God of Nothing

We found him.

Aleph stood up at attention, startling the others at the table.

“Aleph?” Vaynard looked up from a desk across from him, puzzled at his sudden movement.

Who? He asked, sitting back down as he waved them down. He had been in the middle of carving out runes for some artifacts, building their war power as the month counted down. He was worried for his disciples, of course, but their strength spoke for itself. The three of them could have overcome a herald by themselves, nevermind Carrack and his men’s support.

But his confidence shook when the reply came.

Sir Vaynard’s dad, Brandon answered back. He’s turned into a herald!

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King Mios? Lacey’s confused thoughts trickled through just as the battle started.

Rayse and Brandon attacked, blitzing the king from either side. He had his misgivings, just attacking like this, but the demonic energy emanating from the man made him nervous. There was no telling what would happen if he and Rage joined hands.

“Hah!” Brandon struck first, sending his blade down in a terrible chop. His blade cut the old king clean in half, but each side still cocked their fists back even as they were torn apart. Rayse followed through with a series of thrusts anywhere he could manage, hoping to pierce whatever foul heart was fueling his vitality.

CRACK! A clear sound followed one of his strikes, an upward thrust through the kidney. He felt his spear tip scrape through Mios’ ribs, and both sides suddenly stopped cold. Feeling the energy subside, Rayse pulled away and rejoined his friend, as the pair stared at the mound that used to be a living being.

“...That’s it?” Brandon said, looking down on the sliced up corpse.

“I crushed his mana heart. He shouldn’t be able to regenerate.” Rayse confirmed. As if to make sure, he turned the body over, as smoke began to emanate from the last of his thrusts. Sure enough, it was King Mios’ mana leaking out of his body, all but confirming the end of the battle. 

“Alright, then we better–”

Satisfied, Brandon turned, looking to the battle against Rage to give support. Rayse was about to follow, when he noticed a shadow emerge from the corpse. 

“No!” He said, stretching out his shield arm in an attempt to block the sneak attack. It bounced harmlessly off of his shield, clattering outwards into the darkness. Brandon turned around just in time to see the mad king literally pull himself back together. 

“Tsk.” He tutted, looking disappointed as if he didn’t just will himself back from death. He cracked his neck as he continued, with a voice dripping in sarcasm. “Not letting your guards down, are you? Well done.”

He marveled at his own body, as if seeing it for the first time. “This is excellent! I’d have to thank that bitch one of these days.”

After saying some incomprehensible things, King Mios, no, the herald breathed in and with it, the mana that escaped his body returned in full. He readied himself for another charge, but this time his body glowed. Not with the purple, black and red they were accustomed to with beings of the abyss, but with the pure white of the light attribute. The light clashed against Rage’s red, engulfing the entire cave in holy light. He took a battle stance, goading Brandon and Rayse to attack.

They stood in his path once again, bodies erupting in their respective energies. Rayse’s hands came away shimmering as he crushed another precious mana heart into dust. They nodded at each other briefly before charging, braving the blinding light that hid the evil within.

They knew heralds were tough, but Rayse had a feeling that this will drag out.

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“A herald!?” Vaynard shouted. Aleph stared back at him calmly, carefully watching the young ruler. It was good that he asked everyone else to retire before giving him this news.

“That’s what Rayse said.” He answered. He stood too, in case Vaynard had any fanciful ideas. The air was taut with pressure as Vaynard let his power freely emerge. Paper blew around like a hurricane, and even small items blasted into the office walls. 

And then, after a few ragged breaths, Vaynard calmed himself and sat back down. Aleph regarded him for a moment before returning to his own seat. He resumed his work, etching runes onto a piece of metal. After looking around for a bit, he held up a hand, calling for his carving pen.

For a while after that, all that could be heard was metal scraping on metal.

“Explain.” Vaynard said at last. Aleph glanced at him for a little bit, noting his fully composed demeanor.

“I have always thought that Heralds were Erebos’ masterworks, infused with his twisted aspects that his thralls were all too happy to embody. Coming to this planet, however, I see that might have been wrong to assume.”

He paused in his work for a bit, looking up to meet Vaynard’s intense gaze.

“After facing off against the Heralds here, I’ve come to see the inaccuracies in my assumptions. Any creature, alive or dead, could be made into a herald. I know not his exact means, but the previous herald I slain had given me much insight into their making.”

Aleph thought back to the creature he knew as Oblivion, the dangerous demon with infinite forms. He’s been working on a theory on the creature’s origins ever since their battle. Each form was far too different from each other, physically and in terms of ability, to believe that the god of the Abyss had simply thought them up for this one servant, not even his avatar. The centipede with a human face may have had  the title of Herald, but those souls it twisted itself into were so varied that they could only be creatures in Erebos’ possession, repurposed into his servants.

The fact that Emily, and now King Mios, now also served him was confirmation. Although the former king’s body was effectively a husk after Lost’s attack, it would have been within the enemy’s ability to insert a soul into him, creating a herald with an indestructible body. 

Betrayal, too, he realized. Dragons were rare creatures, the personification of the world’s mana. His earth had one. It was impartial, only emerging to attack any threat it deemed worthy. Aleph and his friends ended up felling it to use its body as material for their growth, but such a creature was difficult to tame, let alone slay, so its presence with the enemy could only mean that Erebos has found a way to mangle its soul into one of his thralls like he did the former king.

Aleph relayed all this to Vaynard, whose impassive face began to crack the more he heard. He felt for the prince, but as he talked about the enemy’s origins, he began to realize something major.

Lost would have been the exact opposite of what he had just described. That is, the body of a demon king, encasing the soul of a hero. Like the others, Erebos had clearly meddled in his old lover’s soul somehow. As was the case with Oblivion, her body began to take the soul’s form. When she battles, the demon reveals itself in full, terrorizing the battlefield with a body that far exceeded her former one.

“...Then, is my father lost to us?” The prince asked bitterly as Aleph began to drift off. He snapped back into the conversation at hand before, just as bitterly, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, friend, but your father’s been lost ever since he was struck by Oblivion’s blade.”

That last sentence was said with such finality that Vaynard had to sit back down. Aleph leaned back too, massaging his eyebrows. Did that mean his Emily was also lost to him? He was resigned to it, but thinking it through still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Suddenly feeling worn out, he decided to put down his tools for the day as he coaxed Vaynard out of his own office. Having an existential crisis while his disciples were fighting for their lives made him want to get out and move.