No. Not oil.
The smallest of molecules lifted from his hand and floated lazily toward the ceiling. Brooks turned his chin up to followand realized that it wasn’t crystals or rubies dangling luxuriously from the ceiling.
It was blood. Hundreds of thousands of droplets catching the droning red light and reflecting it back to him. He turned his gaze back to the ground, toward whatever it was that had tripped him.
Bodies.
Hundreds of them lying on the ground bleeding from every orifice, their faces gaunt and eyes bulging as the final proof of their fear was forever engraved in their expressions.
He looked back to the gaudy cages to find the women in much the same condition. Their screams no longer pierced the air. Arms protruded from in between the bars as their soulless eyes stared down at him. They’d spent their last moments begging.
It’s her Song, Chaos murmured, a crisp breath of awe flowing between them.Her Siren. She’s bleeding them all dry.
Brooks stood and grasped his chest as the pressure in the air squeezed him tighter. He felt helpless as he reached for his well of power, grasping for something that simply wasn’t there.
“Goddammit!” he raged, voice carrying across the universe as he kicked at the bodies on the floor. He needed more chaos to fuel him, but once a life was extinguished their chaos filtered back through the cosmic well and not even he could pull from it.
If he could just pull a little more chaos, it was possible he could latch onto her essence and travel straight to her. He should have done it from the beginning, but he was an immortal god. He’d never felt emotions like panic or worry. Only a deep loneliness that resounded straight to his very marrow. Brooks struggled to keep his fucking head on straight and put a goddamn plan together.
More screams erupted through what sounded like the doors lining the wall. The walls continued to crumble around him, dust and rubble falling like the sand through an hourglass.
“Help us!”
“Somebody help us!”
“Please, Zeus save us!”
His ears perked.
If there are still living daemon in the building, there is still chaos to be consumed.
Brooks moved with purpose to the echoing screams. They came from a corner swathed in shadows and his anger rose as he neared. There was no door, only a hallway leading to the restrooms and a small open seating area with couches lining two of the walls. Couples lay naked on the velvet furniture– one gripping each other chest to chest with their faces touching as if they knew they were spending their last moments together. The other couple? He was giving her all he had from behind. Brooks could imagine they all died exactly how they would have wanted to go.
He reached out his arm and touched the wall with cautious fingers. As the tips touched the surface, it broke in waves like a drop falling into water. The wall was an illusion and gods knew he was no stranger to that.
He stepped through with zero reservations and surveyed the area. A neon green sign lit the entrance to a hallway where the walls were lined with transparent material. It had to be stronger than glass, whatever it was, because the large chunks of debris laying around surely hit it while falling. Not a single pane was fractured.
Brooks followed the echo of fists banging against the mirrored walls. In one of the middle rooms was a group of screaming daemon, their eyes weeping red as color drained from their panicked faces. Four males sat on the assortment of furniture with their heads in their hands, fists gripping locks of hair while two females beat on the glass. He recognized the men as the group who entered the club with the pink haired girl.
When Brooks approached the glass, the females’ expressions turned gratuitous as rays of hope shone in their tear stained eyes. They thought they were looking upon their savior.They never imagined that the greatest darkness of all had come to seal their fates. There would be no afterlife for them.
The Soul Eater left nothing behind.
One of the sobbing females pressed her hand against the clear wall, words of thanks falling from her lips. Brooks lifted a hand and placed it against hers, a pang of emotion he didn’t quite understand sticking to the back of his throat.
We do not have time for your growing sense of empathy. It is weak and not fit for a god. Kill their souls, drain their chaos, and get us to our Siren. I will not be so kind if you force my hand.
He urged his remaining chaos forward, hands staining black as the darkness webbed its way up his arms. The reflection in the window emphasized his glowing blue eyes and he quickly averted his gaze. Shadows unfurled from the darkness in his palm.
The women grimaced and shared a look, brows furrowing as a frown creased the corners of their lips. He could imagine that they had no idea who he was. This world had changed so much since he left it. Chaos, the Deathless God, was nothing but a memory.
The one closest pulled her hand from the surface and backed away, the other female hiding behind her with the same bewildered expression.The men stood and cowered to the other side of the wall, leaving the woman to hold the front line.
Cowards. They die first.
His shadows slipped through the smallest of openings and fell to the floor curling like smoke across the room. The females sobbed as the males shoved them forward. A burlier brownhaired man begged Brooks to spare him and his friends in place for the women.
Brooks’ blood boiled by the weakness bred into this new society. When he’d placed drops of chaos into the first living immortals, it was to encourage strength and honor. Morality and protection. They were to be the pillars of strength holding the foundation for generations to come. Somewhere along the line, they failed.
