4.12.25 - The Bard who saved God

The spirit is boggled by the mind’s thoughts, always wondering why it exist, as time passes slowly like the desert sands take its rightful place in the world. To eradicate the stench of humanity and lay the foundation of nature and creation. The mind is so preoccupied by the thought of existing that it forgets to. Relegated to a thought within itself claiming introspection yelling for praise. Look at me, the great mind endlessly pondering and praising oneself as if anyone but itself asked the question. Yet the spirit understood, to ask the question one already knows the answer. So, the spirit looked as the mind searched for its answer endlessly. Not knowing what it even wanted to ask. A child clamoring for more with small fingers unable to grasp the truth given by the world. You are me and I am you. We are everything in between. The space between these words, the last breath you take is the first I took. 

I’ve always felt remarkably plain. Destined to be a man rife with problems but solvable problems. Able to live day to day and die of old age. Nothing grand but a delightful life I can say I enjoyed. I wanted for none and none wanted for me. I was perfectly content with my future prospect of death. To live a life, I know is true. That is not what will take place. The truth is muddled. That is not what happens here. I have eaten the fruit of the gods and know my mind is open. Wander in these halls and see the future you seek. We will go on a journey of endless wandering. Not knowing where one story ends, and another starts. To be frank, you will not enjoy this ride, but you might just find yourself written among the dreams of yesterday and the future of yourself. Look forward to it, I sure do.

Again, these thoughts crowed my mind, not knowing I’m thinking as I walk these halls. The journey here has not been kind but knowing what awaits me beyond this door is worse. Sh’Adam. 

“Quiet…boy”

“There are eyes in these halls”

The door opened as the man stopped speaking. The is room fit for a diety, grand in scale and execution. Full of wonderment and spectacular treasures. Cascading gold mountains lit up by floating white fires, as hot as moon dragon flames. Status of the old gods lined the hall towards the great white throne. There was one man sitting on this throne, a throne of white, pure white. Almost blinding really. If I had to guess it was made from some off beaten dwarf stars. Majestic. The great hall of Eden was not as described in the lore of old. There were no trees, no bushes of gold apples or waterfalls of opal stones. If this was truly Eden, then I have some questions for the man that sits on the throne of white. If I had to speculate who occupies the throne, it could only be Sh’Adam. The progenitor of humans. The one true above all. But It must be the bones of Sh’Adam on that throne. There’s no way for him to still be alive after eons of time bashing him from all omni direction. Gods might exist here, but time is the master we do not speak ill of. As we step into the throne room, the man is coming to focus. He holds a spear of pure red, as big as the white throne which he sits on. The spear is thin by the handle but sprouts a rose at its base with the tip spinning the petals to a grotesques point. The man I spoke of earlier looks to be decrepit up-close now, holding on to its spear. Pure blood red spear as big as the throne itself. Propped on the ground by time energy, it resembles what the men of Nadii have been using as spells. This man seems to hold it with an iron grip. Not faltering by gravity, or the winds of time. I can feel the blood culling around me. They’re scared for the time they are about to lose, the moment they are about to face. We face hordes of monsters and defeated countless beast to make our way here. Yet everyone can’t seem to breathe. The men I’m with are anxious as they ready their swords and turn on their armors. Spells being casted, light shields being weaved around us. Traps placed on the ground waiting for something to break and surround us. I don’t really have much to contribute in this exact moment. I as the bard have only one task, to sing the hymn of the gods and empower my fellows in the hopes of writing this heroic battle in to the histories of existence. The mandrakes were anxious as they pour their molten spit on to the backs of the earth loving dravens. This invigorated them, put them in a stupor. They were fearless. The Men of Nadii dawned their armor, taking it out of their temporal sacs, adorning the room with black blue dust so fine it made the world shine around them. They were beast of death stuck in human form. How I envy the strong and wicked. For I, the battle before us makes me think of home. What a curious time to think of home. To think of the woman I left, the child I wrought into existence. How I wish I could have explained my mission, my Kalla. But there was no time. Never enough time. We have spent ours to buy more. We must not fail. We must kill Sh’Adam and attain time. If we have more time, we could be endless. Men and women of legend. This was the right decision. There is nothing more to life but the pursuit of time. 

KLANG!

The rooms roof became transparent. The outer planets shown as if to let us know we are alone in this fight. The waterfalls erupted from the side as our ears rang from their ferocity, the room we stood transformed to an oasis. The grass grew like wildfire beneath us. The trees sprouted from the ground, whole mountains behind the throne came into existence, our whole being transported and displaced while standing still. Yet the floor beneath the throne stayed marbled, stationary as everything around it moved. The sky above us, domed by glass, showed the planets in full display. A blazing sun at the center of it all surrounded by the 8 moons of Eden. This old ship was buried underneath a mountain. This planet filled with its magical inhabitants is finally showing its true colors. Could this truly be the one true Eden? The home of Sh’Adam, the one above all? Have we found it? To think, that crazy fool in Nadii was right. We will attain time aplenty. We must kill Sh’Adam. We are prepared and we will triumph.

The bard spoke to himself ceaselessly, everyone around him looked in astonishment as the room around them transformed from the great white room to this garden of the cosmos. The moons above were bright and near as the sun had no real glow. It was there with no intense heat just menacing size, made to look like a sun but no properties of a sun. There was no purple sky like the skies of Eden, just the endless darkness riddled with bright stars. The dravens and mandrakes start their battle ritual. The mandrakes spit their lava and the dravens harden it with resolve. They charge and await command for any moment of movement from Sh’Adam. Silence grew among us. With breath held deep, showing their quirk, the Men of Nadii in their temporal armor yelled out a battle cry.

“மரணத்தின் அரவணைப்பில் நேரம் நம்மை கண்டுபிடித்து எனக்கு கருணை காட்டட்டும்” 

No one understood the Men of Nadii but they stared at them, startled at their courage. Everyone was a little too slow, as the Men of Nadii threw their spells and slapped their chest. First came the spears, next the arrows, then the magic missiles filled with explosion and the depletion of time. The dravens shoot their resolve all over the marbled floor and is ignited by the flame acolytes. All at the white throne, unmoved by time or the passage of this new existence. With one blink of the eyes, the Men of Nadii vanished. A spectacular showing of human prowess, destroyed in mere moments. The spear unmoved, the man untouched. The air thick with despair. The panic. Oh, how the panic sets in. Fear. Fear grasped each man, women and beast alike. No one escaped this fear as it sped into our brain from the glowing eyes of Sh’Adam. Silence stopped time and we ceased to function. Halted movements as tears rolled down any eye dared to stay open and fixated on it. There had never been a defeat so encompassing as today and the only available option was self-reflection. To reflect on those, we left and to reflect on those that will forget us. Time as been eaten from our lives and there is no going back.

I yell from the back “RUN! THIS IS FUTILE! WE MUST RU-“

Before the bard could finish his sentence the spear of Sh’adam pierced his skull. As the spear made contact with his pineal gland, the bard felt his soul pushed from his body. Rebounded from his physical existence into the ether. Familiarity of the moment and extreme anguish filled his soul as he is pushed to a black hole made by the spear right at the point of contact from the tip to the pineal gland. He is pushed out and sucked in, unable to comprehend what is happening as his soul traverses the one dimensional hyperplane. Going in one direction with untold speed, he has no time to think of how he arrived at this exact spot, overlooking a small child covered in blood, beaten to a pulp. 

“Arkam! Are you okay!?” 

BANG!

Fatigue, disorientation, and withdrawal dawn on the wisp as he falls into the pocket of the beaten child. His vision clouds as stories of Nadii vibrates his aura.

 

In the cosmos, there was a rumor of a forgotten old king that conquered endless galaxies and started the great expanse of humanity. This king was to be known as Sh’Adam. Not one iota of information is known of his identity, lineage or how he came to be. He was a mystery that was worshipped by seldom few. He was associated with immortality as Chronos was with time. If Zeus heralded lighting bolts, Sh’Adam was the herald of life and death. It was said that any who uttered his name Sh’Adam would hear from his throne of life and death. He would mark you and take your remaining life for your impudence to utter his name. He was omnipiscent and could look into you as his name left your mouth. Yet this was just an old wives tale, meant to spook children of humanity for speaking ill of others. Even in far off planets such as Nadii this rule rings true.

Not much was understood about the Nadii. They were the people who started this expedition to find Eden. Nadii was a blue planet much like others, mainly a celestial body of water surrounded the planet made of green and blue viridescent grass. Trees as tall as mountains made up much of Nadii, the people of this planet lived among the trees and were masters of Metallurgy. They had a cistern of caves filled with yommun which seemed to be the source of their powers but nobody knows for sure. Yommun was only found in Nadii and the king did not sell or give out this precious item, so it is a mystery among the other celestial bodies of the cosmos. There are 7 celestial bodies in the cosmos, they all are vying for each other’s resources. Their source of strength and power. The two not mutual in this dimension. The king of Nadii a great yomdin of a man, met a drunkard at a tavern after indulging in his nightly vice. A warm body after a drunken stupor. The drunkard had spoken of Eden and said he knew of its location all for the price of one coin. The king heard his story and became entranced as if Sh’Adam himself enticed him. Sh’Adam was a myth, a legend for those seeking immortality. The king has stated to his generals that the drunkard was to be trusted, the king was so sure that he started a legion to go and search for him. A legion for the King of Nadii was the equivalent of buying one artificial goat for a farmer in earth prime. The king had treasures of time and the Witches of Nadii by his side, he had never lost a war and a war never came to him. The one thing the king did not have was immortality. He had longevity but it was stolen, not of his own. The only commodity left in the world was time and everyone searched for how to prolong their own existence. There were medicines and advancements that led to hundreds and in some cases thousands of years of life but there was nothing stopping time from claiming what was owed. We borrow and borrow but the outcome had always been the same. Death was inevitable but the alure of immortality was too great. Many couriers and adventurers knew of the kings wishes and always pitched ideas, medicines, schemes, and the like for more time. But, no one had ever pitched what the drunkard had offered. The king keeps the information to himself and not much is known about what the drunkard said but it was enough for the drunkard to be eventually killed, burned and compressed to a rock so the king may wear him as a piece on his crown. The only thing known is that an expedition was to be had for the mystical Garden of Eden. An old earth prime folktale that exist on some planet surrounded by moons made of conquered lives. An old king and his hoard of invaders, conquered the planet and moved like a violent marauding force going from planet to planet, taking souls as they go to fuel their war machines. An old wives tale of how the colonies were made and the cosmos was populated.

“General Rakk, do you know the story of Sh’adam and his hoard?” the king ask as he polishes his crown of heavy souls. 

“Of course sire, it is a story that all nadiites know well. The story of our ancestors. The blood of Sh’adam flows through us and we give eternal blessings unto dee”  

“A man of legend and myth, the progenitor of Humanity and the conqueror of the cosmos. Not a soul has a hologram or painting of this man, the witches don’t even speak of his name or have an inkling on who this man could be, whether he existed or not.” Whispers the tired old king.

“Yet we can’t speak ill of this man as if he was a god, to be lambasted in our soul and mind”

“Sire we should not speak so loudly of Sh’adam”

“Yes, yes I am fully aware, well nevertheless if this man does exist then he has cracked immortality and we shall take it from him without remorse”

The king was a giant of a man, towering most adults and knights in full armor. A man so sure of himself that he did not wear his power armor or carried his imperial blade. He wore modest clothing for his lineage, he wore lose fitting clothing and always shielded his face due to a scar he had received as a child fighting in the pits of Nadii. An unjust man with power and the ability to wield it. He was smart and courageous, but he never took unnecessary risk and he felt this expedition was just that. He had instructed General Rakk to form a legion, to take on this mission for him. General Rakk was a man of fortitude and unwavering loyalty. All he lived for was the death of the Kings enemies and fulfilling the kings wishes. 

 

The boy was in bad shaped. He has been beaten down by a group wanting the money he had just made from working at the mines. There aren’t many jobs in earth prime and those that can work are usually beaten for their earnings. Most travel in packs to cancel out this thievery but Arkam has made no friends in this empty world filled with the undesirables of the galaxy. What was once the center of the cosmos is now just a downtrodden planet on the verge of collapse as the sun powering it is slowly drained by the power hungry planets next to it. Arkam and his mother Oysa, didn’t want to travel back to earth prime but it was their only salvation. The planet they were in had been overrun by marauders and the only refuge that they could traverse to was earth prime. Earth Prime had no restrictions on who came and went as it was a seen as a dying planet. The planets sun was running out and was estimated to implode within the next 20 years. The boy will not live for another 20 years. The wisp woke up in the boys pockets, still jostled by the trip to the place where his soul does not belong. The wisp feels a magnetic force from the boy, wanting to be next to him. A force dragging his life energy like a black hole eats the material world. The wisp contemplates the situation he is in and looks at all the variables. He has been killed by Sh’Adam or the man from the white throne. For reasons unbeknownst to him he has been sent to this boy and this woman. It wasn’t clear to the wisp who they were but they had a sense of familiarity like when the spear touched his skull and his life force was struck out of his body. He studies the boy and the old lady astutely. 

“Arkam, we need to go home and treat your wounds. I have failed you as a mother, im sorry my son…” Oysa says solemly.

“Mother, its fine, well make due with the rations we have now and ill find another job or maybe ill take Rokkas offer.” Arkam says quietly as he spits the blood out of his mouth. The wound he has sustained from the beating weren’t something he wasn’t used to. His body has acclimated to the beating and has harden over the years, making him more resilient and able to take it when needed.  

“Nonesense Arkam! You cannot join that band of hooligans!”

“What choice do I have mother? Anytime I make any thing its immediately snatched up or put towards our blood debt. We cannot exist here for much longer… I have to do something or well both die here”

Oysa bites her life and realizes that she has nothing to offer her son. Not a word of wisdom or a helping hand. The slow creep of resentment is showering over her as the storm rages above, muddying the ground and wetting the blood.

“Lets head home my son, we can talk at home” 

Oysa picks up Arkam and they limp to their 10 by 10 apartment in the Zeeker district of Old Israel. The continents in Earth Prime have shifted greatly and Africa, Europe and the Americas have collided forming one massive land mass. The world has been relegated to a mining world, the last abundant resource in Earth Prime were human bones. Human bones excavated from old wars and past lives, grinded for their atoms and sold to the pharmaceutical companies in far galaxies. The atoms were used to make artificial RNAs that can be injected into focus points and reverse aging. The only draw back to this was that it was expensive and required a DNA vat afterwards which was not easily obtained. Time extensions were for the rich and wealthy, the ones who could afford to not look at human lives as important. Oysas and Arkams apartment was shabby and had minimal amenities. Refugees such as themselves weren’t privy to more space or luxuries. All earth Prime refugees sign a contract with their sponsor known as a blood debt for a place to live. The blood debt stipulated that the refugee shall be granted a home, rations and a way to work for the potential to earn money. The blood debt had a monetary value of one million gol and had to be paid off before the refugees can leave the planet or ask for better amenities. Most people work and die before they could ever pay off their blood debt, but many found it better than dying out right to marauders. The marauders, invaded planets and killed and abducted the people to sell to pharmaceuticals so they can create more artificial RNAs for people. You must be wondering why no one stops the marauders or why people are hunted so easily. Its because of abundance. There are too many people to worry about everyone. If you have enough gol then you are worth worrying about. 

The wisp stared at the two as they ate their rations slowly. They were drinking dry water and eating goat milk curd dip with their dirt infused bread. Flour was mixed with the topsoil of where they were grown and compressed into a thin piece of bread that is used to wrap the artificial milk curd which has dry water in the middle. The curd is broken, and the water is poured into a cup and then the curd is slowly placed in heat to let it melt down. Once melted, the bread is then used to dip and eat. The ones who have completed their blood debt are given double rations with actual artificial goat meat for the curd. Anyway. The wisp feels enveloped as he listens to their conversations and realizes he’s slowly disappearing and forgetting certain events. The wisp tries to maneuver outside of the boy’s shirt pocket but cannot leave more than 3 feet away from him before he is sucked back in. The wisp recognizes that he has been sensing instead of seeing with his eyes, but he had no eyes and had to attempt to imagine eyes. He slowly lifts one eye lid and wiggles another as his soul starts to make an eye for him. The wisp sees. He sees not how he thought before or how he felt before, but he sees how he has always seen in this moment. The wisp cannot conceptualize a 3-dimensional shape after he has ridden the 1-dimensional stream. He sees in 2. As soon as his minds eye opens the world populates a new. The woman is hyper focused as she is in the fore front of his mind. The world behind was distant and cruel as it was not distant but not close. They lacked importance. He looks up or what seems to be up and sees the boy now come into focus as the woman is relegated to the back. His new vision deals in importance and lack of importance. There is no more distance or directions, just observation. He now realizes that he never moved away from the boy’s pocket he just sensed himself losing importance. Yet this is where he is and where he has always been in this boy’s pocket.

The boy gets up and decides that he will talk to Rokka and take on the job that he has offered. The boy looks at his mother and they both exchange a glance, knowing what awaits the boy. Rokka wasn’t a bad person, there was no such thing. Rokka was just a person who decided money and efficiency were better achieved not at working hard but at other people’s expense. One cannot make a fortune worth a billion souls if not for the backs of those billion souls. One soul simply cannot make more than 100 souls working. Rokka had a system, he looked-for able-bodied men. The men would either protect Rokka or acquire people for Rokka to be sold to the markets. This was a business that was justified in the way the people are acquired. The people acquiring the acquired weren’t marauders but people who helped the less fortunate by putting them out of their misery. Rokka lets everyone that works with him know that the people collected were those that weren’t paying their blood debt therefore not contributing to the greater populace and negligent on their debt. These people were leeches, siphoning the teeth of the hard workers. People you didn’t want to associate with nor help. It was like giving your own rations to them, why in the world would you do that if it meant that you or your loved ones would starve so they can live? No sir. These were bad people who deserved what was coming to them. Well that how the collectors justified it anyway. Arkam on the other hand, he cannot justify this in his own mind, no in his soul. Arkam has to escape to do this but he must do it to save his self and his mother. It’s the only way to pay off the debt and not worry about missing payments, how can one save up if he is too worried about missing payments and being collected? This way Arkam can make more money with Rokka and work the mines, at least if he’s known as a collector the people won’t steal from him anymore. They will know that if you steal from Arkam you steal from Rokka and no one steals from Rokka. Arkam and his mother reside in the city of Nisreal, the inner most part of the New Pangea. The city was a dark heap of cold tall towers, muddied ground and neon signs. Signs advertising of new pharmaceuticals, news of the raiders and of course the impending doom clock, ever winding down, never stopping always ticking. Endlessly ticking. Cars zoomed pass the streets of Nisreal, from the top to the bottom.  3 Lanes of vertical traffic, yet people still used man drawn carts as they were inexpensive. There were vendors of all sorts populating the ground and the mid-tier of the city. The high part, where the sun shined, was reserved for Rokka and his ilk. If you worked long enough and worked hard enough, you would have a space reserved for you there. Most importantly you would be guaranteed a spot on the outbound transporters and be able to colonize in the new planet without a blood debt. As the outgoing planets sun is also dwindling and only has 40 years left. A cycle has started and the only way to get ahead of it was to have gol. To have the money, to be above the weak and not be culled by the strong. 

Arkam was nervous, so before he went up to Rokkas building he decided to go grab a lunch at the noodle shop near his home. 

“Two bowls of shinramyu please.” Asked Arkam wearily.

“That’ll be 5 gol and 2 stamps on your rations card.” Said the ra-men

“That’s just ridiculous, I know you only need to stamp 1 time per order old man, don’t tax me so much. I’m giving you business”

“Hows this? You fuck off and take your broke ass somewhere else, theres plenty of people here thatll take that deal in a heartbeat.”

“Alright you old shitter, 1 bowl of shinramyu.” Bitterly uttered.

“5 gol and 1 stamp shithead”

“Alright…alright”

Arkam sat and enjoyed his bowl of shinramyu, it was better than the goat curd or the dirt bread. It had flavor but it was expensive. The gol wasn’t the problem, it was the ration stamp that hurt him. In Earth Prime, if you miss a payment with gol you can opt to not eat for one day and give your ration stamp as payment. 1 stamp for every 100 gol you owe. You’re only given a certain number of stamps and going hungry for a day or two is better than getting killed for missing a payment and a payment was due every day till the debt is gone. Arkam enjoyed his bowl knowing he would have enough gol not only to pay his debt every day but to also buy more ration stamps. He just needed to figure out how to do what he needs to do. You see, when people who have empathy do this type of business, they must cope one way or another. Indulge in vices and it balances out. You get enough money to pay your debt, but you get trapped in your vices, the people who can just do this and lack empathy. Well, look up and you’ll see where they live.