Chapter CCCXCVI: Delivery ~Multehx

A breeze swept through the eerie land of walls and floor of shifting shades. The mist that blanketed the floor billowed along eerily, as if the occupants of this domain danced about in them erratically, madly indeed.

A cold chill hung in the air incessantly, and an aroma was evident; lingering in the air: the stifling, choking smell of rot and decay; of death itself. Though no remains were evident, the smell came from all around, and out of the corner of the eye, it was not so certain that debris wasn't strewn about, that there weren't skeletal remains of the unfortunate here and there. But, at a glance, the ground proved bare.

Through the ant-farm like maze of twisting, turning, endlessly looping tunnels was, at the center, the main chamber. It had a name, but it had been eons since such escaped the memories of all but one. No door barred entry to it. Instead, the tunnel that lead to the entry simply dropped off into a black, spiralling vortex in the floor. Nothing could be seen by peering down through it: only the cold, dead wind wafting forcefully up and enveloping the tunnel.

Though a great distance below, in a sea of the mist and of unending darkness a path began. One of blue rock, rough, cracked in spots, pebbles strewn about it. It lacked the depth of anything but a sheerly two-dimensional figure: simply a path and nothing more. But it had substance, enough to hold several of the large rocks scattered about upon it. It ascended slowly and continued on for what appeared to be miles, when no distance was actually recordable.

Stopping at a towering dais, it led straight to the stone steps carved to ascend the structure. And, like royalty, a noble oak chair sat, with ornate sigils and symbols carved upon it. Some were painted as well, all sorts of colors, and the chair itself was cushioned by what appeared to be crimson velvet.

Seated upon it, the ruler of nothing sat: motionless, chest still, pulse silent in him. Still, the cold was replaced by a warmth about him; one that seemed to originate from the body. A lock of brilliant blue hair stirred in the wind.

The door opened with a most ominous creak. Releasing the brass knob, the robot, Malfector, stepped in. Over his shoulder he slung the immense, mighty blade of such great weight upon him. His steps were slow but deliberate; he knew where he was headed.

Behind him, the wind blew the door shut, but oddly it did not slam as it shut violently. Onward the robot trudged, never smiling, jaw locked in his natural frown. The gravel crunched under his every step and the mists seemed to billow away from where he was headed, as if in silent observance and approval. Every now and then, it sounded as if his metal feet fell upon something hard, yet brittle, and the snapping echoed throughout the massive chamber. But, just as soon as he entered it, he had entered another tunnel.

For hours Malfector continued, never once adjusting his burden. The odd light from no apparent source that illuminated the paths gleamed off the crescent blade. A dull, black haze seemed to emit from the entire handle the whole time, barely visible to the untrained eye.

As the deliverance drew closer, as if in anticipation, the heat around the seated lord did as well. And, unmoving muscles did tense, without life, but in preparation to receive such again.