Hyperpunk Virgo 1: Dreams of Oblivion

The Dark Knight staggered their way across the Penumbral Plains of Silence, walking against the wind. Against the flow of the shadowed silhouettes that drifted their way towards Caima Tisna. The Crowned City of Despair.

The Dark Knight had not come from that place.

They had not seen what lay within the high walls and towers of glass that glowed with an eerie ghost-light in the heart of the silent realm.

They yet possessed knowledge that such a city was where the souls of the dead went to be unmade. Transmogrified. Emulsified. Infected with despair so malignant and cancerous it could raise them from the dead as fell beings.

All manners of Ghouls, Wraiths and Spectres. The Slaves of the Silent Devil.

It was a fate that the Dark Knight had chosen so very long ago to reject, stopping in their tracks in a moment of clarity before turning away from such a place.

An impulse within had rent them free from its allure. Born of a compulsion to defy authority, they supposed. In committing such a simple act they had felt like they had rejected and defied the will of the universe itself.

Such resolve in such a realm however was in the end as vestigial as the sense of direction that guided them what they felt was north.

In truth they simply walked in the direction that made the fog in their mind lift most. The direction that felt the hardest to walk in.

In all other directions they felt lost. They felt the pull of Caima Tisna grow stronger, but not so much when they faced north and walked against the wind.

In following such a heading they could just barely perceive a guiding light in their inner eye. It was like looking at a candle through closed eyes. One could feel its heat and perceive the light through layers of skin. One could know it was there without opening their eyes.

But the Dark Knight’s eyes were open and there was no flame.

Yet they accepted the delusional beacon for what it was. A sliver of hope. A shard of spite. But it was enough to muster the will of the Dark Knight to marched onwards. Over the barren earth and burnt gravel. The rock cracking under the weight of their being as they soldiered on- following their mental north star in a realm with a sky devoid of suns and clouds.

The only thing in the expanse above were the nebulas of dust and the corpse-light of dead stars ripped from Mortalis and drained of all life.

The Dark Knight could not remember their name, nor did they remember what they looked like.

All that remained of them was metal and shadow and fury.

It was all that was left of them after they had faded into the Astral Realms. Into the Abyss.

In the mind of the Dark Knight, mired by the fog of exhaustion and time, they knew that there had once possessed sun-kissed skin under the metal. Skin and toned muscle. They knew that they had been alive once. A warrior, once.

But after what must have been centuries of wandering, they could no longer remember the exact details of who they had once been. The Abyss abrasive to their mind in the same way that water is erosive to rock.

At some point they ceased having skin. Instead they now possessed plates of dark hyperbolic alloy and fish-scale under armour. Their hair had become the cloak they wore over their shoulders to flow behind them- a cloak tattered, discoloured and torn from the gale force winds that bore down on them over the many years.

Their muscles the micro-rotors and servos within the layers between the plating and the suffocating tight undersuit of reactive material.

Their eyes and ears now the optical and bi-aural sensors of the helmet.

Their hearts the power-core of the suit within their chest plate, the light-emitting diodes across their body shining a crimson red signifying there was still some form of energy within it. Enough at least to shine the diodes through the aura of cindered smoke that engulfed them- the discharge of their disintegrating spirit as the corrosive influence of the Abyss ate away at them.

The Dark Knight knew they should have burned away long ago.

They knew they were doomed to wither away into cinders and dust in this forsaken place. But they didn’t care one damned bit.

They were compelled to fight on. To escape their pre-determined destiny even in the absence of obvious hope.

So the Dark Knight stalked onward, blade in hand. The dark metal of their sabre worn and chipped as they dragged it across the plains. Its lustre long gone though the necromantic runes upon the fuller glowed green upon it still.

There was no direction for them to go except forward. Putting one armoured foot in front of the other and pressing onward through the crowds of shadows, over the flat featureless plains that seemed to stretch on and on forever.

Until they came into awareness of a presence.

A presence unlike the shadows that surrounded them from all sides.

Not of the Wraiths that would rise from beneath the gravel to swipe at the Dark Knight, who swooped under their claws to smash their armoured fist into their faces. Leaping on top of them to slam their bodies to the ground and crush their skulls under their boots.

Neither still of the Spectres- the fiends born of the ghosts as despair consumed them whole from the inside out. Turning them into winged monsters that rose into the air only to swoop down, claws outstretched and reaching for the Dark Knight- who in enduring spite vaulted over them, slashing through the backs of their heads to grant them a 2nd final death. Their withering forms not even impacting the ground before they became pulverised dust.

The Dark Knight became aware of the cries of a child.

They looked around to find the source of the noise, straining their vision as they scanned their surroundings until just ahead of them- spotting a small being sitting on the ground, wearing a tattered garb like a hospital gown, their face hidden in their arms as they cried into their legs.

Upon the sides of their head were pointed ears and 4 small black stubs. The starts of horns to the Dark Knight’s eyes… or whatever served as their eyes now.

Cautiously, the Dark Knight approached the child. Uncertain if this was some new trick of the Abyss. Some new kind of fiend, yet compelled to approach and investigate by the ebbing feeling within.

It felt all at once like a duty. A responsibility. An instinct to protect that which was weak and defenceless by comparison. But there was something deeper within as well. A paternal instinct.

They had been a father once, the Dark Knight supposed. But those days were gone if they ever existed at all.

As they approached, the Child sensed the presence of the Dark Knight. Hearing their footsteps upon the gravel.

Lifting their head up there emerged eyes with slitted pupils, both of different colours. The right eye blue and left eye green. Both were full of fear and wet with tears that flowed down their upper cheeks only to fall between the fangs of their extended maw.

Within the depths of the Dark Knights mind they realised that this child and them were kin of a sort. A Hybrid of Faerie and Fomori.

Though clearly the Child had a demonic heritage, that did not unnerve the Dark Knight. Not every Demon was a monster in the same way not every Angel was a zealot.

The Child scrambled back, keeping their panicked gaze on the Dark Knight, though the Knight made no move to approach them. No move that could be interpreted as a threat.

But the Childs fear was too great.

The veins of the Childs chest and arms glowed volcanically with magic as their fear gave way to anger. Stretching their arms out forward they unleashed a plume of bright orange flames upon the Dark Knight.

Raising their own right hand out, a feeling of coldness spread out from within them as they threw up a barrier of darkness that consumed the flames. Shielding the Dark Knight from injury as they remained steadfast before the child.

Any other being in such a realm and they may have struck them down where they lay without a single thought otherwise.

But before them was a scared little child, no more than maybe a few years old.

While the Dark Knight yet had the strength and the will to fight and destroy monsters- they weren’t one themselves.

They still made no attempt to approach. Instead they knelt down, bending the knee and stretched out their hand.

They did not speak. They no longer knew how to. The words had been stolen from them.

The Dark Knight simply hoped that the gesture alone would be enough to convince the child that they were not an enemy. That they weren’t a threat and not something they needed to fear.

They hoped the offer of aid was enough.

The Child looked at them with a coldness beyond their years. Scrutinising and questioning the Dark Knight’s being.

But slowly, hesitatingly, the Child stood up upon their bare feet, limping over the gravel towards the Dark Knight to take their outstretched hand.

The Dark Knight bowed their head- as if promising not to betray the trust the Child had invested in them- before standing up, keeping a gentle grip upon the small hand of the Child as the little one stretched up to keep a hold on them.

A difficult thing to do when the Child only went up to the Dark Knights knee.

The Dark Knight set off again into a slow walk, letting the Child keep up with them until their feet began to bleed and they could no longer walk.

By then the Child was content to climb up on the Dark Knights back- the old warrior stoically enduring the extra load.

Not that the Child was in any way heavy. But now the Dark Knight had a life to protect that wasn’t their own and the weight of the childs life felt heavy upon them.

Inside them, the Dark Knight felt a confidence again. They had a life to protect. They had a purpose once again.

The flame beyond their sight seemed to burn a little brighter. The alluring glos of Caima Tisna now almost repulsive; and with a renewed gait they marched onward.

Chapter 1: The Silence Speaks

They had walked what felt like a thousand leagues over the plains, for what felt like years. It was impossible to tell and even harder to recall.

At some point the Child had grown taller, but no heavier. The little hybrid hopping down from the Dark Knight’s back to walk beside them upon the burnt gravel at some point since.

Until their little feet had blistered and burned; and the Dark Knight once again lifted them up to carry them on until their wounds healed and their skin calloused over.

Then they dropped down from the Knight’s back once again, enduring such injuries upon their feet once again.

They had repeated this cycle several times already, through it troubled the Dark Knight greatly for them to do so.

But after each time, the Child grew able to endure the pain of travel for longer. Their callouses thickening until they condensed and reformed into what looked like scales.

The Childs spirit wasn’t dissolving into the Abyss, the Dark Knight realised.

They could sense power within the Child, combating the corrupting touch of the Abyss. although it could do nothing to protect them from the meta-physical elements, it seemingly allowed them to adapt to better endure it.

The Dark Knight sensed it was a potent and ancient force.

A flame that radiated with life. They didn’t know if it lay dormant within the Childs spirit, or if some malevolent force was denying the Child access to it. But it was there.

The Dark Knight’s concern for the Child had drawn their attention away from the horizon before them. On looking ahead once more they stopped in their tracks, taking a low stance as they held their sword at the ready.

In the peripheral of their vision they could see the Child look ahead, gasping in fright and taking shelter behind the Dark Knight- hiding themselves from the gaze of the being standing but a few metres before them.

The Dark Knight beheld the Arch-Devil of Silence.

Its form like that of a warrior in power armour, shimmering faintly with the glow of a kinetic barrier outlining its grey metal surface.

It stood at 3 times the height of the Dark Knight upon dentigrade legs, glaring at them with cold lifeless eyes within a helm that masked its face- denying the Dark Knight any way to deduce what it truly looked like.

Within the minds eye of the Knight they could see flashes of various bipedal species. Memories of Bipedal Wolves and Birds.

But none of their forms matched the figure of the Silent Devil, and within their faded memories- they knew that whatever the Devil was, it was not born from any species of Mortalis. It was simply wearing the skin of one. The body of an avatar it had long since claimed through possession until it became their form incarnate.

That it had appeared here and now before the Dark Knight had every neuron left in their body firing with killer intent, ready to grab the Child to cut and run.

That their sword and magic would likely have no effect upon the Devil had occurred to them.

But the Dark Knight didn’t care.

That they had no where to run to and no where to hide didn’t matter to them.

While there was still a spark of life in their body, the Dark Knight would fight on. To protect the Child they now viewed as their ward. To save themselves, somehow.

If the Silent Devil would deny them this then so be it, they would at least die fighting!

But the Silent Devil stood unmoving. Reading its body language, the Knight could tell it was utterly saturated with contempt and hatred- but keeping all that ill intent at bay was restraint and resolve.

“... How insufferably typical”; spoke the Silent Devil. Not in any tongue the Dark Knight knew. Its words alien to their ears as their voice so deep and ancient and soothingly full of hatred reverberated through the air.

Yet the Dark Knight could comprehend such words.

As if their mind heard it and somehow they were compatible with the part of them meant for interpreting language.

’You are a Spirit, adrift in the depths of the Abyss. The connection to your body withered, disintegrated. Your mind, fading. Your soul, ripened to be claimed. Yet rather than accept the futility of your struggle. Rather than embrace your inevitable doom. You fight. You... endure... as if there is some greater meaning to any of it”; the Silent Devil spoke. Seemingly to itself rather than to the Dark Knight, “That you find the will within to protect another is as redundant a choice as any other... You are doomed. The Child is doomed. Doomed and Marked as an Eligitur. Yet you persist... Hmm”.

The Silent Devil bowed its head. The glowing eyes of its helm narrowing as within its unknowable mind it reached a conclusion.

It lifted its hand out and reached around, digging its razor sharp claws into the very fabric of reality. Pulling it back to rip apart tears in space with all the ease of drawing a curtain.

The tears then glowed with a cosmic light as they burst outward, folding in on themselves, twisting, swirling and reforming into a portal.

A whirling tunnel thats threshold shimmered like the surface of a pond, presenting an abyss of blue light within.

“I offer you... an escape”; the Silent Devil declared, “A means of passing on... peacefully... you need only step through this portal and it will take you to the place where all souls end”.

The Dark Knight looked to the portal with a reluctance. They knew better than to trust the word of Abyssal Devils. They were not so foolish to think they could trust the Arch-Devil that ruled above them all.

Their grip upon their sword stiffened, and the Silent Devil’s shoulders lowered as if to glower at the show of aggression. Perhaps in insult. Perhaps in an indifferent excitement.

“I do this as a mercy... an act of kindness... for both you and the Child. That is-“; the Silent Devil puffed out its chest, its form darkening, the transparent aura of the kinetic barrier densifying until its being became engulfed in an aura of golden flames, “-unless you desire a battle you have no chance of winning“.

The Dark Knight felt the cold power within them crawl through the nebula that their veins had become, ready to bring to bare what little power they possessed to meet the might of the Arch-Devil of Silence head on.

It was a Lord of Despair. Kindness was not a strength to it. It was a stranger to mercy, solace and all forms of decency. No fate guided by its talons was one worth pursuing.

But a tug at their side had their resolve falter. They looked down to their side to see the Child looking up at them. At once anxious yet seemingly focused, grabbed their free hand and trying to pull them along, guiding them towards the Portal.

The Dark Knight glared back at the Silent Devil. Accepting their own foolishness. Accepting that what the Arch-Devil of the Abyss Undivided offered was not pity, but coercion.

Reluctantly, they let themself be guided forward by the Child towards the portal.

The Silent Devil spoke no further, only watching the Dark Knight with simmering rage and contempt.

But it let them approach and stood aside to give them a wide berth as the Child passed through the threshold of the portal into the blue space within.

The Dark Knight stepped in after them, a feeling like submerging in water less disorientating to them than the feeling of displacement across space.

A final glance at the Silent Devil left them feeling uneasy.

They could sense a smugness from it.

A self-satisfaction like it had managed to claim some kind of victory and now quietly stood triumphant.

But what that triumph was, the Dark Knight didn’t know. They didn’t have enough of them left to know anything for certain.