Aidan Alastair - Volume 1: Hero's Journey/Sun & Darkness

Elliot looked at the unconscious people on the floor. Something intangible seemed to have been sucked out of them. “This is impressive.”

“How did she do it?” Demeter walked about, with brusque steps.

“Looks like that shook you up,” Elliot said in her direction. Demeter was on her knees, sniffing at a body. “What are you doing?”

“It smells of blood.” Demeter walked over to Elliot. “Put this in a corner, please,” Elliot grabbed the object. He looked at the laptop on his hands. He hurried to do as told. Demeter opened the mouth of a few individuals, then rolled them over, one by one. “Externally, no one looks injured.”

“Are they breathing?”

“They are,” Demeter said, rolling a guy over. She searched his pockets.

“What are you looking for?”

“Anything that will give me a crutch.” Demeter turned over another man. Making up her mind, she headed for Nasseer Callahan. Demeter removed a taser from his person. She checked the voltage, then gave herself a current. “Fuck!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Elliot said. He ran to her.

“This bastard sure did not compromise with his security,” Demeter said, looking at Callahan with spite. She redirected her attention to the taser. Demeter lay down for a while.

“I could care less about the devil,” Elliot said, with a frown. He looked at Demeter, and crossed his arms, before looking down.

“You just need to get along with him at the bare minimum,” Demeter replied. She pocketed the taser, stood up, took a step back, and crossed her arms.

“As long as that means I can forget about Aidan, sure,” Elliot said. He glanced at Callahan. Callahan’s body dissipated. “What the hell?”

“Nasseer Callahan is a shadow summoning of the hero, Walter Wilbur Stanford,” explained Ambrosia. Her voice came close to a whisper. “He wanted to tackle any issue that should come up with the summoning.”

“I see,” Elliot said. “We seem to have been trapped in a badly designed world.”

Ambrosia did not mind his comments. “Ulysses, Hugh. You went overboard again.” She looked at the stag, and redirected her attention to something which the two heroes couldn’t see.

“You should take better care of your pets, Ambrosia,” Demeter said. She looked at Ambrosia. Ulysses, it seemed, was the stag’s name.

“I am most terribly sorry,” Ambrosia said, bowing. Mist emanated from her.

“Your knees have been shaking since a while,” Elliot told Demeter.

Demeter stooped to remove her boots. She took off her slacks, then put her footwear back on. Elliot blushed. His hair turned white. Demeter found that quirky. She looked at Ambrosia. The goddess’s hair had turned blue. It looked frosty. The eyes which stared back at Demeter were a dull blue. They looked emotionally muted. She could not get into their depths.

“Why are your guards not here yet?” Demeter said. She toggled a phantom screen to her front. Her eyes followed along the displayed lines, from left to right. Demeter lifted her right hand up. She summoned a purple sword. Noting her actions, Elliot checked his own interface.

“I told them not to interfere unless I was in immediate danger. I did not predict that I would not be the only one in danger,” Ambrosia said.

“That’s interesting. The result is that thirty-three of the thirty-five people you summoned are now unconscious. Just where are your guards?”

“They won’t come. Help must be coming to balance my current state, instead.”

“Blood is coming from her eyes,” Elliot said. He moved forward. Demeter barred Elliot. Her sword ran along the horizontal length of her arm. A meter away from it, a shield materialized, blocking Elliot. Elliot gave a restless sigh.

“Why are you crying?” Demeter asked the goddess. She walked to Elliot.

“Among the unconscious people, one individual has died. He bore the brunt of my guardians’ wrath. I have little control over them.”

“I see.” Demeter approached Ambrosia. She looked at Ambrosia’s anguished face. “That was unfortunate. That’s why you are sad.”

Ambrosia looked at Demeter. “Demeter, can you help us defeat the demon gods? This world does have elemental energy. However, it does not resonate well with my people. Since who knows when death in other worlds has become the only way for me to bestow power unto people.”

“I can try to. I will find, fight, and possibly defeat the demon gods,” Demeter said. Demeter kept a few meters away from the goddess. “You know, I remember my death clearly.” Demeter cupped her right hand with her other hand, and looked at her palm. “A co-worker named Isabel poisoned my drink. In the country I come from, it is a mundane death.”

Ambrosia sympathized.

Demeter lowered her hands to just above her hips. She looked at Ambrosia. “Leaving that death aside, I was revived by you. You are the reason I can exist. To show my gratitude, I decided to make it my job to defeat the demon gods.” Demeter relented. Her sword disappeared. “Ambrosia, do you believe this?”

“I do,” the goddess said, feeling the need to retreat. Ambrosia shivered as well. Her body was like a leaf.

Demeter smiled. “Good.” She rematerialized her sword. Ambrosia’s eyes became duller. “Get ready, Elliot.” Demeter backtracked, feeling the air freezing in front of her.

“Fides[Spiritus]: Leo.”

Faith[Spirit]: Leo

Elliot turned to find two feline-like beasts charge in his direction. The beasts were huge. Their eyes were coal-black. Their jaws were white. Their claws left imprints on the floor.

“Linda Eisenberg,” Demeter said, forming a barrier with her left hand. She put some distance between her and Ambrosia.

“I won’t forgive you,” came back the response. The person looked distraught, and angry. The sight of all these unconscious bodies greatly served to infuriate Linda. Linda wore a brown attire, like in the projected image from the achievement board. The blue of Linda’s hair came closer to the green of her eyes.

Elliot moved towards the goddess. Ambrosia’s cornea had turned black. Their center was a piercing blue. Her eyes looked murderous. “You sure talk a lot,” Elliot told Demeter. “That said, it is perhaps clear why the goddess cannot afford to give us free tickets.”

“Certainly. It spooks me that her mathematics is still on track,” said Demeter. Elliot frowned. He did not answer. One beast pounced on him. Another flitted past Elliot, intent on Demeter. Elliot manifested air-borne incandescent poles to protect himself. The impact was jarring.

Ambrosia screamed like a breaking glass.

***

A dark place. I thought it was hard to breath.

After some time, the tension passed. My body straightened. I could see in a better fashion. I thought of reminiscing about my past again. It was important, for it left me with less to think about in the future. My interface had a journal function. I guessed anyone reading my journal might have frowned at the objects I would dwell upon.

I remembered the occasions I had been greatly depressive. It was a consequence of being rejected. Pastoral life was one of the greatest fallacies of human existence. Ever often, there was not a clear path. I rebelled by obstruction.

I had had a good high school year. However, my father was opposed to the idea of me gaming and using the computer, by the end of the year. If it were a state which raised you, perhaps the state would ask the money back. Entitlement to a dream? Entitlement to living inside a house? Or entitlement to one’s life. It was dumb.

Domestic abuse or school bullying, I experienced that. ‘Discipline’ by force was nothing more than another form of training. Formal or informal training simply presented you with persistent muscle and brain memory. You were the one who decided to go for it.

The only meaning there was to anything, for anyone, was the meaning he chose to give any action or object. Then, people decided if that meaning was valuable. If I was wise enough, it did not matter what mother nature threw at me. There was not much meaning to talk the talk if self-mastery was lacking. I looked outside my prison cell. There was a corridor, with two guards patrolling.

Whether the goddess bore ill will or good will was a mystery. To another extreme, cold-calling and entitlement with regards to another person's plans showed an inherent jab at opportunity cost. I had cold-called the goddess on her wish to make me a hero of her kingdom. I had been entitled upon being revived. It did work. The opportunity cost was power for ownership or for altruism. Nowhere safe.

‘What obligation does Ambrosia have to a hero?’ I thought. If the answers to this question happened to be an inspiration from fictional stories, because of the lack of logical comeback from such stories – if such were the answers, then it was largely proper and naive. While nothing could justify me being in this prison, I was not summoned to just become part of the goddess’s responsibilities.

The goddess might just as well have returned me to the real world, where I could be left to die the death I had already died.

In university, I had the option to say I was a struggling guy with aspirations, or that I was not an ideal to follow. I proved to be better; I was neither dispensable nor indispensable. “What do you want to do?” I heard, in my ears. I looked around. There was no one. It was my own thought.

‘Knowledgeable, hardworking, being more able’ - I was anxious, and I completed my tasks.

Cynicism, based on emotional metaphor and flow, rational metaphor and flow, and in terms of objectivity, was obvious. A mob picking on a person, as much as one person picking on another person left you with cynicism if you were asked to join. Fomo, belief, cynicism, all sorts of things - you presupposed there was a right thing.

Unless you attributed meaning to it, there was nothing to respect about qualia of life and qualia of death. Qualia was a term to describe individual instances of subjective and conscious experience.

At the other end of the mirror of 'right things', power and natural calamities reared their head. Entropy and rigidity were devoid of natural rights. The human matrix was a game made of relationship cultures. That was society.

If I supposed I had any adventure and that adventure were a fragment of a socially played game, it meant the contents of the social game were decentralized. If there was anything unique about my written games, it was that the game could be more authentic in its original faith, or be preferable for another person.

***

Demeter Ford stunted the feline creature looking at her with coal-black eyes a couple of times. She held a sword in each hand. Each sword projected a shield. A swallow, the color of vibrant-blue, could be seen above her head. It soared the ceiling with leisure. Reaching the ceiling’s blinding center, the swallow descended upon her. It replicated itself into four other swallows.

Demeter thwarted the assaults. She looked at one of the swallows’ blue intelligent eyes, before dodging to her left. Its beak was not styled like a kingfisher’s, but its form and snap made it clear the bird meant business. Demeter was exasperated by the avian threat, finding its existence to be parasitical. She was annoyed. Her hands were tied. The feline beast lacerated blow upon blow on her shield. Demeter removed her second shield to maim one swallow. The bird dove inward, towards her right arm. Demeter bashed it by generating a shield from the hilt of her sword.

She observed, then Linda, then Ambrosia. It was clear her opponents were intent on exterminating her. Elliot, she hoped, could see to himself. “Linda, listen! It is a misunderstanding.”

“I won’t let go no matter how many times you repeat yourself. Now, shut up and surrender.” Linda paid Demeter no more heed, as she focused on controlling her summons.

Elliot, on the other hand, used his pole to escalate the walls. To Linda’s eyes, he seemed to perform some sort of acrobatics. Elliot was amazed at his own moves. He was glad he could intuit Linda’s attacks before they landed on him. That said, he could not get close to Ambrosia. A shadowy creature followed like fumes in Elliot’s trail. It was cautious of him. Elliot glanced at Linda. Linda had summoned flying lizards which currently tried to suppress Ulysses. Ulysses was the stag that inspired the feelings of reverence and fear. Linda probably had a lot of elemental energy.

Linda muttered some words unknown to Elliot. She was intent on performing some kind of ritual. Linda blocked the exits with her familiars. Elliot was creeped out by the care she had taken to handle the situation so far.

Twenty meters away from Linda, Ambrosia trailed the hall, in its ghastly atmosphere. She was like a wraith. She went, then after Demeter, then after Elliot. Ambrosia was practically an instinctive monster. “With a berserk state like this, it is of little wonder that everything feels empty. Though, I would not pretend to know the power scope of the supposed evil gods,” Demeter commented, short of breath. She walked closer to Linda. Demeter tried not to stagger.

Linda swung her hand down in Demeter’s direction. A more vivid, fiery swallow appeared. Demeter braced for impact, then thought better of it. She dashed to the side. The swallow was massive and emitted heat. As it clashed against the feline beast, it consumed the creature’s skin, in a warm embrace. Demeter was blown away, just as is, by the darted charge of a flying lizard. She managed to deflect it. Demeter approached the wall of the hall, to cover her blind spots.

She wished she had a gun as her perspective kept shifting.

The feline creature was onto her, after wrestling the flaming swallow away with its paws. Demeter braced for impact, rattled by the flying lizard’s attack. She would likely suffer some damage. Her shields were more red than purple now. They looked fractured.

A random person barred the yellow feline’s route. He was blasted towards Demeter’s lap. The beast looked at him with fury. Demeter was astonished. She skidded back and crouched, unable to handle his weight. Demeter observed he looked similar to Dalton Dakota. “Thanks, you saved us.”

The guy smiled, and fainted. She thought it was weird.

Linda widened her eyes. She subsequently directed most of her summons to Ambrosia and Ambrosia’s familiars. Elliot wondered about what had happened.