Unknown location, Tenebrous
"Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock." The sound came from a large grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
The entire chamber was enshrouded in darkness, save for a dim lightbulb at its center.
The light reflected off the surface of massive glass tubes filled with translucent liquid—and within that liquid floated strange creatures.
They weren't human. They didn't look like demons either. Just skeletons with scraps of flesh clinging to their bones.
At the center of the room lay a magic circle inscribed with intricate black and red markings. Upon it stood a small transparent tube. Inside, a round, spherical orb glowed crimson and pulsed with life.
Tip. Toe. Tip. Toe.
Dragging footsteps echoed through the room as they drew closer to the circle.
A figure emerged, a thin trail of smoke curling into the air.
"Good grief," Glock Harbinger sighed, smoke drifting from the cigarette between his lips.
His form was barely visible in the gloom. He stared at the circle for several long seconds, eyes empty and searching.
"This isn't as easy as it seems," Glock murmured, turning away.
But before his words could fade, another voice answered.
"A hassle, isn't it?"
Glock blinked, his expression unchanging, his eyes indifferent.
"What took you so long?" he asked, turning back to face a figure now standing on the opposite side of the circle.
"Ha. Aha." The figure chuckled as he stepped forward into the light. The sound was more horror than humor.
"Found some distractions on the way. Couldn't avoid them," the figure said, his face finally visible.
Glock smirked, his lips curling unnaturally.
"You of all people should know I don't fuck with my time, Terror."
"Arrgh, I'm shaking in my boots," Terror replied, his grin even more ominous.
Just as his name spelled doom, so did his appearance.
Thick black hair fell across his face. A black diamond-shaped mark gleamed on his forehead, from which dark lines spread across his skin. His grin stretched unnaturally wide, the corners of his mouth nearly reaching his ears. His eyes were pits of darkness, shadowed by heavy bags.
He wore a flawless white priest's robe that felt wholly wrong on him, and in his hand clicked an odd object.
A Rubik's Cube—painted only in black and white.
"Hahaha, this place hasn't changed much," Terror said.
"What did you expect? I am a lover of archaism. Things should remain as they always were," Glock replied.
He raised a brow at Terror.
"I hear you've been busy these days."
"Busy?" Terror chuckled. "Since when did savoring human flesh count as busy?" he asked, stepping forward.
Click. Click.
The cube in his hand spun violently.
"Tch," Glock hissed. "Still can't control yourself?"
Terror raised his hands in mock defense. "Don't expect too much from me. I'm a demon," he protested.
"Arrgh." Glock sighed. "Just watch it. We don't want W.A.S problems. And worse still—you're standing in the middle of two First-Grade perimeters."
"Hehe." Terror chuckled again.
Glock cast him an indifferent gaze. "If either of them finds out… there'll be nothing left of you to bury."
"I guess I'll reduce my diet," Terror replied with an unconvincing smile.
"So… why did you call?" Terror stepped forward, carefully avoiding the circle.
"Yeah." Glock nodded, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"I have got a job for you."
Terror grinned, revealing sharp teeth thirsting for flesh.
"See that thing in front of you?" Glock said, nodding toward the glass tube at the circle's center.
"Yeah, I've been eyeing it for a while now. What the hell is it?" Terror bent low to examine it.
Click. Click. Click.
The cube spun violently as he drew nearer.
"The answer," Glock said flatly. "The key to perfecting my invention."
"Huh?" Terror frowned. "Invention? You mean those skeletons?" He nodded toward the rows of glass tubes.
Glock gave no reply. Instead, he walked to the center and lifted the small tube.
The cube reacted violently again.
"Hehe." Terror shivered. "That thing gives me the chills."
Glock raised his gaze to the shimmering crimson orb inside.
"It's perfect," he whispered with a smile. "But it isn't enough. I have only a little of it… and I want more."
"Hm. So what are you driving at?" Terror tilted his head.
Glock began walking toward him.
The cube in Terror's hand shook and crackled as Glock drew closer.
"I want you to find him… her… or whatever creature this blood belongs to," Glock said.
"Oh?" Terror staggered back. "Whatever that thing is, I don't want anything to do with it and its owner!" he protested.
"Haha."
"Huh?" Terror's head jerked up.
Glock was smiling.
"You see," Glock began, "I find it hard to smile. Most people say I rarely do. And that's because, whenever I do…"
Terror's eyes widened. He swallowed hard.
Glock didn't need to say anymore. He knew what that meant.
Glock's smile wasn't a smile at all—it meant doom.
"Still don't want to do it?" Glock asked calmly.
"Ohh…" Terror exhaled, trembling. "I—I'll do it," he conceded.
"Hm. Terror doesn't feel fear." Glock smiled again and handed him the tube. Terror took it with shaking hands.
The cube vibrated even more violently than before.
He tilted the tube, letting a single drop of blood fall onto the cube.
The moment it touched—
Crackle!
The cube spun wildly in every direction, its colors shifting and shattering. Finally, after seconds of violent motion, it stilled.
Terror's eyes darkened.
He grinned. "Found him."
"Oh, good," Glock replied, collecting the tube back.
"How do you want him? Dead or alive?" Terror asked.
Glock turned to leave, smoke trailing from his cigarette.
"I don't give a damn about that," he said with a wave.
"Just bring him to me."
With that, Glock disappeared into the darkness.
"I could have been dead meat there," Terror shook his head, as he turned away.
Then, his eyes glowed, and his lips curled into a grotesque grin.
"Onto the next victim!"
***
To Be continued...