by Turbo Tyrannophonic » Thu Jun 03, 2021 12:41 am
"It wasn't...supposed to be...like this..."
The voice echoed throughout the interior of the volcano as its owner struggled to ascend, making his way toward the summit. The path - an artificial walkway that had been carved in the side of the mountain - had once been impossible to traverse without adequate protection; the ebb and flow of the volcano's molten contents would have incinerated anything that had been foolish enough to try. Now, this one shambled on in darkness, with only the vague promise of light awaiting him at his destination. The belly of the volcano to his side lay cold and silent, reduced to nothing but an extinct hollow. How much time had passed to quell such a force of nature?
He knew the answer: a moment.
The raging interior of his volcanic lair was not a distant memory - it had been the case until only a moment ago. A single second. Or had it? How was it possible that such a formation could be snuffed out like a torch in the rain?
But this was the least of his problems. The volcano served only as a reflection, connected by the red string of fate to his very being as it was. This was, of course, by design - so long as this place stood, death would not come for him, no matter how much his body fell into decay. Untold years of study, experimentation, and practice, as well as eldritch knowledge the likes of which had never been seen in the mortal world, had led to this triumph. And, in due time, this mountain, this continent, or even this world's destruction would not be his end. Finally, he would be free of the constraints of mortality, and ascend into the place of gods.
Or, that is what he had been working so tirelessly to achieve. Now, he stood on the precipice of ruin, undone at every conceivable angle - and he couldn't even comprehend why.
Time itself had been his plaything. He had used his mastery of its manipulation to further his cause in ways no mortal could - eliminating unnecessary distractions and failures, allowing plans to reach completion in moments that normally would have taken years. He had undone the demise of both ally and enemy alike - all to pursue the path to godhood as it was written before him. So long as he could see the machinations of time, nothing could go wrong, or take him by surprise - or so he thought.
Every movement forced him to new heights of desperation, having surpassed his limit long ago, yet still he climbed. Confusion, rage, and mad obsession were all that fueled him now. If nothing else, he needed to understand.
Reaching the summit after what felt like an eternity, every nerve in his decaying body screaming in defiance of their unholy existence, the withered husk of a dragon entered into the light of day. At the top of the volcano, he could survey the entirety of his grand work, as he had done countless times before. And, just as every time before, he found himself standing over a legion of emaciated husks - beings of his own design that served him in a state between life and death. All moved with cold efficiency, working without pause to construct grand and alien structures. In time, this unholy workshop would be able to produce more than just mindless husks, and quickly. An army of perfected beings would be at his command, and nothing would have the power to stand his way until his machinations were complete.
To that end existed his prototypes - attempts at these apex creatures crafted by his own hand. It had been a long and arduous journey perfecting their creation, with many steps along the way. From his perch, he dimly recognized two of these beings - the first of his two prototypes - overseeing the efforts of their mindless brethren. Although capable of thought, they were less independent then he had required. His ultimate creation was elsewhere, learning what it meant to be a living creature - and when that lesson was learned, it would return to him completed. Then, he would have all that he required to create his army, as well as a new, perfected body to replace the decaying husk that he currently inhabited.
He reached out into the open air with a clawed limb, only to watch as the flesh that desperately clung to his bones slide off with a grotesque noise. Only putrid bone, rife with decay, stared back at him now. His body was falling apart before his eyes, but he was prepared for such an eventuality. His steady decay had been long in the making, but the loss of his mortal flesh would do little to stop him - so long as this mountain stood.
And stand it did: as a dry, cold, and lifeless husk.
His many studies, experiments, and experiences had taught him a great deal about the nature of the soul. After all, how was he supposed to create life without first understanding what it was made of? As a result, the nature of the soul was laid bare to him - in his creations, in other lifeforms, and, most of all, in himself. Not only could he manipulate the structure of the soul in others, he could do the same to his own, and this served as the basis of his continued existence. His body was not 'him' - it could, and would, be replaced. As long as the soul remained, bound as it was to this place, he would never die.
But the same knowledge that allowed him to create such a mechanism now told him that his soul was coming undone.
"Why?" he rasped, clenching his skeletal limb in frustration...and watching it wither away into dust.
His understanding - no, his mastery - told him that his soul had been eroded. By what? By time. It was as if eons had passed in an instant, but, judging from his surroundings, only for him. His body was not crumbling due to age any more than it had the day prior, either - it was losing connection with his soul as it unraveled. The decaying carcass that had served as his vessel up until now had nothing keeping it together anymore.
"But...how?" he croaked as one of his back legs buckled, forcing him against the stony outcropping. His condition had deteriorated so quickly, he hadn't had much time to think. Nothing made sense. An hour prior, he had been performing his duties as normal...hadn't he? It hadn't been that long since his last advancement...hadn't it? The condition of his soul said otherwise, and something within him was beginning to concur. But...why?
Geezerbro lifted his draconic head, mouth agape in a silent scream of fury, as he crumbled, body and soul, to dust.