THE SIXTH BOOK OF SLAUGHTER
The silence consuming the decrepit nave of the church hangs heavily upon the scene. Dorian Slaughter sits on a splintered wooden pew, gazing blankly ahead at the Chaos Symbol above the altar. His words had come to fruition, He had deceived, He had destructed, He had reigned supreme over the opposition. They had all fallen at His feet, consumed by the darkness of Death, just as He had prescribed.
He had procured evil in the faces of their heroes time and again, and this time would be no different. elegANT was everything that He despised. The ant had submitted in the Tomb of the Mutilated once before, begging for salvation in the grasp of the Redeemer. Salvation was not granted then, nor shall it be now. The kind hearted nature of the ant simply served as a feeble attempt at smothering the unadulterated fear which He saw in his eyes. His good nature an unwieldy blanket draped upon the advent of true despair.
His stare was deep, entranced by the thickness of the ornament of Chaos hung before Him. He knew that He could not be stopped, He knew that Death sought no boundaries in the midst of war. He knew that a mere insect presented little more than cobblestone in the path of a steamroller, yet He did not allow His confidence to waver His focus. He remained intent on spreading His message, on destroying, on conquering, on slaying.
Serafina: Dorian.
His heavy eyes blinked but for a second, recognizing the familiar voice.
Serafina: Dorian, I know you are making preparations of your own for your match against elegANT, but Ty
Dorian, Ty
I
I dont know what to do.
He stands and brushes His sodden hair away from His face, noticing the urgency in His associates tone.
Serafina: He wont talk to me, he wont talk to anyone. Hes become so distant, something has taken hold of him, something unlike anything Ive seen from him before. I just
Slaughter: Take me to him.
He bends down and collects the thick book from the pew, the tattered leather cover sheds a few scraps as He tucks it under His arm and follows Serafina down the aisle.
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Ty Burna sits alone on a wooden folding chair in the center of a dimly lit room, unfazed by the abrupt series of knocks at the door. The familiar chill of her presence once again overcame his body as she stood before him, followed by his last known associate.
Serafina: Ty, Ive brought Dorian to talk to you, please listen to what he has to say. We are here to help you. We need you, Ty, we need you to come home. Go on, Dorian, tell him.
Slaughter: Leave us.
Serafina: Leave you? Did you think I brought you here only for you to cast me aside during his greatest time of need? After everything Ive
Slaughter peers at her, His frigid stare fierce enough to smother any allure that remains during her time of peril.
Slaughter: Leave us.
Serafina begrudgingly turns away from them and sulks toward the door, looking back tensely, her violet eyes faintly kissing the blackness, unwilling to accept that someone else may for once provide Ty with something that she could not. The door closes softly behind her as The Angel of Death moves closer to an inert Ty Burna.
He removes The Book of Slaughter from under His arm and places it in Tys lap, gently opening the cover and thumbing to the latest entry. Tys eyes slowly move from Slaughters own toward the scribbled page in front of him.
6 Slaughter 1: 1-3
Kings have fallen, yet two remain
The beast that you saw was, and is, and will rise from the bottomless pit and seek out destruction. And the dwellers of Earth whose names have not been written in the Book of Life from the foundation of the world will marvel to see the beast, because it was, and is, and is to come. This calls for a mind with wisdom: the seven heads are seven mountains on which the woman is seated; they are also seven Kings, five of whom have fallen, one is, the other is yet come, and when He comes, Hell follows with Him.
He can sense it, the transformation. The words upon the page have begun to clutch the man before Him. The faint light in the room flickers as a crimson glow emanates from the eyes of the man losing his humanity to his own immortality.
Slaughter: Release it.
The Chaos inundates them. United in its fury, not bound, but rather empowered by its presence.
Slaughter: We do not need Ty Burna the man, we seek Ty Burna the entity. You are the one that is. Bask in the glory of the beholders, smile as they marvel at the Beast. Make known your true fortitude. Embrace it. Embrace the Chaos within your soul.
The body of the man slowly fades into the depths of the darkness. The crimson glow becomes stronger, until it encompasses the figure of the man, leaving nothing but eyes within. Slaughter hoists the book in the air, slapping His palm upon the page as the eyes follow the ledger.
6 Slaughter 3: 1-5
Who shall stand?
And behold, there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black as sackcloth, the full moon became like blood, and the stars of the sky fell to the Earth as the fig tree shed its winter fruit when shaken by a gale. The sky vanished like a scroll being rolled up, and every mountain and island was removed from its place by the force. Then the Kings of the Earth, the great ones, the heroes, the generals, the rich, the powerful, and everyone, slave and free, hid themselves in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains, calling into the wilderness, Fall on us and hide us from the face of Him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of The Deceiver, for the great day of their wrath has come, and who shall stand in opposition?
Slaughter: We are the wrath, we are that which spits in the face of idols, demeaning the heroes sent to thwart our efforts. United with Death, we shall unleash our fury upon the hearts of men. Look down from your throne, with an unwavering focus, upon the trembling corpses of those that venerate your altar.
Ty Burna: We are desecration.
Slaughter: Those that stand in our path shall suffer an irreproachable fate.
Ty: Constantine chose to stand in opposition, in a vain exhibition of his assumed prominence. Shall it be wise for Constantine to invite Chaos into his life?
Slaughter: Let him fight his battles and seek to dethrone the King, while we lay in wait, seeking to burn the Kingdom to ashes.
Ty: I am the one that is.
Slaughter: And I, the one that is to come.
Ty: The chosen have already fallen, there is no one left to be saved. Nothing that stands before you poses a legitimate threat, you are left with no choice other than annihilation. Continue the annexation of their false idols and sit upon your own throne so that this regime of Chaos may rule over all within its realm of power.
The Beast quivers as the words spew forth with an increasing acidity, flowing from his face through the gate which separates humanity from omnipotence.
Ty: elegANT shall be the next victim of the great vanquishing. To join the others, reduced to splatter, staining the streets with red. Go forth, and show no mercy in the face of opposition.
Slaughter: Make haste elegANT, for an unbridled fury shall ascend upon you. Relentless in its pursuit, merciless in its execution, you shall fall victim in the midst of its prowess. The Great Deceiver has come, backed by Death and Chaos, united as one force, supreme to all, servant to none. For when your fears come to fruition, you will not see the face of a man brooding over you, you will see the face of Death.
United in Chaos, two men had become two entities. The Angel of Death and The Beast had replaced Dorian Slaughter and Ty Burna, leaving a dull red glow where their Earthly bodies had stood. The Pentagram and the Chaos Symbol. One that is, one that is to come. All that stand in their path are their prey. Midnight had come and gone, evil is at their command. They had lost all control of the fury, now they watch as it unfolds. The helpless minds call out through the wilderness, clutching their souls as they fall. Black knights of Hells domain, trudge upon the soulless remains of the slain, begging the question:
Who shall stand?
