuckle escapes from the Great Khan’s lips.
This is enough, he thinks to himself.
He stands from his throne and begins to descend. His feet connect with empty air, yet lay flat, as if a stair is truly there. Each one releases an echoing thud. The representation of the Great Khan’s mastery over flight.
When his feet connect with the Dark Emperador of his Basalt and Obsidian tiles he looks ahead. He feels his lungs fill with air as he takes in a deep breath. Ki empowers his vocal chords and diaphragm. He then commands space and time by uttering a single word and reality tears apart before him.
Beyond the portal is the Third Demon World. It is the largest of all the three, consisting of two suns, a purple sky, and before him a strange forest. The Great Khan can hear in the distance the floating islands of active volcanoes. They spew sulphuric clouds of ash into the sky, blackening it in the distance, but he is not afraid.
The Great Khan steps through and enters Hell itself.
